Viewing events of my life in retrospect gives
me a different perspective; as I've told people before, my "stories"
change over time. In particular, situations I thought were beautiful or life-changing
(in a positive way) become merely the beginning of a path of destruction and/or
regret. I understand that I cannot change the past, which eventually makes it
easier to accept, but certainly I would be remiss if I didn't examine said
events to learn something, to take something positive out of them, to try not
to repeat mistakes.
After I lost my dream job in October of 2004 and visited the Psych ward, I received severance pay and had really good credit (I was able to take out a money loan of several thousand dollars with a 0% interest rate for the life of the loan) and therefore, was able to "take some time off" to figure out my next career move. I was then fortunate enough to work part-time for an attorney I had worked for in law school and use his office space rent-free to start creating my own practice. (Wow...the blessings that have been bestowed upon me always catch me off-guard!)
I began by researching how to obtain court-appointed criminal cases. I wrote letters to Judges in the district courts of Oakland, Wayne, and Macomb counties to introduce myself and to ask to be appointed to misdemeanors. I contacted the Circuit Courts of the same counties to investigate how to obtain felony cases. I attended seminars and ordered all of the necessary books that would provide me with a better understanding of how to handle such cases. The cases came in slowly, and despite what most people perceive about court-appointed attorneys, I worked my hardest on each and every case, going above and beyond what some retained attorneys would do.
I remember how scary it was to work on my first few felony cases in Wayne County; I was so nervous! But thankfully, I have a friend who was, and still is, a Prosecutor there, and she would help me in many ways, even taking the time to introduce me to Judges and their staff members. For the most part, I found everyone there, including other attorneys who I was competing with for cases, to be helpful and friendly.
One particular spring morning I walked into a courtroom, passed through "the bar" to the front, and opened up my briefcase like I knew what I was doing. When I glanced up to look around, I saw a man sitting at the Prosecutor's table staring at me. When I caught his eye, his face broke into a wide grin, and I do believe his eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. We said hello, and I thought about asking him about my case (he was the Prosecutor, right?) but then decided to go check in with other courts in the building before I settled in.
When I returned, I sat at the Defense table and promptly picked up a newspaper that had been abandoned and pretended to busy myself so as not to appear quite so nervous and uncertain. As I shook open a section, another blew off of the table, landing on the floor. That same gentleman from earlier happened to be walking by and quickly picked it up for me. He then shook my hand, holding it for longer than necessary, and introduced himself. Court was then called to order, interrupting any further conversation.
When I walked out of the courtroom an hour or so later, I heard my name right before I hopped onto the descending escalator to exit the building. I looked around, seeing that same man. He asked me out for lunch, and I promptly accepted. We walked together on this beautiful spring day in Detroit to a restaurant where our conversation flowed easily the entire time. Despite my protests, he paid for lunch and asked if we could do it again sometime. I readily agreed, and we exchanged business cards.
Later that afternoon, I was sitting at my desk (by now I could afford to rent my very own office) when the receptionist buzzed me. It was him! He was calling to tell me again how much he enjoyed meeting me and spending time with me. He could not see my again in the next day or two, as he had his children and would be busy with them and their activities. Wow! A nice, interesting GENTLEMAN, and he was a caring, involved father? I was impressed.
There was, however, another phone call he made to my cell phone when I was driving home that evening. His voice sounded different, a little slurry. And he made some very blunt comments about my legs, stating how sexy they were. I laughed awkwardly and quickly brushed off my nervousness. I mean, it was a compliment, right? And he had, after all, received rather favorable, albeit not exactly personal-knowledge based, reviews from all friends I had polled during the day.
The next time we went out was a Thursday evening date. It was supposed to be dinner, but it ended up being all liquids, especially vodka. I don't remember all of the details, but I do remember he wanted to rent a room with me, even though we only lived about 15 minutes away from where we were. I declined that invitation.
