After spending what seemed like eternity in my one night of jail, I waited and waited for them to come open the cell door. I had to give back my uniform (I was bummed as I wanted a souvenir), and prepared to go before the judge. I sat in the same room where I had been "booked" only now there was a television set. I told the cop standing there that I was looking forward to talking to the judge to explain that this was all just a misunderstanding. To this he pointed out that he would not recommend doing that. He suggested I say nothing unless I was addressed/asked by the judge. What? Really? I had no idea what I was getting into, and based on the previous night's experience this lead me to being scared. Was I really leaving today?
Finally the judge appeared on my television. I had a camera pointed at me so they could see me in all my striped glory. I heard that my wife was in the courtroom. Oh how I ached to see my wife. I hoped that the camera angles were like those you see in a gas station where the security cam switches to different views every 15 seconds. Maybe I could catch a glimpse of my wife. To let me see she was OK. I could just get eye contact.......
But it was a single camera shot. All I get was the judge who wasn't even looking into the camera. There was another person in the courtroom. My wife had been appointed an advocate. She was now the victim. She had victim's rights, etc. She needed protected. I didn't realize it then, but I understand it now. When I closed that cell door, my life changed. Previously I was innocent until proven guilty. Now I was guilty until proven innocent. This goes for the court system, and for certain members of my family. I felt like running to a mirror to see if I had somehow put on a stained white t-shirt with a hole in the shoulder. You know the type of "uniform" that most domestic violence men wear. It was like someone had placed a "kick me" sign on m back, only it read "wife beater." I again wanted to scream "STOP!, HOLD ON, Can I PLEASE get someone's attention?" Instead I sat with my mouth shut listening to the judge. I learned how I would have to pay for a lawyer to defend me and I had another hearing in about two weeks. In the meantime, there would be a protection order against me and I couldn't be within X-amount of feet of my wife. I could not communicate with her in anyway. If I violated this in any fashion I would be thrown back in jail. Even if she contacted me first, if I answered the phone I could go to jail. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THIS MISTER JACKSON? "Yes your honor," I answered. I was scared. I was not going back to jail.
I had to wait for a cop to escort me back to my house where I was not allowed to talk directly to my wife. I had to ask the cop to ask my wife a question. After about four messages back and forth the cop had enough and said, "Look if you guys can be civil, I'll let you communicate." We talked about the bills that would need paid. How to run the house going forward. The nurse had done me a favor and packed some clothes for me in. This was not in a "get out now" fashion," but more as a favor to save me the hassle. She said she didn't want a divorce. I don't remember much of the conversation. I just remember having to hurry as we couldn't keep the cop all day. I had to pack enough in my Toyota Corolla to last me a while. Before I left she asked if she could hug me, and the cop said that was fine. So three feet from where our act of stupidity happened, I hugged my wife fo what would be the last time for a while.
We all take things for granted every day. We are to busy to realize the every day things we do that are a privilege. My wife an I had gome from shouting at each other to talking to each other, to cour ordered silence. The silence was deafening. I couldn't email, text, chat, call, look, etc at my wife or risk going to jail. She called, but I refused to answer the phone. I wasn't going back to jail. I didn't trust the justice system,
