There is something about the full moon and the amount of water that is in the human body. Much like the oceans we have our high and low tides, governed by the whims of the man in the moon. My mother is a nurse and she used to work nights in Medicine Lodge Kansas. She would come home and recount tales of how the emergency room was flooded with crazy cases and crazy patients and then she would say how the full moon seems to always bring them out.
I'm not sure if it is just the movie with the guy in the hockey mask that has made Friday the 13th so menacing, but whatever it is, there is a truth to it. Oddly we've had two months in a row with the 13th falling on a Friday. Just so you know, this will not happen again until November. However, this Friday the 13th proved for me to be particularly crazy. I don't mind waiting until the fall to deal with such craziness again.
Thursday the 12th was a pretty great day. I met up with a friend who shall remain nameless for the purposes of this blog. I respect him greatly and he has been a shining light for me in times of bitter darkness. I was pleased to take him out for a drink in celebration of him obtaining temporary employment after a rather long dry spell and a time which I feel has been damaging to his confidence and his heart. Another purpose of our drink was to discuss a rather difficult time he has been enduring with his current boyfriend. I gave advice which is like giving yourself and express ticket to hell when dealing with relationships. This is something I've learned oh too well in the past. You express your true feelings about someone your friend is dating, they breakup and later, you are held accountable for being a shoulder to cry on and saying that the person your friend has been dating is a user and a dick.
We parted and I returned home. At midnight I tried to call him, but his phone went to voicemail. Immediately, my phone flashed with a new message. It was from him. The message basically said that his boyfriend was threatening him and that if anything should happen to him, I should know that the boyfriend was responsible. In the background I heard the boyfriend yelling at my friend that he was an asshole and full of shit. I called my friend and spoke briefly with the boyfriend still yelling in the background. Though he assured me that things were semi-o.k., I had a bit of worry regarding the situation. I had taken a tylenol PM to counter my natural state of insomnia. Actually, I lie. I had taken two tylenol PM and washed them down with a martini. I'm not sure that this is recommended, so please don't try this at home. At 1am my phone rang with a call from my friend's boyfriend but I was very groggy from the tylenol and possibly the martini or the combination of the two so I chose not to incoherently answer the call.
I awoke on Friday the 13th with a nagging feeling of worry. At 10am I called my friend. NO answer. At noon, I called my friend, no answer. By 6:00, I became worried after leaving multiple messages and repeatedly calling my friend and his boyfriend. I went to visit my friend and adopted grandmother, Beverly. She suggested that I call the precinct in the neighborhood and see if there had been any arrests at my friend's location. I called the precinct and was told that my friend had been arrested and that I should call another number where they could give me more information. I asked about his boyfriend but was told that he was not arrested. I called the number but it rang with no answer. My mind then began to spin. I had called and text messaged the boyfriend with no reply. Was he in the hospital? Was he dead? Was he ignoring me. Beverly called local hospitals pretending to be his aunt, and we could not find any information connected to his name. I called the number I was given again but got no answer. I called back the precinct and was given the address for the Brooklyn Criminal Courthouse. I was told that they were in session until 2am.
I arrived at the courthouse at midnight. I removed all the metal from my pockets and they put my bag through one of those xray machines like they have at the airport. They kept putting my bag through while I stood there. One of the officers turned to me and asked if I had a microphone in my bag. I replied yes and she said, oh yeah, well prove it. I sang "flapjacks are flippin' in the fryin' pan".
She smiled and handed me my bag after making sure that I did not have a recording device on me.
I arrived at a window with lists of names on pieces of paper. I frantically looked for my friend's name with no luck. I went to the window and a tired looking man with a mustache approached me. I gave him my friend's name and he told me that he would be arraigned in the morning. I asked what the charges were and was told assault. I asked about his boyfriend and he said that his boyfriend would also be seen in the morning also for assault. I was told to come back at 9:00 am. I pictured my friend with a swollen lip and a black eye, his boyfriend also battered and swollen.
I got home at 2am and didn't sleep very well. I was so worried. What if there was bail to be paid? Could I afford it? What could I do if I couldn't? Should I call my friend's mother. I had never been in this situation. I felt helpless.
