Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story (45 page)

We had Aaron keep tabs on our house for us while we were gone. He kept an eye out for anything that might indicate we were being sought out. Derrick called him on our drive home, and so far, so good. We pulled into our driveway completely depressed to be home. The town had a dark, heavy air about it. It was cold and snowy and we wanted out. Luckily, there was no evidence of anyone showing up at our house while we were gone. It had been snowing, and there weren’t any footprints leading up to our driveway. I had also been checking online for any new cases against us and didn’t see anything.

We resumed working for Aaron and tried to save as much money as we could. Not surprisingly, we always ended up spending what we had on meth. It made us feel better about ourselves and our failures and life in general. Derrick started to open up to me more. We would have long, deep conversations about our future, and how if we just stuck together and kept going, we’d get through it all. We would one day have a bright future, and maybe even one day, we could have more kids. We wanted to go to Texas, buy a house, regain custody of our daughter, and just be normal. We wanted to do family stuff, not drugs. We knew that if we could just get away from this trap and the people in it, we would be okay.

On a Friday morning a few weeks after our trip, Derrick had an early job to go to. It was much too early in the morning for me. I slept in on the living room couch after saying goodbye to him. A loud knocking on the front sliding door startled me. My heart was racing, and I was buried under my blanket from sleeping. I stayed as still as I could. The curtains covering the door were translucent enough for me to make out the silhouette of the person standing behind it. I very slowly and quietly peeked out of my blanket. The person was very big and tall, and I knew from their shadow that they had a jacket on. It looked exactly like the shadow of a Probation Officer. I carefully put the blanket back over my head, and lay as still as I could until I heard the steps of the person walking away. I quietly rolled off of the couch and literally crawled to the back bedroom where the phone was. I had to call Derrick to warn him before he got home.

“Derrick! Someone was just banging on our door. I think that it was either Probation or the Police. Before you come home make sure to look around in case they are watching us!” I frantically said. “It could have been anyone. How do you know it was a cop?” he asked. “Trust me, I know that knock!” I confidently replied. “I’ll be home in a few minutes,” he said before hanging up. Within a few minutes, Derrick had snuck into the house through our back door. We were both sitting in the back room quietly, and I was online looking through the case index. I clicked on the search box and typed in our last name. The same, long wrap-sheet came up. Between Derrick and Donnie, it was almost a full page of criminal and civil offenses. I scrolled to the bottom where I knew that anything new would be listed. I stopped in my tracks in a full panic. My name was on that list. Since I had been married, I hadn’t had any criminal charges against me. The ones that I did have were in my other name. Right above my name was Derrick’s. I sat on the floor leaning against the wall with my head in my hands crying. “Not again…WHY IS THIS HAPPENING AGAIN!” I screamed. Derrick knew that I had discovered what we had feared. “Calm down, you don’t know what it is yet. It could be something minor,” he said, not sounding confident in the least bit. There were penal codes next to our names. I copied and pasted them into a search engine. I looked mine up first - ACCESSORY TO A CRIME  - (FELONY). “WHAT THE HELL!” I screamed. I didn’t even do anything to hurt a damn person that night!” I cried, almost in hysterics. Derrick put his hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. I looked up his offense next - ASSAULT WITH A DEADLY WEAPON (X).

“Assault with a deadly weapon?” I thought out loud. “What are they talking about, Derrick? You didn’t have any weapon on you!” I said. “They’re probably talking about my fists. I think I remember the detective saying something about that, and I just laughed it off thinking that it wouldn’t be legal to charge me with that,” he said. “But what does that (X) mean in the parenthesis?” he noticed, comparing it to mine which said felony. I scrolled down to the reference guide at the bottom of the page where it said, X-STRIKE.

