Chapter 14 - MY TRASH CAN CASE
The video was bad for me.
Not ambiguous.
I retrieved Maelle’s medals.
Then grabbed the trash can.
Sancia stood still.
I threw it.
It hit her.
She fell.
No immediate threat.
My attorney negotiated misdemeanor diversion.
Terms:
Anger-management course.
Restitution for medical copay.
Replacement of damaged bracelet? The bracelet clasp snapped when she fell. Documented repair cost $190.
I paid.
No conviction after completion.
Then Maelle asked:
“Why you pay Aunt?”
“Because I hurt her.”
“She hurt me.”
“Yes.”
“Then she pays you?”
“She may have separate consequences.”
Her face tightened.
“So equal?”
“Not equal. Separate.”
Children hate separate accountability when they want scoreboards.
Then my class.
Instructor asked:
“Why did you throw the can?”
“I wanted Sancia covered in the trash she put Maelle’s awards into.”
“Symbolic.”
“Yes.”
“Useful?”
“No.”
“What did Maelle learn?”
“That Dad can make someone fall when angry.”
There.
Then:
“What should you have done?”
“Take Maelle away. Preserve evidence. Call police.”
“Anything else?”
“Not throw trash cans.”
Class laughed.
Good.
Then I apologized to Juniper.
Not for conflict with her mother.
For what she saw.
“I scared you.”
She looked at me.
“A little.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Mom threw inhaler.”
“Yes.”
“That was worse.”
I stopped her.
“You don’t have to rank wrong things.”
She thought.
May you like
“Okay.”
Our family needed that sentence everywhere.
