The functionally poor – where do they fit in?

With the elections over and the welcomed realization that President Obama will be in office for yet another term, I found myself thinking about what that meant for a segment of the population which I found myself as an “unwilling” temporary member – the functionally poor. In the months leading up to the election, media coverage seemed to focus mainly on either the “rich” or the “middle class”, but almost nothing geared towards the “poor” or “working poor”.  Even today, during his fiscal cliff road trip speech, President Obama made mention of raising taxes “slightly” for the “rich” and lowering taxes for the “middle class”, but what about the “poor”?  In the past, it used to be the “rich and the poor”, but now a days it’s the “rich and the middle class”. What happened to the “poor” or as I like to say, the “functionally poor” – where do they fit in? I’m not sure why this seemingly forgotten segment of the population receives no consideration/attention anymore, could be that it is no longer politically correct to mention them, but whatever the reason; it may behoove future presidential candidates to remember them, as they represent a large part of the voting public. From what I can tell, this is a growing population which may eventually account for more than the “rich” and “middle class” combined. As such, they need a voice.

I first became aware that I was a participant of this segment of the population when I found myself unemployed last year and faced with the realization that I would not be re-entering the workforce anytime soon as a result of an unexpected car accident 10 months thereafter. Like so many who found themselves unemployed due to no fault of their own, I applied and received unemployment benefits; however I quickly became painfully aware that the weekly benefits, while not designed to replace my regular income, nowhere covered my living expenses. So I made no qualms about seriously stepping up my efforts to finding and securing a job. Unfortunately, with the state of the economy as it is and the job market being so saturated, I found it very difficult to secure employment. Then if that was not bad enough, I was rear-ended by a tow truck 10 months into my unemployment status.  Luckily I had made the decision to put something away for a rainy day and was able to supplement my income with my savings, however that quickly went south as my unexpected medical bills quickly put a dent in that reservoir. 

Faced with the prospect of possibly losing everything I had worked so hard to secure over the years, I did the only thing I knew how to do – I did an assessment of my situation to determine my “next best” steps.  I did research on what options were available to me and was dumbfounded at the results. First on my list was to secure some sort of medical coverage for my son and myself to ensure that our pre-existing conditions were not left untreated, as well as cover any new medical issues as they arise. The only option I knew that was available immediately after becoming unemployed was COBRA and while I opted to enroll in that program, it proved to be unfeasible, as the exorbitant monthly premium threatened to wipe out my entire savings within a matter of months should I continue the coverage. So my next option was to apply for public assistance - Medicaid.  I was deemed ineligible because my monthly income was; get this, way over the $300/month allotment by the program’s standards for a family of my size. I thought maybe I heard wrong and asked the representative to repeat the information again. She confirmed that for a family size of 2, the maximum amount of income I can have per month was $300 unless I was disabled, blind or over 65. Wow!

Ok, so what about Obama Care? Good question, but that had not been passed yet. So what other options were available to me? I did a quick search on the Internet – my new best friend – and I found a website that offered low monthly premium for people who had lost their job and had pre-existing health conditions. “Great!” I thought, but that quickly proved to be false hope on my part by the end of the application process.  Turns out my monthly premium were a mere $565/month, but guess what? While significantly less than COBRA, I couldn't afford it. Not when you take into consideration that I had other pressing expenses that made a demand on my current income, i.e., mortgage, 2^nd mortgage, car insurance, utilities, food, gas, and other living expenses.  So like so many who found themselves in my situation, I opted to forego medical insurance coverage and hoped for the best. No medical coverage was top on my list of reasons for me to find immediate employment.

Next on the list was housing assistance. While I was two months ahead on my mortgage payments, I did not want to risk waiting until I missed a payment to take steps to find assistance. I had tried once before when I was still employed to refinance my house but that proved to be futile as the housing market was so far south that I would need a submarine to find the bottom. Seriously though, the bank told me that the houses in my area were selling for anywhere from the low $14,000 to the high $27,000. I was flabbergasted. Who determined how much my house was worth especially since I had kept it up and it looked just as pristine as it did the day I moved in? Turns out there is some guy out there who makes a living surfing the internet and making a determination of the value of my house based on what the last person in my neighborhood sold their house for. No consideration was given to the fact that my neighbor may have been in a desperate situation which was a major factor in their decision to “give” their house away at that low price. So rather than throw good money after bad, I opted to forego the refinance option at that time. As luck would have it, or as I like to think of it as answers to my prayers, I came across a program that offered 18-month mortgage assistance for which I qualified for based on my financial savvy decision to keep my mortgage up-to-date. One of the evaluating eligibility criteria was to be current on your mortgage payment. Lucky for me I was, but what about others who were not current or who had filed for bankruptcy? While this assistance offered some immediate relief for me, what happens when that assistance runs out in May 2013 and I am still unemployed? Your guess is as good as mines. One thing I do know is that there is no re-applying for this program once the eligibility period expires. The possibility of losing my home is yet another reason for me to find immediate employment. 

