“No.”
“Would you like a glass of juice?”
“No, thanks.”
The following morning a pleasant young officer came to my cell.
“Hi Laura, I’m Constable Ben.” he stated. “I understand you’ll be spending the day with us. May I please have your blanket? Nobody here is allowed blankets during the day here. What can I grab you for breakfast, a donut or a cinnamon bun?”
“Whatever, it doesn’t really matter. I’m not hungry anyways.” I replied.
“There is going to be a court hearing for you some time this morning. You’d be better off with something in your stomach,” he said.
“I’ll have the cinnamon bun,” I answered.
Ben came back with breakfast on a tray. He opened the cell door and placed it on top of the mattress. He hung around for a few minutes talking with me.
“Laura, I’m going home at lunch. My wife has lots of magazines. Can I bring you a couple? What kind do you like to read?”
“Anything but sports.”
Shortly after breakfast, two different guards showed up at my cell, one female and one male.
“We’re here to take you to your court hearing. You’ll have to wear handcuffs, until we bring you back to your cell. That barrette in your hair needs to be removed, so that you don’t hurt yourself with it. You’re on suicide watch and we’re not taking any chances. Your mother informed us that you’re suicidal.”
“God help me,” I prayed in silence, as I walked cuffed between them down the long cold dingy hallway.
A prosecutor in the court room read an order for a psychiatric assessment from my previous psychiatrist. The judge granted the order. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I was to be flown back to Edmonton, escorted by two officers.
I was escorted out of the court room by the same guards.
“This isn’t right or fair,” I stated out loud. “If only they knew the truth.”
Minutes after being locked back my holding cell, Ben was there.
“Laura, what would you like for lunch? I have some TV dinners. Which would you prefer the chicken or the beef?”
“Chicken would be nice.”
Ben brought me lunch and sat with me while I ate.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“The lunch is good.”
“You seem down, since returning from court,” he mentioned.
“It doesn’t matter, nobody ever listens,” I replied holding back tears.
“If you need to talk to someone, I’m here,” he offered.
“Thanks for the offer.”
The following morning two new male officers were at my cell.
“Laura, we’re here to bring you to the airport. I’m going to handcuff you before you leave your cell. I have your purse with me. Do you like the way I’m carrying it?” the taller cop’s joked.
I didn’t appreciate his comments. I chose not to respond to him. I already felt degraded, by this mocking approach. I knew this day would eventually end, but the bitter memory would be mine to keep.
I walked in handcuffs between the two officers through the crowded Vancouver airport. Strangers at the airport noticed and stared with curiosity as we walked by them through the building. This event topped my list for one of my most embarrassing and humiliating experiences.
They took me down to the airport’s prison cells and placed me in a holding cell. Two female cops from home eventually showed up at my cell.
“Laura, I’m Nancy and this is my partner Megan. We’re bringing you back home for an assessment.”
Again, I was handcuffed and ordered to walk between them. We approached the boarding area and the flight staff requested our tickets.
“Here are our tickets and one prisoner,” Nancy declared.
“Laura, I’m taking off your handcuffs for the flight. When we get on the plane, you’re to sit between us.”
After the plane took off, breakfast was served. Nancy and Megan were decent and respectful to me.
“What do think of everything that’s happening to you?” asked Megan.
“It’s not right or fair,” I answered.
“What would you like to see?” asked Nancy.
“I deserve a fair assessment, which won’t happen if I fall into the slimy hands of my previous shrink. I should be brought to the mental hospital, seeing how I’m being labeled as mentally unstable, instead of him. Hopefully someone will see,” I replied.
I was never handcuffed again. After we landed the ladies drove me out to the mental hospital.
Once I arrived at the facility, I was interviewed by two different psychiatrists. The second doctor spent more time discussing in depth, details of my life.
“Laura, I don’t see any reason for you to be here. You’re not crazy and you’re not mentally ill. These visions you have are a gift. You’ve had a very rough life. I can see you’re hurting, but you refuse to cry. If I call Social Services and placed you in a foster home tonight, would you promise to stay with them until your eighteenth birthday?”
“That would depend on how I was treated. If they treat me fine, I’d stay. If I’m mistreated, I’ll leave.”
“In seven weeks you’ll be eighteen. Why don’t you stay here? As soon as you’re of age, we’ll help you find an apartment of your own. I’ll make it worth your while. Free run of the facility, swimming, and unescorted shopping trips to town, baking and different functions. What about waitressing in our coffee shop? This would be better for you than taking a chance on a foster home. Your mother will cause major problems for everyone, if you walked away from a placement.”
I looked him in the eyes.
“Are you really promising to let me go on my eighteenth birthday?” I asked.
“Yes, you’re free to go,” he said. “I don’t want to see anybody mistreat you. You’ve been through a lot.”
Two weeks after arriving, there was a patient council meeting and election going on. I decided to join them. Within the hour I was both nominated and elected president of the patient’s council. I attended a ribbon cutting event during my stay. A building on the property was being named after an influential lady.
The following weekend, a staff member took me to her cottage for the weekend. I had a lovely time with June and her husband Larry. I enjoyed playing with their dog.
The following weekends, I went home with other people. I started enjoying myself with their families.
One evening my doctor was working late. I was talking to him when he offered to take me for dessert at the staff cafeteria. I was excited, he was preoccupied, and we forgot to tell the staff, where we were going. We drove in his beater to the other building.
“I’m surprised you don’t drive a new car,” I mentioned.
“I’m new to Canada. I’ve just brought my family over and money is tight,” he responded.
We were finishing our dessert when an alarm was set off. At the same time his pager started to beep. He excused himself from the table and made a quick phone call.