Sacramento Failed Matthew Hernandez

What sort of despicable creature kills their son in cold blood with a hatchet? Only a monster– pure evil that is incomprehensible to the rest of us– could murder their own child.

Matthew Hernandez

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Monsters exist everywhere. No part of the world escapes heinous acts from the vilest of criminals. The gruesome end to 9 year old Matthew’s life is a tragedy, one that could have happened anywhere, in any region or country. Killer Philip Hernandez could have been a resident of Delaware or Texas or North Dakota, anywhere besides California. Yet as grieving mother Jessica Hernandez will tell you….the state of California does not always act in the best interests of its most vulnerable population.

Cases such as Jessica’s are the extreme, but her allegations [evidence blatantly ignored in the courtroom, denial of basic rights, various forms of discrimination, etc.] echo throughout the state, a common denominator amongst far too many cases. Between Family Court, Child ‘Welfare’ Services, and the foster care system– something is very wrong here.

Jessica Hernandez and her two sons
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The undeniable truth: Sacramento courts failed Jessica Hernandez and her son– at the cost of the young boy’s life. A judge chose to disregard crucial information and that irresponsible decision cost a family dearly. She’s not the first judge to do so. Nor will she be the last. To whom are these authority figures judges, social workers, civil servants answering? Other than contesting a verdict via the appeals process, what choice does one have when they know something is wrong? Why must children suffer at the hands of adults supposedly entrusted with their protection?

REFORM AMONGST THE FAMILY LAW COURTS, CWS, AND FOSTER CARE IS IMPERATIVE– THE NEED IS URGENT AND THE TIME IS NOW.

MBC11

• March Blog Challenge •
Day 11: Last book you read

For those of you unfamiliar with Damien Echols and the ‘West Memphis Three’ here is some background.

Let it be known that I have researched this case extensively. It takes more than a celebrity endorsement or a buzzworthy film for me jump on the bandwagon. I’ve done my homework.

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West Memphis, AR is ‘right across the bridge’ from downtown Memphis. At the time of the tragic deaths, I was the same age as those three little boys, only six years old. The killer[s] of Stevie Branch, Christopher Byers, and Michael Moore literally got away with murder.

This case is one that’s been on my radar for years. Not only do I have an inherent understanding of life in the Bible Belt of the deep south, but I know all too well what it’s like to be on the fringe in high school under these conditions. Deviation from the mainstream is often viewed with ignorance, scorn, fear, or all of the above. A wardrobe filled with black and a taste for hardcore music solicit stares. The whispers begin. Interest in counterculture and alternative spiritualities really gets people talking. Society eyes the stereotypical ostracized teenager [outcast, freak, weird, scary, etc.] with suspicion, which quickly escalates into a mob mentality when a scapegoat is needed. Guilty until proven innocent. Toss a bunch of ideas around and see if anything sticks. No matter how absurd the claim, once the seed is planted, the damage is done. Some people get railroaded without ever knowing what hit them. Rights get violated. Not everyone is equal in the eyes of the law. Preposterous allegations become fact while irrefutable evidence to the contrary never sees the light of day.

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Don’t even get me started on the colossal failure of the judicial system….

I leave you with a handful of quotes from within the pages and two critical reviews that resonated with me.

“Everyone puts on their Sunday best and pays tribute to religion’s slaughterhouse and then dines on a cannibal communion. Education is foreign to the sunburned beasts of burden, and the painkiller comes in black-labeled Tennessee bottles. No one here moves quickly, but everyone moves with absolute certainty.”

“I’ve seen men who were haunted to the point of madness by things that never were and things that should have been….The ghosts in fire freeze and the ghosts in ice burn. Some died long ago; some were never born. Some ride the blood in my veins until it reaches my brain. Sometimes I even mistake myself for one. Sometimes I am one.”

“I want a life of strife, lust, striving, seeking, struggling, and debauchery.”

“Any friendship that is worth it’s weight is like a dark and secret place where you hide bits of yourself. The door can be opened only by the two people who have the key, and you carry it with you wherever you go. Magnify that by a billion, and you begin to get an idea of what marriage is like.”