Finally I thought, maybe if I could get some assistance with food. Surely that would help elevate some financial pressures and free up some money I can then apply to other bills. At first, I was approved for $89/month based on my unemployment benefits – not much when you take into consideration that my grocery bill can run anywhere from $250 - 300/month (I’m a vegetarian and I have teenage boy who is a vegan). However, all things considered, I was happy to have received anything at all. After all, this meant that I now had $89 that I can re-direct to another bill.  My son, feeling like he needed to secure money for his personal expenses, sought and found employment at the local park just as my 6-month re-certification period came about.  As a result of his “sporadic” income of less than $150/month we were deemed to be ineligible for continued assistance. Thus, keeping food on the table became yet another reason for me to find immediate employment.

It’s been almost two years since I lost my job and despite my active search, I have not yet been able to secure full-time employment.  To add more pressure to my search, I recently received a notice from the local unemployment office indicating that while Georgia qualifies for the fourth-tier “emergency” compensation of the unemployment benefit program, my benefit period will end on December 29, 2012 even if I have funds remaining.  As a result, my unemployment benefits will be reduced to 39%, whatever that means. What I do know is that unless I find employment soon, I am facing the possibility of catastrophic events, the likes of which I have never experienced. These events may force me to enter a status I have fought all my live to avoid – that of being considered “poor”.  The sad thing is that while I have faith that God will bail me out before it gets to that point, because I believe that my faith moves God to do for me what I can’t do for myself and I have mad faith that God will soon deliver me from this temporary situation; I am forced to face the fact that there are literally thousands of people in this nation who are in this same situation. They are faced with the threat of losing their homes, their cars, have no health coverage, and/or receive no food assistance all because they are one unemployment check or a car away from being deemed “poor”, which would qualify them for basic public assistance.  At first glance the social system has an air of “helping the under-privileged”, however the truth is it is designed to keep the poor “poor” and does nothing to assist the “functionally poor” – the ones who are down on their luck and just need a little assistance to ensure they can stay on their feet without losing their dignity.

Where are the programs to help people who are “borderline poor” – one paycheck away from losing their house or being able to put food on the table? The system looks at whether or not you have a car, have a savings, among other things, as criteria to determine whether or not to offer assistance. Why do you have to have “nothing” rather than being on the verge of losing “everything” before you can receive assistance? While it appears to be a popular campaign platform to focus on the “rich” and the “middle class” I offer that the poor and functionally poor deserves just as much attention, if not more. Where are the financial assistance programs to help people down on their luck so that they can maintain/manage what little income they currently have to ensure “recovery” and not “flat line”? We are quickly becoming a nation of unemployed citizens and if something is not done to help stabilize this portion of the population; we may very well witness the demise of an era that we may not soon recover from.  I’m just saying – I have issues. What about you? )i(

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 The views and opinions shared here are by the Author and are the property of Todos Escribe. 

Advocating for yourself…

 You may recall my sharing with you about the attack on my son last year and my struggle to forgive his attackers. As I mentioned before his treatment was in excess of $10,000. The good news is that I was still employed at the time the attack occurred, so my health insurance covered most of his treatment. Then when I lost my job the next month, I signed up for continued medical coverage through Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act (COBRA), but because of the exorbitant amount of the monthly premium, I could only afford two months of additional health coverage as my unemployment benefits barely covered my monthly living expenses, never mind being able to cover the premium. Truth is, I had only signed up for the continued health benefits to ensure that my son’s immediate treatments would be covered. Once his immediate treatments were taken care of and he had started physical therapy, I cancelled COBRA.

My son had a physical therapy appointment scheduled at the time I cancelled COBRA, so I was forced to cancel that appointment, but only after my son assured me that he was okay and he would be fine without the additional physical therapy.  I also took into consideration that his bills were all current at the time, so it was a good time to cancel the coverage.  Then, sometime earlier this year, roughly eight months after the attack and six months after I had cancelled COBRA, we received a bill reminder statement from the medical facility addressed to my son, indicating that his account was past due and demanding payment in full. At first I thought it was a new bill because the service date on the bill was listed as August 5^th 2011 and I knew that his last treatment/physical therapy appointment was on August 8^th 2011. My first thought was perhaps they were charging us for a missed appointment.  So I called the number on the statement and requested a detailed bill be sent to me so that I would be able to determine if it was in fact for services rendered or if it was a “ Trumped-up” charge. The representative gave me a hard time to the point that I had to request to speak to a supervisor.  After the supervisor came on the line I shared with her my concerns, 1) I am only now receiving this bill statement months after the service date; 2) I did not recall the service date as a legitimate service date; and 3) the bill was not detailed enough for me to ascertain what it was for, i.e., no physician listed, no indication what was done, etc. The supervisor assured me that she would send us a detailed bill that day. It never came.

