The truth of what REALLY happened on that cruise. (Warning: STRONG language. I mean, strong.)

This post was originally written in late February of 2013.  I have not altered the original post in any way, shape or form; this is exactly how I was feeling at the time.  I will only say that these are the words of a scared, frightened, stressed-out woman that had no idea of what was going to happen.

The only reason that you are reading this right now is because the legal case has been dropped, or settled.  You will now understand what stress and horror I have been living under for the last three months.  I was ordered not to discuss this, for fear it would jeopardize the case - but now it's over.  And now I'm going to scream it to the skies.

Grab some popcorn.  You're about to take a ride on the crazy train.

By the way?  The case was judged as nolle prosequi - which means that "the plaintiff has dropped the charges".  Well, well.  Maybe because you're a lying douche that never had a leg to stand on, huh?

~~

It's been more than a couple of weeks since our aborted vacation; you know, the cruise to Jamaica that we were supposed to go on.  I've been putting off explaining what happened, partially because of shame (though why, I do not know!) and partially because I was afraid that a legal case would be jeopardized because I discussed it on Facebook.  More details about that are below.

The short story is that Greg was arrested, on-board the ship, by the Broward County, Florida Police Department AND by the United States Border Patrol.  He was arrested for, and I quote, "battery and tampering with a victim/witness".  Apparently there was a warrant out for his arrest that was dated from September of 2011.  In that warrant, it was stated that "Mr. Osman has violent tendencies". 

Wha-wha-wha-WHAT???  Fucking WHAT??????

Now, if you guess that it has to do with the crazy-assed bitch of an ex-girlfriend that he literally escaped from in Florida... you would win the new car and a year's supply of Rice-a-Roni.

This fucking cunt - and yes, I say the word cunt, I do not use this term EVER, but that's exactly what she is, so that's what I'm going to say - actually put out a warrant on Greg for supposedly abusing her.  Uhhuh.  That's why he had visible bruises on his body when he fled to my house in June of 2011.  Sure, bitch.  He abused you.  Get... fucking... REAL.

Greg was a victim of domestic violence in that relationship.  When he arrived in Baltimore, he and I actually went to the House of Ruth to try and get him to be seen by a counselor.  That's how much "he abused her".  She broke his glasses - and I do mean shattered them.  But HE "abused her".  Right, got it.  He walked around here for months like a whipped dog because he was so fucking afraid that someone would hurt him - but "he abused her".  Right. 

And she actually dared to use the judicial system to put out a warrant for his arrest. 

The result was that Greg was arrested, in view of over 3,000 people, on the Liberty of the Seas on Monday, January 28, 2013.  Needless to say, I was absolutely hysterical.  We had no idea that there was a warrant out on him, because if we had known - we would have freaking taken care of it!  Also, think about this - if we had known there was a warrant out for his arrest, what makes these idiots think that we'd even come back to Florida to begin with?????  Do they think we're that fucking stupid?

He was unceremoniously hauled off of the ship in handcuffs.  I'm throwing clothes into suitcases, sobbing hysterically, not understanding anything of what's going on, what I need to do next, anything. 

Do you believe that they actually asked me if I wanted to stay on the cruise?  Say the fuck... what?  What makes these idiots think I'd just take off to Jamaica by myself while Greg's in handcuffs over false domestic violence charges?  Do they really think I'm going to just leave him in the Broward County Jail while I hightail it off to the fucking islands?  GET.... FUCKING....REAL.

So I get off of the ship, with those same 3,000 people watching me.  The ship is late taking off, you see, and we're the sole reason for that.  So, yeah, I was totally humiliated.  No doubt about it.

No thanks to the Broward County Police Department, I found a hotel to stay in.  Of course, it's 130 dollars a night, but I was so hysterical that I didn't care.  I'm in a city that I know nothing about (Fort Lauderdale), I'm stranded, my fiance's in jail and I don't even know what the fuck is happening.  So, let's see... we lost our cruise vacation for sure.  That's 800 dollars.  Plus the hotel, so that's another 130. 

Want to keep tabs with me?  It gets better.