~

“Damien Echols spent eighteen years on death row for murders he did not commit. Somehow, in the depths of his unspeakable nightmare, he found the courage and strength not only to survive, but to grow, to create, to forgive, and to understand. Life After Death is a brilliant, haunting, painful, and uplifting narrative of a hopeless childhood, a wrongful conviction, a brutal incarceration, and the beginning of a new life.” – John Grisham

“The life of Damien Echols is a journey similar to that of the metal that becomes a samurai’s sword. Heated and pounded until it becomes hardened, it can hold its edge for centuries. It is incredible that Damien endured and survived one of the most tragic miscarriages of American justice, and emerged such a centered, articulate and extraordinary man and writer. Life After Death proves that he paid dearly for his wisdom. – Henry Rollins

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,
Sloane

First Birthday Parties

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Time flies. Where has this past year gone? I feel as though I barely know my daughter. My son has never met his sister. Child ‘Welfare’ Services in San Luis Obispo County failed my children on such a colossal scale. They restricted my parental access, forcibly separated our family, and attempted to drive a wedge between Adam and me. And they failed miserably. Our bond transcends all. Tatum will meet her brother. These obstacles strengthen the unbreakable connection of our family. With time we will heal.

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Nothing makes me happier than seeing that beautiful smile. Her laughter and excitement reminds me daily that I made the right– the only– decision. I sacrificed one child to save another.

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Even sharing pictures of Tatum’s first birthday party can’t happen without a bitter taste in my mouth. At least she enjoyed her cake.

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A photo summary of first birthdays:

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Since we’ve been in California….
Tatum was born. Adam’s fourth birthday came and went. I turned 27. Maris and Theresa threw Tatum a party to celebrate her first year of life. In a few weeks Adam turns five. All milestones during which we were separated when we should have been together.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,
Sloane

Hotel California

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My Christmas tree remains standing, fully decorated with presents unopened. It will not come down until Adam comes home. Whenever that may be….

Nothing says ‘welcome home’ like my internet from Charter not connecting. Praise God for my new iPhone [thank you, Mom & Dad, for your loyal patronage to AT&T that enabled this 99 cent purchase!] so I have an outlet for all that’s on my mind. My thoughts are so jumbled I don’t even know where to begin.

Yesterday at noon I boarded a plane in Memphis. After stops in Houston and San Francisco [worthy of its own post] I finally arrived in San Luis Obispo. Upon walking into my apartment everything felt surreal. Like some sort of deja vu time warp. I always imagined this moment as Adam eagerly flinging the door open and skipping into the living room as I bring a swaddled Tatum into our cozy home. Instead, my infant daughter is 2500 miles away, the state has custody of my son, and I am more alone than I’ve ever been.

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The overwhelming pain of losing one child to the system is surpassed only by losing two children to the system. I had to sacrifice my son to save my daughter. Can you even imagine such an impossible, heartbreaking choice? I must save my strength to keep fighting for Adam. Tatum is safe, that thought so comforts me. Yet we are in three separate households and that is unacceptable. As a mother this is absolute agony. Here I am without either Adam or Tatum. One is five minutes away, the other on the opposite side of the country, but both feel beyond my reach. Pictures and phone calls barely sustain me.

God, hear my prayers. Give Adam comfort as his confused mind does not understand my absence. Let Tatum continue to flourish…despite me leaving her merely three weeks after her birth. Help Mom & Dad continue to provide her with the best possible care. Allow me the strength, courage, and faith to navigate the nightmare. Please reunite my family soon.

It should come as no surprise that the organization who shall not be named is punishing me for my decision to protect Tatum…they are dangling the threat of starting the parenting plan all over again. How much more can they destroy our family? Will this ever end? All I want to do now is resume work at the church, get a second job in retail, continue to advocate for my family– and be the best absentee mom I can possibly be.

