Constitution wasn’t in charge that day

How do you enforce your constitutional rights when you can’t enforce them?

Action, intrigue, betrayal... you’d think it’s a new bestseller detective novel... but it’s only a story of one day of the life of one woman, no different from thousands of others. 

On police brutality / excessive use of force / and how your constitutional rights are enforced.

Writing this will take a long time, stress and tears...

Part 1

July 16, 2019 at about 10 o’clock I was assaulted in my own house.  

I heard a knock on the door, and I happily skipped downstairs to open the door, my daughter was supposed to return from a sleepover (she periodically forgets her key), and it was time for mail delivery, I work online, so my mailman is my best friend. I opened the door without hesitation and saw 2 unknown people, they were asking me questions and when I realized that I don’t like where the questions are going I tried to close the door. They forced it open and entered my house all the way pushing me in the corner. I called 911, since the phone was in my hand. Next thing I know police arrive. The uniformed man entered my house and on his radio dismissed my 911 call. 

Losing that hope I call my husband, and keep him on the speakerphone while stuff is happening. Next minute I thought I heard my stepdaughter in the yard (later I found out they won’t let her in her own house). I took 2 steps to see my daughter and half a second later a uniform flying towards me, grabs my right arm, twists it to the point of pain, knees me in the middle of my back, I lose purchase and fall, still trying to hold on to the phone, the policeman grabs my hair in his left hand and hit my head against the floor. For a second I’m dazed but then he wrenches my left arm where the clavicle was broken and I went through 2 surgeries, so it’s a very painful place for me, so when policeman wrenches it out up behind my back the pain snaps me out of my daze. Already beyond scared, Shacked, in pain so big that tears burst from my eyes, I lay there. Policeman keeps saying “we don’t want to hurt you, you brought it on yourself” and tightens the hand cuffs. As I said, I don’t move to let the pain subside. He kicked me in my right hip and says “you would be more comfortable on the couch, you don’t have to be uncomfortable” I tried to say something but my throat was chocked up, and I missed my opportunity, he grabs me by the arm (with broken clavicle) and shorts and flips me over that I land on already hurting shackled hands, where I think hit my head again, but the pain of landing on shackled hands covers pretty much everything. He repeats about the couch and being uncomfortable. Every time he tightens the cuffs he repeats “we don’t want to hurt you, you brought it on yourself”.

By that time someone else turns off my phone, and I lose my lifeline to husband. 

I’m scared, I’m really not sure who all these people are, when instead of waiting for my husband they decide to take me away. They grab me by my legs and arms and hair and put me on a stretcher with restraints, put me in a dark van and drive. Some of these people have hospital scrubs, none told me who they are, or where they are taking me. Every time they had to throw me from place to place the policeman is there, one of the times I landed badly on my hands,  and my fingers on the right hand don’t move well since. 

Points of fact:

I wasn’t accused of anything 

I wasn’t arrested 

They didn’t have any kind of warrants

Policeman didn’t introduce himself, neither did any others. 

When local police chief arrived on scene answering the 911 call on his own (we are a small town, everyone knows each other), they didn’t let him in. 

The policeman who enjoys exercising his power helpless beating women up is a sheriff of Spartanburg county in South Carolina, I found that out later. 

Update 17 jul 2019

Sheriff Chuck Wright is the head of the office as this pages are written. Who is the brave sheriff I still don’t know. 

The women beater “evacuated the scene” after asking my stepdaughter how big her daddy is (6’) and if he has a CCP (concealed carry permit), it’s small town in the south, so the answer prompted the bravest of women beaters beat feet in a hasty retreat. 

Part 2 

People description 

First people who forced the entry into my house and pushed and kicked me into the corner 

1. White, older than me, stocky, pudgy, about my height. Light hair, maybe receding hairline, round face, maybe mustache, dressed in light color polo shirt and light color pants, maybe khakis. Faded badge, I couldn’t read what it said.
2. White, Short, tan skin, darker hair, facial hair, may be small beard, dressed in black tee shirt with design, dark pants or jeans. No identification signs.

When I called 911 another man entered without asking permission:

1. White, very tall, tanned, dark short hair, black uniform clothing, sheriff star on the left chest. Age maybe 40s, but I haven’t seen him close. I couldn’t see if there were other identification signs. Later My husband found out that he is a sheriff in Spartanburg county, name unknown. 

Talking in the radio on his hip he dismissed the 911 call, I called my husband and kept him on speakerphone trying to describe everything to him. Next people entered without permission, I told them about trespassing on private property, but it didn’t have any effect on them. 

