The Most Important Thing in the World

Hello.

let me preface this by saying- I am horribly embarassed.

If i’ve sent this to you- you know me well. You know who i am, and i would suspect you know how hard this is for me.

But please don’t look at this as coming from Juliet. I am doing this not as Juliet, I am doing this as Oliver Isaac’s Mother and i’m doing this because i am out of moves, and don’t have anywhere to turn. and i am upset with myself for it.

We’ve been through a lot. For a long time. We’ve been in a house that wasn’t a home and in a circle that was creating a cage. We had to get out. I had to do what needed to be done to get out- knowing full well, without knowing the full extent, how hard it would be. I couldn’t put my son at any more risk, through any more pain, or let him be a target. I can bear pain imposed on me by someone else- i cannot bare pain imposed on him.

We’ve been going to domestic violence victim therapies and counseling, i’ve spent more hours than i can count sharing stories, filling out paperwork, talking ad nauseum with different agencies, and screaming for someone to listen. to help us.

court has been absolute hell. i’ve represented myself in 3 scenarios thinking “i’ve got this.” i’ve pumped myself up, spent nearly a thousand dollars making copies of endless conversations, videos, phone calls, reports (in quadruplicate-because that’s what’s required), and felt confident walking through the courthouse doors, only to find when i got to the courtroom entrance, i shriveled. i shook. i became weak and my voice became small and scared. i didn’t file things correctly. i didn’t submit my exhibits in the right format, so they weren’t able to be considered. i didn’t know what to ask for or how to correctly present my mountains of paperwork i’d spent collectively 100+ hours of organizing. and consequently- i’ve learned with every draining ounce of work i’d put into this incredibly important endeavor, just how easily “insufficient evidence” can knock you down and kick you in the side.

so right now, im back in court. fighting for oliver. and all of those things i misfiled and submitted incorrectly- the book got closed on them. all of those real things. all of those hurts and pains and indescribable “how could you?”s have to all be in the past, and the door doesn’t get to open on them again.

and this power was given… this terrible thing that gets rubbed in my face. this reminder of how a ball in my hand not only got dropped, but shattered. “Prove It.” “You can’t bring that up anymore.” it is enough to put the fear of god in you. so i know… i need an attorney. i cannot go to court alone.

i recieved good news after nearly a year of filing requests, asking for assistance, and petitioning for legal help.

one woman- a new staff attorney at legal aid that just moved from maui, read through my file and called me. she listened, and she apologized profusely that i had been ignored. she advocated for me and she took my case, full representation for my upcoming court date (august 10th). I cried so much when she told me. the relief was undeniably the best feeling i’d had in so long, after feeling like i was letting oliver down. we’ve been working on the case, and so much progress has happened. without divulging too much, new evidence is accruing every day… every single day.

so we have something. we have our case.

And now.

the federal funding has been pulled on the grant in which I qualified for legal assistance.

My attorney has to stop working on my case, and has to retroactively charge me for hours spent working on the case since the government funding had effectively been stopped, about two weeks ago. the grant covered women and children who were victims of domestic abuse and whose income is below 250% of the poverty line. I fall at 236%. since the grant lost all of its government funding- it simply doesn’t exist anymore. I am out. And I’m about 2 business weeks away from my trial. My only option is to pay my back hours, pay a retainer, and to pay a “reduced” hourly fee for all remaining hours. I have no choice. I have to do this. I have to do this somehow.

so Oliver’s mother is asking for help. Juliet is sorry, embarrassed, ashamed, and feels like I wish i could tell you when I can pay you back- but I don’t really know, and I am so disappointed in myself. If you can help us, please let me know what I can do in exchange for your help now. If I can work for you, help you, what I can do to earn something rather than just asking for hand outs.

thank you from both Oliver and I.