Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story

by E. McNew

  Chapter 70

  Drugs, sex and filet mignon.

  For the next three weeks, we stayed in four different mansions. Aaron had the schedule of upcoming rentals, so we knew that wherever he told us to go, it would have to be vacant. The First mansion had four levels. The first level was the kitchen and the master bedroom, which was huge. The second level, which led down a flight of stairs, was a living area with a huge TV and surround sound, a computer, four bedrooms and a hot-tub out on the back deck. The next flight of stairs led to the third level, which was the floor with the games. There was a Pool Table, an Air-Hockey game, a Ping Pong table, and a Foosball game. The fourth level was what would have been the maid’s quarters if the place were occupied. There was a kitchenette, four bedrooms, and a few couches.

  The place was not yet cleaned up from the last renters, so I decided to clean. It probably took me two days, but I wanted to have a solid excuse to be there in case anyone came by. The only people who could maybe show up were the actual cleaning people, or the owners. Derrick had the equipment laying out by the hot tub at all times for the same reason. For the most part, we were high the entire time. I have no idea how we had the money for drugs and filet mignon, but we somehow managed. I hate to say it, but this was probably the most exciting, laid-back and nerve-wracking three weeks of my life. We were officially fugitives running from the law, and it brought some sort of exciting element to our lives. We became closer than we ever had during our time on the run. We knew that we wouldn’t ever be caught in these mansions, and we were able to just enjoy our time together. We let ourselves pretend that this was our life, and we had nothing to worry about. After getting a call from Derrick’s mother about a week into our mansion hopping, we couldn’t help but worry. She was crying.

  “The cops called me and they are looking for you two! I said you weren’t here and he said something about being careful about making sure you didn’t come here, because he ‘wouldn’t want to see anyone get shot!” I told him that if they shot my son, I would hunt him down and end his life!” she screamed. We reassured her that we weren’t going to be heading that way until this was all resolved, but we were worried that this had turned into something more serious than we ever thought it could. When the day was getting closer for the cleaning company to show up to prepare for the next set of guests, Derrick called Aaron to find out where our next hideout would be. When he got off the phone he looked nervous. “Aaron said that last night our house was surrounded by the SWAT team. They all had guns and vests on.” he said. “What the hell! They’re acting as if we have killed someone!” I complained. Derrick was seriously wanted by the Police Department. We had a talk later that night decided he should try to run for as long as he could. If I could just get off of Probation, we could leave the state that would never offer us a good life, or even give us a fighting chance. We knew that when I went to Court in a few weeks, they would arrest me. But they would eventually have to let me go because I was innocent. I would take it to trial and the Jury would have no choice. We would figure out a way for him to hide for a few months until I was free, and then we would leave.

  We went to our next location and had even more fun than we did at the first. The mansion had five stories, and I literally got lost the first time I explored. The first floor was a bit outdated with a look from the 70’s, but it was still nice with antique furniture. The second floor had six bedrooms including the master with a huge flat-screen television set mounted to the wall. The third floor was where we spent most of our time. We got high, played poker, blasted country music on the speakers, and got high again. The other two floors had more bedrooms and the maid’s quarters. We were living the life that we always talked about. Through our despair and self-destruction, we were falling in love all over again. Our connection was deep. The trauma and tragedy, more than most people ever face, had given us no other choice but to cling tightly to all we had left - each other.

  When we were lying in bed one night and unable to stay awake any longer, Derrick had his head on my chest. He was listening to my heartbeat. “I will always love you, more than anything, Elizabeth. You’re the legs to my table. If you fall, I fall. Don’t ever forget that,” he passionately said. “I’d like to believe that because we’ve been through so much and somehow we’re still lying together, that it’s just what it is supposed to be.” I said. “It’s been hard, and sad and confusing. And I don’t know why, because it would certainly be easier to not love you, but I do. It’s like I don’t even have a choice in the matter. I love you with everything in me, Derrick.” I ran my fingers through his shaved buds of hair. “No matter what ever happens, I love you and I always will. Don’t ever forget that.” He lovingly replied. We fell asleep hugging each other, which was something that rarely happened. We were confused and scared. We didn’t know what would lie ahead. Nothing was certain. The only thing that was certain was that we loved each other. We would fight to be together, no matter what it took.