I call my mother in absolute hysterics, who in turn calls my brother in absolute hysterics.  He calls me, not in hysterics but visibly rattled.  He dispenses advice - call a lawyer, stat.  Good idea, I think, so I start looking up lawyers.  I'm overwhelmed by the choices.  Call a few, no one answers, it's 9:00pm.  I pull up the website of the jail - I see Greg's booking picture.  He's got visible tears in his eyes.  I totally fucking lose my shit and sob, curled up, on the hotel floor.  What the fuck.  What... the... fuck.

I toss and turn all night.  Can't sleep.  Dry-eyed.  Can't eat anything - I throw up what little I can get down.  I take my blood sugar levels - it's 214.  Only 36 more points and I get to go to the hospital.  Yay.  Great vacation so far.

Dawn arrives.  I wait until the latest hour I think I can before I start calling lawyers again.  I reach one's legal secretary - I spill out my story.  I end up crying again, I can't help it.  She puts me through to the lawyer himself.  I repeat my story.  He agrees to take the case - it's 1,000 dollars for a retainer.  I call my mother, begging for help.  She agrees and pays the retainer for me.  He promises to get over to the courthouse, in the meantime, can I come down there?  I'm on my way.

Now we're up to 1,930 dollars.  Keep counting, boys and girls.

I take a cab to the office because I have no idea of where the fuck I am, and even if I did it wouldn't matter, because I still don't have my driver's license.  So that's another 20 bucks.  I get dropped off right in front of the courthouse - nice, everything's laid out nice and convenient.  Lawyers here, courthouse there, jail across the street.  Big business, I see.  I'm totally disgusted.

I enter the lawyer's office.  Small, plain, white walls, Latina secretary.  Greg's been granted bond.  2500 dollars.  Charges are felonies.  Wonderful.  I start panicking again.  The secretary tells me not to worry, hands me a card, and tells me to go down the street to the bail bond office.  I go over there, thanking Christ that I have a fair amount of cash on me - it was for the ship staff, to give them tips.  I guess they won't be getting it now. 

I enter the bail bond office.  Explained the situation.  I sit down and sign mountains of paperwork - agreeing that they could come after me for the full 2500 if he doesn't show for court, etc.  Names of family, relatives, acquaintances.  I once again feel the humiliation and the despair of the situation we're in.  I get handed papers, told to wait at the jail for his release, and bring him back to the bond office when he's out.  "It may be a couple of hours," they warn.  Great, what else do I have to do?  I fork over 250 dollars, the 10 percent required to get him out. 

So far we're up to 2200 dollars.  Not done yet.

I walk up to the Broward County Jail.  Huge, multifloor concrete building.  Forbidding looking men and women walking through a security line.  I stand there for 15 minutes, not knowing what to do - no one is paying any attention to me.  I get barked at.  "You!  Purse in locker, walk through!"  I take the key, walk through security, nothing goes off.  I try a feeble smile at the officer behind the desk - nothing.  To him, I'm a common criminal just like everyone else that's in here - supposedly.  It doesn't matter that I'm in law enforcement, working for a place a lot higher than the state of Florida.  Here, I'm a criminal. 

I sit down.  Some inane talk show is on.  It's 10:30am.  I wait and watch.  Someone comes in, kisses his girlfriend, walks behind a partition, walks out escorted by a guard and in cuffs.  Returning from a weekend out, probably.  Lots of soft muttered Spanish, guards coming in and out, bringing lunches.  The hours pass.  12:30, 1:30.  The girl from the bail bonds office comes in, ostensibly to deliver paperwork.  She tells me not to worry, that he'll be out today; they're most likely going through processing, it takes time.  I ignore her - they've got their money, I want to be left alone - and keep waiting.  2:00, 2:30.  The time ticks away.  I zone out, wishing that I was anywhere, anywhere but here.

Suddenly... he comes out of the sallyport.  I lose it.  I totally lose it.  I ran over to him and squeezed him as hard as I could, sobbing like a child, not caring what happens.  I know we stood there at least 10 minutes, if not longer.  To their credit, he didn't look the worse for wear....

