Omaha Steve and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good Summer

[Big Dog]

You do realize, BD, you are now trapped.  We are never going to let you stop this epic story.

Brother Dog, 

The DUmp is full of primitives whose stories are begging to be told!

[Bad Dog]

Yes, like Annie Wilkes did to Paul Sheldon in "Misery", by Stephen King.

Gotta go out to the garage and dig out my sledge hammer.

[obumazombie]

Gotta go out to the garage and dig out my sledge hammer.

You would actually have a choice between that, and an axe.

[franksolich]

Brother Dog, 

The DUmp is full of primitives whose stories are begging to be told!

Uh huh.

And you're telling a great one.

It's too bad you don't have 88 hours in a day, instead of just 24, because we're always going to want more!

[Big Dog]

Life Imitates Art

Woman accused of poisoning men during "love triangle gone bad"

MORGANTON, NC (WBTV) - A Burke County woman was arrested late Thursday afternoon and accused of contaminating food that she fed to her boyfriend and her lover... putting crushed up muscle relaxers in that boyfriend's food and in another's. "These charges stem from her contaminating a potato on one victim and a Mountain Dew on another victim."

Writer's update:
 

[Big Dog]

One week later, Steve Dawes was sitting in a chair in the little hearing room outside of the Medical Holding Unit, looking at the judge’s desk and the big American flag on the wall. Steve was fully dressed, unlike his last foray into the room. His hair was disheveled, and his shaved eyebrow had not yet grown back. The bare patch in his neckbeard glistened with sweat under the fluorescent light.

Steve’s new court-appointed attorney, a young man who looked like the ink on his law license was still damp, sat beside him. This was the first time Steve had seen his new attorney or anyone from the Public Defender’s Office, since his last lawyer had quit. Looking at the nervous young man sitting beside him, Steve feared he had been traded down.

“What happens today?” Steve asked.

The lawyer looked in a small blue book before answering. “You are here for a competency hearing. The judge must decide if you are competent to be charged with a crime, or if you are incompetent and must be hospitalized. The judge can order further evaluation, which must be done within 30 days.”

“So I’m not being charged with a crime today,” Steve said. “I may get to stay here!”

“It’s possible, but you may also be transferred to the regular holding unit or transferred to the Norfolk Regional Center for further evaluation.”

“NORFOLK?” Steve screamed. “NO! NO! NO! They can’t send me there!” He tried to stand up, but lost his balance and flopped back into the chair, hyperventilating. He began to sob, “No, no, no.”

The attorney slid his chair away from Steve with a nervous squeak. He glanced toward the deputies, who were starting to move toward the table. One deputy was reaching for the Taser on his hip. The attorney held up his hand, to try to convince the deputies that he was in control of his client. The deputies were not convinced, but they stopped and watched Steve carefully.

“Mr., ummm….” The attorney looked at his paperwork, “Dawes.  The Norfolk Regional Center is for the evaluation and treatment of sex offenders. If you are found incompetent and committed a sex offense, you must be transferred to Norfolk. I hear it’s a very nice place, with big windows in every room and a big dayroom with a big screen TV.” The attorney tried to sound reassuring, but succeeded in merely sounding frightened.

Steve continued to sob. “franksolich. He’s behind all of this, I know it.”

The attorney looked at the deputies, who looked back at him. One deputy shrugged, but kept his hand on his Taser.

“Mr., ummm… Dawes. Coach Solich is not at the Norfolk Regional Center. He is in Athens, Ohio, coaching college football.”

“No, no, no. You don’t understand. None of you understand. Marta understood. She always understood. He’s right, she is almost a saint. Oh, God,” Steve wailed. “How can he be right?”

The attorney looked at his notes again. He had no idea why Steve Dawes was so afraid of the former University of Nebraska football coach, but the name “Marta” seemed familiar to him.

Then the attorney remembered why the name “Marta” had caught his attention.  He looked at two manila envelopes sitting on the table beside the case file, and debated whether to break bad news, and worse news, to Steve Dawes before his competency hearing. “If Mr., ummm… Dawes is found incompetent,” the lawyer told himself, “the envelopes won’t matter at all.”

The lawyer decided to wait.

[franksolich]

Whoa.

I'm glad you caught that; Nebraska has three mental institutions, in Lincoln, Norfolk, and Hastings.

And you're right--the nuthouse up around here in Norfolk is a high-security place for sex offenders; its only function.  It used to be a general overall insane asylum, but some years ago it became specialized.

I must say, Big Dog does his research.  Congratulations!

[J P Sousa]

Well I for one am disappointed, all that reading and I didn't see anything about a "redhead's breasts".  


.

