Heal or Jail, Write or Die….A survivor’s memoir in pursuit of the healing society said she needed, Ep. 3, Pt.2., Refuge For Women (Texas): Wise County Crazy
(Journal Entry September 17th, 2026)
Thank you, God, because of you I woke up today, thank you for changing me, changing my heart. Because of you I have grown into a caliber of Woman that I never thought was even possible and I’m still growing. Because of you I keep passing these tests and if I may say you are the best teacher, tutor and study buddy I’ve ever had. Because of you my needs continue to be met, sometimes even my wants, and I’m so thankful. Anything I’m given is because of you, any money I earn is because of you, any door that opens or closes is because of you; and although I don’t always understand it, I’m learning to come to you about it and endure. Because of you I have patience. Because of you I have Joy in the midst of unbelievable trials and betrayal beyond measure. A year ago, today I was released from Wise County after serving close to a month in solitaire confinement for seeking help, for seeking healing, and for going to the hospital for an allergic reaction in a State and County that saw it fit for me to be incarcerated instead of in a place of healing. But God, because of you, I made it through what felt like torture and punishment. When it is all said and done and you decide to bring me home, it will be because of you; and no one else and you will forever be My Jehovah-Jireh, my Yahweh; The Lord will see to it; The Lord who provides, I’m so blessed!
About a year ago….
I turned around following the officers’ orders and allowed him to put me in handcuffs. Everything seemed so surreal. I immediately became scared of being pulled down the steps, so I made sure to do exactly everything that he said the way he said it. Even repeating it just to make sure that was what he wanted me to do. How did my stuff show up right when I was being arrested, that was crazy, I thought to myself. I did my best to remain calm but all I could think about was Sandra Bland. “Please don’t Sandra Bland me I said, these handcuffs are too tight, can you loosen them?” “They’re not too tight,” the officer replied. “We don’t have far to go to get to the station. I tried to be hopeful as we pulled out of the parking lot of Medical City, Decatur hospital. I would tell the correction officer that I was a survivor and what happened and they would release me on my own recognizances. I would maybe do a night; I could deal with one night, I thought to myself. The officer was right we pulled up to a small seemingly brown building in what couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes. “What is this is this the Jail?” “This is Wise County; it’s the Jail for Decatur and surrounding areas.” “When will I see the judge?” (I don’t quite remember the exact name the officer used but he we will just call him jail administrator). “You can ask the jail administrator when you get booked.” “Oh, ok,” I responded as I waited in the back of the police car, the officer pulled all my suitcases out of the back of the squad car in addition to what looked like black plastic bags I assumed were filled with the stuff they couldn’t pack up.
“Am I able to check and see if my mom’s alabaster box is there, and the bible she gave me, and I need my mask, and my letter that says my disability, please?” “I’m not the one you ask, but if you act right, it shouldn’t be a problem.” We went through one door where we were met by a guard and that led to a small hallway that had 2 cells immediately to the right and an open space that was surrounded by cells, benches, and hallways that led to various parts of the building. I was told to sit down to the left while he checked me in asking again if he “could bring my suitcases with him to the station,” while I was being housed here. After asking at least three times about storing my things one of the correctional guards replied that “they would have room in one of the storages” back there. Realizing that the long term storage of my things meant I wouldn’t be getting out as quickly as I thought, the officer sat down behind the counter directly in front of me and begin asking me intake questions. To my left there was a group of Mexicans speaking Spanish one of whom was staring at me intensely and without thinking I told him to “take a picture because it would last longer” as the C.O. waived his hand at the Mexican stating “No.” looking back at me he shook his head and repeated “no” as he pushed my intake papers towards me.
