A Lot Has Been Happening

And I've really been struggling with dealing with it all. It's not all in this matter, but this being one more thing to add to the mix has made some days nearly unbearable. This is going to be long.

E-mail updates from Monty's mil are still pretty regular, though they've slowed down a bit. Back on the 6th, we were planning the first visit. It didn't go through because Monty was supposed to submit a list of the people who are allowed to visit him. They did not have that list, so no one could visit. We found out that Monty certainly did submit his list, but it somehow didn't get where it needed to be. He talked to his case manager about it, and the problem was taken care of that day.

Since Tuesdays are the only days to visit him, and you have to schedule on the Monday prior, we had to wait for the 13th. This day was during my vacation, so I didn't have to contend with work. I told his wife (remember she is soon to be ex) and mil that I really wanted to be on the list to visit that day. Mil called on Monday, while I was not near the phone, to confirm that I wanted to go. I called her back, she got me added to the schedule (because I was already on the approved list, it wasn't a problem) and plans were set.

I don't like driving into town. Who really likes city driving anyway? Thankfully, I was staying with my parents that night and could approach the facility from a little closer. It took a while to decide if I was actually going to drive, or drive to the Metro and walk the couple blocks. I ended up driving, I was more wary of taking the Metro alone than I was of driving into town alone. As it turned out, my friend Fox was also off that week and he last-minute offered to drive with me. He had no problem reading a book while we were inside. I cannot express how deeply thankful I am for that, and how much it eased my mind about the whole thing.

The group was myself, mil, wife, Kelly, and his two youngest children. I was the first to arrive. Wife and children were late, mil came in late waiting for them. After going through the pat-down, and the metal detector and then sitting in the room waiting for that precious hour to begin, it almost looked like it would just be Kelly and I. A part of me is glad it worked out the way it did. There is no way to get a private moment during these visits, but Kelly and I came close with just the two of us there. The others did make it in. With the kids, it became chaotic. How can you get two kids, both little more than infants, to sit around for an hour while the adults talk?

Personally, I would not have brought the children on the first visit, if it were me. I'd rather scout it out, find out what things would be like getting there and going in before I subjected young children to it. While I know he was happy to see them, it was really hard to keep our eyes on them.

Monty's wife has never liked me. I think I've mentioned this before. She told him otherwise, of course, but her actions, body language, toward me are as clear as the Patuxent River when John Smith first navigated it. Kelly and I had a moment to talk before the visit. She said that wife approved of her, to which I was glad that she was being treated well by someone who had a big problem with me. We thought it might have been that I knew Monty first, and that's why she thought I was a threat. Kelly was surprised to hear of her behavior towards me, though.

During the visit, with Monty in a chair and six chairs around him for us, the chair next to him was vacated by one of the little ones. Kelly and wife got to teasing him across the table. He looked at me, smiled and said, "why don't you come sit here?" in the now-empty chair next to him. As soon as I got up to move, his wife, who was sitting next to me, moved into that chair and stayed for the rest of the visit. The meaning was still clear.

Despite me being in the company of people I like and one person who has a problem with me, it was so good to see Monty. I took it for granted when he was out, I know I did and I'm sorry for it. All I can do is what I can now. There was a visit this past Tuesday, and one planned for next week, but I likely won't be making either.

We still don't know where his long-term facility will be. The local stop is just a place to hold him for now. We have heard, however, that he will be going to a facility in Oklahoma within the next few weeks. We don't know if that's where he'll stay for the duration or if he will be moved again. Oklahoma is not making us very happy. We're still holding out for an ultimate facility in Pennsylvania or West Virginia, but the fact that he's going to Oklahoma soon is very worrisome. It may not be another stop along the way. It may be that's where he stays. Not good news.

Monty hasn't called me at all. I set up the phone account, he knows it. I told him the best times to call if he can get to the phone then. Nothing. He talks to others, they tell the group about it sometimes. Why hasn't he called me? I hope it's something simple. Like, he's afraid that he'll pick a time and I won't answer. It's true that I usually don't answer if I don't recognize the number calling me, but if I hope it's him, I'm going to pick up. I'll chance answering a wrong number. I would really like to hear from him, hear how he's doing.

I used to wonder how people could still love and support someone who committed a horrid crime. Even murderers still have support sometimes. Is it delusion, like how some parents believe their bully of a child can do no wrong? Is it just ignoring the parts we don't like and embracing the parts we do? Is it forgiveness, even when the world thinks it's not deserving? I don't know, I don't think I'll ever know. What I know right now is that I miss my friend, and I want him to come through this with all the support we can give him. I want him to come out having grown, not diminished into a shadow of what he was as I know him. But, from here, what can I really do?