[Big Dog]

Well I for one am disappointed, all that reading and I didn't see anything about a "redhead's breasts".  
.

They were in there. Kinda like "Where's Waldo?"

[seahorse513]

Another exciting episode!!  I can't wait for another installment....

[Randy]

It gets better and better!

[Big Dog]

Steve Dawes was getting nervous, waiting for the competency hearing to begin. He told the deputies that he had to use the restroom. One deputy escorted him to the small restroom in the back of the hearing room, and stood by as Steve relieved himself noisily with a trumpet of flatus. The deputy noticed Steve didn’t wash his hands afterward. He put on blue vinyl gloves before escorting Steve back to the defendant's table.

Back at the table, the public defender grabbed Steve’s sleeve as the judge entered the hearing room. Steve made a great show of grimacing as he stood. The deputy read the case number, “In the matter of the State of Nebraska versus Steven Dawes.”

Steve whispered to his attorney, “They have to prove I’m crazy, right?”

The attorney nodded. The deputy directed them to be seated. Steve passed wind again as his backside hit the chair. His attorney wondered if Steve had soiled himself, and grimaced. Steve looked unconcerned.

The judge looked at the file on his desk. “Mr. Dawes, this is a mental competency hearing. The court will evaluate your ability to participate in your own defense. There is no prosecutor for this hearing. No evidence related to the charges against you will be introduced nor discussed. You have the right to remain silent, and to be represented by an attorney. I see you have a court-appointed attorney. Have you had an opportunity to discuss your case with your attorney?”

Steve was silent.

“Mr. Dawes, do you understand the purpose of this hearing, and have you had an opportunity to consult with your counsel?” the judge asked again.

Steve said nothing.

The public defender leaned over to Steve, maintaining a safe distance. “Mr., ummm… Dawes, you should answer him.”

Steve whispered back, “He said I can remain silent. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

The judge watched as Steve and the attorney whispered. “If you choose to be silent, your attorney may answer for you, which will not be held against you in a court of law.

“Very well, Mr. Dawes. Let’s proceed. I have the reports of the Bellevue Police Department, the Sarpy County Attorney, the Sarpy County Sheriff’s Office, and the psychiatrist from the Nebraska Department of Health, Division of Psychiatric Services. I also have videotape evidence provided by the Sarpy County Sheriff’s Office, which I reviewed prior to this hearing.

“The legal standard for competence has two parts. First, do you understand the nature of the proceedings and the charges against you?  Second, can you participate in your own defense?”

Steve looked sullenly at the judge. He had to pass wind again, but he held it in. He was afraid it would be held against him.

The judge proceeded. “You are under arrest for violations of felony offenses and misdemeanors. At least one charge is classified as a sex offense. If you are found competent, you may be remanded for trial in Sarpy County District Court. If you are found incompetent, you will be transferred to the Norfolk Regional Center for treatment until such time as you are competent to stand trial, at which time you will be remanded for trial. Do you understand?”

Steve nodded and grunted. His attorney quickly said, “My client understands, Your Honor.”

“You were placed under arrest for seven counts of felony assault, using a firearm to commit a felony, making a terroristic threat, discharging a firearm within city limits, and violation of Bellevue traffic ordinances. Since your incarceration, the County Attorney filed additional charges of attempted murder by poisoning, attempted escape, violation of the Nebraska Controlled Substance Act, conspiracy to commit a felony, conspiracy to operate a criminal organization or gang, criminal sodomy of a confined person, and adulteration of a food product.”

Steve’s eyes grew wider with each additional charge. After the last charge was read, Steve yelled, “I didn’t adulterate a food product! I ate that kielbasa, I swear I did!”

“No, Mr. Dawes. ‘Adulteration of a food product’ refers to introducing a hazardous non-food ingredient into a food product with the intent that another person consumes the foreign substance. According to the charge sheet, the detention officers found Mountain Dew bottles contaminated with urine and prescription medications in your possession.”

The judge paused and reviewed a sheet of paper in the file on his desk. “If you are found guilty of all charges, you may be incarcerated for a period of not less than 125 years, nor more than 775 years. Your attorney should explain the details of the sentencing for these offenses.

“Do you understand the charges I read to you, Mr. Dawes?”

Steve nodded his head, but did not speak. He began to hyperventilate.

“Your Honor, may we have a short recess?” the attorney asked.

“Very well, ten minutes.” The judge left the hearing room.

Steve continued to hyperventilate. “This isn’t fair!”

The attorney replied, “It’s not a question of fairness. It’s the law. We can plea bargain, if the prosecutor will work with us. It will probably be better for you, anyway. I’ve seen the videos, and it’s not something we want a jury to see.”