Not that that's much credit.

We leave the jail and go back to the bail bond office for an appearance.  The guy hands him a bunch of papers to fill out.  Same thing I had to.  Then, a picture.  We finalize everything and go back to the lawyer's office. 

I sit down with the lawyer and ask him straight out what the worst is that can happen.  I get told 2 to 3 years of probation, no more than that - but it's such an insult when he did nothing!!!!!!  He said he'd try to get the charges down to misdemeanors, or thrown out altogether.  I nod numbly.  Asked him if we could go home.  He said yes.  Thank you, Christ - thank you.  He said that we didn't have to appear at the arraignment, he would get a waiver signed so that he could stay in Maryland until the trial, if there was one.  Thank you again, Christ - I will never doubt you exist after this.

How much is the final fee?  2500 dollars more.  1000 extra if the case goes to trial.  Fine, I say.  Let's do this.

Total cost so far:  4,700 dollars.  Plus 1,000 if there's a trial.

We end up being forced to stay in Florida one more night - it's now 5:25pm.  Too late to get a flight out.  That's another 130 dollars.  35 dollars extra to change the plane reservation to the next day - fine, let's do it.

Now the cost is 4,865 dollars.  With trial - 5,865 dollars.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was our lovely Jamaican vacation.  We returned home on Wednesday, January 30th, with a nearly six thousand dollar bill for a legal case that should never have happened, and the possibility of a felony being on my fiance's record - all because of one scorned, abusive, crazy motherfucking bitch.  The same scorned, abusive, crazy motherfucking bitch that sent him countless messages over his cell phone, over Facebook, threatening him if he didn't come back, trying to sweet talk him back, then talking "dirty" (trying to use sex as a weapon, I guess, this thing knew no bounds), then threatening ME through Facebook, using her ex-husband to message him, etc.  We had to pay for a block on his number so that she couldn't contact him anymore - we had it instituted in July of 2011.  I had to change my phone number outright because she was calling it day and night threatening me.  When that didn't work, she tried to use my Facebook account to tell me to "watch my back".  I have blocked everyone on Facebook with the same name, whether they're her or not.  I have been living in a state of semi-fear since the day he moved here, because from what I understand, this crazy bitch has a gun.  And Fort Lauderdale is 2 hours away by plane and a mere 100 dollar fare.  How do I know what this stupid turkey-neck slut is going to do?

I have been trying my best to hold it together, for Greg's sake and for everyone else's.  But it's been absolute hell having no one to talk to - because I've had to keep this quiet.  I have had nightmares since January 28th.  I have eaten very little and slept even less.  My dreams are of sinking ships, jail visits, and death.  I can no longer think about taking a vacation anywhere that is further than 50 miles from home.  I jump at the sound of sirens; I feel sick when I see a police officer walking toward me. I jump when the phone rings because I think it's the lawyer or the bail bond office calling me to tell me that I've lost the bail bond because he didn't appear for court (and this has already happened once).  I am probably going to have to go back to therapy because I can't process.  This has been nothing short of traumatic for me.  I can't even tell you how many tears I've cried since that day.  I don't know.  It seems endless.

The only reason why you are reading this now is because it's finally over.  The case has been put to rest.  (Though right now, I don't know what that outcome will be.  It'll be revealed after this sentence - I'm prewriting this so I will never have to think about it again, ever.)

Now that you know the entire story, those of you who have disagreed with me about opposing the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) now know why I oppose it; it is what happened to us that makes me believe this is not a good idea for anyone.  Those of you who know and have met Greg personally can attest to the fact that he is genuinely the sweetest, gentlest man alive - he wouldn't harm a soul.  I will never believe that he abused that woman - ever - not from what I know and not from what I've seen.  I have lived with him for the past 2 years, and I know - if he were abusive, I would know by now!

And that part about "violent tendencies".  Shit.  I have more fucking violent tendencies than he does, and anyone who knows us can also attest to that!!!

