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A Knight Of The Old Code
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A Knight Of The Old Code I have had a lot of people ask me once again how I came to be the way that I am. I can't keep answering this question as it is to long and hard. Most people would probably not believe the truth anyway and therefore I really do not bother. As posted about a month and a half ago, I shall put it up again to relive some of those questions that I get. A Knight of the Old Code… Several ladies have asked me what kind of hardships I have gone through in order to be the way that I am… I am going to explain. I do have one rule though… I do not want to hear any “I’m sorry for you” or “I am sorry you had to go through that.” We can’t always have what we want in life! Sometimes we hit rock bottom and think we can not crash any harder or fall and lower. Well, there are levels far lower then what many people naturally consider rock bottom! “You can be anything that you want to be.” ‒ The biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard in my life! We are all born to be something, and no matter what we do it will always end up being that way. I do not personally believe in god, regardless of my personal beliefs… there is without a doubt something of great power above us. Mid-life crisis is a prime example… people eventually wish they had chosen a different path in life. Look at the greatest knights and kings that once ruled or fought and you will find that they were inspired by specific events within their lives. They did not be what they were right off; those things take time to develop. Obviously our path in life will not be revealed to us until we are capable of accepting it. Due to the fact that so many men and women mature at snail speed in modern society, it then results in them virtually never knowing what their purpose in life is. They pass through life dreaming the impossible dream, caring more about themselves then they ever do another. I know that some people are very nice, but history proves time and time again that most people only care about themselves. They won’t lift a finger to help another until it provides them personally with some kind of gain. Thankfully, I am “not” one of those normal people. However, I made the mistake of wishing for something that I were not ready to handle. I grew up as the outsider of my family… the youngest of three. My brother and sister ignored me and my parents didn’t really ignore me… they just flat out walked through me like Casper the ghost. At least with my brother and sister I would sometimes get a reply. This lead to me taking out my anger easily in the school yards. The funny thing is though; I have never in my life started a fight. I was always the foolish knight in shining armor since damn near the day I was born. Standing up for myself when someone picked on me, and barging in to defend someone else if they were being picked on. My parents and teachers didn’t give a fu** though, as far as they were concerned a fight is a fight and thus I got suspended almost 3 days a week from school since about 1st grade on. As a I immediately fell in love with medieval times. I still laugh at this, but HBO use to have regular programming when it was first out. I use to watch the movie Conan the Destroyer every day for almost 3 years straight. It came on HBO every morning at 6am and 8am on weekends. I watched it before I went to school, and I watched it again everyday at 6pm when it came on again. (They eventually changed it so it was only on in the mornings). My parents didn’t like it very much, but they were smart enough to realize I was very different. They ignored me, but it almost seemed that they kind of paid attention to me in a different way. They allowed me to be a loner where as with my brother and sister they scolded them and punished them when they did something wrong. I did a lot of things wrong, but my brother and sister flat out defied their wishes and thus they got much harsher<b> punishments </font></b>then I did. I wanted to start my martial arts training back when I was really young. With my temper however my parents thought it would be a very bad thing. The therapists I had to see as a tried to tell them it would actually do me good to train in martial arts; they however did not listen! For that I will never forgive them and you will later understand why… it would appear that a lot of parents have a general idea of who their will be before even they do. This is causing some major problems in the current world… are supposed to be nourished and mentored. Instead of parents often helping to guide their they often seem to just “control” them in whatever way they personally desire. I also grew up very shy, before I got placed in school we had to take a placement test that was actually just an interview. I was asked some basic questions like, if I knew my birthday and my name and that basic stuff. I answered nothing because I was shy and due to that they assumed I was underdeveloped and thus held me back a grade right from the start of school. The good thing was that I got my first girlfriend in that grade… heh I will never forget her. She got me into so much trouble it wasn’t even funny! There were times that we would be coming back from gym class and she would literally jump on me once we were back in the classroom and start kissing my face. It was nothing bad or anything, just childsplay type stuff. Finally we moved, and I lost her… she was the only friend I have ever really had in my life. Needless to say, being separated from her only made my temper worse. Even as a , you never separate them from something they love unless you want to face a case of depression that most do not have to endure. My parents had separated me from my Guinevere, and did not know what the results would be… Things got worse when I was in 4th grade… my mother hurt