Jailed unfairly | By: Sean Bryant | | Category: Short Story - Sad Bookmark and Share

Jailed unfairly

It’s the year 2000. I had been sober for almost ten years now. Finally starting a new life and getting back on my feet. I’m in my 50’s now and I have a son who is now 17. I love him so much, but the more time I spend away from him the more I feel his love fading away. I left him with his mother. I paid child support just recently since I am back on my feet. He lived with his stepfather who took much better care of him then I would have. I had lived on the streets for many years as a drug dealer and addict of many drugs. During those times I had not realized how stupid I was for doing such things. Oh, how I regret it so. But, that’s the past and I make it my goal to get my act together. I want to do everything I can to fix my life.

It is 1996 and I had just sold a ton of drugs. I could use that money to buy my son something for his birthday. I have been going to drug addiction groups to talk about my problems. Yet, still continued doing bad things.

As a child I never knew my father. My mom had left me and I never really knew her. My great grand father had adopted me. As a child my grandfather constantly called me stupid and used to hit me with a baseball bat. I spent nights crying with my pain and bruises. The weather was always below zero and snowing. My grandfather made me sleep outside in the freezing cold where my nose turned blue and spit turned to ice. If I were to try and come near the house to try and get warm, my uncle would run out and beat me with a baseball bat. I hated that bat. I have no idea why I had to put up with the way they treated me. Maybe I thought it was for my own good. As I got into high school life with friends got better since I was on the track and football team. I got the school record in the hundred-meter dash. I had been in many fights during high school, mostly because of jealousy, rage, or even drugs. People always jumped me or tried to. I got in fights constantly. But of course, no one cared about me. After high school I was deep in drug dealing and such. I made my living off selling my drugs. As time went on I became an addict as well as a dealer. I was doing drugs constantly and living on them. They were the only source of money I had been getting. During this time I had found a girlfriend and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I had a child with her. I was a horrible father but I loved my son. I had been to the hospital many times as well as mental institutions and jail. The only physical thing that I had to love was Sonya my dog and my son Sean. I never saw my son but I always sent him cards and he always wrote back with new pictures. I believe the only reason I am still alive is to hope to see my son grow up.

One year later, before my grandfather died, he wanted to see my son one last time. He died three days seeing him one last time. At this time I was back on my feet. I had someone who had taken me in and given me a place to live. In turn, I helped clean her house and her estate clean by trimming things and keeping stuff off the estate. I have a job now, which I cut trees, bushes, and brush. I helped keep peoples houses safe from fires and other things. I was what you would call a handyman.
A year later I had my son visit me again. I had him working with me almost the entire time. I paid him well. He bought stuff for his future which was CD burner for $800. 2 years later the person I lived with for almost 4 years I had gotten along pretty well with until one day. I accidentally dropped a butcher block on her foot. She said she would call the police. I told her if she really believes I did it on purpose to go ahead. She called the police and this is where my life started going downhill. She filed elderly assault on me but her children filed several other charges. Twenty of them, if I can remember. I called my son almost everyday so he knew what was going on. I constantly told him over and over how this was not fair. I cried to him. I would usually turn to drugs during these hard times. But, I knew I needed to stay off them and deal with these issues. The stress was hard on me. I took such care of this person and she will turn on me. I trusted her and did not think she would do such a thing. I just did not understand it. What I did was exaggerated on the front page of the local newspaper. It just killed my business so I was now out of money, out of work, and out of a home, and I still have many more days in court. Because of all this money I used for my lawyer I barely had a dime to live in a house anymore. I had been getting incredibly frustrated.

It is now November 21, 2000. I am about to hear my verdict of if I get charged. My eyes watered from shutting them so tight. I heard the verdict of the first charge.
“Not Guilty.” All the way to number 19 the judge read off.
I had gotten happy from the good verdicts. But, after the intense number 19 I saw the immense sorrow in the eyes of the judge as he read of the last verdict.
”Guilty.” I broke out yelling and in tears. They had to hold me back as I tried attacking the judge as he read off the penalty. I wept and begged for him to not make it too much of a penalty. “You are to be confined to jail for 150 days for elderly abuse.” I yelled and screamed that it was not fair. I had not committed this crime. At least I believe I did nothing wrong. I do not understand how I could go to jail for doing nothing wrong. Sure, I went to jail several times for drugs, but not for something that was not on purpose, and was not my intention. I am so emotionally broken down. I found out that while in jail my son would no longer receive child support from me. I have begun thinking about if my son were to receive child support if I was to die. This was in fact true. It was announced that I was to go to jail December 15th. My son would loose child support on the 5th. I no longer had any money now to even live in a hotel or motel. I do not believe I can survive now, no money for food, or a place to stay. I was a wreck. On December 4th I tried shooting myself in the head, but the bullet just ricocheted off my head and I ended up in the hospital.

I had not died but this was the last time I called my son. I felt bad for putting my problems on his shoulders. I had no one else to talk to. My dog had died a few weeks back of a seizure, so the only one left who cares for me in my life was my son. I had wanted my son to be proud of me, but these problems just screwed up everything. When I were to get out of jail, I would be to old to get my act back together. So, you wonder if I am still alive? When you read this I may have killed myself. My life may be no more for I would be soon jailed unfairly.
This is yet to be known.
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