My memory of the intake process during my initial arrest is quite unclear. What stands out vividly is the moment I woke up on a chilly concrete floor, feeling utterly desperate. Taking in my surroundings, I noticed a diverse group of women sharing a small room, facing a clear window that overlooked the briefing area where officers sat at desks beneath a few televisions displaying information about bond companies. On my left, there was a steel toilet and two community phones mounted on the wall. Feeling lost, I turned to one of the girls and inquired about the procedure for getting released, as I was completely unaware of what to do.
I had a bond amount with no access to our bank account. I was on a mission to get out. I exhausted many phone calls to a dozen of bond companies. I explained my situation.
"Hi, I am Jillian Hope Mims Wilson at the Gwinnett County jail. My husband got a restraining order against me. I have never been to jail before. I need help and I have no family here. He is the only family I have in Georgia. I have no one else to call. Please help me. I will pay you back once I get out. My family from Alabama will pay you back. Please, I am desperate. I can't stay in here. I will get my Daddy's American Express. I promise I will pay you."
Most all bond companies said, "no."
Another individual was required to sign the 10% down bond payment before I could be released.
There was one problem: I had no one to call in Georgia to sign the bond and what friends I did have-my pride would not allow me to call and ask for help because that would implicate and confirm the suspicions that I had an addiction problem and my marriage was psychotic, and I was not ready to face the facts-yet.
So, I did what anyone in that situation would do...keep calling and be relentless! I could not fathom another hour in the jailcell where it was disgusting, cold, and degrading.
I called again and again to the point where the other women were making comments about my phone usage. Do you think I cared? Absolutely not.
My nature is kind and nurturing. While intoxicated and falsely accused- downright hateful.
Finally, I spoke to a gentleman who said he would bail me out after I promised him my Daddy would pay for it with his American Express.
(My daddy said he would pay the 10% down and to not go back to the house).
I was picked up from the Gwinnett County Jail hours later with much gratitude and fiery.
All I thought was... "The motherf*cker will pay for this. He messed with the wrong woman. He took my kids and now he is making me out to be abusive. He will f*cking pay for being a coward and lying to everyone."
I looked down at my paperwork in disbelief. I was charged for breaking a Family Violence Order. I could not wrap my mind around his ability to get away with such an evil scheme. "Who was this man that I married." Consumed my thoughts.
I am sure he thought the same thing. I may have not been "abusive" in the sense that I perceived would account for the charge, but I was unraveling at an alarming rate. My hatred toward him embarked me on a path of destruction. I blamed him for everything.
The reality is, he took preventative measures that he saw fit to keep the kids safe from my substance use. No matter how "wrong" I think he may have been taking such a drastic chance and lingering effect on my psyche and future, he did what he felt he needed to do. I understand that today. Do I think that there were other, less destructive choices that could have been taken...yes.
The past choices do not matter today. THIS IS WHAT FORGIVENESS LOOKS LIKE for both of us.
The bondsman dropped me off at the house for me to get my vehicle. I told him I would call him the next day to give him the credit card number. I got in my vehicle; Eric did leave the keys in it, and I drove to a parking lot and put it in park. I tried to get some rest, but the betrayal fumed my thoughts.
I was planning to go back to my house. Who the f*ck does he think he is?
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