Gloria
Diamond Member
Over two years ago, my boyfriend called the police on me when I went to his house to ask him for the money he owed me. I was sitting cross legged on the floor of his garage. My ex told the officers that I owned a gun and that I was dangerous. Long story short, the three officers tackled me, pulled my shoulder out of socket, injured me pretty badly and then to top it off I had a seizure in the squad car on the way to the jail and they refused to take me to the hospital.
Fast forward - ugly lawsuit. There have been surveillance tapes that showed my seizure destroyed, reports that were altered, threatening phone calls, and every kind of corruption you can think of.
In the United States, there is a phase called Discovery before a trial. So the lawyers had me sign authorizations for all my mental and medical records. The next part of Discovery is called a deposition where there is no judge present and the lawyers are allowed to ask any questions and none of the questions need to be relevant to the case. They could ask me anything that they desire.
My lawyer warned me that these two lawyers had 7 hours to ask me questions and were going to try to break me. They knew I had had trauma and they were going to try to get me to stop the deposition, leave crying and drop the lawsuit. I was so nervous before the deposition that I was a wreck because I didn't want to do it. I had been hospitalized because my childhood was a 9 on a scale of 1-10 for abuse. I had been sexually abused by two family members, beaten, kept in a basement, taken on suicide rides with guns at my head, etc., etc., etc. Not pretty. I didn't think I could possibly survive sitting there and going over ever demon and nightmare I have for hours to a couple of smirking, sarcastic and evil lawyers. Everyone with PTSD knows that we have triggers. One little trigger that reminds us of a trauma and we can be a wreck. To have all my traumas thrown at me at once. I didn't think I could survive.
I don't know how I got the courage but I did it. I didn't cry once. I sat calmly with my lavender suit and pearls and answered questions like "how many inches did he insert his fingers in your vagina". My father pulled my nails off with pliers and they asked me if I remembered how they did it. I didn't. But I was reliving the event in that room. I looked down at my hands and saw the bloody nail beds and remembered the pain. I didn't lose my cool once. The lawyers must have seen the hollow look in my eyes and the horror when I spoke. I know my eyes must have shown them but they had no mercy on me.
They asked if I attempted suicide. I looked straight the one lawyer right in the eye and said that I thought about it when I thought about telling my most personal things to a jerk like him. I am so proud that I used the word jerk instead of stronger language. I was a perfect lady.
Unfortunately the lawsuit is now cancelled because one of the witnesses died suddenly a week after my deposition so it was all for nothing. My physician is so proud of me. My friends are so proud of me. My son gave me locket and told me that I was the most wonderful person alive. I know I was brave but I am just wondering how long it is going to take before those seven hours stop replaying in my mind - over and over.
My attorney (a mental health advocate) wants to use my case as an example to change the legal process and NAMI is supporting him. (NAMI is the National Association for the Mentally Ill). What those lawyers did was perfectly legal. I think the laws need to be changed.
I had to write this down as an accomplishment because the ramifications of my "bravery" are nighmares of that deposition for the last two weeks. I have to keep reminding myself that I did the right thing. I told them during the deposition that I didn't care if I got money but I wanted them to increase training of police officers and increase supervision of new officers. I told them that I at least deserved an apology. I was not doing it for money. I was doing it because this was my chance to save someone else from getting beat up by the police.
I spent seven hours being called a liar when I spoke. They rolled their eyes and smirked like I was the one that was disgusting. When I told them of my career accomplishments, they called me a liar. When I told them of my education, they called me a liar. What was I supposed to do bring in my resume and college transcripts? I am so angry that I almost want to mail proof to their office. But what good would that do? I'm sure that they knew I was telling the truth but were just trying to get under my skin.
All I can say is that there are so many people here who don't think that they are strong enough to do something. We are afraid. We have demons. But we can face our demons. I still have no idea how I managed to get in that car, drive to the deposition, sit down and (not even take a break) look those bastard lawyers in the eye and tell them exactly what happened to me and my brother and my sister.
It is my prayer that somehow this will help someone else.
Fast forward - ugly lawsuit. There have been surveillance tapes that showed my seizure destroyed, reports that were altered, threatening phone calls, and every kind of corruption you can think of.
In the United States, there is a phase called Discovery before a trial. So the lawyers had me sign authorizations for all my mental and medical records. The next part of Discovery is called a deposition where there is no judge present and the lawyers are allowed to ask any questions and none of the questions need to be relevant to the case. They could ask me anything that they desire.
My lawyer warned me that these two lawyers had 7 hours to ask me questions and were going to try to break me. They knew I had had trauma and they were going to try to get me to stop the deposition, leave crying and drop the lawsuit. I was so nervous before the deposition that I was a wreck because I didn't want to do it. I had been hospitalized because my childhood was a 9 on a scale of 1-10 for abuse. I had been sexually abused by two family members, beaten, kept in a basement, taken on suicide rides with guns at my head, etc., etc., etc. Not pretty. I didn't think I could possibly survive sitting there and going over ever demon and nightmare I have for hours to a couple of smirking, sarcastic and evil lawyers. Everyone with PTSD knows that we have triggers. One little trigger that reminds us of a trauma and we can be a wreck. To have all my traumas thrown at me at once. I didn't think I could survive.
I don't know how I got the courage but I did it. I didn't cry once. I sat calmly with my lavender suit and pearls and answered questions like "how many inches did he insert his fingers in your vagina". My father pulled my nails off with pliers and they asked me if I remembered how they did it. I didn't. But I was reliving the event in that room. I looked down at my hands and saw the bloody nail beds and remembered the pain. I didn't lose my cool once. The lawyers must have seen the hollow look in my eyes and the horror when I spoke. I know my eyes must have shown them but they had no mercy on me.
They asked if I attempted suicide. I looked straight the one lawyer right in the eye and said that I thought about it when I thought about telling my most personal things to a jerk like him. I am so proud that I used the word jerk instead of stronger language. I was a perfect lady.
Unfortunately the lawsuit is now cancelled because one of the witnesses died suddenly a week after my deposition so it was all for nothing. My physician is so proud of me. My friends are so proud of me. My son gave me locket and told me that I was the most wonderful person alive. I know I was brave but I am just wondering how long it is going to take before those seven hours stop replaying in my mind - over and over.
My attorney (a mental health advocate) wants to use my case as an example to change the legal process and NAMI is supporting him. (NAMI is the National Association for the Mentally Ill). What those lawyers did was perfectly legal. I think the laws need to be changed.
I had to write this down as an accomplishment because the ramifications of my "bravery" are nighmares of that deposition for the last two weeks. I have to keep reminding myself that I did the right thing. I told them during the deposition that I didn't care if I got money but I wanted them to increase training of police officers and increase supervision of new officers. I told them that I at least deserved an apology. I was not doing it for money. I was doing it because this was my chance to save someone else from getting beat up by the police.
I spent seven hours being called a liar when I spoke. They rolled their eyes and smirked like I was the one that was disgusting. When I told them of my career accomplishments, they called me a liar. When I told them of my education, they called me a liar. What was I supposed to do bring in my resume and college transcripts? I am so angry that I almost want to mail proof to their office. But what good would that do? I'm sure that they knew I was telling the truth but were just trying to get under my skin.
All I can say is that there are so many people here who don't think that they are strong enough to do something. We are afraid. We have demons. But we can face our demons. I still have no idea how I managed to get in that car, drive to the deposition, sit down and (not even take a break) look those bastard lawyers in the eye and tell them exactly what happened to me and my brother and my sister.
It is my prayer that somehow this will help someone else.
