I called my fiance and tried to catch him up on what was happening. That didn't go very well. He yelled at me and then hung up me. He called me back, yelled some more and hung up again. He never did let me tell him much of anything. He was furious because he didn't want Dave to stay with us. I'll leave the rest of that part of the story alone. That is another chapter in another book. Suffice it to say he was not very understanding after all.
I waited the rest of the afternoon for a phone call. It was late evening before it finally came. I called Dave's sister and she picked me up. We took the long drive to pick him up. He was standing in the parking lot of the jail wearing the same shorts & t-shirt he had been taken from his home in, shivering.
Once we had him inside the warmth of the car we shared hugs all around and a few tears. On the drive back he showed us all the paperwork from the arrest and the bond. A condition of his bond stated he was not permitted to be around any minors. That settled that. He couldn't stay in his sister's five bedroom house. There were three minors living there. He had to stay with me and my furious fiance in our tiny apartment.
Dave was out of jail. We could talk. We could plan. Surely, everything would work out for the best. We had more immediate matters to deal with such as clean clothes and food. We settled in as best we could. I found him sweat pants and a warm shirt that almost fit. When my fiance came home from work he did speak cordially to Dave. However, it was immediately obvious I was to get the silent treatment.
The next day Dave made several phone calls to ascertain what needed to be done for him to get his belongings. That was only the beginning of weeks of doing battle for everything imaginable. In addition to the conditions of the bond forbidding him access to his home and his children, a temporary PFA (Protection From Abuse) order had been filed. He would have to pay a constable to accompany him to get any belongings. He wasn't permitted access to the home even with the constable.
It took a week, $50 and several phone calls to pick up whatever Dave's wife would allow him to have. We were made to stop 100 yards from the house while the constable checked to see that no one was home. There were six kitchen size trash bags and a large custom speaker box sitting on the porch. Dave was immediately upset and so was I. They had been together for ten years, married for three and this was all there was to show for it?
It got worse when we got everything home and opened the bags. She had bagged dirty clothes and clean clothes together. His wallet had been stripped of pictures, receipts and money. There were empty bottles of personal hygiene products and items that didn't even belong to Dave. She sent dishware that belonged to her and broken electronics. There were two cordless telephones, chargers and all. What a disgraceful scene...