1. Woman, white, dark hair, slender, blue scrubs, maybe my age, no identification marks. Later I heard that woman telling someone “we are from Boiling Springs”. 
2. Man, white, white or very light hair, facial hair like short pointed beard. Older than me, dressed in blue scrubs. 

There may have been other people but after I have been taken down by the person number 3 “the sheriff” on this list, he grabbed my hair and hit my head against the floor, I have been dazed and after he flipped me over to lay on top of my tightly cuffed hands I have been in a lot of pain and may have missed someone. I had a feeling of 7-8 people constantly moving in and out of the house, but can’t remember or describe them. 

According to local authorities - the police chief of Campobello, who intercepted and did not dismiss the 911 call, and arrived at the scene minutes later, he didn’t recognize any people involved in my beating and subsequent kidnapping. He was not allowed closer to the scene by “the sheriff”. 

Neighbors were threatened with jail by “the sheriff“ if they did not leave the scene. 

My stepdaughter was unofficially and furtively questioned without family representative or a lawyer present by several people of the group including “the sheriff”. 

Part 3 

On the road and my adventures in Spartanburg regional. 

Scuffle to move me came very suddenly. The first two people that broke into my house were content to wait till my husband come home, but as the more people arrived it became more frantic, like a mob on a witch hunt. One moment I’m still laying on the floor, hands cuffed behind my back, next moment I’m airborne, by upper arms and hair, my legs buckle with pain and I’m being dragged across the floor, no shoes, no socks, torn pajamas, out on the porch so fast that I try to make a step to lessen the pressure on handcuffs but my foot folds lengthwise, I’m falling on my knees on stone blocks of the pathway, at some point during those mere seconds I’m flipped again so they drag me head first and throw me on the gurney, on my cuffed hands. Again. Frantically, nervously, they strap me with all the possible straps, the sheriff says “let me adjust her cuffs” bends me over none too gently by my head, tightens the cuffs and says “we don’t want to hurt you, you brought it on yourself” and pushes me back down. They strap the last strap, move the gurney, and push it in the dark interior of the van so hard that it bounces off the opposite wall. 

People are talking around me, but I don’t exist. Someone asks “where are we taking her?” “Spartanburg regional”. This is the first time I heard where I’m going. 

The woman climbs in, but I can’t see her, partway through the commute someone enters, I still can’t see them, they make a small talk, like they don’t know each other, that’s when I hear the woman says “we are from Boiling Springs”. After long and painful commute it’s again gurney to gurney, once I landed especially badly, sideways, on my knuckles, with whole weight of my body hanging off the cuff on my right wrist, I think I screamed, tears burst anew, I hear people standing around, talking, but I can’t see them, they are all behind me. I don’t know how much time passes, gurney stands along the wall for a while, gurney moves, stops, moves again, I don’t even know if they realize that someone is in this gurney. I loose some time, then I’m in some room, people unstrapping me, I hear “she’s conscious, just pretending” another throw, another painful landing, someone bends me over, takes off the cuffs and pushes me back so I land sideways, again on my hands, but this time without cuffs.

Nurse, short, blond, white, talks but I’m not sure what she says or to whom. She repeats, loudly, hanging over my face “you don’t have to lay like that, you can lay normally”. My wrists are throbbing, but it was so much better without the cuffs that I just didn’t want to disturb the heavenly feeling, so I said “I’m ok”. She didn’t like that. 

Someone else came brandishing the identification bracelet in my face “what is you date of birth?” It’s a woman, and in my field of vision, but as hard as I try I can’t describe anything about her. “What is your name?” Everything sounded so belligerent, that I answered “it’s on the bracelet”. I asked why do they need my name, the answer was that so they won’t give me the wrong drugs, I say what kind of drugs, I don’t need any drugs, but of course my opinion doesn’t matter there. 

During this exchange the blond nurse says “who is she, who put her in the system? Here’s her name, I can’t read it.” (EZ note: the secret to reading my name is you have to know your ABCs, otherwise it’s pretty hard).