“I have a mask, I need to wear my mask, and I have a Dr.’s note about my environmental sensitivity, can you get it out of my stuff?” “I don’t see why not as long as you behave.” He said shuffling my papers making sure I signed everything. “You’re going to have to take a shower in that room, and then you will change,” he said as he pointed behind him and I asked again, “when will I see the judge?” “The judge will be back tomorrow.” “The judge comes here I don’t go to a courtroom?” “That’s different.” I said as he walked away to find my Dr.’s note in my belongings. Returning with the envelope and my now tattered mask he explained that “I would not be able to wear the N95 mask but one of their masks instead.” Pushing a stiff light blue mask with a small metal bar on it with no ventilation, my direction; I reluctantly took it imagining what it would be like trying to breathe out of it. “Ok, but your sure the judge comes on a Sunday? “Yes” he said as he stood up. “What size do you wear?” “I’m a large.” “Ok,” he said as he walked towards a row of jail house clothes and what looked like a sheet and a washcloth all combined. Bending down he grabbed a mat and went into a different room and emerged with clothes pointing towards the door where I was to take my shower. “Just knock on the door when you’re ready to come out.” Grabbing the bundle of clothes, I went into the cell that housed a metal mirror, sink, attached toilet, chair, and a shower, and showered and changed into jailhouse stripes. After knocking on the door, a correctional guard opened it and pointed me towards the holding cell next to the entrance that the officer and I had came through. Once inside I could tell this was the cell that they probably put people who were intoxicated as it reeked of vomit, and urine and had no benches.
Pushing my mat towards the wall I used part of it to cover the huge drain I was partly on top of and I used the other half to cover the wall so I wouldn’t be touching it or the mystery stains that decorated it. Exhausted from everything, I tucked my pants into my socks that one of the correctional officers allowed me to grab out of my belongings and my shirt into my pants and closed my eyes. Feeling fluttering on my face I attempted to open both my eyes and while one of them opened the other one felt fluttering resistance. Finally opening my left eye I seen the biggest bug I had ever seen battling its wings against my eyelashes and I screamed and as I screamed, I came out of everything I was wearing including my socks. “Hey quiet it down,” the guard yelled as he banged on the only window into my cell. “There’s a fucking bug on me!” I screamed as I pulled off another piece of clothing and stepped on it. “Help me, what the fuck kind of bug was that, it was as big as my head?” Now naked and crying I banged back on the door “I need another pair of clothes, there was bugs on that,” “I’m not giving you nothing until you stop screaming and crying!” the new guard said. Trying to stop crying I rocked back and forth still naked I was now afraid to touch anything in the cell so I just cried and turned in circles looking for the next dinosaur of a bug to jump on me. “Please sir, I can’t stop crying, please I need some more clothes?” Finally, with what sounded like his last nerves he screamed “What size are you?” from the other side of the room. “Large, please a large.” I said half crying and trying to see out of the window. Eventually the guard came back and handed me clothes. No longer ashamed I quickly grabbed and put them on as he closed the door he told me to “Let him know when I had put on my clothes.”
Banging on the door to signal I was ready, the guard motioned with one hand across the administrative area as he popped the door using his key with the other. Still crying I half ran out of the cell I was in, into a bigger one with benches. This one at least had something I could sit on. After scanning the bench and attached wall for a spot that seemed like the cleanest, I retucked my clothes and got as comfortable as I could on metal benches. Still crying but quieter I tried self-soothing techniques to get myself to stop, none of them worked. Eventually I was allowed 2 phone calls and a chance to see the judge and so I was allowed out of the cell into the administrative area. As I explained my situation to the C.O. who I’m assuming was a part of pre-release I was sure that they would understand and let me go. “I’m a survivor, I was at a place for healing, a shelter, when I had an allergic reaction and they didn’t help me then, nor after which caused me to be trespassed from the hospital I sought services from that I had no idea where I was at.” I went on to say I had my driver’s license, my passport, my social security card, I just didn’t have a place to stay yet as my “Mom had just passed a few months earlier.” Finally, I was told to stand at the very end of the administrative counter and the judge would see me. Walking a few steps to the end one of what I assumed were correctional guards turned around and asked me my name. Oh, this was the judge, very different than what I was used to, “yes your honor and I’m a survivor and I don’t belong in jai”…. Cutting me off he said, “I need to make sure you are who you say you are.” “You have a 500 bond,” Wait, your honor I’m having a reaction I shouldn’t be in jail.” Cutting me off again he said “you were strong enough to….” And then he stopped mid-sentence. “That’s it, I’m finished,” and with that a C.O. stepped forward and motioned his had to the bench on the other side of the administrative area. “He’s done, your gonna get yourself in trouble you keep running off at the mouth, you have a $500 bail or you wait for court that’s your options.”