Very Alone

Monty's mother in law has been e-mailing the group of us updates as she and her daughter gets them about where Monty is, how we can write to him, how to set up a phone account so he can call (that didn't work for me, I'll have to do my own research on it) and about getting together to visit him. The lovely lady who sat next to me in the courtroom, who I'm going to call Kelly here, has been sending me text messages every now and then.

Truth be told, I still feel very alone. I'm grateful for the messages and the updates and they really do help, but it feels like that's all the support I'm getting.

I'm not really expecting more, though.

Honestly, who can help me with this? Who can watch me go blind with tears and blubber uncontrollably and really hope to help? Who, if not one of those who really knows what this feels like, can actually do anything?

That being said, I'm also grateful to have the condo to myself right now, so my roommates didn't question when I stumbled to the bathroom, choking on sobs, to find the tissue box while trying to write a blog post.

This ended up much shorter than I originally intended, but I can't see anything anymore right now.

I Will Never Do That Again

Take heed now, all my family and friends and even friends yet to be: don't break the law. I can't sit through another hearing. I can't be there for you if you do.


The morning started like a regular morning, except that it was Friday and I wasn't going to work, I woke up an hour later than normal, and I was at my parents' house. Dad was out of town and Mom had already left for work. I woke, chose a simple linen dress, ate a waffle, and headed off to Monty's. I left a little later than I wanted, but still with plenty of time to get there. His hearing was to start at 0900, and he had promised me coffee.

I met two of his friends: awesome ladies both. We joked over our coffee like it was a normal day. We prevented him from putting the bright orange shoelaces his eldest son had bought for him in his dress shoes. I made him give me the book I had made for his birthday, for safe keeping, just in case.

We took two cars to the courthouse, where the six of us met five other people who were already there. His lawyer made it a point to tell the judge, and us, that she's never before worked such a case where so many people came out to support the defendant, not only in the amount of letters that were sent to the judge, but in the people in the courtroom too. Eleven doesn't seem like a large number. I guess many people find themselves very alone in such a situation.

I'm not really sure of the dynamic of their relationship, but one of the ladies I met at the house that morning seemed to be very close to him. Monty had only mentioned her a few times in the last few weeks. She sat next to me, and took my hand as we took our seats after the judge came in.

I have never said that Monty didn't deserve to be punished. I have never said that his crime wasn't horrid and deplorable. But, still, he is my friend and has always been a good person to me. One of the arguments that his lawyer made was that he had made remarkable progress, in growing as a person, healing, and repenting, in the two and a half years that this has been building.

It didn't matter.

None of it did. Progress under therapy and medication didn't matter. Changes that his loved ones saw in him didn't matter. The judge only saw what was horrid and deplorable. It didn't matter that it was only one side of him, a side that was subdued under medical care. Nothing else mattered.

The lawyer argued heavily for the minimum sentence of five years, that he wasn't a threat to anyone anymore and could be granted a few weeks to get his affairs in order, that the sentencing guidelines set forth by Congress didn't apply in this case. The judge agreed that they didn't, but said that five years wasn't enough, and so decreed 121 months. Ten years. He disregarded the statements of Monty's doctors and decided to offer his own diagnosis. He said there were medical issues yet unknown and that did make Monty a threat, even though there has been no prior criminal history and no criminal behavior for the two and a half years since the FBI first raided his home. Those ten years began right away.

I don't think I shall ever forget how hard it was to force my tears to vanish, so I could smile my support and wave when he looked back before they took him away.

The whole thing took two hours. Somehow, it felt like 20 minutes, at the same time that it felt like half a day. There is nothing to compare with listening to some stranger talk only of a friend's bad qualities when you know there are good ones too. It was among the most painful things I've ever had to endure. That's why I won't do it again.

In that moment that felt like it was too short and too long, all of my questions, doubts, and struggles of the previous months meant nothing. At the end of that two hour moment, they took my friend away, allowing us, his family and friends, nothing more than a glance.

The lawyer spoke with us for a time. She mentioned that someone had personal items that were seized from Monty and his wife's home for evidence. "They'll give it all back," the lawyer said. "Except my boy," his mother replied.

After that, we went to a diner to try to shake off the stress of the morning. Some of us had large meals, some of us had coffee, some of us had lavish milkshakes. We spoke of other things, because we had no information and it wouldn't help anyone to deal with what we had witnessed if we just moped about it. Some lady came up to us on her way to the restroom and commented that it looked like we were having fun and she wanted to join our table. We stared. Then one of our party said we must be in the company of good actors; more than half the table raised their hands in confirmation.

Unlike most of the others in the group, I wanted to be alone. I have known him longer than more than half of them. I didn't feel like a part of them. I didn't really want to be around anyone. I had made plans that evening and I kept them. It was a distraction. I talked a little about my day, but felt like they didn't really want to be bothered with it. That's ok, I really wanted to be alone anyway.

