I spent three years in prison for a crime I did not commit. The how and why I got there doesn’t really matter now. What does matter now is what I continue to suffer as a result of that incarceration.
I am still the subject of repeated interrogation. The local law enforcement shows up to where I live and pull me out of my residence, has me assume the prone position and searches me outside in front of all my neighbors. They pull my mom over, who drives me around, whether I am in the car or not. If I am in the car they have me get out at gun point and get on the ground and proceed to search the vehicle. They are trying everything they can to violate my parole. Each time an incident occurs I must report it to my parole agent. It’s inconvenient for me and troublesome for my agent.
To begin with it was very difficult for my parents to find a home that would satisfy the restrictions of parole and the city, as well as be a safe place to live. They were searching to buy since they are retiring soon. My Mom has already retired to be my caretaker or babysitter as it were to keep me from going back to jail due to the ideology of the people and the local government in my area. Not because I would ever commit an offense. They searched hundreds of homes before finding this one. It is less desirable than many they looked at, but those homes didn’t meet the qualifications.
It makes it difficult for my parents because they are ridiculed along with me for helping me. Without them I would be homeless and at the mercy of the law enforcement which is hell bent on returning RSO’s to incarceration. My Stepfather has to work in Alaska to earn enough money to support our financial needs. I have Parkinson’s and am on disability. I pay them for my room and supply food for myself. But it is not enough. I have to be driven everywhere as a result of my disability. So as you can see I feel like a hindrance to them.
On top of law enforcement issues I have problems in the community. I have been assaulted leaving class. I have been followed to my residence and had it toilet papered and egged. I try to hide my monitor but sometimes people can tell what it is under my pants, then they make comments, point and whisper. Some are quite voice full and make a scene.
The worst part of this whole deal is not being able to see my children. I was a very involved father. Its been four years since I have seen or heard from them. My heart breaks into a million pieces with each memory I have of them. I fear they will never want to reunite with me after the rumors that were spread about me in their community. They suffered ridicule at school and one of them has renounced going by my last name.
Nothing on earth can be as hard as being apart from your kids. I only hope once my parole is over, I can find a way to explain everything so they will understand what took place and that their father loves them.
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