My husband’s child pornography charges got exposed.
I had just spoken with him days before. Everything seemed to be as okay as it could have been considering the circumstances. During the phone conversation that day he told me that his cellmate had popped the lock on their cell. This happened when they were supposed to be locked down for the night. Because his cellmate popped the lock, they were both put on restriction. My husband informed me that his communications would be cut for thirty days and that he would be getting a new cellmate. It was really hard trying to adjust to living life like this. It’s like trying to live with a foot to walk on, or a thumb to open up jars. Regardless, I was going to have to get used to it. There really wasn’t any choice.
Fast forward five days. I am handling the hustle and bustle of getting the kids to our new church home by myself. I think I’ve gotten into the swing of things pretty well. I get the kids checked into all of their departments and take my usual seat on the back pew. (That way I can cry my eyes out and no-one notices.) Halfway through the service my phone rings. It’s the nursery, my third out of four sons isn’t feeling well and is running a fever. In the middle of a Covid outbreak… We’ll need to go get tested. No sooner than I finish picking him up and grabbing my other three boys the phone rings again. It’s the Volusia County Jail.
“Interesting,” I thought to myself. My husband’s communications were restricted. I wasn’t supposed to hear from him for thirty days. The name of the caller was not my husband but I accepted the call anyway. “Hey, how was church?” my husband’s voice was panicked. It was the tone I wasn’t used to hearing. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Why are you calling under someone else’s account?” He explained to me that one of the guards slid his court papers under his cell in the middle of the night while he was sleeping.
His new cellmate picked up the papers and saw all of the charges. This cellmate then proceeded to inform everyone on their block of what my husband had done. He asked me to contact the attorney. To find out if he could be moved to isolation. That he was being threatened and on two occasions groups of men tried to pen him into his cell and beat him. That his food was taken from him. He was termed “chomo”. Even though he had never touched a child, these series of charges are always the worst, and he was now the lowest on the totem pole.
I hung up the phone and put my boys in the car while managing to call the attorney all at once. Now I was panicked, but trying to keep my cool in front of my small children. Explicative words came out of the attorney’s mouth. He called the warden and requested he be moved. The warden assured him that he would speak to my husband and find out exactly what was going on…
The next evening I called the jail to make sure he had been moved. The officer on duty told me there was no record of our attorney even making the call. When I called the attorney back he told me to check back with him in the morning. Later that night I received another call from the jail under another name. “Hey, honey I think I can make it until my court date. There are a couple of guys looking out for me in here. God is showing me mercy.”
I was relieved to hear his voice, but I wasn’t convinced by his statement. I had done a lot of reading and knew that there were instances where inmates pretended to befriend people like that, only to turn around and kill them. I really hoped this wasn’t the case. Not to mention the guys that were looking out for him were only going to be in for another two weeks.