This weekend my son came over to pick up his mail.  While thumbing through his mail he came across an envelope from a collection agency addressed to him. Upon opening it he handed it to me and asked me what it was for. After reading the notice it looked like the medical facility had opted to submit the August 5^th 2011 bill to a collection agency instead of honoring my request for a copy of the detailed bill. I gave it back to my son and told him to leave it on the table and I would deal with it for him.   On Monday morning I called the collection agency in an attempt to resolve the situation; however the rep I spoke to refused to speak to me citing the fact that my son was over 18 and had to give them express permission to discuss his records with me. “Are you kidding me?” I asked.  I reminded her that I was the responsible party at the time of the alleged service. Again, she refused to cooperate or divulge any information.  As a last resort, I asked her if she would be willing to hold on while I attempted to contact my son via 3-way calling, she agreed. After several attempts, it proved to be unsuccessful to reach my son at that time. I left a message for him while the rep was on the line so that she could hear me describe to him why I was calling and my need for him to call me back right away.  At the end of the call the rep shared her name upon my inquiry and said I can call back once I have my son on the line.

I was determined to resolve this issue quickly and set out to do some research on my own. I needed to find evidence that there was in fact a service date of August 5^th. So immediately after I got off the phone with the collection rep, I went through my financial records, i.e., bank and credit card statements for the month of August 2011, to see if there were any co-payment entries for that date.  Since I never use cash to pay for services, I was sure that if there was a service date of August 5^th there would be a credit or debit card entry on my statement. While I found an “out-patient” entry paid to the medical facility in question on August 8^th, there was not any for August 5^th. Armed with that bit of information I pulled out the large manila envelope which contained my son’s information from that incident, i.e., medical reports, pictures, x-rays, medical bills, etc. 

I must admit, I was not prepared for the wave of emotion that flooded my mind as memories of that event came rushing to the surface as I reviewed his file. Holding those pictures that were taken shortly after the attack, brought back the most painful memories. I quickly brushed away the tears and forced myself to focus on the task at hand – finding the bills for August 8^th. Luckily I had everything sorted in categories so it was easy to find what I was looking for.  As I pulled out two pieces of paper, one was the original bill dated August 9^th 2011 which was submitted and paid through my insurance company, and the second was the past due bill we received back in March this year listing the service date as August 5^th 2011, I forced back the threat of more tears.  “Come on now”, I told myself. “You got to get through this”. As I compared the two documents, I noticed that the account number was the same on both documents.  The original bill was detailed and showed it was for physical therapy. It also had my handwritten notes indicating that the medical facility had contacted me before about the bill after it had been paid by my insurance.  Apparently, they had asked me to contact my insurance company to find out why they had not been paid at the time. According to my notes, my inquiry to my insurance company yielded that they did receive payment, the date they paid it, and the amount they paid. However, I think the medical facility missed the payment amount because it turned out to be a fraction of the amount submitted. Not only that, when compared to the amount being sought by the collection agency, it mirrored the discounted amount from the original bill to the penny.  So it stands to reason that the medical facility was now trying to re-cooperate some of that amount by billing me a second time for the difference.

A call, to my then insurance company, to gain more information about the claim raised more questions. Among them, “Why was the payout so small?” And “Am I responsible for the discounted amount?” But my most important mission was to confirm that the service date on file was in fact August 8^th 2011 and not August 5^th 2011. That was easily confirmed as the 8^th.  However, despite the fact that the claim was still listed in the system, the records did not readily list a reason why the payout was so small because the claim was so old. The rep explained that policy dictated that details be archived after a specific amount of time has lapsed. However, as a jester of good faith, she said she would resubmit it to the appraisal department for research and would even re-process if it was deemed necessary. I was told to give it about five days then call back for an answer.   Armed with that bit of information I opted to call back the collection agency to let them know I was actively working on the bill and share what I had learned.  To my surprise, the representative I spoke to this time did not give me the “third-degree” about me not being the named party on the bill.  Could be because I told her about my previous attempt to address this issue or it could be that she just didn't care.  Either way, after reading me a disclaimer of some sort about the call being monitored or recorded I proceeded to share with her what I had uncovered from the insurance company.  She simply told me to call back once I get the final information about the claim. I couldn't help but feel like she was rushing me off the phone. Not sure, why but it could have been her tone. 