her back terribly when she was getting out of the car after work one night. Just one of those freak occurrences when you happen to move a normal way and suddenly your body doesn’t react well to it. It cost her being in bed for almost a year straight, since she was the only one of my parents working it really didn’t serve to well. My father always tried, but he was always better with us then my mother so he tended to us mostly. My brother is older then me (by 4 years) so he took the opportunity to pretty much start living at his different friends houses. I think he was probably home about one day a week… My parents forced us to go to church when I was little. I didn’t believe in god then and as I have said, I most certainly do not now. Despite not believing in god while I was younger… I did make one prayer when I was 9 years old. Had I know that it was going to come true, I don’t know if I still would have made the same prayer. Had I know what it was going to entail… I never would have even considered making the prayer. Luckily the one good thing my father always told me was that we should never pray for ourselves unless it is a passion from the heart. (I wish more people did this… they believe that by asking for forgiveness that it will fix all of our sins. I have met Christian women that think they can violate their beliefs by engaging in pre-martial sex and then say they are sorry and are forgiven. Obviously if you do something that you know is wrong before you do it then you can not be forgiven. Sometimes we really do actually make bad mistakes, but those mistakes are spur of the moment choices and not actually planned on. If these women go to a bar and get drunk and fucked then as long as it only happens once then it could possibly be forgiven. If they then turn around and do it again knowing it will result in the same then not only are you committing a sin by that action… but you are committing a sin again for having lied to god about being truly sorry (asking for forgiveness) after the first time. So many people either hide behind their friends or their god or take literally no responsibility for their actions. It is sad isn’t it? I am thankful because just like anyone else I made some horrible choices. What is the difference between me and most other people you ask? I was only 13, and I did not make any excuses despite how young I was. I sacrificed my future in order to save the lives of others). The only thing I ever asked god for was to be as different as possible. Even at that age I didn’t care about money or friends, I just wanted to be as unique as a person could possibly be. The first thing I ever noticed in life is that all people act very similar. I figured it was just my imagination… but a lot of doctors and scientists have proven over the past 15 years that it is not my imagination. People in today’s society all click together, they follow each other instead of following their heart. I have never desired such imperfection… men are worse at this then most women. They assume that having a heart is a bad thing, but the truth is that it makes you stronger and not weaker. I had begun my martial arts studies around this age. As I said… my parents refused to allow me to study in a class. As a result I began studying on my own… I used the money I got for my b-day and Christmas to go down to the local book store and order Samurai and basic Kung Fu books as well as European history books focused on knights. (This is also where I got my first sexual education. Samurai were trained in the art of war as well as the art of love. Kama Sutra is mentioned in many martial arts books!) As I said in a previous article, adultery is wrong in a lot of ways other then religion. Amongst warriors and knights like myself, adultery is the second greatest form of dishonor that one can face. By law anyone who dishonors someone like us in such a manner (male or female) we are then required to “reclaim our/that honor.” Back then and even today, the only way to reclaim that lost honor is in a duel to the finish. This sounds unfair, however it is not because we are bound by those codes as well. We are required to surrender our life if we ever harm an innocent person or cheat on our girlfriends or wife. Aside from loosing in physical combat, adultery ranks a nearly identical second. I was in 5th grade at this time and it was only three days later that the prayer got answered… thankfully I was right about assuming my maturity was already more advanced then most of the others. The vents that followed over the next 4 years where probably the greatest trials I will and have ever faced in my life… Thankfully… several preachers, my grandparents, a couple of doctors, and two FBI agents were able to step into things and save my life. That will all come later though… My aunt passed away (not by accident) and it tore my mother up. They were best friends and really were my mother’s only friend at the time. After having to go through what she did with her back and now her best friend being taken from her it sent her off the deep end. (Still an ongoing problem 15 years later, I will explain that later though). Because my parents where the closest to them they were picked to be the ones to help deal with the trial and as well as cleaning up the house. Us where kicked around from home to home in the mean time. My brother stayed with his friends and so did my sister, because I had no friends I was sent to stay with a family from my church. The father of that family was a big martial artist, which I was not aware of until I was at their home because it was not something that they boast about. After seeing his office (were he held all of his training and conditioning gear) I realized that he was someone who could teach me a thing or two. I have to say that I immediately took a liking to them, not really because of the martial arts practices, but because they did not advertise