Steve thought about it. Suddenly, the idea of being committed to Norfolk wasn’t so abhorrent to him. He made a decision to convince the judge that he was crazy, but kept it to himself. His breathing slowed, bit by bit, until he appeared to be under control.

The judge returned, and the deputy called the room to order.

“Mr. Dawes, are you feeling better?”

Steve nodded and licked his lips. He intended to expose himself to the judge so the judge would think he was crazy. He reached down the front of his pants and loosened the drawstring. Steve noticed that his bladder was full again, causing an unpleasant pressure.

“To determine if you are able to participate in your own defense, we rely on the psychiatrists’ reports. According to the reports, you scored “average to below average” on standard IQ tests. You have regular delusions of being tormented by a former University of Nebraska football coach, and by a cigar-smoking dog. You have had several documented episodes of self-injury. You show signs of sexual paraphilias involving high school girls' basketball players and male football players. However, the psychiatrist concludes, and I agree, that you meet the minimum standard for competence to stand trial.”

Steve pushed back his chair and started to his feet, but he lost his balance and fell forward onto the table. His pants fell to his ankles. Again he passed wind with a wet bugle call, to the horror of his attorney, who was less than a foot from his buttocks. He lost control of his bladder. His urine sprayed onto his attorney, flowed down his legs and pooled on the floor around his feet. His attorney began to scream. The second deputy put on blue vinyl gloves.

The judge watched as the deputies again subdued Steve, and restrained him to the chair.

“Mr. Dawes, the court is not impressed by your theatrics,” he said over the screams of the public defender. “We find that you are competent to stand trial, but we order you be held without bond in the interest of public safety. Furthermore, we order a complete psychiatric evaluation at the Sexual Offender Unit of the Norfolk Regional Center, with a report to this court within thirty days.

The judge wrinkled his nose at the smells of urine, sweat, old sewage, and flatus emanating from the defendant’s table. For a moment, he felt sorry for the screaming young lawyer.

“Mr. Dawes, I recommend you take a shower. Counselor, the same goes for you. This hearing is adjourned.”

After the judge left the hearing room, the deputies returned Steve to the medical housing unit. His attorney sat at the table, soaked in Steve’s urine. His screams turned to sobs as he looked down at the table.

The two manila envelopes were unsoiled. The attorney knew he must deliver the bad news, and worse news, to Steve; but first he needed a shower, a change of clothes, and a drink. "On second thought," the attorney told himself, "lots of drinks."

[franksolich]

Whoa.

You've apparently been in courtrooms in Nebraska.

Awesome work!

[Big Dog]

Whoa.

You've apparently been in courtrooms in Nebraska.

Awesome work!

Thank you very much.

It's been a few years, but I do have some experience in courtrooms at the other end of the state.

[seahorse513]

It was awesomeness at its best!

[Chris_]

Steve passed wind again as his backside hit the chair. His attorney wondered if Steve had soiled himself, and grimaced.

I'm sensing a theme.

[obumazombie]

I'm sensing a theme.

Which sense are you most relying on ?

[Big Dog]

I'm sensing a theme.

You don't need Spidey-sense to identify the themes!

 

[franksolich]

Okay, this is not necessarily related to Big Dog's artful story, but it sort of is.

This, from the legal news in Pierce County, Nebraska (franksolich does not live in Pierce County himself, but he lives near to it):

Austin Hiatt, 21, of Bristow pleaded not guilty to a charge of criminal mischief. He is charged with plugging the sanitary sewer lines in the courthouse. He had been a Wayne County prisoner serving his jail sentence in the Pierce County jail when the sewer line from his cell was plugged with various materials during June. His trial was scheduled for the October jury term. The Pierce police department and Pierce County sheriff’s office investigated the incident.

http://www.norfolkdailynews.com/news/sentencings-plea-deals-made-in-pierce-county/article_31908f60-f377-11e1-9bcb-001a4bcf6878.html

The words "various materials" are a euphemism, of course.

The guy has a problem.

It's either the same problem the lazy-stay-at-home Robb primitive has, where the Robb primitive drops, uh, stuff in there the size of watermelons.  I'm not making this up; the Robb primitive has frankly admitted to it in the past, on Skins's island.

If it's not that problem, it's the same problem the Las Vegas Leviathan has, where he clogs up the commode expelling massive quantities of the stuff.  Of all sizes and consistencies, but sheer mountains of it.

It's one or the other; I don't look into things that deeply.

[Vagabond]

This is great stuff.  It's good to head off to bed with a chuckle.

[obumazombie]

[Skul]

Again he passed wind with a wet bugle call

The Trumpets of Jerico!!1!11! 

