Saturday, June 13, 2009

How I hate this

Tonight he sits in a large room surrounded by folks I'd rather he not be with — 'the block' he called it. Captive. His bed is a cot on the perimeter of this 'block.' I wonder how he'll find his space in this 'dorm.'

He sounds much better today than he did at 4 a.m. when he called collect from the Orange County Jail. He was angry. He was sometimes incoherent — holding the phone under his chin . . . mumbling. 'Old warrants,' he said. 'Already taken care of,' he said. 'Look up Orange County on the internet,' he said. 'They're corrupt.' It was difficult to say that I wouldn't help. That I wouldn't pay his bail. 

His girlfriend said that the warrants are unpaid traffic violations for throwing cigarette butts out of a car window. Is that really possible? The girl at the Orange County Inmate Info line said, 'yes,' but that she was not able to give information over the phone. 'If you'd like to come down . . . '

I had the pleasure of speaking with a man who identified himself as a 'friend' of my son's. He is the father-in-law of my son's last employer. Someone who has gone beyond to help him. Someone who is there and who cares. He said that he'd visit C tomorrow if he could. He said that he'd let me know.

It's so hard to turn my back and walk away.