Love, Justine

April 19th, 2024

Friday

Paul wrote me two letters: 

Dearest Jess, 

I received your letter on the 20th. I have been speaking to Motorcycle and Gem to make arrangements to collect your belongings. Gen let me know Sunday your desire to deliver your possessions to them. Motorcycle confirmed a pick up date on Tuesday, March 20, 2024. I messaged him via Facebook messenger Tuesday and he stated, “Hey Paul I’m not home took my brother to see his mom in Philly be back Thursday sorry.”

I acknowledged this and asked him to confirm a time to pick them up. To date, I haven’t received a response from him. I would like to tell you my side of what I was experiencing regarding the evening when you had the manic episode. If you are not interested in hearing what I have to say about it, you may discard this letter.

On the afternoon of Saturday, February 24, your mother sent me a Messenger request on messenger to ask me if I had heard from you. Not knowing the situation at the time about why she couldn’t get ahold of you I asked Gem and Motorcycle if they heard from you. Gem didn’t know anything and Motorcycle stated that you were sleeping at his house. 

I informed your mother of this fact, under the assumption that either you or her were trying to contact the other regarding your sons. I tried to message you on Facebook but received no response.

Later that evening, around 7:30pm, Motorcycle sent me a message asking if you had contacted me. I did not hear from you, so I said, “No.” He stated via Messenger, “Well she took off when I was out and I can’t find her.”

He later called me on Messenger panicking that he didn’t know where you were and that you went out of the back door of his house and disappeared.

Seeing as how you had disappeared from him and were now a missing person, I contacted 911 at approximately 7:45pm. After disconnecting the call to 911, I received a phone call from the Coudersport Police Department. The officer told me that you had been found and had been taken to the hospital, where you were admitted to the psychiatric facility there.

In the time before you were unexpectedly taken to jail, I had talked to your mother to inquire about how you were doing and to express my concern that you were okay and I cared about you. She also told me you had a manic episode on Friday and had contacted her by phone (presumably in the evening).

Motorcycle confirmed this later stating that you had an episode that, after describing what happened, was strikingly similar to the episode you had years ago where you laid down on the road on Route 6. 

Since then, it was brought to my attention through Gem that you were “not happy about [me] talking to [your] mom.”

Yes, I am guilty of talking to your mom. If you truly believe that my communication was sinister in nature and deceptive to your well-being, then I will send you the entire messenger conversation at your request so you may see what was said, how it was said, and why it was said. 

The tone of your letter and further conversation with Gem suggests that you feel that I am directly responsible for your return to jail. I find this idea and thought extremely disturbing, especially since the only reason I even called 911 to begin with was to report a missing person that MAY be having a manic episode, and that information was ONLY based on what ANYONE had even said to me about this particular incident (primarily Motorcycle and your mother, of which whom only was able to tell me a minimal amount of what happened on Friday.)

I also find it extremely disturbing that you accuse me of sending you to jail when I KNOW from experience in the previous days leading up to your first manic episode on Route 6, that the CRISIS number WILL NOT send a CRISIS worker out on a weekend (or a search party for a missing person) and will suggest to contact 911. I KNOW Motorcycle said to those involved that you were having a manic episode, and Motorcycle INSISTED to the police and hospital staff that you had done nothing wrong.

In the time frame of the call to 911 and the police subsequently taking you to the hospital, I find it extremely hard to believe that the police were THAT efficient that they were able to locate you, tase you, press and report charges, take you to the hospital, return to the police station, and contact me, all within the time frame of five minutes.

If you are willing to provide any other information about what exactly happened, I would appreciate it if you would write a letter stating what I might not be fully understanding. I would also appreciate you correcting me if I am wrong on a specific detail. 

I understand if you no longer feel that I am “the best friend [you] ever had.”

I hope you will understand that you were, are, and will still be, a blessing in my life and the most brilliant and beautiful person I’ve ever been blessed to know. I hope we can stay friends, even if we’re not “best” friends.

I would also request, with the utmost humility and sincerity, to continue to hear from you and read your letters and writings, but I will understand if you choose not to do so.

With Love, 

Paul

2nd Letter:

Dearest Jess, 

I’ve enclosed a letter I intended to mail to you on March 20. Unfortunately, life took a turn for the worse, and I had to disconnect from friends and family for a while. I’m sorry I didn’t send this sooner.

