490 Outreach Updates!

Hello, loyal fan base!  And casual reader!  And those who without admitting it to anyone else yet (or even to themselves!) need us but have not got up the courage yet to contact us!

This is the first article that I've wrote since our re-incorporation as 490 Outreach!  The name change had to do with some trademark issues of the last name, but this name is un-trademarked, fully available, and as of Friday the 31st of March, ours according to the Secretary of State, for the State of Illinois!  (Watching our bank account, the fee for this was removed by the SoS yesterday, and that's Secretary of State!)

We got the name from Matthew 18:22, where Jesus is letting his disciples know that you don't just forgive a man once, or even seven times, but rather seven times seventy times.  And in the rehab business, that is only barely enough times.  That is due to an alcoholic/addicts facility for hitting rock bottom - then breaking out a pick ax and digging to a new bottom, knows no bounds.

I've known some you'd think could not go down any lower, but before you know it, they're going to be tunneling down so far that they'll come back up the other side speaking Mandarin!  And if you wonder how I can know that, or if I exaggerate, then all I can say is, "Ni hao!"

What to share today?  Well, the good news is the electrical work proceeding apace, that's been a big help.  Shout out to Garvey Rice and also Brian Davis!  To date we've two more lights and two more outlets and more to come!  Also, the box is generally safer than previously, and that's a big plus.

We also got more of the ceiling in the basement, and that has made it look a bit nicer.  Thank you to guest Rich for the donation of scrap drywall from his contracting work and the labor of he and guest Armandos in putting it up!

On the other hand, we sometimes feel down, as if no matter how hard we try, we aren't really getting through to the guests. Maybe it's the fifth time opening the door of the sober living home and smelling the smoke and seeing the energy drink cans with ashes on them.  They know better then to use ashtrays since I started throwing them out.  Or maybe one of them using an electrical heater when we insist on them just using the gas furnace which more than adequately heats the whole house.  (Our electric bills would frighten you.  I know they frighten us.)

Or maybe it's when for the seventh week running a guest doesn't have a program fee.  The day before the fee was due again, the basement she was staying in flooded.  Three inches worth.  Fortunately I was able to move all her stuff to the shed for safe storage.  When she finds another place, I'll deliver it.  She found another place immediately, at least temporarily.

I was talking with her boyfriend today.  He asked if she came up with the past due by next Wednesday, could she move back in.  Well for one, I said, I wasn't sure if the basement would be cleaned up by then. For two, given that she hadn't been able to come up with the fee for a month and a half when everything was given to her, I wasn't sure how she'd be able to do so now.

This was my polite way of saying "no".  As he was aware of some of her rule violations, some he knew that I knew of, others he didn't think I knew of, he was fine with that.  I've not heard from her other boyfriend yet.

Truth is, the basement will be ready again by the end of next week.  The back up was not due to any structural defect but by someone placing a ping pong ball in the drain hole of the basement.  And stuffing a sock down in there after it.  And then placing the drain top which is meant to fit loosely on it - but putting a rug over that so it fit firmly.

Can't imagine what could go wrong there.  But I've learned from experience that if there is a new and whacky way to do something that will mess things up, and yet still not violate any rule you wrote down, a guest will find it.  I guess I need a "don't put a sock down the sewage outflow pipe, then a ping pong ball, then make sure it's jammed in good" rule.

Well, gloves, shoes I'll never wear again, rolled up jeans, a steak fork I'll never use again and a paint handle I might use again after a lot of rinsing off, and the aid of my wife, we got it.  Remarkable what you can do when you don't have an electric eel, a plumbing license or any skill at all, but your own home depends upon it!

I got the sock out.  My wife got the ping pong ball out.  Time will fade our disgust.  One does what one must.

Then we both went upstairs and washed our hands and took turns showering (our laundry is on the first floor so that was handy.)  What an ordeal.  But was it enough?

We went back downstairs, like two kids slowing easing into a haunted house, not sure what will jump out at us....

...and the water had gone down!  No more three inches of water!  Soaked rugs, but already our basement, which we had known to be a dry basement, was already drying out!  I gloved up again, got all the old rugs out, did the whole laundry and shower thing again, all before 5pm!  What a day!

Sunday will be some time for cleaning.  And spraying.  I have a sprayer with a gallon of bleach in it, and don't worry, I diluted it with...another gallon of bleach!  I've a new mop, too.  And clean rags.  And disinfectant.  Come Sunday, I'm ready for action!

So that's bad news - a flood due to a guest being weird - turning into good news!  Problem guest moved out, basement to get a thorough cleaning, then be ready for two male guests.  (We swore we'd never have a female guest again last time, but sometimes it's hard to say "no".)  The next time will be male guests, though.

Besides then that good news, even better was the visit we had earlier this week from the Parole Department. We had a guest here last summer who'd been doing real well, clean and sober, working regular, doing everything he was supposed to do.  Regrettably, as is so often the case with recovering alcoholics/addicts, he had a lingering charge against him that he had to arrange a plea and do some time for.

