Saturday, December 06, 2008
Luke's Troubles
The story will now jump to a Saturday night, or more accurately, a very early Sunday morning, in early October. It was slightly more than a week since we had lost Princess and Wacky, so I was still a little discombobulated. The whole house was sleeping, and I was having a dream that I could hear a dog bark in the house, but when I went to see why the dog was barking, there was no dog. Then the process would repeat itself, only with a cat meowing. Suddenly the dream was interrupted by reality.
Colette had come bursting into out bedroom, waving her cell phone I knew immediately that something was very wrong, because Colette NEVER comes into our bedroom. She says that Angela and I do “icky stuff” in there. At first I thought she was referring to our spanking proclivity, or perhaps our sexual activity. However, Colette later explained that she was talking about “icky stuff” like trimming toenails or plucking eyebrows. I didn't understand, either, but then I've never understood adolescent girls. But I digress.
Colette started hollering, “Luke is in jail! He needs our help!”
“Why doesn't he call his parents?” Angela groggily responded.
“Because his dad put him there!”
Since I didn't want to go back to my odd dreams right away, I told Angela to go back to sleep, and I got up and asked Colette to explain.
Apparently, Luke's father found a small amount of marijuana in his bedroom. The man decided, for some curious reason, that it would teach Luke a “lesson,” that he would call the police. The police came and arrested the boy for possession. He was lead away from his own home in handcuffs and locked up. Since it was clear that his parents wanted him to spend the night in jail, Luke placed his one phone call to Colette's cell phone, and he was still on the line.
I spoke briefly with Luke, who was so scared that he could barely speak. I told him to sit tight, and that Colette and I would come and assess the situation. So I brewed myself a quick cup of tea, threw on some clothes, and splashed some water on my face. Then Colette and I piled into the car and headed to the local police facility.
When we arrived, we discovered that, thankfully, Luke was not in the general lockup but was instead being held alone in a separate room. He was physically fine, but was sitting in a corner, quivering and staring into space. He did not respond when we first came in, but when Colette ran over to him and sat down next to him, holding his hand, he came back to earth.
He told Colette that he had been out with friends when his parents had gone through his room. They had found two small marijuana cigarettes hidden with his underwear. Luke insisted that the reefer was not his and he did not know how it got there. His father decided that the proper way to “teach the boy a lesson” was to contact police, who were waiting for Luke when he returned home. Luke was arrested, handcuffed, and taken to the police station, where he was put through the humiliating booking process. The police did not have a separate holding cell for juveniles, and fortunately they felt that it might be dangerous to put Luke in with the general population, although there were only two other men in there and one was soundly asleep.
At that point an officer came over and asked if I was the boy's father. I told him that, no, I was Colette's father, and that Colette was “a good friend.” I was informed that, because he was a minor, they could not release the boy to my custody. Only his parents could come and get him.
Luke and Colette both broke into a panic at the prospect of Luke being forced to spend the night in jail, or perhaps longer if his parents refused to have him released. I took a long look into the boys eyes, and I saw abject and nearly irrational fear. I knew that, if he stayed there for long, it would take him a long time to recover and would perhaps do irreparable harm to the boy.
How can this be, you may ask. He had illegal drugs, so he belongs in jail. And a night in jail should scare a normal adolescent enough to realize that he cannot be using marijuana.
The problem was that Luke is not a healthy adolescent. He was showing all of the symptoms of bipolar depression, also some known as manic depression.
(to be continued, again)
Colette had come bursting into out bedroom, waving her cell phone I knew immediately that something was very wrong, because Colette NEVER comes into our bedroom. She says that Angela and I do “icky stuff” in there. At first I thought she was referring to our spanking proclivity, or perhaps our sexual activity. However, Colette later explained that she was talking about “icky stuff” like trimming toenails or plucking eyebrows. I didn't understand, either, but then I've never understood adolescent girls. But I digress.
Colette started hollering, “Luke is in jail! He needs our help!”
“Why doesn't he call his parents?” Angela groggily responded.
“Because his dad put him there!”
Since I didn't want to go back to my odd dreams right away, I told Angela to go back to sleep, and I got up and asked Colette to explain.
Apparently, Luke's father found a small amount of marijuana in his bedroom. The man decided, for some curious reason, that it would teach Luke a “lesson,” that he would call the police. The police came and arrested the boy for possession. He was lead away from his own home in handcuffs and locked up. Since it was clear that his parents wanted him to spend the night in jail, Luke placed his one phone call to Colette's cell phone, and he was still on the line.
I spoke briefly with Luke, who was so scared that he could barely speak. I told him to sit tight, and that Colette and I would come and assess the situation. So I brewed myself a quick cup of tea, threw on some clothes, and splashed some water on my face. Then Colette and I piled into the car and headed to the local police facility.
When we arrived, we discovered that, thankfully, Luke was not in the general lockup but was instead being held alone in a separate room. He was physically fine, but was sitting in a corner, quivering and staring into space. He did not respond when we first came in, but when Colette ran over to him and sat down next to him, holding his hand, he came back to earth.
He told Colette that he had been out with friends when his parents had gone through his room. They had found two small marijuana cigarettes hidden with his underwear. Luke insisted that the reefer was not his and he did not know how it got there. His father decided that the proper way to “teach the boy a lesson” was to contact police, who were waiting for Luke when he returned home. Luke was arrested, handcuffed, and taken to the police station, where he was put through the humiliating booking process. The police did not have a separate holding cell for juveniles, and fortunately they felt that it might be dangerous to put Luke in with the general population, although there were only two other men in there and one was soundly asleep.
At that point an officer came over and asked if I was the boy's father. I told him that, no, I was Colette's father, and that Colette was “a good friend.” I was informed that, because he was a minor, they could not release the boy to my custody. Only his parents could come and get him.
Luke and Colette both broke into a panic at the prospect of Luke being forced to spend the night in jail, or perhaps longer if his parents refused to have him released. I took a long look into the boys eyes, and I saw abject and nearly irrational fear. I knew that, if he stayed there for long, it would take him a long time to recover and would perhaps do irreparable harm to the boy.
How can this be, you may ask. He had illegal drugs, so he belongs in jail. And a night in jail should scare a normal adolescent enough to realize that he cannot be using marijuana.
The problem was that Luke is not a healthy adolescent. He was showing all of the symptoms of bipolar depression, also some known as manic depression.
(to be continued, again)
Comments:
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I am interested to hear the rest of the story. Unless the boy never had any friends in his room, there is surely reasonable doubt as to whether the marijuana was his? I understand the aims of the parents, to nip a potential problem in the bud, but it is always good to be sure of the facts first.
Kallisto
Kallisto
I never was a fan of sending a kid to jail because of a few joints, especially the first time. That's something the parents can fix if they know what they're doing. Jail is a scary, scary place.
# posted by 
: December 07, 2008 11:16 PM
: December 07, 2008 11:16 PM
Thank you both for your comments.
Kallisto - Since I have the advantage of hindsight, and since I know the intentions of the author, and can confirm that the marijuana found in the boy's bedroom was indeed Luke's.
Lee - Jail is indeed a scary place, especially for one with a mental illness. Yet studies show that about 25 percent of jail inmates have a serious mental illness.
Regards,
Frank
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Kallisto - Since I have the advantage of hindsight, and since I know the intentions of the author, and can confirm that the marijuana found in the boy's bedroom was indeed Luke's.
Lee - Jail is indeed a scary place, especially for one with a mental illness. Yet studies show that about 25 percent of jail inmates have a serious mental illness.
Regards,
Frank
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