it. (I am open about the fact I train, but I don’t go into details about the specific training. My training and ability is not a trophy, it is a way of life, and they were a wonderful example to follow). Aside from helping with my martial arts he was also a semi-professional bass fisherman and took me out on the lakes with him. (As I got older we partnered up and competed in some state tournaments). My parents began fighting a lot as my mother got more depressed. They nearly separated several times but decided to stay together because of us . (At the time I thought this was a good idea, but as I will explain in part 4 or 5, it was not a good idea at all). The other at school were relentless about making fun of me and my family for what happened to my aunt. This led to be starting to let my temper flare because I was unable to think clearly. After nearly 100 consecutive suspensions the school had a meeting and decided I was a troubled and thus decided to send me away to a evaluation center where they would decide what kind of support and teaching I needed. They did not address the fact that the where making fun of me and my family, instead they put all the blame on me. I agree that it was not okay for me to allow my temper to slide, but they should have been punished as well. (Back in fourth grade one student that literally knocked me around on a daily basis was also not reprimanded. The school sent me home early one day with a note for my parents. The note read, “we can not guarantee the safety of your therefore we are now releasing him from school everyday at 2:30pm instead of 2:40pm so that he can get a head start home and not be bullied anymore.” Even today people still face this kind of thing, people wonder home some of these school issues keep happening, well they keep happening because the criminals have more rights then the innocent. Eventually those innocent people fight back and thus we end up hearing about it on the news. My parents where seriously pissed off about the fact that the school wouldn’t actually stop this , but seeing as they were not very wealthy… they could not afford a lawyer). None of the people at the evaluation center were actual doctors, but they were trained to keep an eye on us and then report our behavior patterns to their supervisors. Most of the people here were total jerks but I didn’t have a choice to get along with them or not. The school at this facility was very small, about 6 students per class. I did get lucky in the fact that they had just finished a study right before I got there. The study they started when I was there was on classical music and famous inventors. It is here that I learned about classical music and fell in love with it. (I still love it today and probably would not if it was not for getting sent to this place). Often times we only see the bad in the bad things that happen to us, I however find this as a good thing and thus I do not hold ill feelings towards the fact I was not even suppose to be in that place to begin with. I had to stay here for 90 days and it made things fall apart at home. I returned home to find my parents had allowed one of my sister’s friends to move in while I was gone. This meant that I no longer had a bedroom of my own to sleep in and thus had to sleep on the couch. I didn’t really mind aside from the fact that my family stayed up till nearly 2/3 o’clock in the morning and thus I was not able to get very much sleep at all. Having been away allowed me the chance to regain some focus, my grades temporarily went from F’s to A’s. Because of the fact I could not sleep, it then reduced my grades back down to F’s within just two months time. As soon as my grades started to slip a lot of the saw me as an outcast again and thus the picking started up again. “From here was a eventful sixth grade, and in seventh grade a finally found a group of friends… or what I thought were my friends. I learned some lessons the hard way from them and it left a scar on me that I will never be able to fully forget, luckily I did learn a great deal though. That story is for another time though as I do not want to dig through those memories at the moment”. Part Two My aunt passed away (not by accident) and it tore my mother up. They were best friends and really were my mother’s only friend at the time. After having to go through what she did with her back and now her best friend being taken from her it sent her off the deep end. (Still an ongoing problem 15 years later, I will explain that later though). Because my parents where the closest to them they were picked to be the ones to help deal with the trial and as well as cleaning up the house. Us where kicked around from home to home in the mean time. My brother stayed with his friends and so did my sister, because I had no friends I was sent to stay with a family from my church. The father of that family was a big martial artist, which I was not aware of until I was at their home because it was not something that they boast about. After seeing his office (were he held all of his training and conditioning gear) I realized that he was someone who could teach me a thing or two. I have to say that I immediately took a liking to them, not really because of the martial arts practices, but because they did not advertise it. (I am open about the fact I train, but I don’t go into details about the specific training. My training and ability is not a trophy, it is a way of life, and they were a wonderful example to follow). Aside from helping with my martial arts he was also a semi-professional bass fisherman and took me out on the lakes with him. (As I got older we partnered up and competed in some state tournaments). My parents began fighting a lot as my mother got more depressed. They nearly separated several times but decided to stay together because of us . (At the time I thought this was a good idea, but as I will explain in part 4 or 5, it was