He wrote a letter, ostensibly to apologize, because he pestered the nurses to call and my mom wasn’t ready to talk. He has been medicated as close to a recovery as he will get, and he remembered what he referred to as that terrible night.
She only agreed to accept the letter if they left her alone, and she told them there wouldn’t be a reply.
When she read it to me I felt my empathy draining away, replaced by anger. Pure raw “I ever see him again it will be to break a foot off in his ass” anger.
He is ready to apologize. He has worked on his issues and wants to come home. He misses his old life, and while he understands why she might still be upset over that whole attempted mattock murder incident, he’s been incarcerated a long time already and he swears it won’t happen again.
Oh, and he forgot to include the apology. His one shot at communicating after he conned the nurses into harrassing a domestic violence victim, into calling repeatedly to tell her “He’s agitated; he might calm down if you talk to him.” Ask her how that worked out last time, Miss Didn’t Read the Fucking Chart?
He was abusive before the dementia. He is still trying to repeat the cycle of abuse from a distance, through the fog of his declining mind. He complained that they treat him like a criminal, and even watched him when he used the pen, but he’d never commit suicide. It didn’t occur to him that they were protecting themselves or that he is a criminal.
Maybe because of my OCD, or maybe because I’m the kind of person who thinks even rabid dogs deserve humane euthanasia, I am still troubled sometimes by the thought that he will die alone however many years from now in this institution or another one just like it. But I am too close to this monstrous situation to have the sort of grace to do anything about that. My mom needs and deserves my loyalty and support; he does not.
A victim’s advocate is making sure there are no more letters or attempted calls. He should be sentenced soon, and we will finally be able to move on.