“But I don’t belong in here, I’m a survivor, please don’t make me stay in here.” “It’s not up to me; you saw the judge now you can have your phone calls.” Pulling out the list of numbers I was able to write down before they took my phone away again, I began trying to call both my daughters and none of them answered. Finally, trying my cousin I told him briefly what happened to me without sounding too crazy as I was still halfway crying and hadn’t grasped the magnitude of what I had just survived. The more I tried to listen the louder the administrative area became as they began horse playing, even throwing the small football they had behind the desk. I had already gotten on their bad side as I had filled out a grievance already and had been threatened with more time in holding if I didn’t stop crying and being loud and now here, they were making way more noise than I was able to and I couldn’t help it. Holding back the tears and holding up my hand I tried asking them to “hold it down” and they looked at me and just kept on playing. Trying my best to yell and explain where I was at, I called a friend and he said, “you better get out of there,” not realizing the gravity of being in wise county I foolishly said I can ride it out, it’s just a trespassing charge I should be able to get some kind of help.” And I would get help alright, but not the kind that releases you from jail. Back in the holding cell I realized that one side of the cell would get colder than the other because of the vent over head so I would move accordingly. I also got to know the gentlemen that were at the other end of the vent as they would randomly yell obscenities through the vent in an attempt to express some misplaced anger they were experiencing. Finally, I was told to wait in the hallway as I was being introduced to the jail and would no longer have to be in the holding. It had been 2 days, and I was still in holding. As I went and lined up on the bench a female C.O. looked at me from down the hallway and marched over to me without saying one word she snatched my mask off. “I need that I have an environmental disability and I could get sick and end up in the hospital.”
“Sit back down right now before I put you back in holding, I don’t see where you have to wear it and I need to see you for identification purposes,” sitting my now crumpled mask down on the counter she turned her back towards me and laughed with another correctional officer. Sitting back down, I did my best to remain calm as I still had tears occasionally coming from eyes I tried to think happy thoughts. I shouldn’t have a hard time breathing in here C.O.’s didn’t wear a lot of perfume; I thought, I thought I would be ok. Eventually it was my turn to grab a new mat and bedding and I was led to what was to be my new home without the mask I was given for my environmental disability. The entrance to the cell was filled with circle tables and stools that were made of metal then the bathroom and tv suspended in the air to the left. To the right was another door that led to a series of cells on each side with a table, an attached toilet and sink, and top and bottom bunks. At the end of the hallway was another door. Looking around I went into each room as they were all unlocked and eventually, I settled on the cell to the right that was closest to the door that I had originally entered through. Every 15 minutes a female C.O. would come in and walk all the way to the door that led to the cells and press a red button. It was about the 3rd round that I had experienced when the C.O. poked her head in the cell across the way and spoke. “Someone is in there?” I asked. “Yes, she is sleep, if she wakes up let her know she can get a razor.” “Ok, I thought I was in here by myself.” Making my bed on the bottom bunk I changed my mind and decided to put it on the top because I had no clue who or what was in that other cell. Eventually dinner arrived and the guard came in and sat down 2 trays and 2 cups filled with what looked like water. Grabbing my tray and moving it to the next table over I picked through it before coming to the conclusion that I wasn’t hungry.