I am surrounded, There is a woman who wants my name and date of birth, there is a nurse who alternates between figuring out who put me in the system and making scathing remarks how she is a professional and have other patients, and doesn’t have time for my s...tuff. I told her that I’m here against my will, I don’t need any treatment, I can’t afford to pay the hospital bill, and can I just go home? The answer is no, I cannot go home, I have to have several bloodwork tests and a urine test. One of the bloodwork tests is ethanol, and urine for narcotics, so I asked if I do ethanol test and urine and they come back clean will you let me go home? Er.. no. I say so my house was invaded, I was beaten, including my head against the floor, to submit me and bring me here in cuffs, I’m not free to go home even if I prove that I’m not under any influence, but I have to submit to all your requirements and stay here, basically jailed. I’m not just a prisoner here, even prisoners have rights, I’m a slave, a second class citizen, that’s how you are treating me. She didn’t deny anything, just got more self righteous, it’s doctor’s orders. Now at least I know where I stand, a second grade person. During this discussion there is a man, white, fat, long black beard, standing halfway behind the curtain making scathing remarks about my intelligence, way of talk and... sanity. He is holding green scrubs. Sometime during the discussion I hear words way behind the curtain “his name is Nick” and my heart leaps, my husband is here somewhere, he figured out where to find me. 

The woman that wanted to know my name and date of birth runs to my husband, to trick him into saying my name. He figured it out and said, you let me be with her, I’ll tell you all you want to know, but of course it’s not that simple. They didn’t want me to have any human contact of have support of any kind. After a lot of back and fourth some lead nurse or a doctor finally allowed him to visit me. Now, after we told them what they wanted, they want my husband gone, so the blond nurse went right behind the curtain, where we can still hear and loudly complained to doctor that my husband is “coaching” me what to say. My husband was trying to calm my waterworks for me to be able to talk without crying. He raised two daughters, he knows how to go about it. 

When I was calm and coherent (I lose a handle on my English when I’m upset, not to mention terrified), and we tried to talk to the blond nurse, all we received is back talk and superior attitude. She is a professional, she has other patients, and she has no time for my s...tuff. My husband begged her, please, I just calmed her (me) down, just do what you have to, and don’t rile her up again. While she grumbled, doctor came. Asked the same questions, got the same answers, she kept answering for me, quite noticeably belligerent, so the doctor had to shut her up. I repeated the same story, showed him my brand new injuries, but they didn’t impress him, he poked at my legs a bit, but no X-rays, pain medication, or even brace or a sling were applied. They told us I’ll have to stay overnight. I explained that I have depression meds and birth control pills to take daily, and if my husband can bring them, I was afraid to ask about pain meds, even though pain was becoming harder and harder to ignore. Nothing was permitted. I depend on depression meds for many years, so it was another panic attack about what am I going to do. By that time I was resigned and sure that no constitutional rights applied to me, I’m here, imprisoned, and if I don’t follow orders I will never get out. I might never get out even if I do, but I tried to keep hope. 

They put me in green scrubs (more on that later). I couldn’t keep even panties. When I asked why, blond nurse said “cause you’re gonna hang yourself.” (On a spaghetti strap tank top, athletic micro shorts and a thong). She said it with such conviction that Reflecting on that later, it should have scared me, as in they were going to treat me so bad, that I won’t have a choice but to hang myself. But at the moment, in all astonishment, all I could say was “Why?”, of course she looked at me superiorly and condescendingly and didn’t answer. Then came the jewelry. How am I gonna hang myself on a sleeper belly button ring she didn’t explain. When I asked about necklace I received the same answer, with all conviction, that I’m gonna hang myself. I said I have better taste than to hang myself On a 13 thousand dollars Chopard happy diamonds necklace. 

But no matter, I changed, thankfully they let me give my jewelry to my husband, because platinum ring, rainbow sapphires belly ring, and a Chopard necklace wasn’t something I was ready to relinquish to a security of a place that treated me like a second rate person, after braking so many laws, what’s to stop them from such an easy theft?

They were constantly talking about how I was “suicidal”, “violent”, and “crazy”. Those were exact words they used, In my presence, literally over my head, like I’m not there, all loud enough that I heard. They took my blood, urine, whatever else they wanted and when my husband’s usefulness was done, they kicked him out without ceremony. I was crushed again. 

From my husband’s words:

Some guy caught up with him in the corridor and asked what happened, he told what he heard on the phone, the guy said “that’s exactly what she said” in such tone that lead my husband to think that they didn’t believe my story. 

After that the blond nurse said, you are being watched on camera so don’t even think about doing anything, and left. I tried if not sleep, then just rest my puffy, teary, gritty, and burning hot eyes. 

Hours go by, there is no way to keep time or see outside to track the day, I don’t know exactly how long it was. My internal clock told me not only that if was after lunch, but also reminded me that I didn’t have breakfast yet. Pain helps ignore hunger, but the whole ordeal started a little after 10, and my last cup of coffee was around 6 o’clock. I was very thirsty. I rummaged through all cabinets, looking for a plastic cup or something, I was going to go to the bathroom and get some water. When I came out I saw one of the nurses, I told her that I haven’t had a drop of water in 6 hours, to which she promptly and nastily retorted that I haven’t been there 6 hours yet, muttered something under her breath about asking the doctor if I’m allowed to have water and disappeared. Food was out of the question completely. I went back to my prison cell. I tried to sleep or at least doze, but my throat was parched. I went to the bathroom and drunk my fill straight from the tap, cause I wasn’t going to let them keep me thirsty just because doctor didn’t care. 

