There's always more than one slice in a Shit Pie...

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My honey has a long criminal record. A couple D.U.I.’s driving suspended/uninsured, a burglary when he was 18. A lot of the stuff was in the past, but he had a reputation. He was not a violent offender, he never hurt anyone, it wasn’t that he had never been caught or something. Aside from his drunken episodes every couple months, he had stayed out of trouble for a couple years. With the exception of the windshield incident, his drunken bullshit pretty much consisted of us arguing back and forth…me being disgusted, him being retarded and making no sense. While it was fucked up, I knew it didn’t make him capable of child beating.

His mom, though, asked me if I was covering up for him. Of course not was my reply, but I thought it was weird that his own mom wondered. She turned out to be the least emotionally supporting woman I have ever met.

So our lawyers were trying to find us a doctor who could agree with the panic stop scenario, and we tried to just go on normally. A couple months had gone by and New Years was upon us. We had been told to get into treatment programs for our terrible marijuana habits, but couldn’t get drug evaluations until after the new year.

Michael had been going to Jaycees meetings. It’s a community service organization that does all kinds of good stuff. It was giving him some new confidence as he was ready to grow up and be a quality person, putting his criminal past in the past. He wanted to be respected and valued by other people in the community. I thought it was good for him, but I didn’t realize how much drinking went on over there. He got elected to the Community Development chair on the Board of Directors. He called to let me know. I was proud and excited for him. He said that he and some guys were going to sit behind and play some cards at the hall. He got home at two thirty in the morning, as drunk as I’ve ever seen someone who is still walking around. I was instantly irritated and on guard. I was pissed off as all hell and I don’t remember a lot of the verbalization that went on but I can guess-timate the approximate line of questioning: What the fuck are you doing? With all of this bullshit going on with Hazel what gives you the right to get all fucked up, or even be drinking at all? You disgust me. Get the fuck out of my house.He went downstairs at one point and came back up with some Zippo lighter fluid. He had a lighter in one hand and was motioning like he was going to light me on fire. I remember asking him, ‘Hello, drunk Mike. Is the real Mike in there? I need to talk to him please.’ He continued to act like a freak, he eventually put the lighter fluid down and we continued to argue for a couple hours. I secretly recorded our whole conversation. Not to use against him, but to make him listen to it tomorrow, after the damage was done. He was always genuinely sorry in the morning. They always are. We ended up going to bed and continued arguing.

By this time he was completely blacked out because he doesn’t remember the events of the rest of the night. He was lying in bed next to me and he just kept saying, “fuckin bitch, you fuckin bitch” over and over. It was weird cause I never felt like he was talking to me in particular, but nevertheless I popped right back off with a: “your mom”. That was when he snapped. He grabbed me by the hair and drug me up the stairs by my throat, stopping a couple times on the way upstairs to strangle me. That was the only time I have ever feared for my life, and even at this point, I knew he would feel so sorry in the morning, whether he killed me or not. He wasn’t a violent person until he was drunk. That was the hardest thing. He was perfect when he was sober. I was happy. Was it worth this? I thought he would kill me. I didn’t want to call the police because I was afraid of what would happen to my daughter, who was still sleeping peacefully downstairs (the ground level was upstairs). He dragged me into the living room and I grabbed for my cell phone. I held it up in front of him and told him he had better back off. That’s when he ran downstairs. Was he going out the sliding glass door? Sounded good to me. I was starting to think that he may be gone when he came walking up the stairs with Hazel in his arms. “You put her down RIGHT NOW” I screamed, over and over again. Then I dialed the phone. I told the operator that he was drunk and throwing pots and pans and wouldn’t hand over the baby. As soon as I said that, he put Hazel gently down on the couch, and jumped barefoot off of the back deck. The cops came right over and found him across the street just sitting on the curb. They put him in a car. He didn’t give them any trouble. I made them take him away to a friends house. He stayed gone for three days.

He came home, he was going to Quit Drinking. Everything would be Different Now.Two days after that, Mary Moller showed up with two police officers and took my baby away.