Homeless

This post is more about some of the circumstances Dave and I have been through the last few months than it is directly related to the case.

Dave did find a job. As instructed, he notified Family Court. The morning he was to start his new job I heard CRASH! BANG! as I pulled in the drive. I ran up the steps and tried to open the door but the knob wouldn't turn. I could hear the Furious Fiance (FF from now on) yelling inside and heard more crashes. The door wasn't locked but it wouldn't open either! It's 6:45am and now I'm standing on the porch yelling too! "What the hell is going on in there?!"

Dave opened the door from the inside a few minutes later and I saw the living room was a wreck. The TV is upside down and there's a tower speaker in the wall. I see why the door wouldn't open. The knob is smashed. FF is still yelling. I demanded to know what was going on. He started sputtering something about the remote control and his house. Then he threatened me with a meat cleaver because I was yelling!

Wow, nice start for Dave's first day on the job, eh? When the story finally came out FF was mad because he couldn't get the TV to come on. Dave told him not to use the remote then, just use the buttons on the TV. He blew up like defective fireworks because Dave told him not to use his remote in his house!. Sheesh...

Obviously, this wasn't working and so much for my hopefulness in the beginning. Dave and I had to get out of there. I knew FF wanted me to stay and Dave to go but I was being treated horribly, too. Why would I want to stay? There's a lot more to this part of story but once again it's another chapter in another book. It also has little place in this story. The problem was we had no money and no where to go. We decided sleeping in my vehicle would be preferable to the added stress of coping with about-to-be ex-FF.

We had to time it right to try to steer clear of any additional violence. The timing worked out that we both worked all night, came home and then moved. It took us five hours. Dave's sister allowed us to store the big stuff in her basement and we did sleep in my vehicle. As if we both don't already have enough problems now we're homeless, too!

I asked for help from the Salvation Army, church associations and shelters. Most of them wanted me to file a PFA first and the only shelter options they offered was each of us to go to different shelters in the city 30 miles away. Dave and I were each others moral support. We weren't going to be separated. How in the world were we both going to get back and forth to work from so far away with no money for gas? I didn't feel filing a PFA & going for even more rounds in a court room was necessary. He wasn't stalking me. He hadn't actually put his hands on me. So we did the best we could with what we had.

It took six weeks and help from a fund through my job for us to get a roof over our heads. But at least my son and I were together. Neither of us had to worry about being emotionally abused, threatened with physical abuse or having our personal belongings raided or destroyed. Dave could now sleep on a bed in his own bedroom for the first time in six months.

Next up...
So much for notifying the court and other legal ridiculousness

Homecoming

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...