The Devil Made Me Do It

After thinking for several months that it would make a difference, after my medical records were subpoenaed, after crying about the medication causing me all these problems...

I was told today that I should take the plea.

Because if I got up on the stand and said that I was stealing stuff under the influence of this medication, and that I was doing it all the time that I was risking more than 3 years of probation. I was risking jail time.

Because my reaction to the medication was severe and out of the ordinary, even if my doctor and counselor were willing testify for me that it was medication related, it didn't matter.

To a jury...

My tears were crocodile tears.

My defense began to sound like, "The devil made me do it."

It doesn't matter that these impulses are gone after getting off the medication. Never mind that my hair is still in the process of growing back. No matter that my face is scarred from acne. Never mind all of that. Never mind the truth.

Thanks to the Twinkie defense, it sounds like "The devil made me do it."

My attorney said, "I don't care what the truth is. I care about protecting you."

When I entered my plea, the judge seemed to feel sorry for me from the expression on his face. Maybe he knew that pleas aren't always the truth. I was so disoriented I couldn't find my car in the parking lot. I lost my favorite pair of sunglasses somewhere. I have to pay fines and restitution. I now have a record with two misdemeanors. I have to do community service.

People have lied to me. My first lawyers said "Trespassing isn't priorable." When I first went in to talk to someone at the DA's office. I was told, "You have a good case for trial." Another attorney decided to subpoena all of my medical documents because he said he believed me. Today I was told by my final attorney, "He just didn't have the backbone to tell you. He knew he was being transferred and so he left it to me to tell you the truth."

The "Irresistible Impulse" defense didn't work. "Entrapment" didn't work either. The drug defense didn't work because she had friends who said they had friends who were on that same drug and they didn't do those things.

So all that was left was, "The devil made me do it." No one believes in the devil anymore. And no one believes he can do anything.

Shit.
I took the plea.

The Truth Is No One Cares

It's sad. No one cares until you make them care. No one cares--not even a public defender who is supposed to have a bleeding heart because they took a low paying attorney job. Not until you make them care.

That's what I had to do. I had to insist that they look at my medical records, talk to my counselor and listen to me. Why should they care? I told my Public Defender, "I don't think you even like me." He answered, "I don't know you." He doesn't. I had just met him.

The offer: 3 years probation.
The problem: How is that really going to help me or anyone else when I was taking medication that made me compulsive?

I couldn't stop myself. I only got caught twice. I wanted to stop and couldn't.

If you ever get stopped for anything, MAKE THEM CARE. I wish I had known that the first time around. I wouldn't have accepted the plea, but then I was not completely understanding everything that was going on. I wasn't aware that the medication was lifting my inhibitions in that way. But now I think about things I used to do easily. I imagined myself taking a pack of cookies with my coffee at the counter today, but I couldn't do it. I did that on numerous occaisions when I was medicated. I don't know what to think of myself now that I am on the other side.

A Good Case For Trail

I met with a law clerk in the Public Defender's Office today. He let me read the police report. I told him the points that I took issue with.

1. They have no right to seize my purse.
2. They have no right to go in my purse and then say I wasn't cooperating.
3. They may not have a right to peer through the slats to watch you change. (I'm never using a dressing room again.)
4. They threatened me with excessive force.
5. They did not allow me to use the bathroom. (I don't care how murderous you are, you should be allowed to use the bathroom because they have what is called a "duty of care" responsibility if they detain you.
6. They are not allowed to use any kind of entrapment--or tricks to get you to commit a crime. (When I said I had to go to the bathroom I was directed to the open door rather than being told I could use the one in the store.)

Remember, if they make mistakes in the way that they treat you, they can be held liable for that.

The clerk will be getting copies of my medical records, surgical records and will subpoena a copy of the department store Loss Prevention Handbook.

I will let you know what is in that because it is totally relevant to this blog.

I have to wait to file a police complaint because if I make the complaint before the case is resolved, it could go badly for me. On the other hand, he said that because of my circumstances that this would be a great case for a trial. Apparently I love drama.

As with everything, I will let you know what happens.

And stop stealing stuff!!

Not Guilty

I know what you're thinking...
I won't admit to a single thing.
I went to court today for arraignment. In case you don't know what that is, that's when you appear before a judge to enter a plea of guilty or not guilty. If you say you are not guilty, then you have a pre-trial hearing after you meet with a public defender.
For now a plea of Not Guilty has been entered. I took a little trip to the Public Defender's Office. I'm totaly out of dough. I am cleaning up such a huge mess. I don't even know what happened to my processes of logic or even my sense of right and wrong. All I know is that I stopped taking one of the medications I was on, and halved the dose of the other one. On the other side of that, I'm looking at the shambles of my life in shock.

What was I doing?
What was I thinking?
I don't know. I don't know.
I feel sick.