not a good idea at all). The other at school were relentless about making fun of me and my family for what happened to my aunt. This led to be starting to let my temper flare because I was unable to think clearly. After nearly 100 consecutive suspensions the school had a meeting and decided I was a troubled and thus decided to send me away to a evaluation center where they would decide what kind of support and teaching I needed. They did not address the fact that the where making fun of me and my family, instead they put all the blame on me. I agree that it was not okay for me to allow my temper to slide, but they should have been punished as well. (Back in fourth grade one student that literally knocked me around on a daily basis was also not reprimanded. The school sent me home early one day with a note for my parents. The note read, “we can not guarantee the safety of your therefore we are now releasing him from school everyday at 2:30pm instead of 2:40pm so that he can get a head start home and not be bullied anymore.” Even today people still face this kind of thing, people wonder home some of these school issues keep happening, well they keep happening because the criminals have more rights then the innocent. Eventually those innocent people fight back and thus we end up hearing about it on the news. My parents where seriously pissed off about the fact that the school wouldn’t actually stop this , but seeing as they were not very wealthy… they could not afford a lawyer). None of the people at the evaluation center were actual doctors, but they were trained to keep an eye on us and then report our behavior patterns to their supervisors. Most of the people here were total jerks but I didn’t have a choice to get along with them or not. The school at this facility was very small, about 6 students per class. I did get lucky in the fact that they had just finished a study right before I got there. The study they started when I was there was on classical music and famous inventors. It is here that I learned about classical music and fell in love with it. (I still love it today and probably would not if it was not for getting sent to this place). Often times we only see the bad in the bad things that happen to us, I however find this as a good thing and thus I do not hold ill feelings towards the fact I was not even suppose to be in that place to begin with. I had to stay here for 90 days and it made things fall apart at home. I returned home to find my parents had allowed one of my sister’s friends to move in while I was gone. This meant that I no longer had a bedroom of my own to sleep in and thus had to sleep on the couch. I didn’t really mind aside from the fact that my family stayed up till nearly 2/3 o’clock in the morning and thus I was not able to get very much sleep at all. Having been away allowed me the chance to regain some focus, my grades temporarily went from F’s to A’s. Because of the fact I could not sleep, it then reduced my grades back down to F’s within just two months time. As soon as my grades started to slip a lot of the saw me as an outcast again and thus the picking started up again. “From here was a eventful sixth grade, and in seventh grade a finally found a group of friends… or what I thought were my friends. I learned some lessons the hard way from them and it left a scar on me that I will never be able to fully forget, luckily I did learn a great deal though. That story is for another time though as I do not want to dig through those memories at the moment”. Part Three Being an outcast is never a fun thing! After the rises and falls… I finally found a group of friends in which I got along with and accepted me. Of course… in order to gain that acceptance I had to alter who I was. My summer between 7th and 8th grade was a wild one to say the least. Instead of leading… I followed. I got involved in some things in which I wish I could say I did not. However, as I have said over and over, often times it takes doing the wrong thing before we realize the right thing. Isn’t great being a isn’t it? Always wanting to fit in, and feeling bad when you do not? My friends had a habit of ganging up on others… the people I had spent a lot of my childhood protecting. I just hung in the background, saying and doing nothing to stop them since it had only gotten me in trouble before. On the street though I had encountered a couple of that were far worse then the friends I was currently with. I heard a very serious rumor about the two of them. Despite wanting to fit in… I could not ignore the rumor. I contacted the proper people and then came to my home to discuss what I had heard. I told them very clearly that my name was not to be involved… but people of power often only end up thinking about themselves and not the people they are sworn to protect. The next day a close friend and I was walking down the street and ran into the two guys that had done what I informed the proper people about. They both approached me… one swept to the back and the other face to face with me (my friend stepped back and then walked away totally to head down a side street). It was said right off the bat that they had just left the station and had all of their gear confiscated from them. The officer did not however do anything about the information I gave him, and named me directly as being the one to have told on them. They were 17 and 18… I was 13 (a rather big disadvantage). I was near getting cracked by both of their skateboards when a younger gal working in the store we were outside of came outside and yelled at them. She was a senior at the highschool, and rather bold at that considering she was not aware that they were both armed. A patrol car happened by as they were cursing at her and that caught the officer’s attention rather quickly. Neither of the guys got into trouble, but the officer had them leave and then escorted me home. I was thankful for the