So I don't usually like to talk about my personal life, but I need to vent, while we're talking about law and such:
Around the end of September, my mother and nieces ended up needing a place to live because she was divorcing her husband of ten years. My mother and I have had a rocky past, and I was wary of this move, but I also needed to try to save some money, so I figured it would work out for the best if we just went and split a house.
Backstory: My mother used to be really highly addicted to pretty much anything that came in a pill bottle. And just so happens to be a hateful vindictive demon who only cares about herself and her own interests when she's high. To the point where her ex husband beat me with a baseball bat, breaking several of my ribs, and then stabbed me repeatedly with a screwdriver when I was sixteen. She told the police that I was being mean to him, and just took off and left me in this town.
Fast forward twenty years. She's been sober for a decade, went back to college, got her degree, and works as a teacher.
And the first thing she does with her newfound freedom? Hook up with the guy that she cheated with while married to the psycho that tried to kill me. Starts taking pills again. Meanwhile, he's a psycho alcoholic too. Ends up beating the hell out of her, and then showing up at our house to threaten us and my siblings, then pulls a gun just in time for the police to arrive and tackle him to the ground.
And she's been defending this man ever since. Changing her story constantly. Taking more and more drugs. Getting more and more hateful and vindictive. Just like before.
Last week she informs me that he is getting out of jail, and she's had his community corrections approved for the house we share.
I immediately file a restraining order on top of the protective order I already have, so I don't have to do the Dance of the Dueling Orders.
I show up at the hearing. The prosecutor recognizes me, because of course. We've all worked closely together. Informs me that he'll be calling me as a witness, since I am there already. Well. Alright, that works for me.
I get up on the stand. He asks me if they've violated their no contact order. I tell the truth -- that she's been in touch with him pretty much every day since December 26th and tried to get his community corrections moved here.
Prosecutor asks that he be held without bond on a charge of invasion of privacy for breaking the order. Judge agrees.
The mother-demon has been sending me harassing, threatening messages and generally just screaming at me for going on two days now. Hundreds of texts.
My bosses, who are awesome, know that something is up. And this shit is starting to eat up my spoons, so I am less productive than normal, even though I am still productive. I can sense them getting annoyed, though.
I don't want to talk to them about this. It's none of their business that my family is bugnuts crazy, and I don't want this room full of attorneys to use their special attorney magic to go digging into my bugnuts childhood. This isn't a thing that I should have to share with them.
And yet, somehow, I foresee this being a thing that is going to come up before my name and title get dragged through all the media escapades that can come with this. Which I am pretty sure is in our ethics code.
Goddamit.