  As each day came closer to my Court date, we became anxious and somber. Derrick hadn’t been feeling well for the last few days. On a morning that we had fallen asleep in the living room area on two separate couches, he woke me up because he was breathing heavily. It was about six in the morning and barely getting light outside. “What’s wrong?” I asked him in a daze. “I don’t know. Can I have one of your anxiety pills?” he asked. This was when I knew that something serious was going on. Derrick would never admit to his defeating feelings or emotions. His manliness got in the way of that. I handed him one of my pills. “Are you breathing okay?” I asked him, concerned. “I don’t know. My chest hurts,” he said, trying to pace his breathing. I asked him what his other symptoms were, and typed them into the search engine on the computer that was in the corner of the room. “Your symptoms are either consistent with altitude sickness, or a heart attack. I think we need to go to the hospital now,” I said, trying to stay calm. “That’s not happening. They’ll know I’ve been tweaked out, and they’ll probably call the cops. I’m NOT going to jail,” he replied. He was flat-out refusing to go to the hospital. I begged him and told him that his life could depend on it, and he wouldn’t budge. He started to become disoriented. I wondered if it was altitude sickness. Although our home was in the mountains and we were used to high altitude, this particular vacation rental was way up in the mountains and probably close to a thousand feet higher than we were accustomed to. I started the car that was hiding in the garage and managed to convince him to get into the passenger seat. “We just need to drive you down the hill to see if this subsides, ok?” I begged. If it was altitude sickness, his symptoms should slowly ease up.

  I drove Derrick down the hill and parked us in the empty lot of a grocery store. I ran into a gas station to get him some water. We sat in silence for probably an hour. I periodically asked him how he was feeling. When I asked him for the third time, I glanced over to see tears streaming down his face. “Are you still having chest pain?” I asked, concerned that he was getting worse. “No. I’m just overwhelmed with all this and I don’t want you to leave me. I feel like shit that you’re the one getting in trouble over this and who knows how long they’ll lock me up. We should just run. It’s the only way shit will ever get better!” he said, completely frustrated and broken. I rubbed his head and looked at him knowing that we couldn’t run. I didn’t have to say anything for him to know this. Running for good would only make this bad situation even worse. As much as I loved him and wanted to be with him, but I was too close to getting off of Probation to let that be an option.

  We drove back up the hill and spent the last few days sobering up and appreciating our time together. After Monday, we didn’t know when the next time would be that we could be together. I spent the night before Court with Derrick in the hot tub. I stared up at the stars, thinking about life, the universe, and if it could possibly have anything good planned for me. I still had hope. It was the only thing keeping me alive.

  Chapter 71

&nbs
p; My relationship with my father had improved in the prior months. When I had the relapse that caused me to land myself back in jail the last time, I gave up on trying to hide anything from him. I came to the conclusion that lying to him didn't do any good. If anything, it only made him more frustrated. I decided to be brutally honest with him. When I told him everything over an email, I expected him to write back and be totally furious. When he responded and thanked me for being honest with him, I was surprised. If I had known that brutal honesty was all that he wanted, I could have done that a long time ago. Most parents have a hard time handling the truth, especially if it involves illegal activity. My dad had his own history of making mistakes in his younger years. He just wanted to know what was going on.

  In the few days before my Court Hearing, I called my dad to let him know what was going on. Of course I didn't come out and say that I was still using drugs, but I told him about the rest of the drama. "Well, I don't have any jobs that day. Do you want me to go to Court with you?" I was glad that he was offering to do this because I knew that Derrick couldn't go with me. I knew that I was probably going to be arrested, and I was definitely nervous. "If you don't mind, I would definitely appreciate that." Before getting off the phone, he told me that he would meet me in front of the Court fifteen minutes prior.

  I woke up that morning feeling sick to my stomach. I was slow to get dressed, and I honestly didn't care if I was on time or not. Either way I was going to jail. Derrick dropped me off in front of the Court, quickly kissed me goodbye, and told me he loved me. I nervously headed towards the entrance where my dad was standing. "Well, if they do arrest you, I'll head over to the Sheriff's office and put money on your books," he offered. I knew that I would need some money on my books because I was going to have to get shower shoes. We walked into the Court and took our seats next to the crowd of other nervous people waiting for their case to be called. Two hours went by before they called me. I was so nervous that I had to walk out of the Courtroom to pee every fifteen minutes. The female Judge called my case, and I walked up where my Attorney was. I hadn't seen her in a while and I wished that I could have talked to her and explain the situation before they called me. I left the details with her secretary a few days earlier, but I wasn't sure if she had gotten them.

  The Judge went through the paperwork and started speaking as if the other cases didn't exist. Clearly, the Court was unorganized. For a moment I thought that I was going to get off without going to jail. Before I knew it, the Bailiff sitting at the desk to my right quickly jumped up and walked up behind me. "I need you to place your hands behind your back," he calmly said as he put those heavy metal cuffs around my wrists. Not only was I miserable, I was also embarrassed. There were probably at least one hundred people in the Courtroom and they all were seeing me be handcuffed. There wasn't much else to do except to go to the booking area. The Judge scheduled an Arraignment Hearing for the next day. I walked over to booking with the Bailiff escorting me and instructing me to stay on that all too familiar long blue line. The reality sunk in. As I was sitting at the same table I had sat at three other times, I realized that this time I really did not do anything wrong. It made me think back to all of the other times I had spent in jail. I had done something wrong at some points to end up there, but every single arrest involved Derrick. Whether it was his powerful influence that he had over me, or actions of my own, he played a role. When I was escorted to my new cell after changing into my oranges, I made my bed and lay down. My depression and grief quickly turned into anger and frustration. I was angry with Derrick. I was angry that I was sitting in jail and he was not. He was supposed to be the one sitting in jail.