gal’s bravery… none of the people walking up and down the street around us said a darn thing to them. Grown men and women walking about all over around us, and they were all gutless. In the end it came down to a minor (and a girl at that) saving my skin from either getting fatally hurt or even just a minor butt kicking. Even at that age, I was carrying at all times… I had my hand on my back in close proximity to what I might need to grab. I guess it may have been them that she saved because they thought someone like me would be too cowardly to defend myself since I had told on them. They were relying on their skateboards… and not their intelligence. I was pretty defensive from that point on… as well as questioning the friends I was hanging out with. My closest of the friends at the time had just failed me at a time he should not have. Such betrayal does not sit well with me… then or now. As the summer went on, I slowly stopped hanging out with them so much and eventually it became virtually never. My anger got the best of me at the beginning of the 8th grade year. My parents were constantly on me for the trouble I had gotten into over the summer despite the fact I had pretty much stopped hanging out with those friends. Thus my anger got the best of me and… I ended up doing something that still bothers me today. I was too afraid to discuss it with my parents though, as I knew what they would think and most certainly what they would do. My friends were present at the time; wish I knew would eventually come back on me. I intended to deal with it (it was rather serious, but not as serious as you are probably thinking). I however, never got the chance… Less than 24 hours later my friends and I were at one of their girlfriends house. One of the idiots thought it would be fun to go into the fathers lock box and remove… well, you have the idea. They took off from the house right away and stopped at a church. They decided to toss the item underneath a pile of leaves until later when they could come back and get it. This did not sit to well with me… as the ’s library was just across the street and the elementary school was just down the street too. It served me right, I had done a wonderful job of removing myself from being their friends… but one little slip up caused me to be face to face with my belief of never risking harm to a woman or her . I went home afterwards since it was early in the morning. I could not sleep a wink though, all I could think was “what if a digs through the leaves?” When the later morning came I tried talking to my mother in a round about way. I was trying to make it clear that there was a serious problem, but if I told her what it was than my friends would retaliate against me. I said very clearly that I had done something she would not be proud of and my friends would be telling on me if I told on them. For almost an hour she kept telling me that no matter what… if I informed the proper people then there was nothing that could change her impression of me. Not only was I afraid of what my parents would think… but after my last encounter with the authorities and their lack of keeping my name a secret, I was not to happy about having to tell them about this. I faced my fear though and contacted them anyway because the risk to others was more important to me then my own skin (I should know better then to be a knight in shining armor, all it does is get you fu**ed). They came to my house and I informed them of what happened and where to go and look for the item. They told me that I needed to go with them and show them exactly where it was or they would not search at all (that figures… the jerks!). I had a bad feeling that my friends might be at that girlfriend’s house again and they would see me if I went down there and helped the authorities. Again… stupid me, I put the safety of others above my own! When we got down there the officer kicked around at the leaves and his foot did not hit anything. He turned to me and said there was nothing there… I told him to actually look and not kick around. He did not do as I said and started to walk away. I got down in the leaves on my hands and knees and felt around… it took me less than a minute of feeling around until my hand hit the barrel. Right as my hand touched it the damn officer put his hand on his sidearm and told me to get away. (This pissed me off like you can not imagine… here I am helping them and he has the fu**ing audacity not to show me any respect). The officer called in another unit to help photograph the area and take a statement… but as I feared… my friends rode by on their bikes and saw me with them. I thought my friends would talk to my parents about what I did… instead they talked to some of the teachers at school. In return the teachers contacted my parents and the authorities. The school had an emergency meeting and decided to have me go before a judge in an emergency hearing. Two officers came to get me after the school day and escorted me to the courthouse the next town over. To make a long night short… the judge and officers only mentioned what I had done and did not mention a damn thing about how I had on a few serious occasions actually possibly helped save people from serious harm. Not only did they not mention that, but also they did not mention that what I was currently being charged with had happened almost 3 months prior to any of the heroic deeds I had done. Obviously my rebel phase had removed it self as quickly as it had showed up. It is rather funny… one bad thing and any heroic deed you have done no longer matters. Instead of putting you on trial as a person, they do it as an animal. The judge ruled to have me sent to an evaluation center about 3 hours away from my home. Thus, the sheriffs escorted me there at 3am after the hearing finally finished. (The car had a digital dash… I watched it throughout the entire drive and it was over 100 to 130 