My analyses came back clean. I assume they didn’t believe me, and the same blond nurse appeared and started the questioning - “you use recreational drugs!” “No”, “cocaine” “no”, “heroine” “no”, something or other “no” I wanted to say I don’t even know those words, but prudently decided that it would go quicker if I just answer all her questions. She wasn’t happy but she left. 

Suddenly there was a flurry of activity and I was rushed in another room. I didn’t even ask why, what’s wrong or whatever, I was told that psych eval is busy and I have to wait till tomorrow. Without any food or water. The nurse there was different, showed me how to operate the tv and left.

I passed the time trying to sleep, but the head of the gurney was up, and reclining hurt my already sore back and much abused tailbone, I carefully slid down and folded myself so I fit on the rest of the gurney and tried to sleep. 

Suddenly there is loud knock on my door, and without waiting for me to answer a woman comes in. Plump, stocky, short curly hair, probably light, with blank poker face. 

Of course she didn’t introduce herself, but started asking questions. From the questions I decided she is psych eval. Some questions were too intrusive, some offensive, some just stupid. I answered all of them, without showing my opinions, cause I had hope that it’s my ticket out. Despite the shock and fear and all that I survived just several hours prior I tried to talk to her like it’s just another conversation, tried to joke a little, tell stories, share some feelings (not from today, of course) I didn’t make any allusions to today’s events cause I thought she isn’t gonna believe me anyway, and I might loose my freedom for good. Now everything hinges on her opinion, so I hid the fear and hurt and plowed on like nothing is amiss. 

Whatever I did, I did it right, she said that I passed and she will recommend release. She left. I waited. And waited. And waited. The new nurse came back with one of the previous nurses, the ones who treated me like shit. They talker within my hearing 

Previous nurse “I need to fill out the paperwork”

New nurse “go ahead”

“Is she gonna talk?”

“She’s talking to me, why, she wasn’t cooperating before?”

“No”

I said loud and clear “I would like to see you talk after your house was broken into, you were assaulted, beaten and cuffed and then kidnapped and dropped off in the mental hospital”.

No one said anything. I don’t know if they believed me or not. She quietly and tentatively asked me questions, I answered, and said honestly that I’m not going to pay that bill. She said if you can’t afford it, there is assistance available, I said, no, I don’t think you understand, I will not pay a dime on this bill, I’m here not at my own free will, so I don’t see how I’m responsible for it, so you may as well tell your financial department to (go f*ck themselves) not hold their breath. This time she didn’t say anything, not even anything mean, even checked my injuries, and said you have to tell doctor about that. Since i already tried that route, I just said okay, I will certainly to it. To be honest I just wanted to go home and feel safe again, and since I’m not gushing blood or spewing guts, everything else didn’t matter much. When the nurse came out with my release papers I was asleep and didn’t understand what she wanted. She said something else, I caught the sweet words “you can go home” and didn’t need to hear anything else. 

At the time that everyone realized that I’m free to go, the shift suddenly changed, and none of the previous doctors and nurses were there. Everyone on the new shift were really nice and helpful, and even plastic cup of water with straw tucked into it made an appearance. It was around 5 o’clock. When I tried to call my husband I suddenly realized that I don’t remember my house number. They were so helpful that they found a number in the system, and even helped me dial it. 

Green scrubs 

My bruises started blooming already and I decided to not change into my house clothes. When I said that I’m gonna go downstairs and wait for my husband to arrive, one of the nurses started saying something, then rethought it and said, let me bring you fresh blue scrubs, our security ... doesn’t like the green ones. Get it? My actual clothes weren’t the problem, they just wanted to mark me. I was dressed as a mental patient all day, and that’s how I was treated, every nurse and doctor in the hospital saw what I am and treated me carelessly, cause I’m wearing the “scarlet letter” of the mental patient. Apparently that’s how mental patients are treated. (Let me just say, no wonder they are mental even if they were okay to begin with). 

Nurse escorted me downstairs precisely at the moment when the guard was giving my husband a hard time by not letting him in (because of the room number, 75, guard knew it’s a mental ward). I flew to my husband, grabbed his arm as tightly as my injuries would allow me and didn’t let go until he closed the car door behind me. 

I cried all the way home.