Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story

by E. McNew

  After the case for the CPS was closed, I eventually stopped attending meetings altogether. I went to a few meetings for the first couple of weeks, but after that Derrick convinced me that I didn’t need the meetings, and that they were only four lowlife people who couldn’t manage their problems on their own. Whenever I mentioned that I wanted to go to a meeting, Derrick would always have a good reason for me to not go. We would go out to dinner, invite friends over, or pretty much anything that didn’t include a meeting. It became more difficult for me to try to go than not, so I just gave up on it. I couldn’t see going to meetings on a regular basis anyway. It wasn’t something that I wanted to do long-term. I definitely believed in the program, and I knew that it worked, but a part of me wasn’t convinced that it was the only way to live a healthy life, as they had claimed it to be.

  I only had to check into Probation once a month at this point, and before I knew it our way of life had become very similar to what it was when I still had Chloe and Zoe. We began hanging around with people that we both knew were not good influences. This included Donnie and his new girlfriend. Donnie always had a way of making you feel like it was perfectly okay and normal to be around him. Ultimately, that's all we were seeking. We just wanted to feel like we were normal people, living a normal life. I could not ever go over to Donnie’s house without feeling the physical effects of addiction. The simple fact that I knew there were drugs in the house caused my body to feel placebo related rushes. It was like a feeling of being high without actually using anything. Derrick was always extremely influenced by his brother. It was like a chain reaction. Derrick influenced me and Donnie influenced Derrick. It only took a few times of us socializing with Donnie to begin entertaining the idea of using drugs again. We had it all planned out to move to Texas as soon as I got off of Probation, which was only going to be in less than a month. We knew that once we got to Texas, we would not be using any sort of illegal substances. We didn't want to live that lifestyle, and his parents would never permit it any way. We somehow were living with a mentality that we might as well get our partying out of the way while still could. This gave us plenty of excuses and reasons for it to be okay to use it one last time. This is where the insanity of addiction comes in. For a person to actually make the conscious decision to ingest a harmful substance into their body while still being sober is pure insanity. Insanity is repeating the same behavior and expecting different results. I was insane. After all I had been through, and all of the heartache and pain, I still had an excuse to make it okay to use drugs. Even though I had accomplished more than I ever thought possible, and even though I had impressed higher authority who I never thought could take me seriously, I was still punishing myself. I was never really happy, and the deep clean that lived in my spirit would never go away. The fact is, I didn't know it at the time, but I hated myself. I hated myself because I chose to be with Derrick over choosing to fight to get my girls back. I was unwilling to face the truth. I was unwilling to accept the fact that I had chosen to be with someone who was dangerous and brought danger into my home. I would never accept the fact that I was one of those women who was too stupid to see what was really going on. As much as I loved Danielle, I never felt like I deserved to have her.

  At one point, one of my friends asked me if I had Danielle to try to replace Chloe and Zoe. I became defensive and almost angry that she even asked me that question. I explained to her that I knew that Danielle would never replace Chloe and Zoe or any child for that matter. Was I feeding myself my own lies? Why in the world had I not acknowledged the fact that I was not taking birth control around the time I became pregnant with Danielle? Maybe I subconsciously needed a reason to live. Maybe another baby was the only reason I would have to keep myself alive. Maybe I had to prove to myself and everyone else around me that Derrick was a good person, and by becoming pregnant and choosing to be with him, my good judgment would only show this. I never acknowledged my pain, and I never wanted to. I just wanted to live and be happy one day. Maybe if we started having fun again, and periodically using drugs just for recreational purposes, Derrick wouldn’t want to leave Tahoe because we’d be having so much fun! I would wonder. I didn’t want to leave Tahoe, but after the big fuss I made over moving to Texas, I felt like an idiot for changing my mind, and I didn’t know how to express this. The only way I could express this was through self-sabotage. It gave me an outlet to express my pain, guilt, grief, confusion and uncertainty. We used drugs one time. There is never just one time.

  The only difference from my life with Chloe and Zoe to my life with Derrick was that when Derrick and I used substance, we used it at our house and wouldn’t let others into it as long as we had Danielle. I had become paranoid about this, and Derrick went along with it. A few times he made remarks about how he’d never, ever allow his brother to be around Danielle unsupervised. I wondered if he was saying this because he truly meant it, or if he was saying it to cover up for his own guilt. I would never know. I paid close attention to every move of his, by instinct, and never became suspicious of his interactions with Danielle. I also did this when Donnie would interact with her. I never had any suspicions with his behavior either. It still didn’t make me feel any better. I knew that it had to be one of them. I was hoping that one day I could find some little bit of proof to resolve this in my own mind. I never got what I was looking for. I never expressed to any other person what I was looking for either. It would make me look like a careless person socializing with people like them while knowing that one of them was a sick, horrible person. And to top it off, I was allowing them to be near my baby. When the CPS case closed, my anxiety went through the roof. At least when it was open, Derrick knew that we were being closely watched, and he knew that socializing with his brother would badly influence his choices. The pressure had been lifted, and my fear of another tragedy had increased beyond measure. It started when we started to use substance again.