You would think that would be the end of it for now, right? Well, not for me. Anyone who knows me, know I am a stickler for details, i.e., all my “I’s” have to be dotted and all my “T’s” crossed.  So true to form I felt the need to document the events of the day by sending a letter to, not only the collection agency, but also to the medical facility. As I started detailing the events leading up to my letter I remembered I had a copy of my “Explanation of Benefits” which would not only show how much was paid on the bill, but also detail the insurance company’s discount of the bill. I reached for the documents from the manila envelope again. This time I bypassed the photos and went straight for my target, the explanation of benefits. As I reviewed it, I noticed a disclaimer on the bottom which pretty much said it all. It said something along the line of, and I’m paraphrasing, “Thank you for using us as your insurance provider. The savings amount shown above represents your discounted amount. Providers are prohibited to try and recover this amount as it violates their agreement with us.” I just about fell out of my chair as revelation became clear.  

Since I didn't have access to a copier machine, I needed to find another way to include this information in my letter.  So once again I called the insurance company.  The rep directed me to their website and after some intervention I was able to reactivate my account and thus had access to electronic copies of all previous Explanation of Benefits in my account.  The rep directed me to the claim in question.  I was able to print off copies of the explanation of benefit to include as an attachment to my letter and yes, it contained that statement I made reference to above - Providers are prohibited to try and recover this amount as it violates their agreement with the insurance company.  After I composed the letter, I decided to email it as well. A quick research on the Internet yielded the name and email address of the person in charge of customer relations for the collection agency. I also sent the email to the medical facility via the email address listed on the back of both bills. The next day I sent the original hard copy via US mail to both the corporate and field addresses for both the collection agency and the medical facility – just to be through.

Three days later I received an email response from the medical facility acknowledging my email and informing me that they followed up with my insurance company and confirmed that I have already met my co-payment amount and that the account was closed with the collection agency. They ended the email with, “You now have a zero balance.”  Why am I sharing this with you? It's simple really. It's because it's important for you to know that no matter what things look like, or what you might think, you can always advocate for yourself to ensure you receive due process. It would have been easy for me to become overwhelmed and lose focus when the collection agency contacted me. Had I not been one to keep detailed records, I may not have been able to properly represent myself or I might have been unable to determine this was a double charge and paid it.  There is no way I can prove this was anything else but “a mistake” on the medical facility’s part, but I find it interesting that the service date was changed while the amount being sought was consistent. Why didn't they send me a detail bill when requested? I may never know but I have my suspicion. I got issues, what about you?)i(

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 The views and opinions shared here are by the Author and are the property of Todos Escribe. 

Why do people lie...

Why do people lie, especially when what they lie about will be dis-proven eventually, if not sooner? Personally I take it as an insult when people lie to me.  When someone lies to me it's telling me that they don't trust me enough with "their" truth. That may be because they really don't know me, because if they knew me, they would know that I don't tolerate lies. I don't lie to them so why lie to me?  Besides, if they knew me they would know I am not judgmental. That doesn't mean that I don't have standards or limitations on what I will allow or tolerate. It just means I would prefer to know the whole truth so that when I make a decision about them it is based on all the facts and not on half truths. Bottom-line, if they don't know me or trust me then we don't need to be in each other's world.

People sometimes have the misguided notion that if they withhold the truth from you, that they are somehow spearing your feelings.  I prefer to differ. Case in point, have you ever had a friend who had body odor or bad breath, even slightly? What did you do? Did you pull them to the side and tell them about it, ignored it and hope they would eventually catch on, or did you share it with someone else that they had bad breath or body odor? Most times than not the latter is true. The way I see it, if I am your friend (and I know some people define “friend” differently), then your well-being is my first concern. I would prefer to tell you about it so that you can do something about it – brush better, floss, scrub your tongue, visit to the dentist, wash more often, etc. – than to have you be out there around others who will smell you and talk about you behind your back. Nobody wants to smell bad and sometimes for whatever reason people may not, or are unable to smell themselves. I, on the other hand, have a heightened sense of smell. My kids are always getting on me because I complain all the time about smelling something. It can be as subtle as sweat, my nose pick up on it. I am always fussing with my son about cooking after hours because the food odor seems to linger in the air long after and I have a hard time falling asleep. My son sums it up as my “nose is too sensitive” and he is probably right.  The point I am trying to make is, I would prefer to know that I had an odor so I can fix it, than to have folks talk about me behind my back.