Even if I could type a million words a minute I wouldn’t come close to saying everything that needs to be said. There are so many people in both Memphis and California I need to thank– Mom & Dad, Brandi, and Theresa especially though that’s just the short list– but that will be a joyous entry created when I have full laptop capabilities.

For now I sit in an apartment far too big for me. Alone. Completely alone. All of the company in the world couldn’t fill the void in my heart. I would do anything for my kids to be in my arms. Adam and Tatum, Mommy loves you so much.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,
Sloane

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Devastation

DISCLAIMER:  Mentioning Will in Cocktails With Hemingway exacerbates an already precarious situation.  How do I tread that fine line?  Appearing ‘too soft’ on him sends the message that I’m making excuses for his deplorable behavior or leaving the door open for a reconciliation of some sorts.  Both of these are completely false.  Conversely, if I drag his name through the mud, I am no better than him.  My refusal to lower myself to that sort of behavior speaks volumes about my integrity.  Not only is it counterproductive to launch a character assassination on him but it detracts focus from what is most important– bringing Adam home.  I work diligently to keep Will from dominating  my posts..  Let me be the first to tell you how difficult that is.  I could easily create a blog devoted solely to my estranged husband– there’s no shortage of overwhelmingly negative emotions– yet I can no longer suppress my feelings.

One of our few family photos: Adam's 3rd birthday.

Last week I discovered Will took a one-way Greyhound to San Diego where he is now living with ‘friends.’  He blew off a visit with Adam, gave the Salvation Army some sob story to obtain his ticket, and told the CPS worker he was turning himself into jail.  Nobody’s heard from him since.

Thanks to Facebook, the entire world can see that Will did indeed arrive safely in San Diego.  His default picture shows him highly intoxicated and the images and statuses he post reference alcohol and partying.  I’m not surprised.  Not even the brazen nature of his virtual display shocks me.  What I wasn’t expecting was for him to leave the county to engage in such debauchery.  By doing so he effectively threw in the towel when it comes to the court battle for Adam, abandoning him completely with his decision to leave.  And I doubt he’ll ever come back.

My heart’s not broken, at least not in the traditional sense.  It is our precious children who have the broken hearts.  I attempt to absorb their pain fully so they never have to feel it.  These are not my tears I cry, they are Adam’s and Tatum’s.  The thought of our innocent kids being hurt– by their own parent nonetheless– fills me with an overwhelming despair.

My cousin's wedding in spring '11

How can anyone abandon their children?  These past few weeks I’ve spent away from Adam– sacrificing one child to save another– have been hell on earth without my baby boy.  Despite all the joy surrounding Tatum’s birth and first three weeks of life, I was acutely aware of every second of Adam’s very conspicuous absence.  Abandoning a traumatized, sad, confused, angry, child to travel 200 miles north to pursue partying?  Deplorable doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Knowing that my son’s not being visited by either of his parents during this time is heartbreaking.  My rage towards Will is completely justifiable but I won’t allow it to consume me.  How dare he?  After this awful nightmare he created, he suddenly jumps ship leaving me in the wake of  his destruction.  Adam and Tatum are not pawns and this is not a game.    

He didn’t even bother to call his Aunt regarding Tatum’s birth.  That’s one memory I’ll never share with her.  Does he somehow cope by pretending she doesn’t exist?

Gone are the days of ‘justifying’ his poor parenting behavior with his addiction to drugs and alcohol because I don’t feel sorry for him anymore.  He is an addict who needs serious, long-term rehabilitation yet refuses it.  What more can anyone do?  People on both sides of the family have done everything in their power to get him into treatment.  We can only do so much.  You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves. 

My first pregnancy was filled with glee.

Never again will I make the mistake that cost me my son:  no third chance exists for Will.  He’s a con artist who weaseled his way back into our lives and I was foolish enough to believe his empty promises.  As if opening the door to the chaos that is Will wasn’t enough….I stupidly followed him across the county upon discovering I was pregnant….leaving behind everything I knew and everyone I loved.  Even worse, I let a two week window where I could have left California with Adam lapse because Will begged and pleaded for the chance to “be civil adults who are close friends and co-parents.”  I have no one to blame except myself for these egregious errors and I profoundly regret them every day. 

