Do you know that feeling, that you have to do something.....but can´t quite remember what?
This story is just that.
I remember being told to write it but I can´t remember what I was supposed to tell you. What I do know is that everything I am going to tell you really happened, even though it may unbelievable sometimes.
Hit Rewind to start from Chapter One
Chapter 51
That interrogation did not go as expected, it went so much better. The fact that I told about the harassment also seemed to have an effect, because that next night I wasn´t disturbed by overly excited banging on my cell door. But I was visited by something else.
Two somethings, first of all, a police lady that told me that I had an appointment with a probation worker the following day if I wanted, which I accepted.
Oh yes and the second thing, well the lady did not meet me on my best day, my head was aching like it was about to explode. I was visited by a freaking migraine, but as I thought that these probation peeps were here for me I was like well I better talk to them.
(Note To Self - When you have a migraine don't talk to probation workers. Update - Even without a migraine don´t talk to probation workers.)
She looked nice enough when I entered, a bit young as if she was just done with her study and I was her first client. Surely that would not be the case, right?
Two minutes into the conversation I started feeling really uncomfortable. What the hell was this? She was probing into my family's medical and mental history.
She was asking me all kinds of questions that I felt would prove if I was attracted to some type of abnormal relationship, possibly towards children or people that were not able to think for themselves.
It was the sneaky way of her questioning that was aimed at provoking me to give answers that would confirm her suspicions, she was so desperately seeking her confirmation bias.
Bear in mind that this student is not much more than a social worker, she´s no detective in any way. Hence her bad manners and my migraine didn´t make me a nicer person.
It was time to wash this wet behind the ears, probing excuse for ...for whatever she thought she was representing her today. I decided to set her straight:
"Girl, I don´t know what answers you are looking for but I do not like this line of questioning. I am in my forties, and I never even had a parking ticket!
I have been married for over 10 years to a very smart, maybe too smart lady. I have a son and a job and I build up a whole life in a foreign country. There is nothing in current my life, nor in my past, that would even slightly hint at point anything resembling these ridiculous charges.
Not sure what you are trying to achieve, but you can just write a big fat no on that piece of paper and stop wasting your time and my time."
She did not look too happy with that burst out, but damn she played it so dirty, any person with half a brain would have gotten trapped by her filthy way of questioning.
She switched topics: "Would you want her back?"
Even with only 30% of my brain working I felt that I was being tricked again. If I would say no, that would mean she did not mean a thing to me. If I would say yes, I could be charged with wanting to repeat my alleged crime.
"Listen, I love Yella and if I am allowed to see her again I would. I don´t see any evidence so far that there is something wrong with her, so yes if the law allows me of course I would."
Guess how that ended up in the reports she made:
"I would definitely try to continue my relationship with the victim."
Dirty little lying bitch, I am sure karma will bite you so hard in your unrightfully stuck-up ass for being this prejudiced.
How did I know that it ended up in the report like that? Because those were the exact words that the examining magistrate used the next day when my case was reviewed.
When he came to the concluding statement he said; "the appearances, in this case, were not in my favor," I felt my stomach turn.
He continued: "But taking into account that there were no previous felonies, that I had a job, a house, and a family I could wait on the verdict in Spain as long as I made no attempt to contact Yella in any way.
An hour later I was walking outside with no gates keeping me in place. I had a bag containing the clothes I wore on the day they arrested me, the sweatsuit I got in prison, and some papers. I was sent on my way without a penny in my pocket, neither did I get to call someone nor did I have a place to stay the night.
What I did have were the good-looking clothes I wore, clothes my dad had bought me for the arraignment with the magistrate. So the only thing I had going for me was that I did not look too shabby. Other than that I had nothing.
Guess you have to rob someone just to get the money to get a bus when you get out of jail, now I get why there are so many repeat offenders.
My dad was the only person in The Netherlands that knew about my being here, so I assumed he would pick me up. I assumed that my lawyer would have called him the minute he knew I was getting out. We all know we should not assume anything, but as I was without money, without a phone, without a house I assumed the only person that knew I was here to help.
I went to the courthouse that was next to the police station and asked if I could wait there. I started calculating: It took about an hour after my lawyer left to be released. I was sitting here for over an hour, which meant my dad could arrive any moment now, but he did not.
After waiting another 30 minutes I asked the lady at the counter if I could please make a phone call. She was very friendly and asked me the number, I gave her my dad's landline, she dialed and then handed me the phone, it rang and finally, my dad picked it up.
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