  When I went to my Arraignment the next day, it was a little bit after 12:00 noon. Before the Judge called my case, my Probation Officer came up and sat in the chair next to me. "Okay, so here is what's going on," she said as she looked at her clipboard. "I know that you don't want to be here, and honestly, I don't know what your involvement was. If you can tell me where we can find Derrick, I can probably get you out of here in a couple of hours." I became eager to give him the information that I had. I was done with jail, and I wanted my life back. This last round of heartache got me to my wits end. When I had time away from Derrick and was sitting in my jail cell, I was able to really think about the situation that I was in. It wasn't good. It was full of empty promises. We couldn't just wish our lives to be better. Something serious had to happen before I could fully understand this. For me, it was happening in this moment as I sat in an orange suit with shackles on my wrists and ankles.

  I gave my Probation Officer as much information as I could. I told him what Derrick was living and I told him where he might be. I didn't remember what the physical address was, but I had a rough idea of how to get there. My Probation Officer helped me draw a map on a piece of paper from the clipboard, and he said that he would keep me updated. I wasn't let out of jail that day, but the next day I was. Both my Probation Officer and my Lawyer came to see me. My Lawyer explained to me that the Court didn't want to let me go because they thought that I might either run or help Derrick continue to hide. My Probation Officer expressed the same concern. He told me that he wanted to recommend that I be let out, but he didn't know if he could trust my judgment. I reassured him that I was completely done with getting in trouble, and I was thinking about filing for a divorce. I gave him my word that I would not run, and I reminded him that out of all of the other times I was in trouble, I never ran. This worked in my favor, because the next day when I went to Court, the Judge let me go home. She reminded me that if I were to run or even help Derrick hide, she would send me straight to prison.

  After putting my own clothes back on and collecting my personal items from the calendar, which was my purse, a pack of cigarettes and thirteen dollars, I walked out of the exit door, and I was on my own. Luckily, my house was only a fifteen-minute walk away. I smoked a cigarette as I made the walk, pondering how important it was to have my freedom. I value my freedom and I knew that it would always be at risk as long as I stayed with Derrick. When I got home, my house was empty and cold. I didn't know what to do, so I called my older sister. She listened to me while I cried on the phone, and a few hours later she brought me a bag of groceries and a book that she thought might help me. I cleaned up my house, got into my pajamas, and made myself cozy on the couch with my book. When I opened it, I saw that she had written something on the inside flap.

  Lizzie,

  You are the bravest person I know. I'll always love you not matter what.

  Lilah

  Although unexpected, I thought that it was extremely nice of her to write that. She went out of her way to do something to help me feel better, and it helped me to regain a little bit of my self-worth. I read the first few chapters of the book, and it really did help me feel better. It had a bunch of positive affirmations in it, and it helped me to understand why I had put myself in these situations.

  Later that same night, I got a phone call from Derrick. He was calling me from a payphone because he was too paranoid to use his cell phone. "I'm so glad you are out of jail. I really want to see you. I'm so miserable without you," he said, genuinely sounding miserable. "I want to see you too, but I'm so worried about getting caught. They will send me straight back to jail," I said, hoping that he would understand. "I'm running out of clean clothes, and I really need some stuff from the house. If you just walk down here, no one is going to find out. I'm staying in the trailer that's next to the old house that Donnie and I used to live in," I sighed, and agreed to bring in his stuff. I felt bad for him, but I was also really worried that I was going to get caught. I put on my jacket, packed up the bag for him, and started walking. I left through the back door, and cut through the rest of the mobile home park where it would be more difficult to spot me. It was freezing outside, and the walk was longer than I thought it was going to be. It was really dark and making me nervous. I got to the trailer and called out so he would hear me. He opened the door
and I walked in. It was abandoned, dark, dingy and cold. Right away he hugged me and told me that he loved me. I gave him his things and sat down on the couch that he was sleeping on. Technically, it was the seats from a two-door pickup truck. He was cold and depressed, and I had mixed feelings about it. I didn't know it at the time, but I had lost complete respect for him. I had a defensive wall that had been formed, and he was partially to blame. I showed him compassion, talked for about an hour, and told him that I had to go.

  Before leaving, he pulled me next to him one last time. "Let's just run. We are never going to get out of this. In my mind, the only way to get back to our daughter is to run." I could see where he was coming from, but I had just gotten out of jail. There was no way in hell that I was going to risk going back. I gently responded, "We can't. We just have to hang in there. Maybe you should just get it over with and turn yourself in. The sooner that you take care of it, the sooner that we can leave." Deep in my heart I had no intentions of leaving with him. I was hoping that he would turn himself in so I would be free to really beginning my life. I would never be able to live an honest, safe and content life if I were to stay with him.