Admirably, instead of running like I've sadly seen some do before, he faced it, went to his court dates with an attorney that he had hired from his wages (our fees are so low that he could afford a pretty good attorney since he could throw 90% plus of his check at him each month!) and negotiated a sentence that has him out...with good behavior and all...and time served....

...this June!  It hadn't been sure, but yet, he is getting out, and the Parole guys were over to look over the place and go over the requirements for his early release.  It'll involve us having to get a landline phone installed, but that's fine.  Once out, we know he can get back on track like he did before.  We've kept in touch with his girlfriend, and he'll have a good support network when he's released.

Her and us!

We tend to have a 10 to 20 percent success rate, and we know that he can be one - and will be one!  So we had been sad that he had to do that time.  Honestly, I had wished there was a "ombudsman" for criminals so I could appeal to him and say, "He used to be bad, he used to deserve this, but it would do him no good now!"  But accepting punishment for previous actions while an active addict is part of being a recovering addict, so that's okay.

What other good news?  There's our business cards!  Those are all done!  And looking good!  Oh, and best of all?

I heard from the Chamber, they want to do a long quote of a testimonial I had wrote on what membership in the Chamber of Commerce means to me!  It will be in their magazine "Update"!  With my picture!  Now, really, I don't care how anyone cuts that, that's "arrived"!

Arrived 2/20/16

I got a nice email today asking if part of this article could be published in the "Update", the Greater Springfield Chamber of Commerce magazine! I of course said I'd be honored! Here it is: It was over 10 years ago (10 years and 5 months) that I arrived in Springfield in a beat up RV that was out of gas.  I was homeless, unemployed and back then, a fully active alcoholic.  My life was unmanageable, as they say in AA meetings.

I wanted it to be different, I made a conscious decision for it to be different, and it has been different for a long time.  Thanks to my Katie and the church folk who have aided me in gaining and keeping my sobriety.

But when do you get to unfurl the “Mission Accomplished!” sign?  When can you say you’ve “arrived”?

There are many such mile markers on the way to being able to say you’ve “arrived”, of course.  And in some sense, it’s a purely arbitrary decision, and a personal one that you get to decide for yourself.

Was it when we incorporated as a bona-fide non-profit?  Was it with the first house bought and renovated?  The second?  The first guest aided?  The 40th?  Will it be even later, in the future, when we get our 501(c)3 status approved?  (A future much closer now as we are moving toward securing that!)

Any of those points could have been selected.  And I’ve felt the joy of those previous “arrivals”!  And I know I’ll feel the joy of the 501(c)3 “arrival” when that comes!  But all along I’ve had something else in mind as the ultimate mile marker.

Membership in the Chamber of Commerce.

As a child, I was raised in an upper-middle class environment, my father was an insurance executive with State Farm, my mom did Hospice volunteer work, there were bake sales, business trips, a bi-level house, blah de blah!  The church we attended weekly without fail was one of the prosperous Methodist ones where everyone there is some kind of businessman, entrepreneur or professional!

So you can see why I’d be the kind of kid who knew what the Chamber of Commerce was and is!

I hadn’t thought of it in the years since I left at 17 to join the Air Force.  Why would I?  It’s not like I had a business.

But there I was ten years ago, back in my town of birth with nothing and no one.  I knew I wanted a non-profit one day, though I still had myself to heal.  I knew I wanted it to be a going concern, I knew I wanted to succeed in ending my own relapses, and I knew I want to help others who had walked the same sorry path.  I knew what it was like for me to try to climb back up and I wanted to be in a position to aid others in that.

And for my own goals of success, for my own idea of what I wanted for my own life, I knew even then what the total opposite of being a homeless unemployed alkie was.

And that was to be a dues paying member in good standing of the Chamber of Commerce.

And now?  Now, this 20th day of February, roughly ten years later, I’m pleased to announce that we at 490 Outreach belong to the Greater Springfield Chamber of Commerce!  Or simply “the Chamber” as they call it!

Why is that a thing?  Why did I want that so bad?  How is that the opposite of being homeless?  Isn’t just having a home and a job and being sober the opposite of all that?

Well, yes, in general a home, and job and sobriety are the opposite, and perfectly fine for most people.  But for me personally, I think that a bit more than that is “opposite”.  Having a home and a job and being sober are great things, of course.  Crucial things, in fact!  But that’s not the furthest you can go as a member of your community, and only the furthest point away is truly “opposite” enough for me!

And for that you need to belong to the Chamber of Commerce.  The Chamber, for those who are unfamiliar with it, is a group of business owners great and small who are bound together by two common elements.  The first is shared by everyone, even the homeless.  The second is shared by very few, even the well off.

The two elements are these:

“The desire to have their community grow and prosper.  AND the desire to make that their personal responsibility.”

