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It was during the early morning hours that I was taken to the jail and to my cell. Truth and reality had lost all meaning. One expects the police to be a source of protection, authority and safety.
I could not make sense of what had happened. I had called the police following a assault by a stranger at my home and what the police had done was to put me in jail. First I was victimized by Ana and then I was victimized by the police.
I was given a cell on the second floor. The metal door closed with a loud chilling sound, locking me into a tiny brick room - roughly 10 feet wide by 10 feet long.
I was placed in the general population. This meant that many of the inmates would have actually been guilty... and in some cases guilty of violent crimes. Later, I would learn about protective custody.
Who could I trust?
I was awakened for breakfast and the cell doors were opened into the open area with the cells lining each wall. I had to ask one of the guards if I could see the nurse or doctor if they have one.
I explained that I had been on medication that I needed to take. I was desperate to get help as soon as possible.
If I could not trust the police when they are convinced of someone's guilt than wouldn't the guards share the same belief? Would they believe in innocent until proven guilty? I didn't get the impression that the guards cared or were approachable.
I was taken to the nurse and then the social worker. I figured that the social worker might be most likely to listen to me. I had not been heard since the initial arrival of the police - the first responders to my 911 call.
At some point, the social worker stated that no matter what happens some people will believe that I was guilty. This was extremely depressing.
Anybody can say anything about anyone. It doesn't matter if you have lived the most respectable life of anyone who ever lived. It takes just one person, just one single person to make an accusation and that's it.
At some point I was taken to court... I believe they call this the arraignment. There was one lawyer assigned to everyone who was being arraigned.
I tried to tell this lawyer who was supposed to represent me that I was the victim and could she fix this NOW!
She just said I should talk to the lawyer who will be assigned to the case later. It seemed pointless to have a lawyer there for the defense if there is nothing they can do. The situation of having only one lawyer for everyone also limits the time they possibly can spend with anyone. It seemed like I was inconveniencing her by asking for any support.
Why couldn't SHE do something now, I wondered. I wanted to form the words "aren't you a lawyer? Aren't you supposed to represent my interests? Do you have any clue about how terrified and traumatized I am? And all you can say is that I should talk to the lawyer that will be assigned to my case later!"
I can say that the events that transpired after the perpetrator named Ana attacked me were outside my wildest dreams of what could happen in my life.
I believe it was the next day that I saw what she had told them and what she had written in her "statement." This was that "discovery" that I mentioned and which you hear about in every criminal case.
Her claim was that I tried to undress her or pull off her pants. That's why I was charged with 2nd Degree Sexual Offense.
The way she described it, I would have had to have been standing over her, which would have meant I would have gotten my blood all over her.
Her statement was clearly a lie. How could these so-called detectives have overlooked these details?
She also said "he kept switching" in her statement. This explained why the detectives asked me if they could speak to "Brucie."
What the heck does that even mean, "he kept switching?" I can't even imagine what that might look like. Even those with DID do not do things like that.
Her statement might have been more coherent and believable if she had claimed that I switched to a violent personality that went by the name Brucie. Her statement didn't mention the name "Brucie" but the statement that I kept "switching" seemed to imply that she had falsely claimed that I had different personalities and that she met one personality that was named "Brucie."
This is just conjecture by me. All that I knew from the discovery material was that she had claimed that I kept switching - a statement that makes no sense at all.
It was clear that this was a well-thought-out and planned scheme, but why had they done this?
I was desperate to talk to the lawyer assigned to my case. I was composing letters to send to my lawyer. It took a while, a few days, for me to find out who my lawyer was. It was beginning to feel like my letters were lost as I waited for contact with my lawyer.
I had called my parents and my sister almost immediately after I was put in jail. I believe that I was assigned a lawyer sooner than it seemed because after one phone call to them, they seemed to have made contact with my lawyer.
To be honest, I only knew that my sister Carrie spoke to my lawyer. She stated that she had heard that I was charged with 2nd degree kidnapping and she responded by saying, "he doesn't even have a car."
