Bio - 32 in My Bio

NOTE: This next section was updated in 2002 and edited for sharing in 2024.

I’ve been home for ten months now, and so far, there have been no additional legal problems—nothing major, anyway. However, we did have to shell out an additional $60 to get me a mental health screening that was supposed to be covered by the state. Part of the terms of my probation stated that I must have an “immediate” mental health screening. Well, six months isn’t very immediate, so why they didn’t do this while I was still in jail beats me. But you know how it is—the courts can bend the rules as they see fit.

I know that as long as we live in this house, we’ll always be potential targets of the very sick people who turned my life upside down, all in the name of hate and revenge. The question is: how much hatred do they still harbor toward me, and how brazen and invincible do they feel about showing their dark side even more?

“Don’t worry about it,” Tom assured me. “Their connections are in Phoenix, not here.”

But I do worry. After all I’ve been through because of these sickos, I can’t help but worry. It’s been five long years now, with them obsessively making my life a living hell, with nearly two more to go, at the very least. I have no reason to believe they’re just going to go away.

“Why should they?” one inmate said to me while I was still in jail. “They already know they can get you through our joke of a legal system, so why should they quit torturing you now just because you moved? Look how much worse they’ve affected your life from a distance than when they were just a few feet away. You said it yourself; they took full control of your life. Before, they were just a noise nuisance. Well, honey, it’s up to you to take back your life because they aren’t about to give it to you.”

Fortunately for me, I have an uncanny knack for sensing impending danger, though I don’t usually sense good things on the horizon. Right now, I don’t sense any immediate trouble. If they’re going to get me through the law and set me up again, I wouldn’t expect it to happen until the end of probation. If they plan on coming after us or doing something to the house, it would probably happen right after the probation ends. It’s going to be hard for this sick bitch to suddenly have no connection to me. I know her type—someone who likes to be in control. First, she lost the connection she had to us by being our neighbor. When she loses the connection and control she has through the law, there’s no telling how she might react.

Still, I get a little paranoid every time I hear a vehicle drive by. I’m always looking out the window. Not just because I enjoy the wildlife and the beauty of the view, but because I’m always watching for the telltale sign of dust that says someone’s coming down the road. I hope and pray it’s just some harmless soul who doesn’t care that I exist any more than I wish to acknowledge their existence.

In November, the pump on the well went out, and we had to shower at Mary and Dave’s place. We got a bigger pump and switched from plastic piping to galvanized piping, which cost over five grand. Tom’s mother paid for it, and while I’m very grateful, I also feel she owed us, considering the time and money she took from us early in our marriage. Even though the time can never be replaced. She was supposed to give us money, as well as Mary, David, Ray, and Steven—money that both she and Dad agreed to give us before he died. But she never did.

In February, our heat pump sprang a Freon leak.

Backing up to my release: I wasn’t let out of my cell until 5 a.m., but that was okay because they usually pull you out at 2 a.m., and I’d have just sat in the crowded, smelly holding cell even longer, with no place to lay down and relax. I actually fell asleep while waiting.

As the escort and I passed J Dorm on the way to the outtake area, the door opened, and out popped Pérez. “I saw your name on the list, and I wanted to say goodbye,” she said, extending her hand toward me.

I was glad I got to say goodbye to her, along with a few others who were awake, pressing their hands against the Plexiglas window, to which I pressed mine as well in a final farewell.

Due to only sleeping a couple of hours and being so excited, I didn’t really say all the things I wanted to say to her, but that would come later in a letter I wrote to her a year after my release. Instead, I excitedly exclaimed, “This is it! I don’t believe it! The time’s finally come!”

“I told you it would,” Pérez said.

After sitting in the holding cell for about an hour, we changed out of our uniforms and left. Tom pulled up in the car, and I ran out into the parking lot and jumped in next to him. We hugged and kissed on the way out of the lot, then headed for a fast-food drive-through. Oh, how wonderful it was to have burgers, chicken strips, fries, and shakes! Real, honest-to-God American food. Chinese and seafood were my favorites, and I was determined to catch up on that as well.

After getting our food, we headed toward the house with me chatting excitedly about seeing Houdini. That’s when Tom told me he was dying, and I nearly choked on my chicken strip. Here was yet another thing these degenerate fucks had taken from me—the last six months of Houdini’s life. He looked awful when I got back to the house, and he died two days later. Harry, the rat Tom got to replace Ratsy, died shortly after as well. A few days later, we went to the pet store and bought Sneezy and Little Buddy.

Sneezy’s the strangest rat we’ve ever had. All rodents are curious, love to explore, and would gladly escape their cages if they could, yet Sneezy, who has worse allergies than I do, never does. I could leave the cage door open forever, and he’d never climb out.