Another scenario is, have you ever met someone you really liked and from your conversations it seems like you both had a lot in common? I mean you like the same movies, same food; you both don't smoke and only drink socially. They are a Capricorn and you are a Virgo and it seems like everything just clicked.  Then one day you run into them and they are smoking a cigarette? What's up with that? They may offer you some lame excuse like, "I just started today." or "I only smoke when I am stressed." Either way, it's a little hard to understand. I offer that they always smoked. The truth is they saw you, liked you and wanted to get with you, so they lied. They already sized you up to know that since you don't smoke, you are not going to want to be with someone who smokes. So they concealed that little bit of information knowing fully well the truth will come out eventually. What were they thinking/hoping? That maybe if they hid it just long enough for you to fall in love with them, by the time you found out it would be okay? My question then becomes, what else are they pretending not to be in order to secure a relationship with you? This reminds me of my ex-husband. When we met he professed to be a vegetarian. I thought, “Cool beans, because I’m one too”. It meant I didn't have to cook two meals, right? I was excited to have found someone who shared my eating habits.  Well, like I always say, “you can only fake it for so long before the truth comes out”. So as time went on, I noticed he was not eating at home. Every time I left his dinner out, he would say he was full because he ate already. This went on for a while.  Then one day as I was doing laundry I searched his pants pockets like I always did to make sure there was nothing in them, I pulled out a receipt from a deli that had two “ham and cheese” sandwiches listed. When I asked him about the receipt, he told me it was not his. That he had “picked it up off the floor at work.” Who does that? At least he could have come up with something believable. But the thing about lying is, it sometimes defies logic especially if you don’t put any thought into it. 

To me lying speaks to your integrity.  It doesn't matter if it's a "big" lie or a "small" lie. A lie is a lie. As such, I make it a point to always tell the truth. It speaks volume to the type of person I am and it builds character. When people know you always tell the truth, then they know they can trust you and they know they can rely on you to be honest no matter what. I have friendships that span over 30 years and my friends will still call me up from time to time to get my “honest” opinion.  Now, have I always told the truth? Let me think – as an adult, yes.  As a kid, not so much. I did the usual fibbing to avoid getting a whooping, but that usually ended with me getting a much severe whooping if my mom determined I had lied to her. So yes, my commitment to telling the truth is tied to my earlier desire to please my mom.  You see, when I was a little girl there was an incident where I lied to her. I can’t remember what it was that I told her, but I remember her reaction and I will never forget what she said to me after she finish whooping me. She said, “I can secure my house from a thief. I can hide from a murderer, but a liar? How do I protect myself from that?” She went on to say she had “no use for a liar.” That stuck with me to this day. Even when I was raising my children, I instilled in them the importance of always telling the truth. I told them I can’t effectively defend them if I don’t trust them and for me to trust them, I had to believe what they said. When my daughter was about 5 years old she was laying on the floor in the living-room with her foot up on the TV set.  The TV had a flip down lid in the front where you could adjust its settings.  At some point she ended up breaking the lid off the TV.  I didn't witness it at the time it happened, but the following Saturday while doing routing cleaning, the lid came off as I dusted the TV.  I called out to her and asked her what happened to the TV. She said she didn't know to which I reminded her only she and I lived in the apartment. So unless we had a ghost, because I know I didn't break it, the only other person who could have broken it would be her.  She finally confessed to breaking it and I gave her a spanking. As I told her, she got a spanking not because she broke the lid - because accidents happen - but rather because she lied to me.  At that young age I was instilling in her that while there were consequences for her actions, it is more likely to be forgiven if she told the truth and accepted responsibility for her actions. I also instilled that same value in my son. I am sure both my children will agree, it made their childhood so much better as they did not receive a lot of spankings.

Nobody likes to be lied to, not even the ones doing the lying. So, again I ask, why do people lie? I am convinced that the answer lies in their desire to get away with something that they know they would not be able to get away with if they told you the truth or to gain something they otherwise would not have access to if they tell you the truth. What they don’t realize is that they do themselves, and the person they lied to, a great injustice. By being deceptive, whether they chose to withhold information or share something that just is not true, they create an environment that forces the hearer to make decisions based on faulty information.  As a result the relationship is doomed to fail because it is built on deception and the trust bond is easily broken once that deception comes to light.  Depending on how deep the deception is, the relationship may not be salvageable.  The truth is, if you really cared about the other person or even loved them, you would not deceive them. To me, lying is a coward’s act and speaks more to your character than anything else. It says you are only interested in having what you want at the other person’s expense and should not be trusted.

People also lie out of fear. Fear of rejection, of losing a job, a friendship, or of a negative consequence. But mostly fear of being them self – think about it. What was your reason for the last lie you told? Did you think about the effect of that lie on the person you told it to? What about the right of the other person to know the truth? You probably didn't even think about all that, did you? Of course not, that would require you thinking about the other person’s feelings. But, mostly because all you were interested in is having your way or avoiding a negative consequence. I offer to you that lying also is a sign of disrespect. You think so little about the person you lied to, either you think they deserve to be lied to because they are stupid enough to believe you or it just didn't matter to you. Most time than not people don’t even think about the reason they lie in such details. I wish they would stop for a minute and put themselves on the receiving end for a change. I bet they would not appreciate it being done to them. 

So much of the mess people find themselves in can be easily avoided if they would resolve to always tell the truth, face the consequences, and accept responsibility. Telling the truth all the time may not be popular, but it reduces stress and improves relationships. Don’t believe me? Try it. I’m just saying – I got issues. What about you?  )i(

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 The views and opinions shared here are by the Author and are the property of Todos Escribe. 