And that is what membership in the Chamber is in two sentences.  If one is running a corporation or company, a coffee stand or a mega-conglomerate, and you agree with those two sentences, then membership is a must.

Ever drive past any of the numerous vacant lots and abandoned homes and think, “Gee, something should be done about that?”  The Chamber is made up of men and women who agree, and who work together to grow Springfield’s economy so that such can be solved.  

Ever hear of burdensome regulations and policies hampering and hindering the growth of local businesses - and thus jobs?  The Chamber is made up of citizens who are well aware of that problem and who work to help others find their way through those treacherous waters.

Ever read about how different communities offer different tax breaks and incentives and such to attract more businesses to their town and thus create even more employment opportunities?  Yes, that is again what the Chamber looks into and advises upon, for whatever town it is in.

Do you wonder about who advocates for beautification and better roads and well lit streets and easier traffic patterns and environments more conducive to business and jobs and prosperity in general?  The Chamber, the Chamber, the Chamber, and also, the Chamber!  

Political leaders may be elected and be paid, and they may at times work to solve such problems, but members of the Chamber are those who took it upon themselves to pay to get together and work together to solve those same problems!

As they know that a better town is not only great for everyone here, but for attracting more people here, and leaving - as each generation of members in the Chamber does - a better place for those who come after them.

Because at root, that is the only thing any Chamber of Commerce does - inherit a community and work to make it better for the next generation.  The Chamber is the caretaker of the community, and they invest their own time, talents and money to that end.

And now we get to be a part of that!  

And that is what I count as having “arrived”!  When not only do we have our own business up and running, not only are we helping others, but that we can now be a part of a greater effort, and join in the ranks of all the other responsible local businesses!

If that’s not being “arrived”, I can’t think what is!

Sleepless Night 3/10/17

I didn’t have much sleep last night.  I wasn't going to due to court this morning, but I got even less than I had thought I would. Because I got a call around midnight, and again around 1:30am and again around 3:30am.  Reports of intruders trying to break into our sober living home.

Let's pause.

Meth damages your brain, and the effects last years afterwards. And I don’t mean the way PSA commercials and after school specials and your guidance counselor blathered on about.  Not the faked and trumped up “damage” of “just one toke” turning you into a jazz playing ne’er do well or violent sexual maniac.  Those well meaning people do more harm than good because by lying about the supposed damage of that stuff, they condition kids - who are later adults - not to believe the real dangers of the other drugs.

Meth does an awful lot of damage, and it’s damage that is a long time - if ever - in healing.  Yes, we all know of the tooth problem.  But there’s also the problem of the pleasure center being nearly completely destroyed, so that it can take a year or two after quitting meth before it heals enough so that the person can feel anything approaching pleasure again.

Pleasure from flowers, a child’s laugh, a loved one’s smile, a good book, an inspiring sermon - regular people who’ve never done meth can get a lot of pleasure from such things, the recovering meth addict, not so much.  In fact, it’s that lack of pleasure in that first year or two that usually drives them back to meth.

They’re physically not addicted, but they desperately wish to feel something again, and there’s only one thing that’s going to activate their much abused pleasure center - more meth.

Past that, meth makes one intensely paranoid.  It can make you out and out delusional.  In the TV show “Breaking Bad”, a show that improperly glorified meth and at times made it seem remarkably easy to come off of, they did have a scene that I had to ruefully chuckle over.

It was where Jesse, a twenty something smoking a lot of meth, was looking out the window nervously, fearful in advance of he knew not what, when he saw his worst nightmare coming down the road.  Two big, bad bikers, riding their hogs right up to his house, and decked out in leather, dirty jackets and assorted weaponry.  

They got off their hogs and started strolling up to Jesse’s door, one holding a big machete and the other tossing a hand grenade up in the air and catching it, up in the air and catching it.  You just knew they were going to mess up Jesse bad, if they even let him live.

Jesse didn’t waste any time.  He ducked out of sight, scooted across the living room, and was out the back door.  Jumping over fences and running down the street as fast as he could go.

Then the camera flashes back to what he saw, and you see two bicycles leaning against a tree and two Mormon missionary teens knocking on his door, one holding scriptures, the other some tracts!

"Would you like to hear about our Lord and Savior?"

Funny?  Yeah, it is.  I don’t want to be a wet blanket, the problem it’s making fun of is real, but it was humorously portrayed.  It’s not that you’re necessarily audio/visually hallucinating, but well...it kind of is.  You may as well be.

So at our sober living home we're down a guest, and of the other three still there, one was visiting family and one was working late shift.

Leaving one poor guest there all by himself.  Except that while he looks like he's really tough - and he is - and he looks like he could break you in half - and he could - he can't stand being alone at night.

He thinks he hears things.  And so he turns on all the lights and the TV.  Which I don't mind.  But then it gets worse and he calls me, sure that someone is trying to get in.

I go over and check all around the outside of the house with him, feeling odd, as I'm probably only 1/5th of his fighting ability, if that.  Then I go in with him and make sure all the windows and doors are secure.