literally the entire drive. No blue lights or anything… here they are busting me for breaking the law, and there they are also violating the law). They had no reason to be going that fast and at the time… the law stated that cars needed to have their blue lights on if in a hurry to get somewhere so that it warns other cars of them and thus as many knows will allow them to pass. This is very much the case still today everywhere in the country… only UC’s are allowed to break this or if it is a silent run that they do not want to alert fugitives to a oncoming raid/bust. We all know that they go considerably faster then they need to, and they are not supposed to exceed traffic laws unless an emergency is at hand. I learned a few valuable lessons here… I can not trust my friends, my family… or the law. People care more about saving their own skin then they do about saving others. This problem is growing worse with every passing day. Even at the age of 13… I helped others above worrying about myself. That still has not changed… 90 days at another evaluation center… 3 years in a group home witnessing things that still give me nightmares. And sadly, a great deal more family trauma was all still to come though… Part Four I was not impressed with the judge’s actions… but I am sworn not to defend myself over trivial matters. I was not in danger; therefore I am required to lay low. The day before the meeting an article ended up on the front page of both our local newspapers about me. I have no wonder about this… I know that if I was not taken away then the court would have had to deal with my parents talking to the media about some of the previous issues. My mother has worked for lawyers her whole life and the court knew it… they put me in state custody before they actually had a case against me. I was detained that night before court… searched, and yet never “officially” read my rights. I did try and leave the station while we were waiting for the court hearing… I was told to stay seated or I would be put in one of the cells. I do not know how it is possible that I was being held without an explanation as to what the “exact” reasons where. It seemed that I was under arrest, and yet the law clearly states that you can not do so without reading the Miranda rights to the person. This applies to both adults and youth! I was not given a public defender when appearing in front of the judge either… The evaluation center that I got sent to this time was a pain in the butt. It was a house that was literally out in the middle of no where. We were not allowed to leave our rooms except for 3 hours in the nighttime. We did get out in the day… but that was for school and the schooling was done in the cellar of the house where our rooms were. The staff was however pretty nice, when I was there… there was only one other present. I had been technically charged, but the court had absolutely no concrete evidence against me at all. That is why they sent me away! The local newspapers where all over me after finding out what happened, and thus they would have had to acknowledge to them that they could not hold me. I was only supposed to stay there for a 30-day evaluation. However the court still did not have anything on me at the end of 30 days and therefore I remained there for 90 days until they finally could make everything stick. This is an obvious abuse of power, but let’s face it… this is what the United States is known for! (When I turned 19 I did contact one of the newspapers that had written one of the articles on me. I gave them a copy of the court proceedings and the charges that were brought upon me. I also informed them of what happened while I was in State Custody. They offered to run a story about it because it was obvious that I was not the criminal that they said I was in the newspapers (of course I was unable to talk to them therefore they had to go strictly by what they were informed of by the officers). They wanted to expose the group home and the officers involved in my dealings. At the time I said no but recently have been offered to have another article written… I shall explain this later though). The most interesting thing here is that… as stated in part two, my mother had began suffering from severe depression after hurting her back and loosing her best friend. She was under serious medical care for that depression and the doctors told the court she was not capable of defending my rights, as a parent should. Normally in a situation such as this… you are immediately given a public defender and then a social worker. I was finally given a public defender after being at the house for almost 60 days. I was only allowed one conversation with him though after finding out a court date had been set. After 90 days I was finally driven back to town and the courthouse. Upon arriving there I met a female lawyer who informed me that my previous one had to be removed because he represented one of the other involved with one of the issues. She had just been handed my case that morning and I was about to go to court facing serious charges in 20 minutes time. Needless to say I was not impressed… I have never hid anything, and my lawyer advised me it would be a good idea to plead not guilty (as most lawyers do). I knew that I was not the only one involved in these cases and yet I was the only one being charged. As a matter of fact, I was actually being the one charged for the stole item I discussed in part three. I was the one who reported it, and now I was being charged with it. I can not stand useless debates and I do not like arguing or fighting if I can avoid it. Therefore I went against my lawyer’s wishes and just plead guilty to “all” charges. I had already unlawfully lost 3 months of my life… I knew that if I plead not guilty then I would loose even more just “waiting” for the trial. It was not worth it to me… The judge was actually very impressed that I had the courage at that age to walk in and just plead guilty and not make excuses for my actions like many people (especially adults) do. I was given probation... 