Finding the Courage to Forgive

Sometimes life has a way of testing your limits to the extent that you sometimes feel perhaps God is pushing you towards your breaking point. Such was the case for me just a little over a year ago. Having survived a series of, what I can only sum up as, bad circumstances over a period of five years. Just to give you some idea of what I was dealing with: August 2007 – divorced; October 2007 – Stress-induced stroke; April 2008 – 1^st home invasion; May 2008 – heart surgery; August 2009 – gallbladder eruption; March 2010 – 2^nd home invasion; December 2010 – house surrounded by swat team who were looking for a fugitive, my son caught in gun fire.   Then just when I thought it could not get any worst, 2011 brought the mother lode of emotional strain which collided with my already fragile psyche, including but not limited to, another home invasion three days before Christmas.

It was May 17^th 2011, I remember that day like it was just yesterday. For one thing I had learned earlier that day that my employer of 5 years was letting me go in July. The news didn't come as a total surprise to me, as there were rumors circulating among the employees that the company was downsizing to try and stop the bleeding after filing for bankruptcy the year before. So, I was not panicking because I prided myself with the fact that I made good, sound financial decisions over the years. So while I was not “rich” by anyone’s standard, I had enough tucked away for a rainy day. Besides, I knew how to tighten my belt when the need arise; after all I had raised two kids on a shoestring budget without public assistance. Surely I could survive this period of unemployment. Also, if my past experience with unemployment was any indicator, I knew I could take comfort that it would not be long before I was gainfully employed again as I had marketable skills.  So while I spent the day making preparation for what was inevitably the beginning of my end with the company, I was not prepared for how that day would end.

It was about a little after 5:30 pm and I was wrapping up my day when my cell phone rang. After I answered it on the first ring, I heard a strange man asking me if this was Ms. Gore.  I was thrown off by the seemingly somber tone and I knew almost immediately this was no “social” call. I remember saying, “yes, this is she.” Only to have the man on the other end of the line identify himself by name and then as a DeKalb County Police Officer.  He then proceeded to tell me that my son was attacked while walking home from school and was beaten unconscious within inches of his life. My heart tightened in my chest as my fingers gripped the phone so tightly that they would later ache as the blood seemed to cease circulating in my veins. My head was spinning and I stood up so fast that the sudden movement knocked the stack of files off the corner of my desk unto the floor. My purse followed.  I quickly interrupted the Officer’s flow of sentences with my own questions, “What? When? Why? Is he ok?” All were met with his repeated statement, “Calm down, calm down. I need to know if he has insurance. Because of the nature of his head injuries, we may have to airlift him to Grady.” I dropped back in my chair, not even sure it was in place to receive me as my weightless body hit it and I felt the air restricted from my breathing passage. The tears came like a flood and I heard myself sobbing uncontrollably.  Still the Officer was doing his best to get me to calm down and focus on what he was asking me. I heard myself say, “Yes, yes, we have insurance. Take him wherever you need to. Just don’t let my baby die.”  I grabbed my purse off the floor and searched frantically for my keys as I headed for the door all the while telling the officer I was on my way. He told me to stay near my phone and he will call me back to let me know where they were taking my son. I remember thinking, “Is he kidding me? Stay by my phone? I was not even planning on hanging up.”

It was the longest five minutes I can remember. I was already in my car and turning onto Mall Parkway by the time the Officer called me back to let me know they were taking my son to DeKalb Medical on Hillandale because it was the closest hospital and he had regained consciousness. It was the most helpless feeling for me as a parent to hear that my child had been viciously attacked and I was nowhere near him to comfort him. I kept thinking maybe if I had left work on time I would have been able to intercept the attack as it was on my way home. That guilty feeling would linger at the back of my mind for months to come. I don’t remember the drive to the hospital, but I do remember praying the whole time asking God to please spear my son’s life. I think I may have called a few people to share what was going on, but I am sure that I pulled into that emergency room parking lot like a bat out of hell. 

I literally ran into the emergency room and straight up to the registration window. I think there may have been someone standing there but for me, there was nothing more important than getting to my son. The receptionist understood and quickly guided me back to where my son was after I shared with her who I was.  As I walked into the examination room I saw my son’s seemingly lifeless body lying on the gurney with his neck strapped into a brace, his mouth all bloody and swollen from the impact of the blows he sustained to his face; his blood soaked jeans was cut/thorn all the way up to his waste on both side by the attending staff in an attempt to gain access to his injuries to his knees and thighs. As I nervously walked further into the room I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest indicating he was still breathing on his own even though he was hooked up to oxygen. As I took his hand, it scared me when he jumped violently. I quickly realized that he was reacting to pain that shot through his arm no doubt because I had inadvertently irritated the bruises on his hand. 