[Mike B the Cajun]

The Trumpets of Jerico!!1!11! 

 

[Big Dog]

The next day, the attorney returned to the Sarpy County Corrections Center to meet his client. He had e-mailed the director of corrections from his office, warning about the bad news and worse news contained in the manila envelopes. He had not heard back from the director before driving from his office to the Corrections Center.

When he saw Steve Dawes in the medical housing unit, the attorney knew his warning had been taken seriously. Steve was dressed in a bright orange sleeveless tunic and pants held together by Velcro along the seams. Paper slippers were wrapped around Steve’s feet. The attorney recognized the change in clothing as part of the facility’s suicide precautions. The watchful detention officer in the hallway was another part.

The lawyer took a deep breath.

“Mr. Dawes, the judge found you competent to stand trial. You will be transferred to Norfolk for a sex offender’s evaluation, and after the judge receives the report he will schedule an arraignment.”

Steve asked, “Will anyone be able to get at me at Norfolk?”

“No,” the attorney replied. “You will be housed in a separate unit from the rest of the population, and your contact will be limited to facility staff and your attorney.”

Steve looked relieved. His fear of being so close to his nemesis subsided a bit.

The attorney decided it was time to break the bad news, and worse news, to Steve. “I see the officers changed your clothes,” he said as an opening gambit.

“Yeah, they didn’t tell me why. I think they are trying to torture me for my political beliefs. I went on a hunger strike this morning, but I suspended it at breakfast time. They served bacon at breakfast, but I didn’t eat it in protest. Conservatives love bacon, you know,” Steve said with a squint. “I am back on the hunger strike until lunchtime.”

The attorney sighed and said, “Mr. Dawes, a process server delivered some papers for you to the Public Defender’s Office. Since the judge found you competent to stand trial, I must deliver the papers to you and certify to the court that you have been served.”

The attorney handed the first envelope to Steve. Steve looked at it for a second. He recognized the name of the law firm on the top of the address label; he had seen their commercials on late night television, offering to represent women going through divorce.

Steve read the legal papers dully. Marta’s name was listed as “Petitioner,” and his was listed as “Respondent.”  “Petition for Dissolution of Marriage”, “Petition for Distribution of Property”, “Ex parte Restraining Order.” Steve wasn’t surprised at the paperwork, since he had not heard from Marta for more than a month. He was confused at the last document, “Ex parte Order to Release Property In Custodia Legis.” Steve asked the attorney to explain the meaning of the last document.

“I am only your attorney for the criminal charges, Mr. Dawes. You really should get a lawyer who specializes in civil law. But, I will tell you that the document authorizes the county to release your house to the bank as part of repossession, without foreclosure proceedings. It seems your mortgage was unpaid and your house is considered abandoned while you have been incarcerated.” Steve had hoped to use his house as collateral if the court would let him post bail.

The attorney pressed on. “I have more papers for you.” He passed the second envelope across the table.

Steve looked at the stamp on the outside of the envelope for a minute: State of Nebraska, Department of Labor, Workers Compensation Board. Steve’s face grew ashen and his hands shook as he opened the envelope. He recognized the papers, recalling the last time he was caught at a “Combat” convention while supposedly flat on his back from a back injury. Steve’s hands shook more as he read the first page, “...evidence the Beneficiary engaged in physical activity while fraudulently claiming disability for a compensable workplace injury.”

Steve felt a tightness in his chest as he looked at photographs in the file; pictures of him holding his granddaughter in his arms and riding the miniature train on Father’s Day. Behind the pictures was an affidavit by Goodboy, graphically and comically exaggerating Steve’s sexual prowess while they were incarcerated together at the Medical Housing Unit. “Damn him,” Steve said to himself. “I thought he could only say, ‘I’m a good boy’.” Steve realized that he had not seen Goodboy since the escape attempt, in fact, he hadn’t even thought of Goodboy. Then he forgot about Goodboy again.

The attorney watched Steve closely. His skin had turned grey, and he was sweating profusely. His breathing had become uneven, gasping. He didn’t look well at all. Steve mumbled, and the attorney leaned forward to hear him. Steve clutched at his chest and fell from the chair to the floor.

The attorney looked at Steve closely. He saw that Steve was still breathing, to the lawyer’s great relief. He told himself that he wouldn’t perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on Steve. “He’d probably try to slip me the tongue”, the attorney thought with alarm. Then he remembered that he was supposed to do something. He called for the detention officer, who radioed for help and unlocked the door to the small room.

The young attorney backed away from the room as the medical staff ran in. “Well, that went better than I expected,” the attorney said to himself, “Much better than I expected.”

[seahorse513]

Another awesome story in the life of Steve!