Eventually a light skinned slender young woman with braids emerged from the row of cells half-asleep and grabbed the remaining tray and sat down. “Do you want mine?” I said as I slid it towards her. Shaking her head in agreement she grabbed the tray and sat back down. This happened at least 3 more times before our conversation progressed past pleasantries. Eventually she explained that she had been in Wise County for a month and a half and had been in “2 different cells where she had gotten into it both times, with the last time being accused of stealing something” that resulted in her being put in here by herself until I came. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” “It’s ok, she was the tank boss, it happens.” She said as she walked over to tablets placed in holders on the wall. Pulling one out she turned it on and moved it in the air in an attempt to get coverage. “These don’t work, none of these work, I’ve tried.” “Well, then how do you speak to someone?” “You send a letter, I guess.” “I have been complaining and they haven’t done anything yet.” I’m not sure how long I spent in that cell, but long enough to go to the yard a few times and I’m assuming you would go every other day. The first time I went to the yard by myself as my celly said that she “couldn’t go because she didn’t get along with the girl in a certain unit. Once I got to the gym area I recognized it as being where one of the C.O.’s had let me go to get some fresh air when I was in the holding tank. Grabbing the ball, I walked to the toilet and sink area and turned on the water and put my hands underneath it. This was much colder than the water in my cell I thought as I dropped the bal and cupped my hands to grab a mouth full of water. Walking around the yard bouncing the ball I began to regulate my nervous system as much as possible. I could hear what sounded like a freeway through the vents above me. There was a vent above me on each side but one seemed to have cold air coming from it and one just sound, the sound of roaring cars because sometimes it sounded just like a freeway. I shouldn’t be in here much longer, I hoped as I circled occasionally bouncing shooting the ball into the basket as I rounded each side.
The door opened and 2 women entered and walked around the opposite sides until we eventually met in the middle, when the white girl asked, “what sign I was” thinking it deeper than it actually was I thought it best to say a “child of God,” instead of saying a Virgo. The white girl nodded with approval while the Mexican girl just smiled. Looking at them both I decided that it had been the white girl that my celly probably had the issue with because the Mexican girl couldn’t speak English as the white girl spoke to her completely in Spanish. After a few more rounds the guard waved to me from the other side to line up by the door. Doing as I was told I was led back to the cell I shared with “Elizabeth,” that was her name. Once I got inside the C.O. walked over to the entrance of the row of cells and said “y’all are both about to get moved and I don’t want no trouble out of either of you, any trouble and you come right back here.” “I don’t cause trouble ma’am I’m trying to get out, but I hear you.” Eventually she came back. I’m not sure if it was day or night as there were no windows in the cell nor anyway to tell what time of day it was because the tablets didn’t work. As we were both led to the new cell everyone was asleep. Looking at the clock that this cell had I could see it was well into the afternoon, but everyone was still asleep. Immediately, Elizabeth moved her stuff on the floor closest to the door. I saw 2 open bunks, and I tried to motion to her to grab one she shook me off and quietly said she was “fine on the floor.” Grabbing a bottom bunk I quickly made my bed and quietly lay down until everyone else woke up.
A few hours later I heard someone come over and quietly tap on the glass signaling the guard. I looked up and saw that it was the older lady. We made eye contact and she gave me a small smile that I returned. As soon as the rest of the ladies saw her moving around, I noticed they did as well. I remained on my bed and tried to motion to Elizabeth who didn’t even move when the older lady got up nor did she look once everyone started moving around. Shortly after that lunch or dinner arrived and they all got in line with the older lady in the front. Walking over to the pallet on the floor I gently tapped the end of the mat to see if she would wake up. After the 3rd time she begin to move. “The food is here, are you eating?” Shaking her head in agreement she began to stretch, and I got in line. I didn’t understand how everyone just slept all the time, but they did. I was the only one sitting down at the table as everyone went back to their bunk, including Elizabeth, whose pallet was still on the floor even though there were open bunks. After a few moments after speaking with the other ladies the older lady came back over and put everything, I assumed that they didn’t want on the table for grabs. Grabbing all the sugar free Kool-Aid packets without thinking I turned towards Elizabeth and pushed everything I didn’t want towards her. She looked over at the group of women who didn’t return the look and then she grabbed the remaining stuff. Thinking that was weird I didn’t pay too much mind. That night we all bonded on what brought us there including Elizabeth. There was one lady who was from a different county but everyone seemed to be there on drug crimes except me. We prayed together and one of the girls even let me borrow her bible because she “had 2.”
