Dumb@ss Syndrome

(Post #4 of 4) (This is the final of 4 posts about my ex-husband from 10 years ago.)

Now that I had my personal protection order, I could legally go home…and Mark couldn’t legally be there.  But somehow I knew better.  I called the police and told them I was going home.  They assured me he had been served the papers and would most likely be gone.  I just had a feeling he was still there.  The police went to my house ahead of me to see if he was there while I waited at a neighbor’s house. 

Sure enough, Mark was there.  With self-satisfaction, he produced his copy of the personal protection order…and the area for the judge’s signature was blank.  It took a few phone calls, but the police were able to confirm that the order was legally valid and that he had to leave.  They also checked for outstanding warrants.  He had outstanding warrants in a neighboring county for unpaid child support for his two older children.  Nice.  Anyway, that ended up being a good thing, because they were able to haul him off to jail so I didn’t have to so much as think about him for a few days.

A police officer told me all of this after they had taken him away.  As I was coming in the house, I noticed a half-packed duffel bag on the floor.  One of the police officers noticed my perplexed look.  He told me that Mark had started packing the bag when they told him they were taking him into custody.  Apparently, he got halfway through packing the bag and got cocky and said he didn’t need this stuff…because he would be coming back.

I was really glad he left the stuff because Mark had packed MY duffel back with things he regularly used that were MINE.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, a couple days later, I had to deal with his Dumbass mother bitching me out for putting her son in jail.  I said I didn’t put him in jail.  I told him to move out and he wouldn’t.  I had to call the police to get him out of the house.  He was in jail for not paying child support for his older children.  That was his choice not to leave and his choices and behavior set these events in motion.  I know to respect my elders, but I had to make an exception and hang up on her.

The icing on the cake was when Mark called to ask me for a ride “home” from jail.  What?!!  People’s stupidity never ceases to amaze me.  Someone asked me the other day if I have ever wanted to kill someone.  They laughed when I said yes.  Towards the end of that relationship, I really wanted to kill Mark.  I thought about stabbing him to death, but I’ve seen enough TV to know getting rid of a body is no easy task.  And he wasn’t worth spending a moment in jail over.

Husband Removal 101

(Post #3 of 4)

The day after discovering the best (or should I say only?) option for getting rid of my husband, I took Baby Bear to my sister’s house 40 minutes away.  I dropped him off, then came right back into town and went directly to the courthouse.  I waited in lines and filled out paperwork.  When I finally met with someone one-on-one, she reviewed my written statement and asked me a few pointed questions.  “Has he ever actually hit you?”  “No.  He pushed me down once, but he has never actually hit me.”

She told me that she could submit my statement to the judge for review, but it was unlikely the judge would order a personal protection order against my husband.  There had to be more concrete evidence of physical abuse.  She said she would go ahead and submit it today, or I could come back if anything happened.

So, I went home to see if I could “make something happen.”  I tried to open the front door, but it was locked.  He (I guess I’ll have to give him a name – Mark) came to the door.  He was more intoxicated than I’d ever seen him.  He normally held himself together pretty well despite drinking beer like it was water, but he was disoriented.  He thought I had been gone for 2 days…and he was disgruntled about it…and he wasn’t about to let me in the house.  (The house for which I had paid rent for 12 out of the last 14 months.)  I saw my opportunity.  I knew he wouldn’t let me past the front door, but I started to walk in the front door anyway.  He physically blocked me and I kept forging ahead.  Finally, Mark shoved me (really hard) backwards into the doorway.  Ouch…but victory! 

For having my first official experience with domestic violence, I was pretty content with myself.  It was too late in the day to go back to the courthouse, so I went back to my sister’s house and spent the night there.  The next morning, I went straight to court and successfully got my very own personal protection order.