He left a note! He left a goddamned note, and they didn’t even tell me! The police have had the note for three and a half weeks, and they didn’t even tell me it EXISTED!
I can’t believe this. Is it not enough that the man I love was driven to his death by stupidity, apathy, and carelessness? Is it not enough that Hope and I will suffer every day of our lives for their inattention? What the hell is going on here? How can they fuck this up so incredibly?
I can’t absorb this. They have a note. They have had it for THREE WEEKS. I can get a COPY of it tomorrow. I could have gotten it today, but the officer I left a message for yesterday and then again this morning, didn’t call me until fifteen minutes before they closed. Yes, people, before the POLICE DEPARTMENT closed. It doesn’t open again till noon tomorrow. Yes, that’s noon. The police department.
Earlier today, I said in a blog, “There’s nothing new on any front. I suppose that should be good news. No one has come up with a new way to harass the recently widowed lately–or at least, if they have a plan, they haven’t sprung it on me yet.” Guess I spoke too soon.
I keep laughing (and crying) at a saying Chris used to quote. “Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.”
The parent aide was here today. She said she works with a family whose children were taken away in November. The parents have not had a clean drug test in all that time. Yet they see their children twice a week in supervised visitation. Chris was seeing Hope once a week while he was in the rehab program–yes, he was clean–and not at all for the last two weeks of his life, in the motel. The motel that was three miles from the CPS office, and Hope was living two miles from the CPS office. Yet CPS is paying for a taxi to bring a mom from Three Points, at a guess a twenty-mile round trip, to see her kids four times a week. The parent aide works with other people with a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia, the incorrect diagnosis Chris labored under. They also get to see their kids more than once a week.
They are out to get me, all of them. They have killed my husband, and now they are after my sanity. And I have to roll over and play dead and be a good little doggie, so I can keep my baby. What the hell am I supposed to do?