I passed my hand over his forehead and asked him if he was okay, to which he nodded yes. Seems like a silly question to have asked him now that I think about it, but I guess at the time I desperately needed to know he was okay.  As I stood there looking at my son that helpless feeling crept back over me again. Here is a child who for the most part had only one spanking in his entire life, no violent traumatic experiences to speak of, no broken bones ever, healthy by all accounts to the point he did not even have a primary care physician because he didn't need one after he was up-to-date on his shots. Yet despite my best effort to keep him safe and protected for 18 years, this happens. How do you rationalize what happened to him when you take into consideration he was a good boy who didn't bother anyone and kept to himself? My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the Detective entering the room. He introduced himself and said he needed to ask my son some questions regarding his attackers. I used that time to excuse myself into the hall way where I sobbed uncontrollably. The attending nurse brought me a cup of water and tried her best to comfort me, but there was no comforting me. How could she? Not with my son lying there fighting for his life.  

After what seemed like forever, I regained my composure and re-entered the room as my son was recounting the events that led up to his attack. From what I gathered my son was walking home from the bus stop around 5:15 pm. As he was making his way up Phillips Road, three young guys he did not know, but who probably got off the Marta bus at the bus stop with him, was walking behind him and making comments about the fact that his backpack played music. My son said he ignored them and increased his stride to get away from them. To his dismay they also increased their stride. Thinking he would be safe if he could make it to the school grounds because he knew there would be students out front practicing, he broke into a jog, but so did the guys behind him.  The last thing he remembers is that he was approaching a tree by the school grounds when he was hit from behind with a hard object.  When he came through he was lying on the ground clutching his cellphone and blood was everywhere. He tried to get up, but his head was spinning. He experienced a sharp pain and then blocked out again.

 

From what we can piece together his assailants hit him several times, with what may have been a bat, rendering him unconscious then tried to get his backpack but it was pinned under him by the weight of his body. Not to leave empty handed, they robbed him of two baseball caps and 2 Pac man ghost pins that a friend had made for him out of Lagos.  Truth be told, the stuff they took off my son was not worth much.  In fact, if they had just simply asked him for the items he would have gladly given it to them. The extent of his injuries included blunt force head trauma, three fractured front teeth, which resulted in root canals and crown-implants, and fractures to his ribs and right knee.  It would be months before he was physically okay, but even now he still has issues with his right knee.  However the emotional damage that was inflicted on him will probably take years, by my best guess, before he improves. His assailants didn't just rob him of physical stuff, but they also took something else from my son that day that he has yet to recover – his self-confidence and sense of security. I remember driving in the car with him a few months after the incident, and I reached over to smooth his hair as I have done countless times before, and he flinched.  When he did that, something tore at my heart. I knew it would be a long time before he was ever himself again. As time went by I noticed a change in his personality. Gone was that sweet mannered boy I knew so well. In its place was a harsh, almost thug-like guy I did not know. I tried to get him to seek professional help, but he refused saying, “I’m okay.” Despite his insistence, I knew better.

Two days after the attack, we sat down with Doug Evans from Fox 5 News to solicit the public’s help in identifying and finding my son’s attackers.  I was a bit worried that the story would be portrayed in a negative light but I was quite surprised and pleased at the final segment that was aired. Doug put a positive spin on an otherwise negative event by incorporated my son’s love for dancing and even included a couple of his YouTube video clips in the segment. Within minutes of the story airing both my son’s and the house phone rang off the hook. Several of his friends, who had seen the story, called to share useful information that lead to the identification of all three of my son’s attackers. Apparently they tried to sell the items they took off my son to students at school the next day. Because the items were so unique, they were easily identifiable as my son’s. A few clicks on Facebook not only yielded their name but provided photographs that my son was able to use to confirm their identity. Unfortunately, finding the assailants proved to be a much easier task than gaining justice for my son. Because they were all under the age of 16, the assailants were not arrested, but rather allowed to remain free until their arraignment. 

At the arraignment, unbeknownst to me and despite the fact that the district attorney had pictures of my son’s injuries, they failed to share that information with the presiding judge. So at the first hearing, the assailant who, later it was revealed, turned out to be the master-mind and the main attacker, pleaded guilty to a lesser charge and offered to turn state witness against the other two assailants. He was given – are you ready for this? Only six months of probation.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but the prosecutor assured me it was for the best to ensure that the other two did not walk in the absence of an eye witness. Turns out they were only being charged with possession of stolen property. Can you believe that?  

