Phone Tag - You're It!

So here is an example of how having the tiniest bit of competence and empathy can be a good thing:

Still trying to sort out the restitution kerfuffle.

Actually, it's not a kerfuffle. A kerfuffle sounds too much like a fun thing. Something soft and sweet and perhaps not unlike a guinea pig.

So, I'm trying to sort out the restitution debacle.

Since I'm tired of using the victim advocate, I pulled out the letter from the Moose Lake Prison, send by STBX's caseworker, that invited me to call her if I had any questions. (This is also the letter that got his middle name wrong.) I ended up leaving her a message.

Two days later, she called back. In the course of the conversation I learn that no, they have no order for restitution, blah...blah...blah. I've heard it all before. What was striking though is that during the course of the conversation, she referred to me on three different occasions with three different first names, none of them correct. She also referred to STBX's last name twice and both times got it wrong.

Hi there! I'm not Susan. I'm Not Mary. I'm not even Tricia. Also? His last name isn't Shannon or Shandling.

Well! At least I can be fully assured that you were the one that wrote the letter you signed!

So, my conversation with Ms. Smith, I mean Ms. Jones, I mean Ms. Headuptheass lead me to call the courthouse.

Hooray! I got to talk to the fine folks in the finance office! Now that is one place that I haven't had the opportunity to be transferred to yet.

Now, there is no way to begin to describe just how difficult it is to encapsulate our story in one or two sentences on a cold call to accountants and bookkeepers. It's hard enough to verbalize to probation officers and law clerks.

I stumbled my way through my story only to have the woman say that she only dealt with part of it and would have to transfer me so that the person that dealt with the other part of it could investigate.

And I got the next person. And I asked the second person "Did the first person tell you anything?"

Of course not.

OK. Here's my story. Again.

She checked a few things and then determined that I needed to talk to another person.

I asked the third person "Did the second person tell you anything?"

Of course not.

OK. Here's my story. Again.

Oh, but wait! The third person had a question! It was a question for the second person!

So what did she do? She just held the receiver away from her mouth and asked the woman.

Yes. The three women that I had just individually spilled my guts to were all in the same office and within conversational distance.

Now, perhaps I'm expecting too much. My only experience with this sort of thing is working in the medical field. I learned that you actually prefaced your transfer to another person with at least the gist of what was going on. The fact that these women were all in the same area and could have easily put me on hold to discuss things instead of passing me like a hot potato didn't escape my attention.

So allegedly, the order is now in the system. I get to call back in two days and talk to a supervisor who will be able to access the magic vault and tell me definitively that yes, the US Government does in fact have the Ark of the Covenant in a large warehouse outside Washington DC. Oh, and whether or not the order that was put into the system has "triggered" all the bells and whistles.

Then I'm supposed to call down to Moose Lake and talk to Ms. Smith - Jones - Headuptheass so that they can check the system on their end and see if they can actually find the order for restitution.

Right hand? Meet left hand. Maybe you should finally get to know each other.

I Have Not Yet Begun To Bitch

Funny ole justice system, it amuses me on a daily basis.

At every single juncture over the past nine and a half months, whenever I have "assumed" anything or "figured it would be set up correctly" or trusted the system for ANYTHING, I have been proven horribly naive.

I want to trust. I want to believe. I keep clicking my damn heels together but I'm just not feeling the magic.

I admit to being annoyed when I got the letter from the MN Correctional Department that spelled out all my rights as the representative of a victim of crime. Oh, everything was spelled out beautifully, except for the fact that STBX's name was wrong. His OID number was correct and really, that's the magic piece of info when you're in the big house, but it just got in there like a splinter under my fingernail and annoyed me.

I kept mulling it over in my mind...if they can't get the damn offender's name correct, what else are they going to screw up? But then I said to myself "Self, shut the hell up! It's over and done with. Get on with your life. You have done all you can do. ENOUGH."

Then I said to myself, I said "Hey self, you need to be a little less trusting. Haven't you figured that out by now?"

It's easier if you picture this conversation with two little versions of me, one sitting on each shoulder. One of course, is all angelic and dressed in white and believes in fairy tales and lawyers with big hearts and a system that only gives victims flowers and chocolate chip cookies. The other one? You guessed it. Dressed in black, piercings and tatts everywhere, perhaps chain smoking Marlboros, perhaps just a very big hookah. YOU DO NOT FUCK WITH HER!

These two ladies were talking at me for a couple days before I picked up the phone and called my victim advocate with the county. I prefaced my call with an explanation of the letter and how it was wrong and how it really just put another hole in my balloon and I knew he was busy and I felt kinda stupid BUUUUUUUT, I had a question:

If the system can't get his name right in a letter to the victim/victim's family, how can I trust the system to work when it comes to his payment of restitution?

By the way, he was ordered to have 50% of his prison wages garnished for restitution. That is exactly how the judge stated it.

Well, our advocate hemmed and hawed and ended up sending me paperwork that would bring the matter to conciliation court.

Paperwork that asks the stellar questions: Where is this person working right now? List their employer and contact info...and be sure to have this declaration notorized and hand delivered.

Oh, and by the way, you have to file this in the county where the person is working.

In other words, I spent a couple days paging through a stack of papers that forced me to try to put a square peg in a round hole.

After pulling at my hair and pacing around the room and demanding of the dogs "How do I do this???" I called him back and asked "WTF???"

Well, I didn't quite say it like that. He is a very nice guy and we must pity him...he has to deal with me on an all to frequent basis.

I simply inquired as to whether this was really what I needed to do.

He retreated to gather more information.

And appeared again on my phone yesterday afternoon.

In order for a restitution order to automatically trigger, there has to be a stated dollar amount put into the system.

Our judge never gave us a stated dollar amount.

Do you see where this is going? Yup! Right up my own ass.

The system will not trigger for any restitution until the judge puts down an amount.

Perhaps this is as simple as him filling out a form, perhaps we will need to make another appearance at the happiest place on earth! No kids, not Disney Land! It's the St. Louis County Courthouse!!

Now, with cleaner bathrooms and cotton candy for all!

So here is where I'm coming from...money is irrelevant here. I certainly don't go hunting down pedo's that make .50 cents an hour so my kid can pay her way through college. The fact of the matter is that the judge placed an order for restitution in such a way that restitution could never be made.

Unless someone, who felt like a fool just asking, picked up the damn phone.

Here's my next question when faced with scenarios like this: How many people actually make that calll? How many people decide it's just to painful to deal with and they just shrug it off?

And why should this burden be mine?

Oh, and one more thing?

Why in the hell can't they get his damn name right on the letters that they send me???