We were both shocked. This was serious. This was more serious than we ever could have been prepared for. This was worse than the charges that were brought against Donnie, and he was facing three years in prison. “Pack your shit. We’re getting out of here,” Derrick said in a hurry. “Where are we going?” I nervously asked. “I have to go to Court for a Probation review in three weeks, Derrick. If I don’t show up it will make everything worse,” I said. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll talk about it later. Just pack your shit,” he said. I started packing. As I was stuffing my clothes into the biggest duffle bag I could find, I heard Derrick on the phone. He was talking to Aaron. He hung up. ”I’ll be right back,” he said, bolting out the back door. I had my things packed and ready to go when he came back. He was holding a keychain with probably at least twenty keys on it. He had a smirk on his face. “Oh gosh. Are we really?” I asked. “Oh…yeah!” he said in excitement. We quickly put our things in the trunk of the car and took off down the highway.

Before we went to our destination, Derrick got on the phone and started talking to someone speaking Spanish in bits and pieces. We picked up a Mexican man. I hadn’t seen him before, but he was really friendly - in a goofy kind of way. We drove to a few different motels, where he would go into one of the rooms and come back out. Finally, on the third stop, he came back with a big smile on his face. When he got into the back seat, he pulled a bag out of his pocket. “Hey man! I got it!” he said, showing off the eight ball rock of crystal meth. “Dammit, Carlos! Put that shit back in your pocket!” Derrick yelled. “I’m sorry man!” he said, putting the bag back into his pocket. Wherever we were going, we were taking Carlos with us. We didn’t drop him off like I thought we were going to. We drove about fifteen minutes passed the state-line, and pulled into the driveway of a four-story mansion. The party was just getting started.

Drugs, sex and filet mignon.                

For the next three weeks, we stayed in four different mansions. Aaron had the schedule of upcoming rentals, so we knew that wherever he told us to go, it would have to be vacant. The First mansion had four levels. The first level was the kitchen and the master bedroom, which was huge. The second level, which led down a flight of stairs, was a living area with a huge TV and surround sound, a computer, four bedrooms and a hot-tub out on the back deck. The next flight of stairs led to the third level, which was the floor with the games. There was a Pool Table, an Air-Hockey game, a Ping Pong table, and a Foosball game. The fourth level was what would have been the maid’s quarters if the place were occupied. There was a kitchenette, four bedrooms, and a few couches.

The place was not yet cleaned up from the last renters, so I decided to clean. It probably took me two days, but I wanted to have a solid excuse to be there in case anyone came by. The only people who could maybe show up were the actual cleaning people, or the owners. Derrick had the equipment laying out by the hot tub at all times for the same reason. For the most part, we were high the entire time. I have no idea how we had the money for drugs and filet mignon, but we somehow managed. I hate to say it, but this was probably the most exciting, laid-back and nerve-wracking three weeks of my life. We were officially fugitives running from the law, and it brought some sort of exciting element to our lives. We became closer than we ever had during our time on the run. We knew that we wouldn’t ever be caught in these mansions, and we were able to just enjoy our time together. We let ourselves pretend that this was our life, and we had nothing to worry about. After getting a call from Derrick’s mother about a week into our mansion hopping, we couldn’t help but worry. She was crying.

“The cops called me and they are looking for you two! I said you weren’t here and he said something about being careful about making sure you didn’t come here, because he ‘wouldn’t want to see anyone get shot!” I told him that if they shot my son, I would hunt him down and end his life!” she screamed. We reassured her that we weren’t going to be heading that way until this was all resolved, but we were worried that this had turned into something more serious than we ever thought it could. When the day was getting closer for the cleaning company to show up to prepare for the next set of guests, Derrick called Aaron to find out where our next hideout would be. When he got off the phone he looked nervous. “Aaron said that last night our house was surrounded by the SWAT team. They all had guns and vests on.” he said. “What the hell! They’re acting as if we have killed someone!” I complained. Derrick was seriously wanted by the Police Department. We had a talk later that night decided he should try to run for as long as he could. If I could just get off of Probation, we could leave the state that would never offer us a good life, or even give us a fighting chance. We knew that when I went to Court in a few weeks, they would arrest me. But they would eventually have to let me go because I was innocent. I would take it to trial and the Jury would have no choice. We would figure out a way for him to hide for a few months until I was free, and then we would leave.