The next morning I had to be in the Wayne County Circuit Court, followed by an afternoon at the Wayne County Juvenile Court. My new "friend" had asked me to pick up some paperwork for him since he had to be in court in another county. At the end of this busy Friday, I was more than ready for an evening out at a sports bar to watch the Pistons in the playoffs. I left the Juvenile Court building in high spirits, one of the last people to leave for the day. As I walked down the I-75 service drive where I had parked, I became confused looking for my car. I thought: how far down did I park? Immediately following that thought, I saw a car that looked exactly like mine coming out of a driveway, and it proceeded to drive towards me and then passed me on the service drive. IT WAS MY CAR! A deputy ran outside and saw my shocked face. He immediately called the Detroit Police, and an unmarked car arrived within...a minute? The cops asked me which way my car had gone, and I vaguely pointed up the service drive. Shortly thereafter, I called the police to ask for someone to come out to take a report; I was told, in a disdainful tone, that the police had much more important things to do than come out to talk to me about my stolen vehicle. Welcome to Detroit! (Regardless, I do love that city.)
The deputy who had initially assisted me offered to drive me to the nearest precinct, bless his heart, and my brother drove down from our Oakland County suburb to bring me home. As reality sunk in that I may never see my car again (my car was recovered a day later at 4:00 a.m. occupied by a 15 year-old and a 13 year-old; the fact that I had been representing juvenile delinquents when my car was stolen was not lost on me, and eventually I faced these culprits in that very same building), I realized my new friend's paperwork was taken along with my car. I called him from outside the precinct to tell him what happened. Oh, was he understanding, asking if there was anything he could do and repeatedly asking if I was ok! I explained that I was ok, and that my brother was with me.
I went out that night as planned because I figured there was no reason to sit at home and stew about my car. After quite a few drinks, I decided to call my new friend for some more sympathy and kind words. His phone was answered by a woman who explained he was putting his kids to bed. When he finally came to the phone, his demeanor was very different; he was very business like. Later he told me that the woman who answered was "just a friend" and helped him with office work sometimes. Again, I stuffed down the slightly uneasy feeling in my gut.
What I didn't know then was that I was allowing myself to be grasped in the clutches of a sociopath, and that the woman who answered the phone that night would become my arch nemesis as we fought over this loser for the next couple of years, both of us swept up in a web of lies, deceit, manipulation, abuse, alcohol, and drugs. That "sparkle" I had seen in his eyes was something sinister, not sincere.
After I lost my dream job in October of 2004 and visited the Psych ward, I received severance pay and had really good credit (I was able to take out a money loan of several thousand dollars with a 0% interest rate for the life of the loan) and therefore, was able to "take some time off" to figure out my next career move. I was then fortunate enough to work part-time for an attorney I had worked for in law school and use his office space rent-free to start creating my own practice. (Wow...the blessings that have been bestowed upon me always catch me off-guard!)
I began by researching how to obtain court-appointed criminal cases. I wrote letters to Judges in the district courts of Oakland, Wayne, and Macomb counties to introduce myself and to ask to be appointed to misdemeanors. I contacted the Circuit Courts of the same counties to investigate how to obtain felony cases. I attended seminars and ordered all of the necessary books that would provide me with a better understanding of how to handle such cases. The cases came in slowly, and despite what most people perceive about court-appointed attorneys, I worked my hardest on each and every case, going above and beyond what some retained attorneys would do.
I remember how scary it was to work on my first few felony cases in Wayne County; I was so nervous! But thankfully, I have a friend who was, and still is, a Prosecutor there, and she would help me in many ways, even taking the time to introduce me to Judges and their staff members. For the most part, I found everyone there, including other attorneys who I was competing with for cases, to be helpful and friendly.
One particular spring morning I walked into a courtroom, passed through "the bar" to the front, and opened up my briefcase like I knew what I was doing. When I glanced up to look around, I saw a man sitting at the Prosecutor's table staring at me. When I caught his eye, his face broke into a wide grin, and I do believe his eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. We said hello, and I thought about asking him about my case (he was the Prosecutor, right?) but then decided to go check in with other courts in the building before I settled in.
