This will be the worst blog post I ever write because my mind is in shambles. So, I apologize for errors and horrible grammar in advance.
My brother got away with murder today. Last Friday, after one of our numerous arguments, he went outside and vandalized the right hand side of my car. I won’t say what the argument was about because I’m not cruel and I won’t put all of his business in the streets even though he has dogged me, hit me more than once, and called me all kinds of names.
You see, because I have no where else to go, I’m staying at my mom’s house. My mother is in a nursing home now dying from cancer and will probably have to go to a hospice. That’s a long story. Needless to say, craziness has ensued and my mother is not here to put a dent in it.
After the argument with my brother, he ran outside and went next door…or so I thought. I was upstairs in my room and heard the loud, unmistakable sound of something crashing against metal. I went to the window and saw my brother with a rock (or perhaps a brick) in his hand smashing the right hand passenger side of my Honda. The neighbors (his partners in crime) were outside laughing as he did it. I ran downstairs and saw that my mirror on the right hand side was smashed as well. This is his handiwork.
I called the police and they told me to go and press charges against him. Even though I called the cops on him in the past, I never went further than that. But this time I jumped into my ruined car and went straight to the courthouse. The fact that he had gotten to the point where he would damage my property (the same property that got hit by a different neighbor on the left hand side because he was driving drunk and tried to lie about it…the same property that I drive my precious baby girl in…the same property that is the only thing I have left because I’m essentially homeless), I knew it was time to take action.
Charnita Mathias heard my story that Friday and thank God she issued a temporary protective order. That got my brother out of the house over the weekend. She also issued the warrant for his arrest. The only thing with the warrant was that I had to make sure I showed up at the State’s Attorney’s Office for it to be upheld. Little did I know, though, I could have had him arrested that Friday since Ms. Mathias filed the order for his arrest.
Anyway, today we had to appear in court for the order of protection to continue. Judge C. Evelyn Holt-Stone tried our case. The neighbor (the same neighbor who spit on me on Friday while my brother and I were arguing after he damaged my car…the same neighbor I wanted to kill if I would have gotten hold of her—but then again she’s huge, so she probably would have beat my ass), showed up in court with my brother today as his witness. Even though the two of them took an oath in court, they lied in the presence of the judge and the people there. They said they didn’t know who hit my car…that I always argue with my brothers and sisters because I’m crazy. Yadda yadda. This is the same neighbor who my brother (a felon) smokes weed with every chance he gets. This is the same neighbor whose boyfriend threatened me because I argued with her after she spit on me.
Judge Holt-Stone denied my order of protection saying that she didn’t know who was telling her the truth even though I showed her the pictures of my damaged car. My brother tried to say that the damage was existing damage. I attempted to show the judge the paperwork for that damage that my drunk-driving neighbor caused (an older man) but she wouldn’t look at it. That incident happened back in July. Besides, that damage was on the left hand side. My brother wrecked the right hand side and you can clearly see that it’s the right hand side of my car from the pictures.
Judge Holt-Stone could have erred on the side of caution. She could have issued the order of protection to keep him out of this house, but she didn’t. I cried in the courthouse. I cried in the car. I cried on my way to see the State’s Attorney so I could appear for the warrant.
I got to the State’s Attorney’s Office and told my story. The lady there appeared to sympathize, but then she didn’t mention the warrant for my brother…kept talking about appearing in court.
“What about the warrant?” I asked. “Now that I showed up, shouldn’t that warrant be upheld? Shouldn’t he be arrested?”
At first she said no and my heart sank. I was going to have to go home and be in the same house with my brother who vandalized my car, the same brother who lied in court in my face, the same brother who taunted me after court when I called the house to ask another brother if he was at the house. I got upset. The only reason why I’m not going to out her is because she finally said that there is a warrant already and that the only thing I have to do is call 911 and my brother will be taken to jail. She gave me the number of the warrant and the claim number of the case.
I left her office still upset…still crying…still shaking. I called 911 with no hopes that my brother was going to go to jail. If he managed to escape Judge Holt-Stone, I thought sure he would manage to weasel his way out of going to jail either by hiding out at the next door neighbor’s house (like he always does when I call the cops) or running somewhere else.
I called the house again while I was on the road. “Is _____ there?” I asked my other brother.
“No, they came and got him,” he said.
For the first time since this ordeal began, I felt relieved.
Why am I telling you this story and putting my family business out there? I’m telling you this story because I now know that the justice system is a farce. I recant my blog post about Troy Davis. Click here to see that post. I now know that innocent victims can get passed by in an unjust system. I know that it happens because I am one—an innocent victim who didn’t lie in court. An innocent victim who now has two wrecked mirrors and a mess of a car on wheels.
I would like to thank Charnita Mathias again. If it wasn’t for her, justice would have never been served. My brother would have gotten away with murder. Thanks, Ms. Mathias. May God bless your soul.
In closing, let me say this: if this is what family can do to you when you’re down, who needs enemies?