At the sentencing hearing for the other two assailants we were given an opportunity to make “victim statements”. I stayed up the night before composing my thoughts and then transcribed them on paper.  At the hearing, after giving the judge a copy of my statement, I stood erect and I looked the judge squarely in his eyes as I relayed the effect and impact the attack had on, not just my son, but on the family as a whole. I pleaded with the judge not to let this senseless, unprovoked act of violence go unpunished and then, as if lead by some unknown force, I requested permission to show him the photos of my son that were taken immediately after the attack.  The judge was shocked at both the severity of my son's injuries and that this information was withheld from the previous sentencing. He indicated that had he known of the extent of the injuries my son sustained, he would have dealt out a harsher sentence. I believe he could have still imposed a stiffer sentence on that first assailant if he wanted to, but I’m no lawyer.

Anyway, the judge seemed genuinely disgusted with his earlier sentencing of the first assailant and when he said he needed some more time to consider the evidence before passing sentence on the other two, I kind of felt that my pictures and statement were influential on that decision.  Several hours later the court reconvened, and the judge sentenced the other two assailants to 30 days in juvenile detention and one year probation each. It was not what I was hoping for but it was better than what was previously dished out. Besides, their sentence would start in December which meant they would not be home for Christmas - small comfort. The assailants were asked to apologize to my son, which they did but not before they claimed that they were "innocent" and were merely “by-standers”. I guess their apology then was not so much for attacking my son but rather for not coming to his aide when their friend was attacking him. Either way, it left a lot to be desired, and neither my son nor I believed a word they said.

Over the next few months I found myself growing bitter with resentment and I felt this overwhelming need for my son’s attackers to experience the same hurt and discomfort they unleashed on my son. I was angry with myself for not being there when my son needed me as unrealistic as that may sound, but I was even more furious with those guys. How dare they attack my son for no reason? He was just minding his own business, doing his own thing. I wanted their parents to experience the same helpless feeling I felt when I looked at my son suffering. I knew I could not inflict any physical damage on them, but I figured I could at least seek to recover some of the $10,000 or so his treatment had set me back, not to mention some sort of punitive damage for malicious intent. So I did my research to obtain their information and then set out on a course to locate an attorney to represent my son to sue them for physical, emotional, and punitive damages. From what I could tell we had a pretty good case, but it was not a big enough of a case for any attorney to jump on board.  My only option then, it seemed, was to sue them in civil court on my own and I felt I could do that. After all, unlike a criminal case, all I needed is to present the preponderance of evidence and prove liability based on their actions and I had that. To add insult to injury, one day, about two weeks into their sentence we received two handwritten notes from the assailants, no doubt a condition of their sentence by the court.  As in their verbal apologies, they denounced any real involvement in the attack on my son but asked for our forgiveness just the same.  Both my son and I questioned their genuineness and we decided that it was probably forced and was not heart felt.

As I continued to fellowship at my local church I was reminded that un-forgiveness festered physical ailments and also hinders the natural progression of God’s blessings in our lives. I was also reminded that if I wanted forgiveness I too must learn to forgive. But I think the most profound recollection I had was of Romans 12:19 which said, “Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” The way I figured it is, if I seek revenge for my son then my hands would not be clean and God will not bless the work of my hands nor will he avenge on our behalf, but if I allow God to avenge my son, then I stand blameless before Him and He is free to bless us. Besides, I can think of no one who can unleash revenge like God can.  If you think about it long enough you will recall some negative event that happened to someone you know and you called it a “freak accident” because you really can’t blame anyone for what happened to that person. The same can be said for when good things happen to someone and we call it “good luck”. Most people may sum it all up as “Karma”, but I know its God. That’s why when I pray for people, I don’t ask God to “bless” or “curse”. I just ask Him to give them “what they deserve” because He is judge and jury over all of us and He knows better than me what they deserve to happen to them. It’s not my job to dish out blessings or curses. That’s the job of the Almighty. Once I got that revelation, it became easier to try to let go of the hurt and pain I was carrying and something remarkable happened. 

As the days turned into weeks I found myself praying for the assailants. It was not always easy, but over time that bitter resentment I felt started to decapitate and I no longer had that overwhelming need for my son’s attackers to experience the same hurt and discomfort they unleashed on my son. As more time went by my heart became light when I thought of them as I continued to pray for them. Today, I am grateful that my son survived that attack and I count it a blessing that I still have him.  I can also truly say that I have forgiven those guys for attacking my son because in so doing I have released God’s favor over my life. They may have hurt my son and unearthed a side of him I had not seen before, but we have taken that experience and used it as a building block in his life. He now has a determination to never be caught off guard like that again and while he may not have forgiven them yet, it’s his to work out. I can’t force him to forgive them and he may never do so, but I take comfort in knowing this crime has not and will not go unpunished based on God’s scale. They may feel they have gotten away with something, but I know God won’t allow them to get away with anything. So to that end, I pray for them every day, “Heavenly Father, my gracious God, You know the desires of my heart and You know those young men who attacked my son on May 17^th  2011. You know them by name and You know them by nature. Give them their just deserve according to Your word because vengeance is Yours. Amen.” I got issues? What about you? )i(

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