What happened to Joey?

The overhead lights were reflecting off of the wet pavement and the leafless trees as we sped down the quiet country road. I thought about the last time I had been to this home. Unlike the other officers on their way, I hadn’t been there for any previous calls. In fact, I hadn’t been there since I was about 15 years old. I was there to hang out with friends. They were there to deal with a mess. Now it was my turn. I had known Joey since kindergarten. His mom was my Sunday school teacher at about that same age.

When we first heard the radio call, I thought I recognized the address. When the dispatcher gave a description of the suspect, I put two and two together, and knew immediately we were going to Joey’s house. I remembered his mom and dad. His dad; who passed away years ago, had been a laborer at the auto plant. He worked hard to provide a home for his wife and child. He was a quiet man who worked hard and occasionally came to church with his wife and son. Joey’s mom always appeared slightly older than her age, however she was an elegant and soft-spoken woman. They were "good" people. A typical suburban family.I always thought Joey was somewhat spoiled. I guess he suffered from “only child” syndrome. He had potential though, just like the rest of us. I totally lost track of him and had not seen or heard of him in years. I knew he still lived in the area, and heard rumors that he had some alcohol problems. I never expected he was a bad off as he is.

We rolled into the drive behind another zone car that had arrived in time to already have Joey in custody. His mom sat on the couch with tears in her eyes, bleeding from both arms, but sitting up straight and elegantly. She paid close attention to the activities surrounding the arrest of her son. She said nothing, but nodded yes, when asked if she would press charges.

Joey; dressed in ripped jeans and a dirty work shirt appeared to be about 25 years older than he is. His eyes were cloudy and his mind was definitely saturated with years of alcohol abuse. He looked at me, and gave no indication of recognition.

We escorted Joey to the zone car, gave him the usual “watch your head” admonition as we placed him in the back seat. As we left the driveway, he muttered; “Thanks a lot Mom.”

When we arrived at the jail I took him out of the zone car. This time he appeared to have some sense of recognition as he looked at me, but his confused mind soon gave up, and he said nothing.

My partner and I returned to the house to photograph Joey’s mom and her injuries. It took her a long time to come to the door.

Despite her frailty, at 82 years old, she still had a look of elegance. Her eyes were still moist with tears as we photographed her. She said, she hoped that maybe Joey had finally “bottomed out” and would seek the help he needed. I said nothing except for a silent prayer for her and Joey. We gave her some domestic violence literature to read. She thanked us, and said; “ I won’t be reading these. I’m blind”. We helped her retrieve her walker and return to a chair in the living room. We locked her front door as we left the house.

We moved the zone car back into the street. I thought, “isn’t it odd, that a blind, 82 year-old woman, requiring a walker, is safer in her house alone, than with her adult son”? I thought about the tag on a beer commercial; “Drink responsibly”.

What happened to Joey?