  Danielle was put to bed on a Friday night, and Derrick was at his brother’s house picking up $400 worth of crystal meth. I was anxious and restless and nervous, aimlessly pacing my living room as the placebo high was rushing through my body. We decided that since I had Court on Monday, we would go all out on this last weekend we had in Tahoe. As soon as I was off Probation, we were packing up and getting on the road. Probation hadn’t given me a drug test in probably about six months, because they knew that I was testing through the Social Services, and they always got a copy of my clean results. I didn’t even have another meeting scheduled with Probation anyway, so I was already practically off. Derrick came home with four bags of crystal-clear meth. His brother had been selling mass quantities and was happy to give some of it to Derrick. Before he would let me take a hit off of the pipe, which had been purchased at a local gas station and disguised as an incense holder, he weighed and divided the drug into smaller quantities. I wasn’t sure why he did this, because he didn’t have anyone to sell it to. He took the bags and hid them in our attic. He only kept a small quantity on him for our own use. The last time we relapsed, about five months earlier, we snorted the drug. This time we were going to smoke it, which caused almost an instant euphoric high. When I took the first hit, I immediately felt the drug rushing through my bloodstream. It was relaxing but I had that alert and aware feeling that I always wanted to permanently have. I could accomplish anything. If only I was allowed to use just a small amount for the rest of my life, I could always feel happy and motivated to conquer life.

  The first night we used it, I did my usual routine and probably spent twelve hours straight sitting on the couch doing crossword puzzles. I thought it was harmless, and the only thing coming out of it was that I was learning! I would not move on to the next puzzle until I finished the one I was working on. I wanted to prove that I was smart enough to finish them myself without cheating. I eventually had to switch from using a pen to a pencil, because I had to go back and make corrections several times. I had these puzzles down to a science. When Danielle wok
e up, I would get her dressed, feed her breakfast, and let her run around and play. When I went to stand up after sitting in the same position for such a long time, I became incredibly dizzy, almost to the point of blacking out. I sipped water to stay hydrated, but I definitely didn’t eat anything. My mouth was too dry, and if I even tried to eat I would instantly gag. Chain smoking, crossword puzzles and drinking water was what I did. Derrick played video games with the same diligence as I worked on crossword puzzles.

  On the night of day two of our binge, the paranoia crept in. We hadn’t slept at all for forty-eight hours, and we didn’t plan to sleep. Sleep was not something that happened when we were on a binge. Trying to fall asleep was horrible, and the darkness only increased the paranoia. Around three in the morning, Derrick became convinced that there were Secret Service Agents surrounding our house. I knew it wasn’t true, but any slight sound of the house settling would cause me to wonder. I was more concerned that our house was about to be raided. With us being in the last stretch, it wouldn’t surprise me if they wanted to set us up to fail once again. What everyone did not know was that I was already doing this.

  After quietly lying in bed watching Derrick point a pellet gun at the entrance of our bedroom door for what felt like hours, he finally fell asleep. When he fell asleep I got up to check on Danielle, and I decided to bring her in bed with me. I didn’t trust Derrick at this moment, and I wouldn’t want him to mistake her for a secret service agent or something. I put her next to me and next to the wall, and nodded on and off until the next morning.

  Sunday morning came along. I felt disoriented and sick from the drug leaving my body. We had gone through all four bags of the meth in only two days. There was only a small amount left. I knew that the only way to feel better was to use what we had left. Derrick broke it up into lines, and I continued using it every hour or so because I felt like it wasn’t working. My tolerance had become strong, and no amount was going to give me what I wanted at this point. Around three in the afternoon that day, the phone rang. It was a 573 number, which was usually either the Social Services office or Probation. It was Probation. My Probation Officer left a message on our machine saying that he wanted to see if I was available to stop in the next day for just a few minutes. He had some questions to ask me about my Court date, which was on Wednesday. “Wheew. I thought he was going to suddenly drug test me!” I said in response to his message. “You better start pounding water. He probably is going to drug test you,” Derrick replied casually. “No way. He trusts me and a drug test takes a few days to come back with the results. There isn’t enough time to do that with my hearing being on Wednesday,” I confidently replied. I had the entire system mastered. I needed to give them what they wanted and I would be fine. He probably just needed to verify where I would be living when they set me free. I was sure it was something simple. But to be safe, I drank as much water as I could, ate cloves of raw garlic, and took handfuls of vitamin C. I obsessively researched online ways to get the drug out of my system, and that is what I came up with. Plus it gave me something to do to stay distracted.

