After The Devil was arrested, waiting for his hearing at his parents’ home, I got a call from my Father-in-Law. The Devil wanted pictures of our family. He was missing us. He wanted the keys to his car (a car that I owned and had made all the payments for), some clothes and his precious guitar. I agreed to everything, except for the car, and my Father-in-Law came over to pick up the items.
The Devil called my cell phone. Violating the protection order. He said he was sorry. I told him he was violating the order, and I hung up.
My Father-in-Law called. He had accompanied The Devil to a psychiatric appointment. Unbeknownst to me when we married, The Devil had seen a Psychiatrist for 7 years. The Psychiatrist conveniently gave him a diagnosis that apparently he had been reticent to give in those past 7 years; bipolar disorder. My Father-in-Law then went about the task of convincing me that because he had bipolar disorder, that is what caused him to abuse me. I believed him. I knew very little about the disorder, but chose to believe what I was being told. I didn’t want to believe that The Devil was violent. I wanted an explanation. Bipolar diagnosis was a convenient explanation for his behavior.
I wrote a heartfelt letter to the State’s Attorney, asking that The Devil’s charges be dismissed. I told the Attorney that I wanted my husband to have the opportunity to receive psychiatric care, to repair our relationship and the damage done to our family. Most of all, I didn’t want Joe to find out what had happened, and then attempt to gain custody of the boys. Joe was just that manipulative to try, even though he hadn’t had much contact with the boys since the divorce. Joe had moved on and remarried, and his new wife was not a person who loved anyone but herself. She had a child, and that was the only child that mattered. So, needless to say, I just wanted these charges to disappear. I did not want to lose my children.
The State’s Attorney was at times harsh, and at times compassionate. There were times I felt victimized by the system and times where I felt they were doing their level best to help me. I just wanted the nightmare over with. The State’s Attorney finally agreed to drop the charges, largely, I was told later because I was an uncooperative witness. The charges were dropped without prejudice, meaning that they could later, bring the charges forward again, if necessary, if another situation of abuse were to occur.
It was at this time that My Friend and her husband inserted themselves into my life and tried to tell me what to do. I was told that under no certain circumstances would she continue to be My Friend if I allowed The Devil to come back home. Ultimatums are not what domestic violence victims need. They need love. They need compassion and true friendship. They need therapy.
I did not get love. I did not get compassion nor true friendship. I did not, at this time, get therapy.
After the charges were dropped, I agreed to meet The Devil at a neutral place. Over a cup of coffee, we talked. He was on his best behavior. He seemed to have accepted his diagnosis (later, I know that was not true), was expressing extreme remorse and sadness, claiming to miss me and the boys. While there, my cell phone rang. It was my Father-in-Law. I answered.
Robert was dead.
My Father-in-Law asked me if I was with The Devil. He asked me to be quiet. He asked me not to blurt anything out to The Devil and to wait until I got off of the phone. As I was listening to the details (presumed heart attack in his sleep, sometime on Friday evening – it was Sunday), The Devil’s cell phone rang. He answered. A cousin, on the other end of the line, blurted out the news. The Devil began to cry. He began to punch his fist into the window. Violently.
I got off of the phone with my Father-in-Law. I called to the friend’s house where the boys were playing. Certainly, their friend’s mother would keep them a while longer. The Devil and I drove to Robert’s house. Then later, to the hospital.
I felt as though my world was, once again, upside down. Robert was like a brother to me. We had been so close. I was devastated. Absolutely devastated. So was The Devil, to the capacity that he had feelings. I had lost two people who were so important in my life in the span of a few months. Life, as they say, was not fair.