Then I check the basement.  And then the bedrooms again.  Then chat a bit, discussing the odds of any return visitors, while knowing there were none.  But like most, he can know he has this affliction and still not know it.  A kind of, “Yeah, yeah, I know I can hear things, but this wasn’t that, this time it really was someone trying to break in.”

You cannot know, if you’ve not met him, how unlikely it would be for anyone to be dumb enough to risk breaking into this man’s home.  He’s an ex-con, and looks like an ex-con.  If any were to try to disturb his fretful sleep, it would be well for them to bring many friends.  Many.  

Having then assured him that I'd be sleeping in my clothes - I did - and so could get over there fast if anything goes wrong, I left him in the living room with the TV on and came back over here.  And repeated this three times.

And while we’re always to take full measure of personal responsibility, I know another factor in his issues.  Prison.  Prison given for drugs, prison given for too much for too little, prison gave out like candy so that we've more of us in prison than the People's Republic of China, the former USSR or the current North Korean Hermit Kingdom.

And the solitary confinement that is used indiscriminately as a tool.  Solitary that breaks men's spirits and minds.  It's not about being tough, it does that to varying degrees to all who have to suffer it.  If you doubt it, lock yourself in the bathroom on a weekend at 6am (without watch, book, phone, tv or radio) and see how long you can stay.

And if you want to tell me you stayed past noon, don’t bother, I won’t believe you.  Not without an unusual resolve.

Solitary - not the sodomy that our country remarkably finds so funny to laugh at in movies and on TV - is the real problem in prison.  Because it is the institutional “problem”, the problem that poses as a solution.

He’s been to prison.  And where the meth abuse then leaves off and the State torture picks up, who can say?  Either by itself would give a man paranoia for years afterward.  Both?  I guess it doesn’t matter.  But as a side note, as a society we need to recognize solitary for the 8th amendment violation it is and get rid of it.

Now, oddly​ ​-​ ​or​ ​not​ ​so​ ​odd,​ ​because​ ​these​ ​problems​ ​are​ ​just​ ​the​ ​result​ ​of​ ​previous​ ​meth​ ​abuse and prison​ ​-​ ​he’s​ ​a great​ ​guy​ ​otherwise.​ ​​ ​Kind.​ ​​ ​He​ ​volunteers​ ​on​ ​various​ ​projects​ ​to​ ​make​ ​the​ sober living home​ ​better.​ ​​ ​Gentle. He​ ​deliberately​ ​did​ ​not​ ​fight​ ​a​ ​guest​ ​we​ ​had​ ​who​ ​one​ ​night​ ​tried​ ​to​ ​pick​ ​fights​ ​with​ ​every​ ​other guest.​ ​​ ​That​ ​guest​ ​succeeded​ ​in​ ​getting​ ​the​ ​others​ ​to​ ​fight​ ​him,​ ​but​ ​not​ ​this​ ​man.

This paranoid guest works all day, then goes to an AA meeting, then some TV and dinner, and then to bed.  Which when the other guests are there - or even just one is there - is fine.  But when it's just him...then I'll get a call.  Usually about someone breaking in.  Or about suggestions for projects he could help me with.

It's just him not wanting to be alone.  And it saddens me that this is what meth really does to a man, more so than the loss of teeth good for a laugh on a TV show.  It saddens me that this is what our State’s “rehabilitative” and “correctional” centers do to a man, more so than the “who dropped the soap” nonsense good for a laugh on a TV show.

And it saddens me that there's not more I can do for him. I wish I could convey to those who’ve not experienced any of this just how hard it can be for some to recover, even when they are 100% committed to recovery.  Sometimes...sometimes it is possible to do too much to yourself.  

No, I don’t believe that it is ever impossible to come back from the precipice.  I believe that redemption is possible for everyone, so long as they shall draw breath.  I firmly believe in the truth of Romans 10:13 that says, “For whomsoever shall call upon the name of the Lord they God, shall be saved.”

It’s true.  But...sometimes, an addict or alcoholic can put himself so far down that it’s awfully hard to climb up when the first mile of the climb is only going to get you a bit nearer to where one day you might be able to see a glimmer of light far above you.  And where it’ll be years more of climbing just to achieve the level that we’d expect of an uneducated hillbilly in a trailer.

They say that an addict has to be “sick and tired of being sick and tired” before finally giving up and getting help for real.  True.  But it’s a crying shame how much endurance some of us alcoholics and addicts can have before we’re sick and tired of that.  Before we stop digging a burial hole for ourselves so deep that we’re speaking Mandarin towards the end.

Some guests I look at and think, “He can get back on track.  Young, time to recoup losses, good basic upbringing, reasonable education.”  Others?  I fear greatly, for I know that it will take an enormity of effort and the “success” at the end will be the least society has to offer in terms of housing and status.  

