Today was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
I got a call from Robert just before I was leaving work. He had taken Dustin and McCartney to the doctor. I had Harrison with me at daycare. He told me he and McCartney had been following Dustin on foot for nearly an hour. Dustin had ran out of the house.
In. His. Underwear.
Yes. I said that.
He was wearing a shell necklace from Florida, navy underwear and white crew socks.
He is 16 and nearly 5'8" tall. He is handsome and looks completely "normal".
Obviously he is not.
I told Robert to call the police, he had not yet called. Dustin was being very difficult and he was afraid they would take him to juvenile detention or to the local psych hospital or the children's home that deals with difficult behavioral needs. Any of these places would not meet any of Dustin's needs (since he is moderately mentally handicapped) and is wholly inappropriate for him. He has major abandonment issues and has been sexually molested in the past. Not a good combo for "juvy".
I drove home worrying about whether he was okay or not. I got a call from Robert telling me he called 911 and that the police were already chasing him having received phone calls from other people. (Robert: my son is running away . . . 911: Is he in navy underwear and white socks, sir? . . . Robert: Yep, that'd be him.) Dustin was running from the officer who had abandoned his car and was throwing rocks and sticks at the officer. The officer was having a difficult time chasing him. The officer kept loosing sight of him as he ran through alleys and houses. To make things worse, this officer is new to our circumstances. We have a few core guys who have been here many times and are well aware of Dustin's complicated issues. This gentleman was not and he was less than thrilled. We have a trail system in our city that goes along the rivers and runs right through our neighborhood. Dustin was running along the trail that is on a hill about 25 feet above the street. The officer was being trailed by kids on bikes that were asking "What's wrong with that kid? Is he psycho?". Robert and McCartney were behind them by about a block. Finally the officer got to him, grabbed his arm and tackled him. It took him almost 30 minutes to get him.
Robert called me as I was only about 3 blocks away. When I got there, Dustin was sitting on the ground with his hands in his head. He was covered in dirt and was yelling, "I wanna go to jail!" along with the ever popular "I don't wanna live with you. You all hate me!"
Warms a mother's heart.
I trudged up the hill and spoke with the officer with Robert. He took a report and told us that if he ever hit anyone or was aggressive they could take him and book him and have him spend a night in juvy. Another officer came up from a car and was one of the "regulars". He gave Dustin a talking to and reminded him that officers who do not know him could very well pull a gun on him if he acts like that again. It was a good talk.
Will it matter?
I took him home and Robert and the littles walked the 3 blocks home. He is fine acting like nothing ever happened. He is on a 2 foot perimeter. He is not to leave an adult and go farther than 2 feet from us. He is unable to go ANYWHERE including the bathroom alone. Whenever we go near a door, we position ourselves between him and the door. I do not know how long this will last, but it is a necessity right now.
Sometimes I hate my life.
My life is never boring.
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