The Battle

	The aftermath of the explosion. Fun, eh?

Bare with me, this is not fun. So, last time I set the stage. Here's the description of the day. Now, my step-son has been violent with me from the start. 5 years ago, he tried to choke me for forcing him to take shower. He has hit me more times than I can count. I guess I should have made a bigger deal of that, but he couldn't hurt me, so I just shrugged it off. And I suspect, something is wrong inside him that he feels the need to be hit to be loved by a man. I dunno if his real dad ever hit him, because he's lied so much, I can't trust anything he ever said. I suspect his dad doesn't, because he seems to think his dad doesn't love him either.

So, have I ever hit him? I smacked him in the mouth once for calling his mother the one intolerable word. I put him in a wall once for raising his hand to her while again uttering said word. I, with great force, knocked a trash can out of his hand that he was swinging at his mother. See the pattern?

So, it was on this day June 3rd, 2007 that it all finally came to a head. I had come back from the store. I was making french toast and needed some essentials. My wife, having had Katie on the 15th of May, was recovering from a C-section, was depressed (not dangerously so, just melancholy), and was taking care of Katie's constant need, breast feeding. And then, we were going to drop Katie off at my mother-in-law's and go to the movies. If... the boy did his chores.

He did not. And, as a parent I do not negotiate. I dictate terms. I can be, and am, flexible. But, I dictate terms. Because I sure don't have to waste my money on movies, if I am not getting what I expect. My step-son always struggled with this.

So, being denied what he wanted, he went after his mom. If he harassed her enough, maybe he could go. So, I formed a barrier between our room and him. Nothing that hasn't happened before. He tried to insult me, and I (literally) reminded him he wasn't very good at verbal sparing. As, in "how many times have we done this? Has it EVER worked?" So, being by the changing table, he started messing with the baby's hygiene stuff. Maybe I should have let that go, but I took it away.

This was apparently the cue he needed to become violent. I handled this the way I usually did. He got in what shots he could before I restrained him. I held his wrists against the wall, and put my hip against him so he couldn't kick me. Again, maybe I should have done something different. But, it just seemed like a kid beating a cinder block wall. As long as he doesn't hurt himeself, why make a big deal?

Well, not being able to over come me, he began to destroy things. He started with the desk we had just bought my wife for her birthday. Next, I think (it happened really fast, the exact order of events is hazy) I picked up his playstation and threw it to the floor. He screamed as if I had stabbed him. I forget sometimes, as developmentally arrested as he is, that very young children form deep attachments to objects. It was not my best move, but I was so furious about the desk, I did it to vent, and not do unthinkable things.

That was my first critical mistake. My second would occur an instant later, as he began destroying the furniture, closets doors, and walls in his room. After years of being told it was the right move, I called 911. If I could go back, I would not do this. James, knowing exactly what happened, was terrified, and begged me to hang up. Begged his mom not to let them take him. And called his Dad in Texas.

I relaxed. I had often called friends to come over and provide a calming presence to our unstable home. I figured the police would do the same.

So, this is a long story. To sum up I told the police what I just told you, about the restraining, the playstation, everything. They arrested me. If you can imagine my state of mind. I couldn't believe it. I was sure everything I had done, if not optimal, was certainly legal. I was carted off, booked, put in an orange jumpsuit, and put in a 10 x 12 room with 10 other guys, 3 of whom were convicted felons, a murderer, a rapist, an a fraudster.

Much later I would read the police report. My step-son had told the police I threw him into the broken desk (here I must say, the sheriff was a moron. The damage to the desk was clearly inconsistent with the story. He had grabbed the door and punched it away from the desk. Throwing something into the desk would have caused collapsing damage, not scattering damage. Don't these guys go to a school or something?)

He also said I punched him. Now, how can I prove I didn't? I probably can't. I can only offer up the anecdotal evidence, that I, like most big guys, am a grappler, not a slugger. Big guys hold, and press, and slam. We're too slow to be punchers.

But, you know what else couldn't be proven. That I DID hit him. There was NO physical evidence. My wife swore out a statement to this. Clearly, James was not hurt in anyway, and with a smug expression, tried to talk to me when my father-in-law posted my bail. I said nothing, went to bed, and left the house early in the morning.

The next morning after I left, apparently liking what he saw, my step son called the police on my wife, saying she was threatening to kill the baby and herself. Luckily, my wife was on the neighbor's phone with the police at the same time, because the truth was, our son had hit her while she was holding the baby. My wife was NOT arrested. CPS came out and arranged to have the boy removed. They would later back pedal on this being a forced removal, but he was gone. To Texas, with his father. What small remorse he would show would come too little too late.

This should be the end of the story. It's not. I half expected all of this from the boy. Our justice system, that surprised me.

next: The War.