Monumental are the ways in which this entire family– and especially Adam– have been ruined by Will.  Past damage is irreversible yet the future lies in my hands.  I will not allow him to infiltrate our lives again.  Will and I will never ‘co-parent;’ there’s no possible way for us to be friends or even communicate; I’m renewing the order of protection after December 2014; our divorce is pending; child support will be paid for Tatum, eventually, Adam too; he doesn’t deserve my forgiveness; I don’t have an ounce of pity for him; I’ve stopped trying to understand him; and I finally understand that the father of my children will never be Daddy or my loving husband.  Case closed.  Time to pick up the pieces and rebuild our lives.  We deserve better.

Earlier I spoke of my overwhelming despair.  Now I must make it my mission to seek its antithesis– hope.  Three words best define my little family:  love, strength, and resiliency.  The Reeds are surrounded by love.  My faith is unshakable and my own strength never ceases to amaze me.  Even my children, with less than five years between them, consistently demonstrate how strong they are too.  Our resilience ensures not only our capacity to survive, but to thrive.  It is an honor to be Mommy, Daddy, and everything in between to Adam and Tatum.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Defeated

….but not going down without one hell of a fight.

This look will be permanently etched on my face until the birth of my daughter. Taken jokingly as an 'emo' shot several years ago it is now my default expression.

Nobody actually told me that but with the devastating news I received today they may as well have.  It’s a never ending cycle.  The phrase ‘why me’ is not in my vocabulary but I cannot help but wonder the purpose of all these tests and countless obstacles.  I clear one hurdle only to encounter three more….and they all multiply exponentially.

It should come as no surprise that I’m not uttering a word.  In fact, I don’t even know if I can bring myself to blog until the end of January.  I would say until Tatum’s birth but I’m sure I’ll be bored to tears because:

My doctor wants me on bed rest for the last month of my pregnancy. 

I’m at an increased risk for a pulmonary embolism [I didn't even ask what led her to that conclusion because I didn't want to have a heart attack and a pulmonary embolism in the office] and my blood pressure’s high.  That combined with all of my stress and anxiety issues moves my pregnancy into high risk category.  While I know that bed rest is the best thing for my health– and hopefully I can use that time to hammer out some paid freelancing– missing work upsets me greatly.  I planned to work until the week before my Monday admission to the hospital.  Now my paid maternity leave won’t cover much past my bed rest, sigh.  I won’t complain though.  At least I have a job waiting on me upon my return and weeks of time to be spent with my precious daughter.

Thankfully I can leave work knowing that I will have completed the end of year closeouts and my pet project– creating a computer database for a large amount of files and records that were previously paper only.  I would hate to have to leave behind any unfinished business for my substitute.  She’s the woman who trained me so I can rest assured that the office is being left in capable, familiar hands.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Terrible Awful: 2011 edition

No word exists in the English language to quantify how abominable, appalling, atrocious, bad, calamitous, deplorable, deplorable, dreadful, horrible, intolerable, miserable, repulsive, tragic, unbearable, and wretched year 2011 was for me.  Combine every adjective you just read and multiply it by a million.  That’s my year!  We’ll steal Minnie Jackson’s terminology and refer to it as the ‘Terrible Awful.’ 

Temporary catharsis is all I seek.  Factors beyond my control dictate the terms for certain grievances….and I have no choice other than to carry them with me into the new year.  Obviously there is a massive Terrible Awful that makes all others pale in comparison– and some of these seem more innocuous than others– but this is my time to complain.

Minnie's done somethin' Terrible Awful!

So let’s knockout my woeful [and oftentimes incensed] lamentations as quickly as possible.  Without further ado, 11 things I despised about 2011:

1)  Sloane versus Child ‘Welfare’ Services.  I’m not even going to dignify them with three sentences so we’ll end here at two.