So... now what?  I don't know, honestly.  I don't blame Greg for any of this.  He was a victim of this woman.  He was abused shamefully, and it just seems that it's punishment on top of more punishment.  How can I be mad at him? 

And yet, I still suffer from this.  The utter humiliation of three thousand people watching me as I scurry off a cruise ship, the amount of money that we've had to spend to defend ourselves from someone who has little to no respect for the court system, the nightmares and fear that I feel. 

Where is my justice? 

I was told that it wasn't even worth trying to sue this woman for the money that we've had to put out defending these bogus charges.  Because (if Greg is telling it right, and I believe that he is) she has nothing anyway - she's a leech on the body society, she collects disability (of course!), she doesn't work, she's a fucking drug addict.  She'd be at home on Jerry Springer - pure trash. 

All that I can say is that Greg must've had one hell of a lapse in judgment at one time to be involved with a thing like this.  (And, yes - the word thing applies here.)

I can feel the tears again - it never stops.  It never ends.  Again... where is the justice? 

Rambling, it's what's for breakfast.

Recently, it's been a time for anniversaries; those that have just passed, and a few that are coming up - both categories have a mix of good and bad. I've remarked upon a couple of them already, but the big one for this month is that of August 17th.

So what the hell happened on August 17th?

I began my current employment at the drug lab on August 17, 2008, a mere 12 days after I returned from Sydney. As a matter of fact, they had called me while I was out of town offering me the position. You can only imagine how much I'd panicked when I'd found that out - here I was ten thousand miles away and I couldn't just drop everything to start working, heh. Luckily they were nice enough to tell me not to hurry back!

Now, this may not seem like a huge deal - in the grand scheme of things, I guess it isn't. But that job offer opened up a world of security to me - after all, it's the Federal government. The Feds may be going through hard times right now, but my job (law enforcement) will always be needed, always be necessary, always provide for me. I gained security when I said yes to that job. And as we all know, security is my utmost priority in my life, simply because I've never had any up until now.

Three years later, I received my annual review with an astonishing 4 "fully met expectations" and 5 "exceeds expectations" criteria checked. I am not only on track to keep my job, but to continue on to a GS-7, which was unheard of to me 3 years ago (I started out as a lowly GS-3). The only bad thing about this now is that ... well, after GS-7, there's nowhere left to go for me. Not in the job I'm in now. That's the promotion limit.

I have until April of 2013 to decide what I want/need to do as far as this job is concerned. I guess that I never really thought that I'd last, or that I'd have such a choice to make. Hell, when I first took this job, I didn't think I'd live to see 40 years old... and yet, I'm approaching that milestone as well, very soon.

In some ways, my life is taking turns that are scaring me a bit. In late March of 2012, I will be 40 years old - half of my life gone. Yes, I've accomplished a lot in the last few years, and I'm proud of that... but at the same time, I'm saddened that it took that long for me to straighten out, that I spent 20+ years floundering and unsure and lonely and incredibly depressed. I'm sad that I didn't do more with my life up until now. Perhaps it's why I'm pushing myself so hard with school and work and trying to enjoy things - because I'm trying so hard to make up for the lost years.

Oh, bluh, listen to me, don't I sound all morbid, Gawd. I'm in a good mood - what's up with that? :p

I really, really need to fix this blog so that it's not so freaking dark anymore. I'm not dark anymore - why not reflect that?

Obviously I'm contemplative today. That could get me into some trouble, so maybe I'll do a bit of redesigning. We'll see.

Approaching the end of my "staycation".

It's been a whirlwind few days here at casa Ray. I haven't really done too much other than relax, settle in with my new relationship, and simply enjoyed my days off from the drug lab - though I'll have to come in on Thursday and Friday, bleh. Still, it's a fair trade-off for all that I've received in the last couple of weeks.

I've been mindlessly happy. It's sort of frightening that my life went from shit to pure bliss in a matter of only days. I'm cautious, however, even though I really for once in my life don't want to be - I actually WANT to believe that things are going to go my way for a rare change. And I've been really stepping out of my comfort zone as of late - I'm thinking about going to get a freaking tattoo on my body, which is about as far from the comfort zone as I can get!