The March 20th letter is in response to your first letter you sent me. 

This letter is in response to the one you most recently sent me on the 4th. 

Both of these letters will only clear up what I experienced and what I was made aware of. I can only speak for my calling 911 on Saturday, which, as iterated in the previous letter, was because you went missing and Motorcycle called me in a panic stating he could not find you. I suggest you ask your mother and Motorcycle about what happened the day before, as, best I can assume, they will be able to clarify those details. I had only assumed you were okay and there was not a problem on Friday.

As of today, I have transferred the majority of your belongings to Motorcycle, I told him to return when he was ready after his surgery to obtain the rest. 

Of course, I’m only assuming you still speak to him. The earrings you asked me to repair so long ago I had found in my car and have repaired them. I have not contacted Motorcycle yet stating they are repaired.

I will conclude by saying that, in the time that has passed since I wrote the previous letter, I am both sad and angry you are back in the system, I am both sad and angry that I am being accused of intentionally sending you there.

Please contact me by letter as often as you would like. I can’t handle contacting you by phone or kiosk right now, but maybe in the future.

Warmest Regards, 

Paul

From “Love” to “Warmest Regards.”

Damn.

I wrote him back and apologized profusely. I hope it’s enough. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to him. I hope he can forgive me. 

I’m such a jerk. 

“Take me to church

I’ll tell you my sins so you can 

Sharpen your knife

I’ll worship like a dog

Let me give you my life…”

7:42pm

I sent Paul a kiosk message that I got his letter and I’m sorry and please forgive me.

Ugh.

I’m an asshole.

It turns out that the only one really to blame in this whole thing is Motorcycle. He had the most contact with me and did nothing to help me, even leaving me alone while he knew I was delusional.

8:11pm

I hate how I never really write in here. I just record facts as if I am still reporting. “Just the facts, Ma’am.”

But life is so much more than just the facts. But this place makes me feel dead inside, hopeless. It’s so hard. And so fake. This is not real life, no matter how much they try to pound into our heads that it is. People walk around with their dead, staring eyes looking for a fight from anyone they don’t know, or is new, and parroting ridiculous “I love you”’s to anyone they do.

But how much can you “know” another person in this completely artificial, shame-and-violence-based environment? People create surface-only relationships and then tell each other that they’re “best friends” and that they “love” each other. 

But it’s only a means of survival. It doesn’t actually mean anything at all. The vast majority of these people will never speak again outside of these walls.

Never.

Back to reality.

Oop, there goes gravity. 

I don’t believe it’s because people don’t care about each other (not totally, anyway), I think it has more to do with the fact that life after prison is nearly impossible, whether you  follow the rules or not. Probably harder if you do. Don’t use, curfew by 7pm, get back on track, but attend multiple groups for drugs and mental health and get a job with a felony record and no money, no car, no friends or family, and most often, no home. And do it all with a smile on your face, lest your PO think you’re being insubordinate and sanction you further. Also–go to court for custody for the children you’ll never get back and the life you’ll never live again. And for God’s sakes, don’t fuck it up! You’re already a failure, after all.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

And Jesus Christ, don’t complain, because it’s your fault you’re here. It’s so easy to wallow in my fury and rage that this keeps happening to me, but you’re not allowed to do that when you’re looking around at people who will literally die here. 

Burgundy got her Green Sheet from parole today. She’ll be up for parole review this August of September. 

The only news I’ve gotten is a preliminary hearing on the 25th. And that they discontinued my Mobic again. Another Sick Call. Another $5-10.

Im having a hard time with the Motorcycle problem–I just had all of my stuff transferred to his house, and I’m just realizing that he’s the whole reason I’m incarcerated at all. He even had the nerve to say that he “almost laughed” when I started talking about God speaking through me and the end of times and shit.

Laughed??

Instead of helping me??

Then he starts selling my shit online.

Like–are you fucking kidding me??!! He must think I’m some kind of idiot. And of course he wants to be monogamous now. He’s probably overjoyed that I wasn’t talking to Paul or Stryder anymore. Now he can have me all to himself. 

What in the actual fuck.