2)  Never in my life do I want to make another appearance in a courtroom in the county of San Luis Obispo.  Much to my chagrin I can think of at least two more dates where I’ll be scheduled to appear.  Whether it’s custody issues, my divorce, or testifying in another case the legal process drags on ad infinitum.  This is neither the time nor the place for me to discuss why I’m a VIP in the courts here, but I wanted to take this opportunity to assure you that I’m not a criminal– my little wrists have never felt the cold metal of handcuffs!– nor have I been charged with anything.  I’m a law abiding citizen who has done nothing wrong, though as you can imagine from the categories I mentioned above this is seemingly endless red tape.

3)  My marriage came to a screeching halt.  While I’m not divorced [see #4], it’s completely over, and that upsets me tremendously.  Will and I were estranged for over three years of our marriage so I’m used to him not being in the picture.  Yet I was [naive and foolish] so hopeful that our daughter could allow us to have a fresh start….for a very intelligent woman isn’t that a stupid thought?  And it’s not myself I worry about– I’m fiercely independent and prefer being unattached– but my children.  They deserve a loving and attentive father who provides for them, a father who treats their mother with courtesy and respect even though they are no longer involved.  I want to be able to co-parent and have a dear friend in my former spouse.  Given the circumstances that simply can’t happen.  We’ll never be a Bruce and Demi.  The union of Sloane and Will didn’t just succumb to ‘irreconcilable differences’ or fizzle and fade.  How do I explain this to the kids?  “Sorry Adam, Daddy can’t come with you to Father/Son day at school because it violates the terms of the restraining order.” 

4)  Residency requirements are not my friend in the state of California.  Until the marriage is dissolved on paper, any custody issues are infinitely more complex, as is anything that pertains to domestic violence.  I want to give birth to Tatum and come to our cozy apartment to recuperate and spend quality time with my children.  My biggest concern should be separation anxiety from my infant when I return to work, not dealing with a divorce.  Because as luck would have it– of course!– I don’t exist on paper in the state of California until one day before Tatum’s arrival.

14 month old Adam in the CAR wearing his cow suit. I sure do miss my CAR. Having a CAR is a very nice thing.

5)  Being homeless– can we say major no bueno?  Granted, I was never on the streets panhandling and sleeping on cardboard…but there was a period of two and a half weeks where Adam and I lived in a motel.  I cannot even begin to describe to you how agonizing and stressful it is to not know where you are going to sleep past the next few nights, especially when you have a child.  The ‘transient’ time between my unexpected departure from the women’s shelter and my joyous arrival in my apartment was brutal.  And the troubles hadn’t even started!

6)  Would you be surprised if I told you I was unbelievably homesick?  Between a period of not having a home– literally– and being 3000 miles away from the place I’ve known as home for the first quarter century of my life.  The overwhelming majority of the amazing people I call friends are east of the Mississippi River clustered around the Hernando DeSoto Bridge [a.k.a. the new bridge].  I even miss Memphis.  Around here all the financial establishments sound so….corporate.  How could I possibly trust anyone with my personal accounting that doesn’t work for Mo’ Money Taxes?

7)  This is quite difficult to discuss but once upon a time I had a car.  Not just any car, a gorgeous BMW X3 in a dazzling silver color.  It was glorious.  Beyond glorious.  When I drove alone the speedometer went to 345943945435943 in no time at all.  When driving with Adam I trusted my safe and reliable vehicle.  Sometime during the hour where Alyssa and I were getting acupuncture in our ears [trying valiantly to cleanse ourselves of bad juju and stress less, unbeknownst to me, my car met its untimely demise while it was a certain someone's DUI chariot.

[[ Sidenote:  When I took this picture I moved his car seat strap down so he would smile.  It's clearly not secure and that's not how he rode while we were actually moving in the vehicle.  You can never be too cautious with clarifying these things. ]]

8)  Sloane, meet poverty.  There is nobody to blame for this except yours truly but I had zero savings when I needed it the most.  Even cheap motels get costly.  Come apartment time, I had to furnish it [though I received tons of generous gifts for which I am so thankful], and then they wanted rent again after already getting the first month and a security deposit?!  Then came the introductory bills for various places.  And Christmas.  Blah, blah, blah.