I’m not sure how much time went by but it couldn’t have been more than 2 days. One of the ladies from another county got moved and although there were multiple bunks Elizabeth did not want to get on one. I now know it was because of the older lady, and her small crew but I didn’t at the time. Seeing it was a good time to try to use the bathroom I went over and wiped down the toilet seat, laid out the tissue as a makeshift toilet seat cover and sat down when here comes the older lady all in my space trying to hold a conversation while I’m still on the toilet. I froze, I knew this wasn’t jail house etiquette but what could I do. Getting off the toilet the older lady was forced to give me some room. As I turned to wash my hands she came back making more idle chit chat so I thought it would be a good time to advocate for myself, “hey do you think you could not come over to the toilet while I’m sitting on it?” The look on her face was like I had just asked her to go against her morales. She shook her head but it wasn’t in a sure way, it was in a no fucking way, way. I let it go, what else could I do. I just needed to get out. I had finally gotten some commissary thanks to my cousin putting a few dollars on my books but that was all. So I used the paper form because the tablets did not work in this cell either (or because they kept the ones that worked and the other ones that weren’t quickly snatched up did not so I now had a pen and some paper). Nothing seemed to work even the pens quickly dried up it was like I was trapped. The women’s stories didn’t help much as they spoke of being in here for 6-7 months without having a hearing. Hearing that I wanted to cry but I heard it together. I hadn’t even tried to call anyone since being in the holding tank and couldn’t because I was told they didn’t work and when I tried it just seemed like the battery was dead.
Eventually the guard had came back to give me a TB test. I had stood firm that I didn’t want anything poking me while I was in jail so they had said they would have to take me to the very hospital I had been trespassed from in order to do the x-ray. The other female guard the one who had taken my mask seemed super pissed about having to take me like it was on her shift or something. After waiting in the holding cell maybe an hour a Mexican officer showed up to transport me to Medical City. He was very nice and not so bad looking either. After putting on the shackles on my hands and feet he agreed to keep the windows rolled down so that I could get some fresh air and he let me get another mask to bring with me. I think it was my birthday that day but I can’t recall exactly. When we got to the hospital it was eerily quiet. Like the waiting room looked nothing like it did when I had been there a few days earlier. There was one person at the desk no one in the waiting area and Roby wasn’t in his security office. We walked down the long hallway and I could tell that someone had just sprayed perfume so I put on my mask as he directed me to the business offices to the right. I remember the receptionists name “Anna” because she was kind of cocky. Like almost condescending to my situation but I let it go. After giving my details for billing we went into the medical offices across the way through a hallway and to where they take x-rays. After finishing we walked into the lobby of the x-ray office and there was a little kid who stopped to look at me shackled in jail house stripes. Embarrassed but at the same time not, I bent down and told him to “be sure not to trespass at a hospital you are seeking help from, make sure you have someone with you.” And with that we headed back to Wise County Jail. Once I got back in my cell I seen that the bible that I was allowed to use was no longer on my bed. I walked over to her bunk and asked her did she “take it back” and her response was that it was “hers and to get away from her bunk.” “Ok,” I said, what else could I say. Stepping on the bench so I could sit on the table and see the tv better I tried to not let my thoughts overtake me. I could feel panic developing in my stomach and I thought it be a good idea to pace to calm myself. Getting off the table I guess made too much noise because the older lady got up and stomped all the way to the button and pressed it saying that I was stomping. “Wait, what?”
“Get her out of here, she’s causing problems with everyone in here.” “Wait, I am?” I said not believing how fast everything in the cell had went left as now both Elizabeth and the other girl who took her bible back were all standing in unison and in agreement. Looking at Elizabeth, I was really confused. She had finally moved on to a bunk right next to the older lady so apparently, I was the odd woman out now. Calmly I tried to speak to the female guard who acted as if this had been going on for a while. “I told you, if you acted up what would happen!” “Yea, but I haven’t done anything.” “You’re sitting here arguing with me.” “Am I, I thought we were communicating?” At that point a male correctional officer came in “I just asked y’all over the intercom to be quiet and get along and you’re still going that’s it I’m moving you.” With my hand on my chest I backed up “Wait, why, I didn’t do anything but get off of the table it’s close to 1, I wasn’t trying to be loud.” “But you were,” he said as he motioned for me to turn around as he put me in hand cuffs he quickly pushed me out of the unit with the woman C.O. behind him and across the hall, he opened a door to a small cell that was absolutely filthy with bloody pads and food and wrappers everywhere. “It’s dirty in here,” I said now in tears. “Clean it,” he said pushing me in with a mop and a broom and closing the door behind me. Standing there I just cried as I listened to them laugh. Afraid to touch anything I scooted some debris off of the table and sat there for a while and continued to cry. There was no phone, no tablet and all my bedding was still in the other room. How did I get here, I thought. Almost like clockwork the fan turned on above me and the female guard came back with my bedding. I just looked at her this time as I was afraid to say anything. Soon as the fan turned on my new neighbors begin to welcome me with obscenities to which the C.O. came and yelled at me to “stop yelling.” “Do you think I could get some gloves?” I asked through the opening of the door. “No, we don’t give inmates gloves.” She spoke. “Just do the best you can.” I soon learned that the air coming out of the vent wasn’t cool, it was heat. Taking off my top I had on my sports bra, and I begin to pace and cry and cry and pace to the occasional niggers and bitches from my neighbors and the 15-minute intervals that came with a clank of the metal door opening and closing.
It would be a few days before I was able to get out of the cell for yard and for bible study. I think out of the whole time I went to bible study twice and the yard maybe 3 times. I spent most of the time writing when my pen worked and I eventually got up the nerve to clean the cell I was put in. It didn’t help that the sewer running underneath the floor would shake the metal grade that covered it every time I or my neighbor flushed the toilet, but I maintained. I would take bird baths in the sink as I had pushed all the trash over to the shower area where what looked like fecal matter resided when the sewer may have overflowed. I didn’t know and I didn’t want to chance it. I had put in nurse requests and then removed them when I found out that it would cost me to see the nurse. I repeatedly asked for my mask back and my anxiety meds, but I was told I would have to see the Dr. there before being able to take them. I needed my mask because it seemed like the C.O. were putting bottles of it on, why I don’t know. By the time I really got to speak with the nurse I was told that she didn’t have the paper about my environmental disability, and she didn’t even know one existed even though I had the intake officer pull it out for them specifically. The more I complained the more I was treated badly by the guards. They had started playing the monsters theme song every 15 minutes I guess to signal that someone was coming to check to see if we were ok which was ok but one night I was sleep and I was having a horrible dream and I woke up to the Monster’s theme playing full blast above me then a female guard slinging open the door asking me “did I want a library book?” Now mind you this was in the middle of the night so I looked at her and was like, “I think I was just asleep?” She closed the door and I got up 15 minutes later and caught her coming to the door and asked her “why did you open my door and ask me if I needed a library book?” her response was “no I didn’t.” Oh yes she did and I had wondered how often were they playing that music while I was trying to sleep. That’s like torture.
Between the extreme hot and then cold I had figured out when to take a bird bath and when to wait because sometimes it seemed like straight up steam was coming out of the vents. It would hurt my eyes and I would get the symptoms associated with my disability being aggravated. A new guard had came to ask me if I needed a change of clothes for the shower and I said to her that I take bird baths because it’s still dirty over there and it’s hard for me to get in showers like that when she opened eyes real big and said “Your gonna get in the shower and your gonna get in the shower now!” She closed the opening back and I thought maybe she just was saying that as I had tried to tell her that emotionally I couldn’t when she returned with another C.O. and together they pushed me out of the cell and down the hallway into intake into the room where I had originally taken a shower. I was crying and trying to communicate with them what was going on and they begin to yell that “I better take off my clothes and get in the shower or they were going to put me in the chair and force me to.” As I tried to hurry one of them said and “take out your hair it looks dirty in those braids.” With all the yelling a male C.O. opened the door and saw me naked and it was just too much crying I just snatched off of my clothes and got under the cold water to avoid being put in the chair. When I came out of the room I swear the same officer who had been there when I got into the ambulance was sitting out there. The very one who gave me the death stare who had been talking to the advocate from Refuge for Women Texas before I was put into the bear hug by Jessie. Still crying I just didn’t look at him either as he didn’t look at me and I was fine with it.