  My mom called that same afternoon asking me when my Court Hearing was. She wanted to come and visit me before we left for Texas. She hadn’t seen Danielle since she was born, and wanted to get some pictures as well. I told her about my meeting that afternoon, and she said she would come pick me up for lunch beforehand.

  Monday was bright and sunny. I had gotten about ten hours of sleep the night before, and I thought I would be feeling rested enough to get through the day. My body was still trying to recover from the weekend binge. I was short of breath and I felt like my chest was going to cave in. I put Danielle in the cutest outfit I could find for her, and I showered and got dressed. I was glad that Derrick had to work that day, and knew it would help avoid conflict. My mom had become a little more supportive of my situation, probably only because she saw that I made enough progress to get away from the CPS and the entire system. We still didn’t talk about Derrick and knew that it wouldn’t give either one of us any closure to do so. She picked me up and I strapped Danielle into her car seat in the back of her car. We went over to a local clinic area that was connected to a dental office that Lilah was working in. My mom surprised me and said that Lilah was going to come to lunch with us. I hadn’t seen Lilah since that terrible day in Court. I hadn’t even spoken to her since that day. We had about thirty minutes to wait for Lilah to clock out for her lunch break. As we were sitting in the car waiting, my guilt and panic began to hit me all at once. When I spoke to my mom over the phone, it always showed its ugly face. Actually being in the same area as her intensified it beyond measure. My subconscious became confused when I was around my family. My family forced me to recall my life before Derrick, which was happy and content. I had made my choices and lifestyle that I was living become my new ‘happy and content,’ which was everything but happy and content. This confusion put me into panic. Coming down from the drug did the same. Since I was familiar with the clinic that was attached to the dentist office, I told my mom that I had to run in and see one of the nurse practitioners. I needed something to take this anxiety off of my shoulders. If I presented myself in this anxious manner when I went to see my Probation Officer, he would surely drug test me.

  I went into the clinic and begged them to see me on the spot. I was in luck. They called me back within about fifteen minutes. The young doctor walked in and she was really nice. I explained to her that I was about to move to Texas, and I was having extreme anxiety. “Is everything going okay at home with your husband?” she asked, knowing all too well what my problem really was. “Yes! It’s actually better than ever. I don’t know what my problem is but I keep getting panic attacks. My heart is racing and I feel like I can’t breathe.” She put the meter on my pointer and measured my heart rate. It was extremely fast and she looked concerned. She wrote me a prescription for a drug similar to Valium, and gave me enough for my trip so I wouldn’t be shorthanded while traveling.

  We all went to lunch at a Thai restaurant, and I tried to eat as much as I could. Lilah put on her fake smile again, and I was surprised when she actually kissed Danielle on the forehead before we parted ways. My mom took me to the pharmacy to drop off my prescription. After pulling in my driveway, we said our goodbyes. Something was telling me that it wasn’t going to be the last time I would see her before I left. I wasn’t as worried about it as she seemed to be.

  Lunch helped me to feel a little better, and after Danielle woke up from her nap, it was time to head over to Probation. I thought about just not going, or calling to reschedule, but I didn’t want the stress of that hanging over my head when I knew that it would all be fine if I just went in. I packed up the baby and started driving down to the Probation Office. When I was called back, my officer started our meeting out with the usual hello, and how are you. Then he began. “I spoke with the District Attorney about getting you off early, and at first they were completely against it. I had to do a lot of convincing, but finally got them to agree to let you go.” “Awesome, thank you so much,” I smiled, bouncing Danielle on my knee to keep her busy. “The only thing that they want to seal the deal is for you to submit a clean drug test.”

  Chapter 56

  Panic struck me. It struck me hard. It was as if I was hit full force with defeat all over again. My body was rushing with adrenaline, my heart was pounding, and my face felt hot. I somehow hid my panic because he didn’t have any look of concern on his face. He knew that my test would come back clean and it would all be just fine. As I was trying not to shake, I reached into my purse and pulled out the prescription I picked up before arriving. “Well, I was prescribed this and I don’t know if it will have an impact, but maybe you might want to document it?” I asked, hoping that this detail could miraculously cancel out this unexpected test. He wrote down the prescription strength and said that it would not have an impact. A female officer, the same officer that took me into the jail last year, approached the office door
way and asked me if I was ready. She was stern, and not very friendly. She looked suspicious of me the entire time. My officer offered to watch Danielle while I did my test, but the second I set her down in the hopes that she would want to run and explore the hallways, she screamed her little head off. “Just bring her in and I’ll hold her while you test,” the female officer said. We went into the bathroom, I signed the label that would go over the urine sample, and handed Danielle to the unfamiliar woman. Danielle was hysterical. It wasn’t difficult for me to pee because I had been drinking so much water. I knew that the sample was extremely diluted, but I still had a horrifying feeling that everything was about to plummet. Before walking through the exit door, my Probation Officer wished me luck and we said our goodbyes. It wasn’t goodbye. I would be seeing him again very soon.