When I returned, I sat at the Defense table and promptly picked up a newspaper that had been abandoned and pretended to busy myself so as not to appear quite so nervous and uncertain. As I shook open a section, another blew off of the table, landing on the floor. That same gentleman from earlier happened to be walking by and quickly picked it up for me. He then shook my hand, holding it for longer than necessary, and introduced himself. Court was then called to order, interrupting any further conversation.
When I walked out of the courtroom an hour or so later, I heard my name right before I hopped onto the descending escalator to exit the building. I looked around, seeing that same man. He asked me out for lunch, and I promptly accepted. We walked together on this beautiful spring day in Detroit to a restaurant where our conversation flowed easily the entire time. Despite my protests, he paid for lunch and asked if we could do it again sometime. I readily agreed, and we exchanged business cards.
Later that afternoon, I was sitting at my desk (by now I could afford to rent my very own office) when the receptionist buzzed me. It was him! He was calling to tell me again how much he enjoyed meeting me and spending time with me. He could not see my again in the next day or two, as he had his children and would be busy with them and their activities. Wow! A nice, interesting GENTLEMAN, and he was a caring, involved father? I was impressed.
There was, however, another phone call he made to my cell phone when I was driving home that evening. His voice sounded different, a little slurry. And he made some very blunt comments about my legs, stating how sexy they were. I laughed awkwardly and quickly brushed off my nervousness. I mean, it was a compliment, right? And he had, after all, received rather favorable, albeit not exactly personal-knowledge based, reviews from all friends I had polled during the day.
The next time we went out was a Thursday evening date. It was supposed to be dinner, but it ended up being all liquids, especially vodka. I don't remember all of the details, but I do remember he wanted to rent a room with me, even though we only lived about 15 minutes away from where we were. I declined that invitation.
The next morning I had to be in the Wayne County Circuit Court, followed by an afternoon at the Wayne County Juvenile Court. My new "friend" had asked me to pick up some paperwork for him since he had to be in court in another county. At the end of this busy Friday, I was more than ready for an evening out at a sports bar to watch the Pistons in the playoffs. I left the Juvenile Court building in high spirits, one of the last people to leave for the day. As I walked down the I-75 service drive where I had parked, I became confused looking for my car. I thought: how far down did I park? Immediately following that thought, I saw a car that looked exactly like mine coming out of a driveway, and it proceeded to drive towards me and then passed me on the service drive. IT WAS MY CAR! A deputy ran outside and saw my shocked face. He immediately called the Detroit Police, and an unmarked car arrived within...a minute? The cops asked me which way my car had gone, and I vaguely pointed up the service drive. Shortly thereafter, I called the police to ask for someone to come out to take a report; I was told, in a disdainful tone, that the police had much more important things to do than come out to talk to me about my stolen vehicle. Welcome to Detroit! (Regardless, I do love that city.)
The deputy who had initially assisted me offered to drive me to the nearest precinct, bless his heart, and my brother drove down from our Oakland County suburb to bring me home. As reality sunk in that I may never see my car again (my car was recovered a day later at 4:00 a.m. occupied by a 15 year-old and a 13 year-old; the fact that I had been representing juvenile delinquents when my car was stolen was not lost on me, and eventually I faced these culprits in that very same building), I realized my new friend's paperwork was taken along with my car. I called him from outside the precinct to tell him what happened. Oh, was he understanding, asking if there was anything he could do and repeatedly asking if I was ok! I explained that I was ok, and that my brother was with me.
I went out that night as planned because I figured there was no reason to sit at home and stew about my car. After quite a few drinks, I decided to call my new friend for some more sympathy and kind words. His phone was answered by a woman who explained he was putting his kids to bed. When he finally came to the phone, his demeanor was very different; he was very business like. Later he told me that the woman who answered was "just a friend" and helped him with office work sometimes. Again, I stuffed down the slightly uneasy feeling in my gut.
What I didn't know then was that I was allowing myself to be grasped in the clutches of a sociopath, and that the woman who answered the phone that night would become my arch nemesis as we fought over this loser for the next couple of years, both of us swept up in a web of lies, deceit, manipulation, abuse, alcohol, and drugs. That "sparkle" I had seen in his eyes was something sinister, not sincere.
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