I was barely able to drag myself out of bed, very bleary eyed, very groggy. I took the train and arrived at the courthouse at 8:45. I waited outside with a crowd of people until 9:15 when the unlocked a chain that was tied around a tall metal gate in front of the entrance. I took all the metal out of my pockets and went back through the metal detector. I approached the same window and found my friend's name and his boyfriend's name on a list and an arrow pointing towards a courtroom.
The courtroom was full of hard wooden seating much like church pews, the kind of seats that make your butt hurt after 15 minutes. I sat there for an hour before the judge saw the first case. The prisoners were brought out in groups of six and put into a little holding pin towards the right side of the court. As their names were called, they were led to stand in front of the judge. They had to hold their hands behind their backs as though invisible handcuffs were keeping them there.
I heard case after case after case. I wondered when my friend would be one of the six or 8 led out the door by an officer of the court. I began to familiarize myself with lingo to which I had not previously been privy.
The one case that stuck in my mind the most for some reason was one where they began reading the charge of an 18 year old boy forcing a 14 year old girl into a bathroom. They described him sticking his fingers in her vagina, then his penis, then her recounting that she did not see any semen and she didn't think he had orgasmed inside of her. It was at that moment that I began to feel sick. What was I doing here? I heard case after case and got to her the rap sheets of those there. Some of them were there for disorderly conduct, some for selling crack. People still sell crack? Really?
After a few hours of this something struck me like a brick in the chest. Our justice system is completely broken. As the judge set bail for these people, I began to see a pattern. Bail would be set based upon whether the person had a job, whether they had a phone in the home, whether they were considered an upstanding member of society with some sort of value. I noticed also that most of the people being brought before the judge were poor and black and that the bail seemed like a punishment for their circumstance, often the thing that had brought them to this place. Basically, it's all about money. If you are poor and your skin is too dark, then you are locked up because you can't afford bail. If you are a white kid with a b.b. gun who held up a car and stole property, well then you are released to your white parents, because you just need to see a therapist. (a real case, btw)
At 12:45 they adjourned for lunch and locked the big gates to the courthouse. I went to the local Wendy's and then sat on the steps waiting for them to reopen the doors. At 2:15, they reopened the gates and I took all the metal out of my pockets and went back through the metal detector. I sat back down on the hard wooden benches and listened to case after case for the next 3 1/2 hours. Finally my friends were brought out. Neither of them had black eyes. Neither of them had swollen lips. No bail was set and there was no reason for me to be there. They looked at me strangely like, WHY ARE YOU HERE? Their case was dropped because neither of them pressed charges against the other.
I was told that they had gotten into a loud argument and knocked over a table and broken a glass. Apparently the neighbors had called the cops and though they told the cops that there was no physical violence occurring, just an argument, they were still taken into the station an booked for assault.
I had double vision and was pretty exhausted by the time they got out. I did not sit in the courthouse to receive a medal of appreciation, but I just felt a coldness from both of them. When I mentioned that I was tired from being there all day they just recounted competitively that they were more tired from being in holding. When I told them that I had been worried about the message and not hearing from them, the boyfriend attacked me as though I was a horrible person for thinking he might be capable of doing anything to my friend. I walked them to the precinct to get their keys and belongings. They offered to get me a car to take me to the train but I chose to walk.
I asked if they would be ok going home together, if they would not fight or end up in jail again. They said they would be fine. I have not heard from them at all today. They did not call to thank me for spending two days worrying or a day sitting on a hard wooden bench at the courthouse. I know this is what friends are for, but a part of me feels like a phone call today would have been the least that they could do.
It is a horrible place to be when you are filled with worry, but have no control and can't do anything about it but wait.
On the bright side of all this, I think it is an invaluable experience to sit on a hard wooden bench and see the true ugly face of justice in this country. It is frightening, and I have a new appreciation for not having been thrown into the system to experience it first hand.
My tylenol PM is kicking in and I am about to slip into a warm milk and olive oil bath as the cats play in the hallway. If the phone rings at 1am, I think again in my grogginess, I will choose to not answer it. If it rings tomorrow at 1am, again, I think I shall choose to sleep.
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