Which is especially sad, as the effort expended to get even that will exceed in some cases the effort of a normal person to achieve a house with a three car garage and jacuzzi in back.

If only teachers and parents would describe this to their kids.  If only the real dangers of drugs and alcohol were teached and preached.  If only it could be conveyed to kids what a bleak and hellish time killer, dream killer and life killer these “pleasures” are.  

Ahh, well.  I must go to court again now.  The City of Springfield, ever the business and opportunity and hope killer needs to play with me again on a matter long resolved.  I’ll try not to be as feisty with them as my lack of sleep is encouraging me to be!  (You see, that check I mailed them - and can prove I mailed - they lost.  Idiots.  But guess who will pay for their mistake?  Uh huh.)

Legal Advice 1/30/17

Besides the usual aid in letting those who need it have a place to stay, there’s all the little “extra” and miscellaneous duties that come with being a program supervisor at a sober living home.

Among these being “legal advice”.  Not just for guests, but for those who well familiar with my previously checkered past, and long experience in dealing with aiding others who run afoul of the law, know to call me.

My first advice, ever and always, is “Always​ ​shut​ ​up.​ ​​ ​Always get​ ​a​ ​lawyer.​ ​​ ​Always​ ​then​ ​do​ ​what​ ​the​ ​lawyer​ ​says.”

And when it comes to purely “legal advice”, that is not only the first piece of advice I give, but the last.  

The rest of it is not really "legal advice", but mainly explaining the process that they can expect, and what is likely to happen, and what they should shoot for.  As opposed to what they think will happen or what they think they should do.

Random Example:

Katie called out to me tonight, I was in the other room playing on facebook.  “My net friend Jane’s son was arrested!”  (Not her real name)

Me:  Was it the meth?  (I was familiar with her wayward son’s trials and tribulations.  A 30 year old ne’er do well with some prior prison time already under his belt.)

Katie:  First it was failure to appear, then meth later. There’s a dozen or so more charges now, she doesn’t know why.

Me:  Prosecutorial overkill.  Throw on everything, see what sticks, “give in” on half of them, and still plea out the other half.  

Katie:  They had a chance to arrest him at a traffic stop, but let him go, then a few hours later they surrounded the house he was at and arrested him there.  She doesn’t know why.

Me:  Because if they had arrested him for "failure to appear" at the traffic stop, they’d have needed a search warrant to look in the house.  But busting him there means they get to do a “search incidental to the arrest” and they don’t need to bother a judge for a warrant for that.

Katie:  How does she get him out?

Me:  She shows up at arraignment tomorrow.  They’ll assign a bail amount, and she can post 10% of that.  She should know that nowadays they rarely give the whole amount back.  They’ll seize part of it for fees, penalties, court costs, jail costs and such.

Katie types some more, as she is typing each of these things I’m saying and messaging them to her net buddy.

Katie:  She says that he was arrested on Saturday.

Me:  Well, she already missed the arraignment then, they always do it within a day, two days if it’s the weekend.  He’d have likely been arraigned on Monday, and so now all she needs to do is call the jail and ask what the bail is.  They have to tell her, and then she can come up with the 10%.

Five minutes pass.

Katie:  $10,000.  No, wait, $100,000.  

Me:  Then they really want to keep him there, or they’d have set it at $5,000 to $10,000.  She’ll have to mortgage the house, or get a loan off of a car or other assets, or if her credit’s good enough, a signature loan.

Katie:  She can’t do any of those things.

Me:  Then it’s time to hire a lawyer, if he’s left with the Public Defender he has no hope at all.

The best public defender ever.  And he lost.  Yeah, really.

Katie:  How does she find a good one?

Me:  That’s a tough one.  Poor ones can work harder, and rich ones can ignore you, or the rich have connections and the poor ones are dumb.  You never really know unless you know someone who had a good lawyer get him a good deal before.  

As a general rule, you don’t want a very large firm with a full color glossy ad where her kid will be one out of five hundred cases.  But you don’t want some newbie just out of law school who the DA will run rings around.  Best to find some three person firm of forty somethings specializing in criminal law, and the amount they charge should be affordable, but hurt a bit all the same.

Katie:  What do you mean hurt?  

Me:  Well, unless she’s a lot richer than us, she wants to pay enough that it will hurt her budget quite a bit.  Bargain basement prices get you - generally - a bargain basement defense.  She should be thinking around $1,500 to $3,000, and $3,000 would be better.

Katie:  To get him off?

At that point I leave off my facebook playing and go in to speak to her immediately.

Me:  No, no, no!  Meth, failure to appear, burglary, some of these are felony charges, not to mention the miscellaneous mopery and dopery.  Taking those to trial would cost around $10,000 to $15,000 and she does NOT want to do that!  Never minding the massive expense, she needs to understand very clearly that her son would lose anyway.

Katie:  Why?

Me:  Because from what you’ve told me, he is, in fact, guilty, and our system, with all it’s flaws, is more than capable of establishing the guilt of a meth addict.  They convict a dozen innocent folks a day, imagine how much easier that is when they’re really guilty!  