I don't really know what's happened to me, but I'm enjoying every minute of it while I can. I just hope, pray, that it's not all a fragile house of cards that will collapse when the wind blows too hard. I really pray that's not the case.

I know, the dreaded word (which is now considered a curse word in the house) - patience. Sigh.

Just a quick update for now. I don't actually know when I'll be able to write again - I always mean to get around to it, but... well, I've been too busy AND too happy, I suppose. Maybe that's a good thing.

Starting to wind down.

The end of the year is fast approaching, and I've actually been ruminating over my annual "how did I do this year" post a bit early. Oh, I'm not going to do it right now, obviously. But I find it striking that I'm actually thinking about it this soon. I suspect that I'm very eager to "shut the books", if you will, and get on with this business of living for myself in '11. Some might say that this is a positive thing, my looking ahead, and I tend to concur that it is. I'm definitely in a much better place than I have been in some time.

My tenure with urine is about to come to an end, starting on January 3rd. All of the female testers will move to another unit - however, I shall not be going with them, at least that's what I'm hearing. The plan is that I shall stay at my current unit and do strictly computer work. To be honest, I'm not at all sorry about it. I've dealt with enough piss to fill a small lake over the years, and there are times where the women are so much more worse than the men, both in attitude and in personal hygiene. It's not all going to be peaches and cream, though: I still have to deal with the males while on the computer, and they tend to be nasty as well, but I won't have to deal with their body fluids - I can't ask for more than that. I'm hoping and praying that these next two weeks will go speedily.

The semester, for me, is over. I have exams this upcoming Wednesday. As usual, I'm not really feeling anxiety over them, though to be honest I haven't studied. I'm really weird about classes - I'll agonize over the actual work, but when it comes to taking tests, I don't feel much nervousness. I guess that's because I figure that I'll either know the material by then, or I won't. Not much to beat myself up over, I suppose. Anyhow, I'm profoundly relieved, because this past semester was difficult in a lot of respects. I have about six months off now, though, or at least until May, so I could definitely use the rest. I plan on getting this house together now that I've received my tax credit, spend a little time getting my life back together again.

I've decided not to go to New York for the new year, at least not this time - the reason being that I made my decision a little too late. I really need time to plan this out, not just go on the spur of the moment - especially with the terrorism threat level being so high right now. There's going to be more security up there than Fort Knox, and I'm not prepared to deal with it. I was thinking about going up on the night train, but from what I hear, Times Square is full by 4pm, and I'm not prepared to stand out in the freezing cold for 8 hours without getting things together. So I'm going to skip it this time, maybe I'll go next year. Or maybe for Thanksgiving, as I've always wanted to see the Macy's parade in person. I'll have to actually remember to mark it down, though, as I tend to forget until the holidays roll around again. Then I sit on my sofa that morning and say to myself, "Y'know, I think I'll do this... if I can remember." Hah. My mind's like a sieve, bleh.

I do plan on traveling a little more next year, even if it is just on the spur of the moment. Hop a train to New York and go shopping for the day, etc. I really need to start doing these things!

I've lost 4.2 pounds. I know, not a huge deal, but it is for me. I'm actively trying to lose weight now - that's yet another of my goals for '11. I'm not going to call these things "resolutions", because the minute I do that, I know it'll go by the wayside, and this is just too important to me, enough so that I'm honestly trying to do something about it instead of talking about it. Maybe I'll report on this week by week - that way I'll have some kind of a record and some kind of accountability to myself. Though I'm not going to put my starting weight. Oh, hell, no. Maybe if I ever get to where I want to be, I'll share that with you all so that your mouths will drop and you'll go "ZOMG we're so proud of you". Wouldn't that be something? :p

I'm a talkative soul this morning, but I have to run. I'm heading to Lowe's today to pick up some necessities for the house, like a ladder, a snow shovel, shit I'm going to need this winter. Just realized that if there's a blizzard this year, I have to clean off the entire corner. Sucks to be me. Meh.

Well, not really. :D

Peace, out.