Little Buddy is by far the best rat so far. He’s smart, playful, and loving. He loves to come out and explore, and he loves attention too. I share my weekly treats with him. He really loves ice cream, but most rats will eat almost anything!

We only had one mouse left by the time I got home, so we bought a few more the same day we got the rats. I’ve tried breeding black-and-white mice, which are Teddy Bear’s favorite, but so far, I haven’t been successful. I have plenty of others for her to choose from, though, if I do end up seeing her.

At first, I thought Teddy Bear wouldn’t wait and that she’d contact me around Christmastime, but then I realized that being the dedicated professional she is, she’d definitely wait the whole year. That’s okay, though, because I know good things are worth waiting for, even though I miss her a lot.

I opened my Christmas presents, which had been sitting there for four months.

On top of having satellite TV, we also got a satellite connection to the internet. MP3s had become a big thing, and I was having fun collecting them.

At first, I was overwhelmed by all the appointments I had to keep up with. I had to go somewhere related to my probation at least three times a week. Two days after my release, which was on a Monday, we went to Phoenix to the probation office. We met with a guy I’d never heard of before. I filled out forms, got treated like a child with all the things I wasn’t allowed to do, and then waited until mid-May for a courtesy transfer since I now lived in Pinal County instead of Maricopa County.

Then we went to Casa Grande to meet Scott, the guy who would be my probation officer. Scott was a somewhat short, stocky guy, the same age as me. I nicknamed him “Apple Cheeks” because of his chubby face. I never disliked Scott, but I never liked him either. The humorless guy always struck me as the insensitive type. I’m polite towards him, but not friendly. That’s how I usually am these days toward most people anyway.

We went through the whole spiel again about what I could and couldn’t do, but as far as I was concerned—although I didn’t tell him this—no one was going to tell me how to live my life once I was back in the freedom of my own home. If I felt we needed a gun, we’d get one. If I wanted to associate with Paula, who had a record, I would do so. No state, county, or person was going to pick and choose who I associated with, where I went, or what I did. It was my life, and goddamn it, I was going to take charge of it once and for all! I was powerless when it came to payments, reporting, and house calls, but I was determined to be in the driver’s seat of my life in as many other ways as possible.

Although I’ve considered absconding many times to break free from the hold these twisted people still have on me, I’m sticking around and enduring the bullshit I don’t deserve, hoping that someday it’ll finally be over. Maybe I shouldn’t be optimistic about this, and maybe running would’ve been the right thing to do in this case, but with nowhere to run to and my determination not to let these assholes run me out of my own home, I’ve decided to stay put.

The Casa Grande visit turned out to be one of the most humiliating and degrading experiences of my life because I had to pee in front of a female probation officer for their routine drug test.

Besides having to pay $40 a month in “processing fees,” I have to report to Scott twice a month and deal with unwanted home visits from him as well. I don’t mind if he visits when I’m awake, but I’m not fond of people inviting themselves over while I’m sleeping. His visits are erratic. For the first four months, he came once a month. Then a few months went by without any visits. Lately, he’s been coming every two to four weeks, though January was the only time he came twice in one month. Still pretty ridiculous for a letter.

The community service turned out to be easy enough, and I was surprised that it was something I could do at home. I was grateful to have a tub separate from the shower stall and one that was so big because it was needed to soak labels off bottles. Gina, who ran the community service at the town’s recycling center, had us come in, pick up empty wine bottles, then soak them until we could scrape off the labels. After that, we’d drop them off at some guy’s place where they used the bottles to make decorative pieces. They melted the bottles down to make things like plates for pots and other items. Every other week, I picked up a couple of hundred bottles. By September, I had completed my community service.

I saw Helen about half a dozen times between June and October. She had supported me with cards and visits to the jail, and she continued to be encouraging after my release.

About a month after I got out, Mary contacted me. She asked if I’d be willing to help her write a book about her life. She told me she was determined to do this, even if it only helped one person, and I agreed to help her. We started exchanging letters, and in them, she included bits and pieces of her life for me to type up. I don’t know if we’ll ever get a book published, but anything’s possible.

I told her about Teddy Bear, and she told me the last time she saw her, she had dyed her hair dark red, to my surprise, and was growing out her bangs. I can’t wait to see her, either way!

Though we have home improvement plans, such as fencing off the property, building porches and a garage, putting in a pool, and planting privacy plants, there’s no telling when we’ll have the money to do it all. We’ll probably have to do it a little at a time.

As I predicted, Maricopa is slowly but surely building up.

For now, I try to take it one day at a time and hope for the best. I hope these people will someday be part of our past, rather than part of our lives like they have been for so long now.

Instead, I hope to have Teddy Bear as a wonderful addition to my life soon enough, though I can never know for sure what will happen between us or if I’ll even see her again.

Tom, the man I’ll love forever, still works at Bank of America and is mostly on the third shift these days.