We went to our next location and had even more fun than we did at the first. The mansion had five stories, and I literally got lost the first time I explored. The first floor was a bit outdated with a look from the 70’s, but it was still nice with antique furniture. The second floor had six bedrooms including the master with a huge flat-screen television set mounted to the wall. The third floor was where we spent most of our time. We got high, played poker, blasted country music on the speakers, and got high again. The other two floors had more bedrooms and the maid’s quarters. We were living the life that we always talked about. Through our despair and self-destruction, we were falling in love all over again. Our connection was deep. The trauma and tragedy, more than most people ever face, had given us no other choice but to cling tightly to all we had left - each other.

When we were lying in bed one night and unable to stay awake any longer, Derrick had his head on my chest. He was listening to my heartbeat. “I will always love you, more than anything, Elizabeth. You’re the legs to my table. If you fall, I fall. Don’t ever forget that,” he passionately said. “I’d like to believe that because we’ve been through so much and somehow we’re still lying together, that it’s just what it is supposed to be.” I said. “It’s been hard, and sad and confusing. And I don’t know why, because it would certainly be easier to not love you, but I do. It’s like I don’t even have a choice in the matter. I love you with everything in me, Derrick.” I ran my fingers through his shaved buds of hair. “No matter what ever happens, I love you and I always will. Don’t ever forget that.” He lovingly replied. We fell asleep hugging each other, which was something that rarely happened. We were confused and scared. We didn’t know what would lie ahead. Nothing was certain. The only thing that was certain was that we loved each other. We would fight to be together, no matter what it took.

As each day came closer to my Court date, we became anxious and somber. Derrick hadn’t been feeling well for the last few days. On a morning that we had fallen asleep in the living room area on two separate couches, he woke me up because he was breathing heavily. It was about six in the morning and barely getting light outside. “What’s wrong?” I asked him in a daze. “I don’t know. Can I have one of your anxiety pills?” he asked. This was when I knew that something serious was going on. Derrick would never admit to his defeating feelings or emotions. His manliness got in the way of that. I handed him one of my pills. “Are you breathing okay?” I asked him, concerned. “I don’t know. My chest hurts,” he said, trying to pace his breathing. I asked him what his other symptoms were, and typed them into the search engine on the computer that was in the corner of the room. “Your symptoms are either consistent with altitude sickness, or a heart attack. I think we need to go to the hospital now,” I said, trying to stay calm. “That’s not happening. They’ll know I’ve been tweaked out, and they’ll probably call the cops. I’m NOT going to jail,” he replied. He was flat-out refusing to go to the hospital. I begged him and told him that his life could depend on it, and he wouldn’t budge. He started to become disoriented. I wondered if it was altitude sickness. Although our home was in the mountains and we were used to high altitude, this particular vacation rental was way up in the mountains and probably close to a thousand feet higher than we were accustomed to. I started the car that was hiding in the garage and managed to convince him to get into the passenger seat. “We just need to drive you down the hill to see if this subsides, ok?” I begged. If it was altitude sickness, his symptoms should slowly ease up.

I drove Derrick down the hill and parked us in the empty lot of a grocery store. I ran into a gas station to get him some water. We sat in silence for probably an hour. I periodically asked him how he was feeling. When I asked him for the third time, I glanced over to see tears streaming down his face. “Are you still having chest pain?” I asked, concerned that he was getting worse. “No. I’m just overwhelmed with all this and I don’t want you to leave me. I feel like shit that you’re the one getting in trouble over this and who knows how long they’ll lock me up. We should just run. It’s the only way shit will ever get better!” he said, completely frustrated and broken. I rubbed his head and looked at him knowing that we couldn’t run. I didn’t have to say anything for him to know this. Running for good would only make this bad situation even worse. As much as I loved him and wanted to be with him, but I was too close to getting off of Probation to let that be an option.

We drove back up the hill and spent the last few days sobering up and appreciating our time together. After Monday, we didn’t know when the next time would be that we could be together. I spent the night before Court with Derrick in the hot tub. I stared up at the stars, thinking about life, the universe, and if it could possibly have anything good planned for me. I still had hope. It was the only thing keeping me alive.