Absolutely no relevance to this post, but it's a cool picture

9)  This was a lousy, sickly year for my health.  Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritiually, I was simply not healthy– which understandably took its toll.  I should have known what to expect when I went for a ‘wellness checkup’ the second week of January….and slipped on a patch of ice dislocating my knee, almost tearing my MCL, and getting a swollen and inflamed meniscus.  Well then.

10)  What the hell was I thinking when it came to dating?!  My first ex of the year I wish nothing but the best for….it simply ran its course.  We were both reluctant to jump ship and it should have ended a lot sooner.  I thank him for handling it like a gentleman and having the courtesy and respect to not talk poorly of me, just as I do for him.  Next one of my very best friends and I tried our luck at being a couple for two weeks:  epic fail.  Then there was….I’m scared if  even mention it in too much detail I’ll hear a knock at my patio door and he’ll be outside with an ax despite the fact that he’s thousands of miles away.  He’s said it himself he’ll “never stop harassing me.”   Suffice it to say he’s a deranged stalker who is profoundly disturbing and highly unstable.  And finally there was that attempted reconciliation with Will.  That certainly ended well!

11)  People.  Behaving.  Badly.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Don’t drink and drive on NYE

Hey, New Years Drinkers, aka Weekend Warrior Amateurs: No excuses, folks. Don’t drink and drive-and don’t ride with anybody who does. Tipsy Tow offered by AAA: You don’t have to be a AAA member, from 6pm-6am on New Year’s Eve/Day they will take your drunk self and your car home for FREE. Save this number… 1-800-222-4357. Please re-post this if you don’t mind.

What a brilliant idea.  I suggest you program this number into your phone now and consider making plans in advance before the drinking begins.  Ideally transportation with a sober driver behind the wheel should be handled before you ever leave the house for New Year’s Eve.  Don’t wait until the last minute when you run the risk of a few drinks clouding your judgement.  Also remember that bars are responsible for providing you with a taxi if you get too intoxicated.  There are never any circumstances where it is okay for you to drive drunk or ride with somebody who has been drinking, period, no exceptions.  And no, the ‘designated driver’ is not the person who has consumed the fewest drinks and/or appears to be the most functional.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

The quest for better schools, ‘loungerie’ for little girls, and overprocessed hair

Could you even imagine spending 22 years on Death Row– the last 13 of them with multiple sclerosis– for a murder you didn’t commit?

According to Huffington Post:  “Ohio mother of two Kelly Williams-Bolar was released from jail Wednesday after serving nine days for falsifying records…convicted by a jury of using her father’s address to claim residency status that would allow her children to attend a higher-performing suburban school…put on probation for two years, ordered to complete 80 hours of community service, and may threaten her ability to receive the teacher’s license she was working towards.”  While I would never advocate breaking the law, I completely sympathize this mother’s position.  Who doesn’t want the best for their children– especially when it comes to education?  The article touches on the interconnected factors of race and socioeconomic and how can negatively impact a child’s schooling.

Kelly Williams-Bolar

In Kansas, new legislation was passed that covers the termination of a pregnancy only if women purchase a special abortion insurance rider added to their regular insurance policy for an additional cost.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again– a woman’s right to choose is about just that, choice– regardless of your opinions on the actual act of abortion.

A French company now makes ‘loungerie’ for little girls.  Marketing a product modeled after lingerie for adult females for prepubescent and adolescent children [4-12] borders on child pornography.  Creating outfits or pajamas to mimic mommy’s attire is one thing but fancy, somewhat racy undergarments for a young girl is deplorable.

Everything else I’ve discussed in this batch of links has been somewhat somber.  Now I wish to lighten it up a bit with…. overprocessed hair.  While this article caters to those who have bleach damage, I think it’s perfect for anyone who is guilty of too much coloring and/or heat styling.  Products and tips are offered for the repair of your fried locks and there are also two recipes found for treatments that you can find in your kitchen and at your local health store.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane