TURNING MYSELF IN TO THE MARSHALS

As a federal drug offender in Missouri, I had to turn myself in to the marshals at the time I took my plea. I honestly cannot say I was clear on this detail until it was truly time to deal with it. After perfectly walking the line for three years on pretrial, I guess I didn’t think this moment was ever going to happen. If you or your loved one is in this situation, please check the laws and talk to your lawyer and really LISTEN and find out what is called for when you take your plea and get prepared. Get your life and your brain on board with what is coming and if turning yourself into the marshals is the route you must take, then brace yourself for this part of your journey.

After writing on self-surrendering to prison, I felt it was necessary to tell my cautionary tale about turning myself in to the marshals because these are two very different experiences.

1st, let me back up and tell you a little back story to clarify and help you understand some things about me. When I was getting close to graduating high school and it was time to start looking at college, my dad asked me where I wanted to go to school. I chose to stay close to home because, well, I didn’t want to leave yet. So, I got my undergraduate degree in liberal arts at the University of Missouri-Kansas City and lived at my parents’ house. When graduation was once again on the horizon, and it was time to pick which law school, my Dad asked where I wanted to go. Once again, I told him UMKC law school. Once again, I still didn’t want to leave. I remember my Dad saying, “don’t you want to go away.” I won’t lie, I was offended. I just couldn’t figure out why he was trying to get rid of me. Even as ornery and adventurous as I was, I didn’t want to commit to real life. So, I went to UMKC law school and finished my first year of law school, HORRIBLY. I had no business being there. I had never stood on my own two feet and I had so much growing up to do. I was not ready for this.

I didn’t go back to school. Instead one day I got up and my Mom asked what I was going to do that day. I shrugged my shoulders and told her I was going to go and become a realtor. Being my little cheerleader, she told me I would be the best realtor ever. So, I did, I got into real estate and became successful. Eventually I sold myself a house, got married had a baby and grew up. Although, if anything would happen, I would head straight for my parents’ house and under the covers in my bed for comfort with my daughter in tow.

Ok so if you have looked me up you might be confused thinking I’m some big bad drug trafficker. I did some of that on one side of my double life too. On the other side, I was just a scared child. It took the federal government to leave my old ways and comfort zone.

After my indictment came out, I was taken into custody, and then kicked back out on pretrial. I was angry and struggled to cope with it. That one year of law school really confused me, I thought you needed real tangible evidence to send someone to prison for years. I had never been caught with drugs, paraphernalia, or money. In my case, the only evidence was from statements given by people who were in trouble and involved in drugs.

They were saying whatever they could to help dig themselves out of their own mess and trouble. In some of the statements people used my name but who they were talking about was clearly not me, as I had never been to the places they were describing. There was never any physical evidence, no wiretap, no sales to an undercover, none of that, just what some would call hearsay. The statements are used to come up with the imaginary weight of the imaginary drugs and there is just no fighting it. This is what is called ghost dope. There is also ghost guns and ghost money and that is all that is needed for the federal system to put you away for a lot of time. I just couldn’t wrap my brain around this. I was a mess but as time dragged on, my way of surviving was denial. I did a really good job at blocking out any chatter about self-surrender, prison, or anything to do with the matter. I got good at tuning out anything about it. Then one day, in the third year of a successful and clean pretrial, came the email titled, “self-surrender”. I can’t remember what I did or said or even what the email entailed. I completely lost my mind.

When I got myself together and inquired about this obvious mistake of an email. I found out that it was premature because there would be a continuance, but yes, that was what would happen when the time came. That email shook me to reality. When that set in, it was bad. I went straight to panic mode, but at least now I was beginning to deal with reality. I thought another continuance would buy me at least six more months, but that

continuance didn’t happen, and the next thing I knew I was going to have to take my plea and turn myself in to the marshals in three weeks. Let the insanity begin. I remember crying hysterically at one point to one of my best friends saying that I couldn’t go to prison because I had never had the chicken pox. That was the kind of sense my brain was making.

It was time to face that train wreck/plane crash/big fat natural disaster. You know that scary creature in the scary movie that you finally see coming and you can’t take your eyes off of it and then the camera flashes to something else and you have lost sight and then it flashes back and BAM! There it is in your face. That was what this felt like. A day or two after I was told it would be three weeks away, it changed, I would have to turn myself in to the marshals in less than a week.

The reality I had avoided the best I could for three years and had turned into a huge monster right in front of my face. Looking back, I had really sugar coated everything with my family as well as myself. This was so stupid. I have a daughter, a loving family and friends, a house and pets and all my responsibilities had to be handled in a week. Lord knows I hadn’t really made plans for ANYTHING! I spent every waking moment that I could with my loved ones while scurrying around to get a million things accomplished for the big day. Even if I was ready, this quick change of plans would have thrown me for a loop. I was blessed to spend so much time with my daughter on pretrial, and during this week I did the best I could to have the best time possible and to convey how much I love her and how sorry I was that I would be leaving her for a while. It was horrible. I can’t even type this without crying my eyes out.

Before I knew it, it was time to go. I kissed my Mom and daughter goodbye and my Dad drove me to the federal courthouse to take my plea and turn myself it. I can’t quite put words to this experience to illustrate my pain.

Once court was over, I got to give my Dad one more hug. I didn’t want to let go.

I believe court was at 11 am and it didn’t take long. After court was over, I met with the probation officer that would be the investigator for my pre-sentencing investigation/report. She asked a lot of questions and I think as humans our first reaction is to downplay any problems in our lives. If you are ever in this situation, don’t do that. If you were a ridiculous addict doing drugs, you need to say exactly that. It is so important to be candid about dark parts of your life. I don’t think there is any way to truly prepare for this moment. I had just walked away from the people I love, voluntarily gave up my freedom, and now I was having to spill my guts out to a stranger. If you want more information, please see my blog on PSI/PSR’s.

This meeting was quick and then I was taken to the marshal’s area and taken into custody and put in an extremely cold cell alone. I had a summer dress on, and it was miserable. I would like to take this time to offer a little advice on what to wear if you are turning yourself into the marshals. I encourage you to dress extremely comfortable. You don’t have to dress your best. You are going to jail, and you are only taking your plea. Nothing will be decided this day and I promise you will look way worse at sentencing than you ever could here. So be happy and wear comfortable clothes and layers. If it is summer, you still need to bring a jacket or a sweatshirt/hoodie because the temperature in the cell is like the Antarctic. This outfit will be saved for you at your federal holding facility and after your sentencing you will put it back on and wear it to travel to the Oklahoma City transfer center. All I can say is be ready for all seasons and if you think you will be gaining weight during your stay while waiting to be sentenced, make sure your clothes will stretch. It’s important to wear workout/running shoes. You will be able to wear these at the federal holding facility and on your trip to the transfer center. If you wear dress shoes like I did, they will take them and put them with the rest of your clothes and then you will be stuck with orange crocks or you will buy other people’s shoes off their feet when they come in, but more on that on another blog.

Having court at 11 meant I would be spending the rest of the day in that holding cell. The vans to federal holding don’t leave until that last court appearance of the day. If I had to do it again, I would shoot for the last possible time of the day. I’m pretty sure I was in shock. I was able to put toilet paper over the cold metal bench and use a roll for a pillow and pass out until it was time to go.

If you are on a large case like I was, other people will be taking their plea that same day and that means you will leave the courthouse in a van with these same people. If your situation was anything like mine, brace yourself. They don’t put any thought into who they put on the van. I was put on the van with the guy that had tried to hurt me in my own home. I had not seen him since that night almost 2 years prior to this because he had been locked up. Now here he was with just a fence in between us. I spent the entire ride reliving that night. Not only was the shackles, cuffs, chains and black box uncomfortable, but the tension was unbearable.

Once I got to CCA in Leavenworth, we were taken to different areas which gave me some relief, and then I was processed in. I was strip searched and then given underwear, socks, a bra, and orange pants and shirt. This would be what I would be wearing for the next year every day of my life, to bed, to sentencing, and to visits and it was ugly. I was also given a laundry bag with other orange outfits, a towel, a pillow, a blanket, a cup and a spork. Then I was put into another cold room to wait for the nurse. It had a tiny tv up by the ceiling, a metal frame that I’m assuming was intended to have a mattress on but didn’t, and a plastic chair. I had arrived on the van around 4 pm and I waited in this room until around 10 pm. When the nurse came to get me, I had put on all the clothes and was wrapped up the best I could in the blanket. She asked me a few questions, took vitals, weight, and then I had to wait for a guard to come get me to take me to my intake cell. I have no idea what time this finally happened. When I finally got there, the cell was a tiny 2-person room with a toilet, a table with 2 seats, a sink, and another lady… This was horrible and I never got used to it and luckily after I was moved, I never had another bunkie for that entire year. We were stuck in there for 3 days straight only getting out for an hour a day. We even ate all our meals in there alone. If we wanted ice, we had to call the guard and would eventually get it. We were able to take a quick shower and make a phone call and walk around for a few minutes before we had to go right back in. I had turned myself in on a Friday and I feel this is a mistake. When you get to the federal holding facility you are put into an intake cell until the staff processes you in. These people don’t work on the weekends so Monday was going to be the earliest that I could possibly get out of this cell. I would suggest turning yourself in Monday through Thursday to avoid this issue.

In conclusion, if you or your loved one is going through pretrial and self-surrender, be ready for anything and brace yourself for a real bumpy ride. Just writing this brought the fear and pain back and I must admit it was difficult to relive. I know it’s important to tell my story to let other people know what lays ahead for them. It is such a long journey, but for me it really changed my life in some great ways. If your loved one is going through this. Don’t accept the sugar-coated version and get to the truth and help them process