He needs to place his fate in the hands of his mom who loves him and a private attorney qualified to represent him.  If he tries to Matlock this at a jury trial, he’ll never see the light of day again.

Katie:  Why a lawyer at all then?

Me:  His lawyer will have one job and one job only.  To get him the best plea deal possible.  If his name were Leroy Minority, he’d get the lousiest plea deal and do the most time.  If his name was Trent Cavendish Merryweather IV, he’d get the best plea deal and likely do no time at all.  

As it is, he’s in the vast middle area, and there’s a lot of room for maneuvering there.  His lawyer will then use all his skills to get him the best deal possible, where he’ll do less time than he deserves, but more than he wants.  Which is a given, because no one wants to do any time.  But if he gets under five, he should feel that it’s a success.  If he gets a year, then wow, he found one heckuva lawyer.  

In any case, he’ll only do 50% to 80% of the time, depending on the state and their rules of how much time off you can have for good behavior.

Katie:  His mom thinks he’ll want a trial.

Me:  Trials are for the stubbornly and stupidly innocent.  And lawyers hate representing the innocent, because they should avoid trials too, but rarely will.  They insist on their day in court, sure that if they only tell their side, they’ll be set free by an intelligent jury and fair minded judge.  Two things that you may bank on being absent in the American judicial system.  

The reality then is that they’ll go down any way and get more time than they would have.

With guilty clients it’s easier, as their lawyer can just tell them, “Hey, you did it, so knock it off.  I’m just here to get you the least time for the dumb stuff you know you did.”  And when they’re guilty, they’ll usually understand that eventually and go along with it.

Katie:  What if he insists?

Me:  It’s a movie myth that lawyers have to lie for their clients.  The lawyer is allowed to say, “I’m not going to lie for you or let you perjure yourself.  You take the best plea I can get you, or get another attorney.  And since I don’t give refunds, that will be the Public Defender.”

The threat of the Public Defender will scare him straight!

The point his mom and attorney must convey to him is that while he’s going to want to blame his friends, or the girl with him, or the police, or this, that or the other, that it won’t matter.  He is actually guilty, everyone knows it, and trying to get off scot free is only going to hurt him.  

You find the best lawyer you can, let him make the best deal he can, and do the time as best you can. It’s not glamorous, it’s not like the movies, but it’s the safest and sanest way to go.

Katie:  His mom says he didn’t do the burglary, the guys who live there don’t want to admit it’s their meth.  

Me:  And they’re unlikely to change their story, so that’s that.  The penalty for hanging out with addicts is that they are sometimes - heh, heh - less than honest! This should be a lesson to him. Sadly, it probably won't be.

Katie:  What should he do while his mom gets him a lawyer?  His mom says he has a big mouth.

Me:  He needs to get some duct tape.  There is nothing he can say to aid his case, except to be a model inmate at the local jail and say “Yes, sir” in his daily life there.  He can put his mom’s name on the visiting list, attend the jail house AA meetings, and any little Christian prayer group that will inevitably exist there.  He doesn’t fight, he doesn’t shave his head or tatt up, and he doesn’t join any gang “for protection”.  It’s jail, not prison.

Past that, he tells his attorney everything, listens to everything his attorney says, does that exactly, and accepts whatever plea his attorney gets him.  A truly penitent allocution won’t get him a lesser sentence than the plea deal, but it may help in which facility the judge recommends to the DOC that he serve in.

Katie:  Nothing else?  

Me:  Nothing.  And especially he should say nothing to any cell mate or anyone else.  Not a one in there wouldn’t snitch to shave a month off their likely sentence or get a charge reduced or dismissed.

Now.

That basically concluded the conversation.  I would only add that the movies and TV shows are truly harmful.  Generally speaking, you are not going to “beat the rap” by getting the cop or the county on some fine point of Constitutional law.  Or a “technicality” whatever you imagine that to be.  Or an insanity defense.  Or a surprise last minute witness.  Or by “putting the system on trial!”  Or by having Henry Fonda hang a jury.  Or by Clarence Darrow giving a nine hour summation that brings the jury to tears and has the Judge apologizing to you.  Or by having Jack Nicholson scream about how poorly he feels you can handle the truth.

And in such rare cases as you might, well, the attorney you got, that’s his job to know, so if he’s not mentioning it, then yeah, it is unlikely to exist.

Also, the above should not be took to mean that you automatically cave.  It's just a random example.

If it’s truly a bad bust, something like “sassing a cop in the third degree” or “driving while black” or “wrong time, wrong place” then you might wish to fight.  That will be between you and your attorney, and will be based far more on what you can afford then any fine issue of moral/legal right and wrong.

And of course, none of the above advice changes the fact that you NEVER make it easy for the cops and DA by talking, answering questions or making a statement.  Even if you’re innocent.

Especially if you’re innocent.