Around 11:30 today, I looked at my phone, expecting it to ring. That's about when Monty has been calling me recently. It didn't ring, of course. Because he's gone. Not for good, but for now. I can't even say when I'll see him next.

I'm still left with questions. Right now, only one is coming to mind. Who are these tears for? Me? Him? His family? The people who were hurt indirectly? I don't know if I'll ever know.

I can't Talk About this Now

Not now.

Tomorrow

No, I'm not here to break into Broadway song.

Monty's hearing is tomorrow. I spoke with him on the phone a few days ago, and I still intend to go. He told me that there really is nothing stopping the judge from sending him off to his fate right then and there. He also said his lawyer thinks it's unlikely because he's very clearly not a flight risk.

He's hoping that the people coming to show support will be able to hang out for a while before we all go our way. His in-laws are hoping to have a going away party for him at a later date.

I've been so busy with my own things, I haven't really had time to consider what tomorrow will bring. Or might bring.

I will see people I've never met, people I've met but never really spent time with, people I don't get along with. I'll hear the details of the charges, that won't shock me because I already know them. I wonder how many do. I wonder if it will change how he acts around me once he knows that I know. They won't be calling witnesses, that's the purpose that the letters to the judge were supposed to serve (and mine did get included. While others did, I did not show Monty what I wrote). Then there are three things we're supposed to learn: to what facility he will be taken, when, and for how long.

I thought that, while writing this, some of the reality of it would sink in, but it still hasn't. Yes, my friend will be going away. He will be paying for a crime that he must pay for. It will be months after he goes that I finally hear from him as it is. I wonder how things will change for me when I don't get those semi-weekly calls from him anymore. I don't spend a whole lot of time with him, I didn't before this mess started. But, he was always there, and would be there if I needed him. What will it be like when he's not there anymore?

I'm still feeling very disconnected from it. Even that I'm going because he asked me, not for any specific desire for me to be there. I guess there's nothing but to see what tomorrow will bring.

Half of the Truth

While I was talking to Monty on the phone the other day, he mentioned he noticed that I don't accept invitations to stay overnight anymore. He found it odd that I had done so before but recently had been insistent to leave in the wee hours of the morning rather than wait until dawn and get a tiny bit of sleep. He mentioned that I seem to be uncomfortable at the idea, where I had taken him up on it twice before.

"It's the bugs," I told him. That's only half of it, I admit that.

The basement that has been his home for more than a year is prone to bugs. Big brown beetle-type bugs whose corpses I often find flat from being trampled underfoot. I do think about the bugs that may be crawling on me or into my bags while I'm there. I pointed out that he probably noticed I don't take my shoes off anymore too. He said he had. He also said he was glad that it was something that he can easily work to remedy so I will feel more comfortable and not because of him that I no longer stay.

That's the part that I didn't tell him. It does make me uncomfortable, knowing what I now know. I don't know what I'm going to do if he says he's taken care of the bugs. Will I have to own to this part of the issue? Why am I so adamant that I don't do it now?

Character Letter

Monty and I have been phone tagging for a while. Because of this, I didn't get information for writing the character letter to the judge that he asked me to write until last night, which was the day his attorney wanted all the letters by.

I told him I would write one. And I did, I did it this morning and faxed it to the attorney's office. I do hope it's not too late to include mine. I know I've known him longer than many. If the judge takes any words to heart, mine will be among them.

It was difficult to write, really. For one, I've never written a judge. For two, I have many stories of good times that reflect the kind of person I know Monty to be. If I was to say everything, the judge would certainly get tired of reading it. The other thing is that I had to forget about the crime, that's not the point and the letters have nothing to do with sentencing (meaning that it was not for me to ask him to be merciful, which I would have had a hard time doing).

The funny thing was that, while I've been unable to find books to help me through this situation, I was able to find some sites that offered a bit of guidance for the character letter. More guidance than what the attorney's office had sent to me, that is.

But it's done and sent and I hope it wasn't too late. I feel good that I followed through. I told him long before I knew the extent of the crime that I would do it, and I have.

When I spoke with him yesterday, he confirmed that the hearing is still on the 25th. He has been saying that he might have a month or more to get his affairs in order after the sentence is pronounced. He also said last night that the judge may deem it necessary to cart him off right away. I had been wondering about this. Apparently, according to his attorney, granting thirty to ninety days before having to surrender is common. The purpose is to allow criminals time to work out what will need to be worked out before he goes away. I told him I only had TV to go on, really, and didn't know they regularly did that. "Reality is very different," he said.

If he is allowed the standard ninety days that would mean that the latest date he could surrender would be the day before Thanksgiving. He could, of course, surrender earlier than that. I would almost encourage him to do so. Can you imagine your last day of freedom is the day before a major holiday? Better for it to be a day of no significance. I'm not sure why I feel that way.