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A Change Of HeArTE

A black linen pencil skirt paired with an emerald green shirt, matchy-matchy patent leather skinny belt and sling-back pumps...

Today was my arraignment for the charge brought on by Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives Agent John Stoltz. There was also a hearing for an Order of Protection -- incorrectly but better known as a “restraining order” -- scheduled by the same officer. Oh yippee. Law Enforcement members must be safeguarded from being made fun of on the Internet, don’t-ya-know?

When I caught sight of the Greene County Courthouse, a flashback hit me full force: four years earlier anxiously glued to a rear bench inside that awful courtroom, me, in a multi-colored polka-dot shirt, jeans, a red rabbit-fur pom-pom scarf looped loosely ‘round my neck. The suited, decidedly-Irish-looking JADE TFO Mr. O’Donnell seated next to me, his knees relaxed apart, fingers comfortably intertwined, calmly reassuring me in whispers that facing down my accusatory husband would be okay -- that everything would be okay.

I vigorously shook my head to clear the reminiscence, pulled into an empty parking square, and appraised the surroundings. Mr. Stoltz’s eye-catching blue Dodge Charger was nowhere to be seen.

Once I was situated in the General District Court building, I noticed the Commonwealth Attorney, Ron Morris, and more memories of Mr. O’Donnell exploded like landmines in my brain. To distract myself, I focused on the many uniformed men muddling about. Checked me out some handsome Troopers. MmmHmm.

I was briefly entertained by some LaWanda Drama; the lively narrative of two local women beating “the devil” out of one another had many of the occupants in the room snickering.

By time I was called -- both first and last name pronounced wrong -- before the judge, I had learned Mr. Stoltz’s Order of Protection request had already been granted on a prior day. I’d been officially summoned to appear for the dang thing on this date. Not only did the ATF guy deliberately misquote and mischaracterize me, he’d circumvented me from defending myself from his malicious asseverations. How underhanded! I was informed I could appeal the decision, but, still, what the hell?

Due to the circumstances of my arrest -- my current Albemarle County attorney being a potential witness -- I was appointed another representative for this case. Good Lord, this is gonna get confusing.

As if I wasn’t feeling poo enough, to make it to my next destination I had to drive through an area where my estranged nearly-fifty-year-old husband would take the ten-year-old girl that he was sexually pursuing. Bile swirled in my stomach at the reminder and I raced to get out of the town before emesis.

For solace, I went all the way to Richmond to hang with the State policeman I’ve been seeing for months now. Only to have him tell me he could no longer swing cheating on his live-in girlfriend. Ho hum. Okay.

I was unsure whether I wanted to hear raging tunes or melancholic melodies on the ride home, so I opted instead to listen to the music of my thoughts.

I have ongrowing court costs and fines, two lawyers, one less lover, no GPS, and a website I’m afraid to update lest I be hooked-up and hauled off to jail.

Not exactly a Chart-topping song, is it?