Chris’ mom came to stay with us a few weeks after Zeke came home from the hospital.
We were absolutely amazing as a family for quite some time, at first. We’d spend so much time just falling in love with our son together, it was such a beautiful time in our relationship. There were no drugs diverting our attention away from what was most important. We’d go on family outings into town, we’d take family stroller rides to the local corner store, and spend our weekends snuggling in bed watching movies like Jackie Brown and Horton Hears a Who.
Everything was perfectly fine until after we received our tax return and thought it’d be a good idea just to buy a little meth. A little meth turned into a lot of meth and before we knew it we had spent over a thousand dollars in one month and with that our relationship started becoming rocky.
Coming down is always the worst once you get to the 3rd day since last used. For some reason that’s when I notoriously become very suicidal. It was late February in 2018 that I downed an entire bottle marked Sleep Aid which turned out to just be Benadryl.
Funny thing about Benadryl is if you take it in a large quantity then chances are you will experience a very bad, very uncomfortable hulucingenic trip that you wish you could shake yourself out of. I was not okay that night.
Memories of that night come in waves. I must have run into Zeke’s crib over a dozen times, I couldn’t even see a foot in front of my face, the entire room was pitched black. Chris was desperate to take care of me that night, he kept handing me shirts as I ripped them off screaming about how hot or cold I was. Finally, he was able to get me to lie down and brought the baby out to his mom to watch while he rubbed my back trying to soothe me and calm me down.
I had a complete and total meltdown.
The very next day I slashed my wrist and Chris called my mother, begging her to take me to the hospital because I was requiring more treatment. This day was one of the days that would break Chris’ trust in my mother for good. She had lied about taking me to the hospital for whatever reason and brought me back home.
We fought a lot after that day. I tried to see nothing but a picture of a perfect family, along with pictures to post bragging to the world about how happy I was. Truth was my life was crumbling all around me.
The verbal and mental abuse I endured from Chris was overwhelming. We fought every day until I couldn’t take it anymore. I was done being called a dumb cry baby bitch. I was done being accused of lying or doing off the wall shady shit behind his back.
One night the fight went too far and I punched Chris in the face. Afterwards, I thought it would be a brilliant idea to phone the police and tell them that Chris punched me in the face.
The police came and assessed the situation noticing the obvious discoloration on Chris’ face and my knuckles and they had me hand Zeke off to Ruth and Erick and then placed me in handcuffs. I was going to jail for a domestic battery.
Luckily, I got to see the judge the very next morning and I was released on my own recognicence and released from jail at 1130 at night. Luckily for me my mom ordered me a cab home.
I lasted maybe a few more weeks before things started getting out of hand between us again. He’d say some really hurtful, degrading things to me and I’d cry about it while he calls me a little cry baby.
Enough was enough of that kind of abuse so I called my mom one day after a bad fight and had her come and get me and Zeke for the day. After listening to me vent about the way I was being treated by Chris my mom quickly convinced me to seek out revenge, as is a common thing she’d do.
First, I called Withalacoochie River Electric and had the electricity turned off to the trailer because fuck Chris and his mom. My mom invited me to stay with her at Rosie’s and if I wasn’t going to stay there then they didn’t need my electric. Then, I called up our cell phone provider and had his cell phone turned off, too. I allowed myself to listen to the influence of my mother with her poor decisions and put myself into quite the pickle.
Now, that night after I placed Zeke in his pack n play for the night I went on my mom’s laptop and googled CPS. Their homepage had a little form to fill out so you could ask for anonymous help or send in for a tip and so I decided to type something into the box. I vented to that little box about the light amount of abuse in the household, the untreated mental illness and substance abuse that we were struggling with and requested resources to help guide us in the right direction in order to fix these issues we have. I mentioned having a son that was born prematurely and the struggles I faced being a mother in poverty dealing with his issues.
I was basically begging for help.
The very next day a social worker came knocking on Rosie’s door looking for me. I guess they had tracked down the anonymous tip with the IP address and found out the address I was at, because I didn’t put that kind of information on the tip line.
They proceeded to question me about the allocations I confessed to in the report, which I wasn’t even aware was a report until they showed up. On top of it all, like a moron, I willingly submitted to a drug screening.