Eventually the same C.O. who had taken my mask thought it was a good idea to start spraying tons of aerosol or some sort of cleaner outside of my cell. I believe she said it was an attempt “to get something off of the door that she had been trying to.” But I could half hear as she was speaking to another C.O. when she said it. I really thought I was going to die in there. I stopped trying to call my family as they wouldn’t answer. I stopped trying to reach the lawyer as he wouldn’t answer either. He came to see me once and told me I should do what I can to get out of there because “their crazy here.” I didn’t disagree. I had experienced so much in a month I felt like I was loosing myself. I was regularly having to cough and squat all of a sudden which was weird I wasn’t around anyone and I hadn’t been out of the jail since I had the TB test which I didn’t have. I repeatedly asked why I was being held in solitary confinement for nothing but I wasn’t given a straight answer. I want to stop and say that this is hard to write and I’m leaving stuff out because this is upsetting the way I was done. It was like I was being held there intentionally for no reason. Eventually I was released to their lobby where I had to keep asking them to go back and get more of my stuff because they had went through it some more and had left bags there. I was so happy to be free it didn’t bother me too much to find out that the hotel I stayed at before I had went to Refuge for Women Vegas then Texas had charged my card while I was in jail and had overdrafted my account. I double checked that I had my mom’s bible and alabaster box and they allowed me to keep my stuff there while I attempted to walk to Wells Fargo to get money out of my savings since I couldn’t do anything with my card over the phone.
I have court coming up regarding this but my lawyer yelled at me threatened to throw me in jail and said “he didn’t believe in me” in the courthouse so he could get off of my case. The new lawyer has had dates reset over and doesn’t tell me, the court has to, and they barely do that. With the exception of this past week when his assistant called me because the court tried to get it set over again. I haven’t been able to make it to the court dates because there is no public transportation that goes out to Denton County and my lawyer that tried to get off of my case gave me wrong information more than once. It’s almost too much to keep track of the way my life keeps going. I had just lost my mom and was being ignored by my family who wouldn’t come around to help until I called the ambulance the last time when they took my POA away. All this coming at me at once. Everything at once but God is bigger than it all.
Philippians 4:19 (KJV)
“But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.”
REFERENCES:
Refuge For Women (North Texas):
North Texas – Refuge for Women
Refuge For Women (Las Vegas):
Las Vegas – Refuge for Women
The Rescue Industry: The Blurred Lines Between Help and Hindrance:
(PDF) ‘The rescue industry: The blurred line between help and hindrance’
The Safe House Project:
https://www.safehouseproject.org
International Human Rights Clinic: Over-Policing Sex Trafficking, How U.S. Law Enforcement Should Reform Operations
Over-Policing Sex Trafficking: How U.S. Law Enforcement Should Reform Operations – International Human Rights Clinic
We Are The Victims: Say The Residents of The Refuge:
‘We are the victims,’ say the former residents of The Refuge | TPR
This is Movie Stuff: How a Dallas Mom Said Leaders of a Non-Profit Tried to Take Her Baby
‘This is movie stuff’ | How a Dallas mom says leaders of a nonprofit tried to take her baby | wfaa.com
Control and Protect: Collaboration, Carceral Protection, and Domestic Sex Trafficking in The United States
Control and Protect by Jennifer Musto – Paper – University of California Press
Trafficking Rescue Initiatives as State Violence:
39559-psl_122-1
Closing the Door on Survivors: How Anti-Trafficking Programs in the U.S. Limit Access to Housing
View of Closing the Door on Survivors: How anti-trafficking programmes in the US limit access to housing | Anti-Trafficking Review