My parents and I did not have the best relationship but I believed that they cared about me and it wasn't like we were not speaking to each other.
The bail was set at $75000 and so they would need to put down 10% with a bondsman. I don't know if one could use a home as collateral in lieu of paying the 10%. In my case that would be $7500.
I had reached out to my so-called family from the depths of my pain and desperation. Surely, a mother would be moved by the unjust suffering of her firstborn son. For reasons I will never understand, nor can I forgive, both parents abandoned their own flesh and blood - they abandoned the son who shared the same name as his father - I am Bruce Martin Whealton Jr and he is Bruce Martin Whealton Sr.
My cries were so desperate and pleading. I cried out to them, "Dad, Mom, please help me! I can't be here. I can't cope with this."
I thought of the scene from Return of the Jedi where Darth Vader brings his son Luke to his master, the evil Emperor. Darth Vader was a character we equated with evil. At one point, the emperor is torturing Luke and he is being killed. He cries out, "Father, please help me!"
Even Darth Vader was moved with the suffering of his son. Even Darth Vader who had been evil was so moved to act, even to the point of giving his own life to save Luke.
My own so-called family could not be moved with compassion and a need to act.
The only words I heard were from my father. With no emotion he said, "no, we can't afford it."
My sister lived in Connecticut and my parents who lived much closer to me. In my conversations with them on these first days I NEVER heard any compassion or concern.
To be clear, they were not asking me what I did. I can say that nothing suggested that they thought I could have done what I was accused of doing. They knew me. They knew I was innocent and they believed me. So, they knew how unfair this was.
I had not asked them for money after my undergraduate college years. I had become an adult and so I would not normally consider asking for their financial help. However, this was different.
They would understand that if I did not get exonerated, I would have a hard time finding a job. They also would know that if found guilty I could spend years in prison.
If they did put up collateral, like their home, did they think I was going to not show up in court for the court dates. They had a home and could get a loan to pay for a lawyer. This had to happen because something so serious could not be left in the hands of a public defender.
It is relevant to point out that this was not the only time I experienced injustice and had to rely on a public defender. Over 3 years ago, I had been charged with something called cyberstalking and making harassing phone calls. When that happened, I was convinced that nothing would come of the matter.
In other memoirs written by me, I describe an individual who crossed my path... he was a psychopath and I was targeted by him. I did not think anything would come of this allegation by John Freifeld because it never happened. There would not be any phone records or recordings because it never happened.
This individual had been acting as a therapist even though he was not educated beyond high school and a few trade-school classes. He had no training or education to be doing what he was doing. I had heard about this. I heard about a website called "Health, Information and Protection" (HIP). He could have charged that website owner with cyberstalking by identifying and reporting that he is not actually trained or licensed.
So, over three years before these events involving my own victimization, I had been taken to court and was represented by a public defender. I was found not guilty of cyberstalking but guilty of harassing phone calls. This was a misdemeanor but it was the principle of the matter. I was livid when after losing in court my public defender asked if I wanted him to get phone records and to appeal the decision.
My answer was an emphatic, "yes, of course, I want you to appeal the matter get the phone records to prove my innocence." I added, "It didn't happen. I didn't call him during this time period and so there would not be any phone records."
Having experienced such incompetence by a public defender on a minor matter, how much more important would it be to have a lawyer on this very serious matter.
Returning to the narrative of events that began on October 1, 2004, I had begged and pleaded my parents to help me. I had asked for support from my sister in some way as well.
They had no compassion to offer... I felt no sense concern or support from them... no sense that they are on my side and would be praying for me, that their thoughts were with me... that I wasn't going to have to face this alone.
In fact, they were completely cold and aloof about everything. I thought that if my own family doesn't care about me than who would care? I should have realized and remembered that they were narcissistic and self-centered.
I should not have expected any of the normal responses that a "normal" family would have.
This added to my sense of being alone.