They left but I had a breakdown after they did and felt this deep seeded amount of regret for how I handled the entire situation starting with me getting on that fucking computer and filling in that little box. Somehow, I knew I’d messed everything up.
Calling Chris, he confirmed that a CPS case worker had also showed up to our house to question him. He did not submit to a drug test and the CPS case worker did a walk around the house deeming it fit for a child to live there.
On March 25, 3018, the day before my son’s 1st birthday my mother decides she doesn’t like the way I’m responding to this CPS case so she calls the police on me for my mental health and I was taken away to a mental health facility and put on a 72 hour hold. His 1st birthday was the first amongst many birthdays that I would be missing out on.
I was fuming mad. I may have made some rather dramatic comments about not wanting to live in this world if it meant not having Chris by my side, but regardless I had my son with me and there was never anything I’d have ever done to jeopardize his livelihood. But, it was all so far out of my control so I was taken via police car to the Operation Par mental health facility in Pinellas Park.
My mom and I submitted to drug screenings the night that CPS came to our door and the results showed me being positive for marijuana and methamphetamines and my mom was positive for marijuana and Benzos. So the day after Zeke’s first birthday while I was away in a mental hospital the CPS case worker came by and removed Zeke from my mother’s custody.
I’ll never forget the last day I spent with Zeke as his legal guardian. I set up Rosie’s wagon so that he had a nice comfy seat and propped an umbrella up so his eyes weren’t blinded by the light and we took a nice leisurely stroll to the CVS to get some cream for a little rash he had. I try and remember the good over the bad, any day.
I lost custody of my son and I allowed it to destroy me. The moment I put that anonymous fucking tip into that website I mind as well have just signed all my rights away then. I fucked myself.
Chris never really forgave me for what I did, either. I had his son completely removed from his life and for what?! Because I didn’t like the way my boyfriend spoke to me, because we got into little arguments over drugs and money?! Those things shouldn’t have been a priority in our life anymore because we had a fragile, little boy to take care of.
It wasn’t long after Zeke was taken that the abuse got worse. We tried to stay together in hopes that we’d also get Zeke back together. We worked as a team and got signed up for all the services expected of us to regain custody. We went to every visit, every color code drug test, drug classes, everything!
We were confident in ourselves that we’d have Zeke back in our custody in no time at all. Until we didn’t.
Due to Zeke’s special needs he had to get transferred to a new foster home that was more equipped to handle a baby born as a micro preemie with cerebral palsy. Unfortunately, the only foster parent in the area equipped to handle Zeke lived all the way in St Pete.
Zeke’s foster mother, Cindy was absolutely wonderful with him. It’s just that visitation with Zeke became all the more difficult with him being so far away without owning transportation. If we were lucky, Cindy would drive Zeke all the way out to New Port Richey’s Sims Park for visitation. Otherwise, it’d take me about 6 hours one way just to make it to the St Pete mall for visits.
Around July and August things were beginning to look rather glum for us getting Zeke back in a timely manner. And that shred of hope was holding our relationship together.
With our lack of faith came depression and right after that drug use. We were attending our local church’s Celebrate Recovery which is basically a faith based 12 step program for addictions and trauma. The pastor and his wife took really good care of Chris and I. They would pay our electric bill, donate appliances or just hang me cash every time I looked like I needed it. They really took care of me.
One lovely evening as I lay sleeping in bed I get woken up very abruptly from my slumber only to be greeted with the sounds of Chris cussing me out and hocking big spit balls in my direction. I remember thinking, “Fuck, this is going to end badly!”
When I looked up at Chris it’s like he wasn’t behind the eyes staring back at me. He was empty. I was honestly afraid for my safety. This was a side to Chris that I wasn’t all too familiar with and so I decided my best course of action would be to call the police and have him removed from the home so I could get my sense of security back.
I grabbed my phone and attempted to call 911. Chris grabbed me while it was ringing and tried to retrieve the phone from me. They answered and heard us struggling over the phone. Scrambling to my feet I dart out the front door and slide my body underneath the house.
I stayed on the phone with the police operator as Chris went searching for me outside. Eventually the cops showed up and took him away.
And this would be the start of very many arrests that Chris would have to endure that year.
Allie Willey 