Always shut up.  Always get a lawyer.  Always then do what the lawyer says.

(I told you that was not only my first, but last advice!)

Chances 12/18/16

Had a guest at our sober living home who mooched, lied, stole and got high.  I'd find a pot pipe in his drawer, or he'd be caught with one on a traffic stop, or he'd ask another guest if that guest wanted to get high.  Or borrow money from a guest and not pay it back.  Or cadge smokes.  Or ask another guest if he wanted to get high.  Or share with everyone how he wasn’t really an addict.  

Many "last chance" lectures were given.  Many more than usual.

There were two reasons for that.  One, his church had paid for eight weeks all at once.  This after the free week and subsidized week he had got from me.  I have the fees weekly for the great reason that if someone relapses, then they've lost very little money.  In his case, he personally had no money invested in his living expenses at all, but I'd still hate to see the church feel bad.

But for two, and the far more important reason, was that he was 20.  And I knew him.  And had known him when he was 16.  I knew the odds were that he'd fail, not only for me having a brain, but for everyone telling me so over and over again.  And for having seen him use and abuse a kind hearted woman in that church who had took him in before.  

But I still wanted him to succeed.

I had been 38 before I even started to pull my head out of my butt, and I hoped to save him a less than productive and appropriate 18 years.  The day I had to expel him, the first thing I did was retch, sick to my stomach over the necessity.  Fortunately I had not ate yet.  To my knowledge, I was the only one who minded him leaving.

Yet as I said - I knew him.  He didn't think so.  I mean, we never hung out, never sparkled up, never joked inanely about 4:20, so by his standards, I couldn't know him.  

Here's what I did know:

He was​ ​raised​ ​by​ ​a​ ​single​ ​”mother”, mother by virtue of having birthed him.  A​ ​single​ ​mother​ ​who​ ​enjoyed​ ​drinking​ ​and smoking​ ​pot, and who I doubt stopped or slowed down on either during her pregnancy with him.​ ​​ ​A mother who avoided​ ​work​ ​of​ ​any​ ​kind,​ ​and​ ​avoided any ​men​ ​who​ ​worked, lest that somehow be catching or provide any kind of good example to her various children.​ ​

​A mother​ ​with​ ​an unerring​ ​ability​ ​to​ ​date​ ​losers.​ ​​ ​No​ ​real​ ​role​ ​models,​ ​no​ ​one​ ​to​ ​keep​ ​him​ ​from​ ​dropping​ ​out​ ​of​ ​high school.​ ​​ ​No​ ​reason for any child of hers​ ​not​ ​to​ ​smoke​ ​pot,​ ​any​ ​more​ ​than​ ​any​ ​of​ ​you​ ​reading​ ​this​ ​had​ ​reason​ ​not​ ​to​ ​do the​ ​things​ ​you​ ​saw​ ​your​ ​folks​ ​doing for fun.

The reality of pot smoking is less cool than movies make out.

Upon​ ​turning​ ​18,​ ​instead​ ​of​ ​going​ ​on​ ​tours​ ​of​ ​colleges​ ​with​ ​the​ ​folks,​ ​talking​ ​to​ ​a​ military ​recruiter,​ ​going on​ ​a​ ​church mission​ ​or​ ​traveling​ ​to​ ​Europe,​ ​his​ ​life​ ​was​ ​no​ ​different​ ​than​ ​the​ ​day​ ​before.​ ​​ ​Or​ ​the​ ​year before.​ ​​ ​No​ ​driver’s​ ​license,​ ​he​ ​had​ ​dropped​ ​out​ ​of​ ​school.​ ​​ ​No​ ​real​ ​jobs​ ​other​ ​than​ ​a​ ​McDonald’s job,​ ​part​ ​time.  Later, a girlfriend raised as poorly, who would have a child of his when he was 19, and break up with him a few months after that kid was born.

Back to his 18th birthday, his “mother” ​deliberately got​ ​a​ ​bunch​ ​of​ ​bills​ ​and​ ​stuff​ ​put​ ​in​ ​his​ ​name, and then ran​ ​them​ ​up​ ​and failed​ ​to​ ​pay​ ​them.​ ​​ ​Happy​ ​Birthday,​ ​kid.​ ​​ ​That​ ​good​ ​credit​ ​that​ ​we​ ​all​ ​start​ ​out​ ​with?​ ​​ ​Blown. And​ ​he’ll​ ​never​ ​get​ ​it​ ​back.​ ​​ ​Not​ ​this​ ​side​ ​of​ ​seven​ ​years​ ​of​ ​hard​ ​work,​ ​and​ ​not​ ​as​ ​good​ ​as​ ​it​ ​could have been even then.

Understand, I’m the last to put up with those sensitive souls in their thirties and forties, still “finding themselves”.  Past a certain point I tell anyone that you can’t let the first 20 year period of your life rule the next three 20 year periods.

Past a certain point.  