1,450 hours of community service work, and had to write 11 apology letters. They also send me to a group home… and that is where the real pain started to begin… “Some things we have seen… we wish could be undone!” This is where I had to make the harder choices of my life… Part Five The group home I got sent to was about 1 mile away from my home that I had grown up in. The group home and court ruled that I was not allowed to see my family at all due to the fact my parents were dealing with depression and such and thus were not fit to be interacting with me. (Funny… they call them unfit now but didn’t when I was being charged). My grandparents and several members from my church tried to adopt me in order to keep me from having to go to the group home. Needless to say that the social worker I had said that there was no way she would allow it. I was still in 8th grade… and the middle school was literally right next to my house. For 3 years… I had to drive by my house “every” day and see my family and my playing or hanging out in the yard and not be able to speak to them. I had to sit in class and look out the windows in the rooms and all I could see was my house. Now this is what I call inhumane! At least in jail you are removed from society… thus you do not have to deal with this kind of psychological abuse. There was one day that I was waiting for the group home worker to come pick me up after school and I was waiting in the parking lot. My father came outside to let the out and the group home pulled up at almost the same time. I was accused of violating my probation because my father said hello to me and yet I did not engage in a conversation with him. They accused me of waiting in the parking lot so that I could talk to him. I tried to explain to them that the reason I was waiting in the parking lot and not the yard with all the other was because I have a serious anxiety when it comes to large groups of people. They told me that I was manipulating the situation and that I was a liar. Thus they told me that I needed to wait in the schoolyard and if I were seen near the parking lot again, I would be sent to jail instead of remaining in the group home. These people were serious control freaks! There were 5 other at the group home… 3 girls, 2 boys and myself. One of the girls there was 16 and had been taken out of her home because she was being abused (her stepfather had been charged with it but given probation). She came back from one of her weekend visits and informed the group home that she was still being abused on her weekend visits. The group home accused her of lying, and thus did not do anything to look into, let alone prevent her from still being abused. Eventually she tried writing letters to various state workers (including the actual governor) and none of them were responded to. I was not impressed to see a woman in State custody for her own protection and yet the state was knowingly “not” actually protecting her. Here she is still having to have weekend visits with a man that has been proven to previously abusing her and yet no one lifted a finger to do anything. It took less then a year after the gal getting to know me before she started coming to me when things went wrong. Many Monday nights I had to spend with her crying in my arms because she had just spent two days being abused. I have to admit that (like the group home) I was not sure if I should believe her at first. It became very obvious though that she was in fact telling the truth. This tore me apart just as much as the torture I was having to endure over the fact my family was being dangled in front of my face on a daily basis. Like candy in front of a and then being pulled away as they start to reach for it. It finally came time for me to begin working off my community service… I began working at the local food bank and at the local homeless shelter 2 days a week. After two weeks the group home said I was not working it off fast enough even though I was given a year to complete it. They thus decided I was to start doing chores around the group home in order to work it off. They made me rake out the stalls and pick up rocks from the ring. When spring came they had me rotor the garden using a hand shovel. I was given an old wooden shovel and had to dig in and flip the soil across their 300-yard garden. After the first day of doing it the wood on the shovel began eating away at my hands. I asked them if they could get me a pair of gloves so it would not keep causing blisters on my hands. They told me to toughen up and if I did not like it then I could go to juvenile jail instead! After 4 days my hands finally became so raw that they were bleeding rather easily at the slightest touch from anything. I talked to one of my teachers at school so they could help me deal with the way I was being treated. The teacher called the group home and told them that they needed to get me gloves or have me stop doing the work they wanted as it was causing harm to me. As a result… I got home from school and was greeted by two sheriffs where I was handcuffed and shackled and taken to jail for 2 weeks. (This would not be the only time this was to happen). This really was a big line in my opinion… the group home was abusing my community service and making me do it at the group home like slave labor. The court put in my paperwork that I was to be allowed to do it however I wanted and that the group home was not to interfere with it. I got very upset at what was going on… I asked on several occasion’s if I could talk to my social worker or my lawyer… each request was met by the same as with the garden. I either suck it up and get over it, or I would be off to jail for good. (Still being worked on… 
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