I’m tired as usual, what with the way I have to sleep intermittently here. Something always wakes you up in jail. First it was them asking if we wanted our hour out a few hours after I crashed, then breakfast, and then a DO slammed the door real loud that goes through to the next pod.

Now that I’m fairly up to date on the present, I can go back to the beginning of this jail nightmare, back to the 30th.

I’d never in a million years have shown up for court if I’d known this was going to happen! Actually, I did know. I mean, I knew something was wrong. I had the vibes, I had the dreams, I just didn’t know it’d be for 6 outrageous months! I could kill myself for not trusting my gut instinct! It’s true that I sometimes don’t always know right away that certain dreams I have are really premonitions, but I did know these dreams were warnings of trouble to come yet I ignored them like a damn fool and went along with Tom’s urging us to “get it taken care of.” We should’ve found a way to pay Sharon off (the bonds lady) and I should’ve stayed out of court.

We were in a smaller courtroom the last time, and by the time it was my turn, all that was in the room besides Tom and I were the stenographer, a couple of other people within the courts, the DA, the judge, Paul, the black bitch, and even Mr. Lying Biased himself was there! Talk about major humiliation and outrage!

The biased pig spoke first, and the judge wanted to know why my case was pled down to attempted stalking from stalking if he were so concerned about it (I don’t see how sending journals can be called stalking or attempted stalking. It simply is what it is). The way the judge seemed rather annoyed with the pig gave me a sudden spark of hope that the judge would see this case for what it really is – bullshit that’s a waste of time dwelling on. Boy, was I wrong!

Initially, part of the charges included “intimidation,” and I was like – hey wait a minute! Now we’re getting really unfair here and totally out of line. If anyone was ever intimidated by anything I said or did, that’s their problem. I can’t be held responsible for people’s emotions or feelings! How can Tom help it, for example, if he were walking down the street and someone found his appearance to be intimidating, not that I could ever imagine that being the case?

The lying, melodramatic black bitch spoke after the pig, acting like she’s this poor abused little victim, and then myself and Paul, who put on a pitiful performance on my behalf, wasted our breath, along with Tom, who asked that I be allowed to get help (seeing Helen) and not thrown in jail. Yet, as is almost always the case nowadays, the judge sided with the black bitch, saying it was the threats that got to him more so than anything racial.

All this because of words on paper! When the judge, whom I hope drops dead along with the freeloaders, said he was going along with the DA’s recommendation of 3 years (6 months in jail, 2½ years probation), the room started spinning and I hit the floor. After Tom pulled me up on my feet, he took all my papers which are better off with him. The less I have to drag around with me in here, the better.

What kind of a decent, normal judge goes along with an outrageous 6 months in jail over shit like this?! What kind of DA recommends such a sentence?!

The bailiff took me away after I signed a form for appeals, which I knew was a waste of time. The bailiff was reassuring me no one would hurt me. I think he sympathized with me for getting such a harsh sentence for such bullshit.

In a way, I’m pissed at Tom, too. I know he couldn’t have known the outcome of this but he’s the one who pressured me into going to court in the first place. Then when I wanted to drop Paul and represent myself, he insisted I didn’t. I wouldn’t be in this mess if I’d handled these freeloaders my way like I wanted to from the get-go. I should’ve listened to my gut rather than gone and done things his way. I knew his way would be the wrong way. It isn’t always the wrong way, but in this case it sure as hell was!

I can’t believe he said, “I just want to see that she gets help,” when allowed to speak in court. Is that all he had to say? Is that all he could say? I mean, what kind of defense is that? That makes me sound guilty as hell and like the freeloaders didn’t do shit!

On my way to a small bare holding cell, a couple of guys that were leaving some other courtroom gave me religious material, which pissed me off even more. If you think I hated and had no faith in the system and in God before, imagine how I feel now!

After they printed me, took my picture and asked me some questions, they put me in a regular holding cell with many other women. I was there from 8:30 AM – 11:00 PM. One of the girls was totally obnoxious, yelling non-stop.

The nurse at the Madison Street jail gave me a TB shot and took some blood which bruised my arm, as usual, because I have tiny veins. She also gave me an inhaler, and it’s a damn good thing I’m learning to live without it because they won’t give me a new one. They’ve been giving me the run-around big time. One nurse says I’ll get one, another says I have to see the doctor, and another wants to verify my prescription with my pharmacy. I already gave them that info at intake!

Kim says that there’s a lesson to be learned in everything. Well, I’ve learned that the congestion is not caused by my asthma. It’s been caused by the inhalers all along! The tightness, though, which comes and goes, is because of the asthma.

It turns out there are a few jails around here – Madison, Durango and Estrella (there might be more). This is Estrella. After nearly 15 hours of sitting in that cold, crowded, uncomfortable holding tank without one bite of food, though I couldn’t have eaten if I tried, those of us going to Estrella were handcuffed together in pairs, then loaded onto a bus headed here. The ride took about 10 minutes.

Once here, we spent 2 more grueling hours in an even colder holding tank that we could barely fit in. By then we were all exhausted and we lay on the floor huddled together for body warmth. Then we were “dressed out” (put in uniform), then classified (put in different areas). I was a wreck the first few hours after they took me from the courtroom, sobbing to near hyperventilation.

But my shock and sadness soon gave way to frustration and anger.