Or as I said to another guest, one who was clearly outraged at my continued indulgence of the young man, “Yeah, I get it that upbringing isn’t an excuse for we in our middle age.  But what of when the kid first turns 18?  Still an excuse then, isn’t it?  I see it as a continuum.  As each year goes by, it’s less and less appropriate to blame upbringing, in fact it’s a pretty steep drop off.  By 21, it should be half, by 25, a tenth, and well before 30, it’s time to shut up!”

But this kid was 20.  Young enough that a lot of it was his mom’s fault, as surely as an aggressive pit bull is his trainer’s fault.  Except this kid didn’t even have some kind of clean manly aggression, just the desires of a low-level grifter coupled with no real grifting skills.  

He was one of the ones who thinks that he’s being all clever, and never realizes that he’s not fooling you, he’s just coasting off of your hope that he’ll wake up and realize that working is easier than shirking.

I watched him.  I watched him receive so much, and in each case he honestly thought it was due to some Machiavellian cleverness on his part.  When in reality it was due to he being around some of the kindest people on Earth - church people. Not Adventists, but church people all the same.

Yeah, this one church was backing him the whole way, or - and he didn’t know this - I’d never have let him in the door in the first place.  By “backing him” I mean that they were giving him their moral support, first and foremost.  Any “project” of a church I’m up for aiding in.  His “backers”, both great church goers, both who I knew, persuaded me to try him.

The church as a whole was also backing him.  Morally and spiritually, which as far as I can tell he noticed not.  Financially, he noticed, but figured that it must be due to how clever he was working them.  Here’s a handy hint for anyone “working” the church goers in America:

No one “works” church goers.  They know when you’re ripping them off, they just hope that you’ll wake up and realize that they really do care for you and that you don’t have to lie to or bs them. Sometimes this works, and a new and productive member of their church - and the human race - is born.  Sometimes it doesn’t, and then at least they were doing the good they were supposed to be doing.  

It hurts me - as I’m sure it did them - to see someone with a ton of potential just waste it.  And this guy did have potential.  I knew that college, vocational schools, jobs, careers, travels were all still available to him.  I knew how to get them for him.  I explained to him how he could have them.

Without tipping him that I was aware of his grifting and drifting status, I explained to him some home truths to try and deter him from the life I felt sure he was embarked upon.  I explained to him the obvious that I’m sure he already knew.  That it was perfectly possible for a young man to drift through his whole twenties, coasting off of friends, family, and any others who seeing his youth would wish to aid him in getting him started.

But I told him of the downside to that seeming free ride.  That sometime between his late twenties and early thirties, there’d be a switch flipped, and instead of people wanting to help him “get started” they’d have contempt for him having “not started”.  

And that if he waited till then, that a lot of opportunities would be over, forever.  That he’d have blown a great chance for a great start, and that he’d be playing second string catch up for the rest of his life. And not the least, that as a father, he needed income and stability now, not later after a decade of mindless partying.  

He gravely assured me he wanted to do right.  I gravely nodded my head as if I knew he meant it. Inside, I hoped and prayed fervently that he meant it.  

He didn’t mean it.

He agreed to a plan, a plan that would have paid dividends to him, and for the rest of his life.  A plan of saving his money from his full time work that I helped him find, of getting a car with that savings, of saving the more for his own apartment.  And of the aid I could find him for furnishing that apartment, and of course, paying 20% in child support out of each check in the meanwhile, and in advance of any court order to do so, so that he’d have a better chance of being a meaningful part of his son’s life later.

He loved that plan.  All the way up to the day he got paid.  Then it was blown on clothes at the mall. Work boots?  A pair of work jeans?  Ha, ha.  Just a pair of “cool” pants for each day of the week. About his whole little check’s worth.  

He figured that getting a phone plan was something I’d aid him with, to go along with the iPhone 6 I’d gave him already.  Even though I’d told him he’d have to pay for the plan out of that check.  He told me he could “double up” on the child support payment later.  I knew all this would be trouble even before I found out later that day that he was still buying marijuana.

Is this all his mother’s fault for literally “spoiling” him?  Not “spoiled” in the cute way we pretend the word means, like some fortunate Cindy Brady looking girl having doting parents getting her a pony, but the old fashioned literal meaning of “rotten fruit, worthless and with no value”?

Is it his fault for having exercised no free agency in an appropriate fashion?

His mom’s after all for not having trained him to use that free agency appropriately?

His for not having figured it out anyway with that inherent bit of judgment about right and wrong that even members of isolated Papua New Guinea tribes seem born with?

Probably all that.  And now it will probably be his thirties or forties when the life of consequence free hedonism and coasting off of a boyish smile runs out.  When life has beat him up enough and wore him out enough so that he is - as we say in AA - “sick and tired of being sick and tired”.  

That’s a real shame.  Really.  It bothers me a lot.  

But there’s nothing I can do.  I’ll pray that he wakes up sooner, and makes a better go at another home.