Back Under the Bridge

Back Under the Bridge

The smell of smoke was stronger than the bat dung stench that Julie was used to in late afternoons. “Tom, do they have a barrel fire going near the park over there,” Julie pointed to the east side of the underpass were she and a friend named Tom were sitting on her sleeping bag, “not sure,” he answered. A man that neither of them had seen before came running from the park area with his torn flannel shirt on fire, screaming and waving his arms. Tom jumped up and tackled him and rolled with him in the dirt and debris under the bridge. Julie’s hip was so sore from the last fight when she was thrown against a pillar, she wanted no part in this fracas. 

    Soon another man came running from the woods with a burning stick that looked like an old roman torch as he took it to the man rolling in the dirt and yelled, “you son of a bitch, that’s the last time you’re taking my food stash.”  Julie knew that she had to get involved now, so as the man tried to jam the fiery branch into the other man’s back to light him afire again, Julie threw her sleeping bag over the attacker and then it was her turn to tackle and role on the ground to try and put a stop to the assault. Tom jumped up and although he appeared thin and weakly, he had the strength to pick up both men by their collars, walk them to the side of the bridge and forcefully shove them out of the sheltered area. He gave them a hefty push with a swift kick in the ass of the man who had caused the outbreak. “Do not come back under here again, not ever!” With her hip screaming in pain, Julie leaned up against the bridge pillar to watch the end of the scuffle. Tom had achieved successful defense of a preferable location with plenty of early shade under the bridge in South Austin, Texas.

    Julie limped back under the stand and she and Tom brushed themselves off, spread out her sleeping bag and sat down back to normal late afternoon boredom. “How did you do today,” Tom asked. “Not so good, maybe fourteen bucks and a half a beef sandwich”, answered Julie as she scraped the days' dirt and sweepings from the street off her hiking boots. “I am down to about six,” Tom muttered.  Julie knew why she was living back under the bridge again, but as the sun slid down behind the concrete ramp, she pondered why she couldn’t seem to learn her lesson about drinking. “If you want to split a six-pack, I’ll walk over to HEB”, Tom offered. Julie gave him 4 dollars in quarters and dimes, “Lonestar lager is on sale,” she said as she poured the change into his hand.

    Julie brushed off the sleeping bag, repositioned it and then sat down with the worst companion that she had, sitting under the bridge with just her thoughts. She thought about what the judge said, “you are on a 4-month leave from imprisonment to attend recovery program meetings to show honest efforts to turn your life to sobriety.” Julie knew she could get people to sign the dated papers that would report that she had attended meetings, but she also knew that with her record of 6 DUI convictions, her chances for leniency on her continuing sentence were next to nothing. She made her plan right when the judge uttered the approval of a sobriety release, she was going back under the bridge.

    At the start of her release, she was visited by a boyfriend from many years ago named Bruce. Somehow, he was aware of her adjustment period break from jail and he offered her a place to stay for the 4-month period and he said she could use his pick-up truck to go to her meetings. Julie concluded right away that she would just get another DUI and then be in bigger trouble and she had already decided she was headed back under the bridge. She remembered that she liked Bruce at one time, but her feelings now were almost numb. She really had no concept of self-worth, so it was hard for her to connect to others in any kind of emotional way.

    She was sitting quietly with confusion fighting depression for top position in her mind as Tom came around the corner with a smile on his face and a twelve-pack of Budweiser under his arm. “Found an even better sale”, he blurted out, “got us a whole twelver, so we are set for the night.” As Tom got closer, he could see that Julie was crying, “what’s wrong Jules, look what I got,” he flipped open the top of the twelve pack. Julie looked at Tom and then at the package, a ticket to the same old train with no conductor.  She took out four cans and sat them on a flat slab of concrete. She opened all four cans and then looked up at Tom and said, “now drink, asshole.” She grabbed her backpack filled with tattered clothes and other bare necessities and limped away from the bridge.

    Julie felt bad about taking it out on Tom, but she had to lash out at somebody, somebody was to blame and if she took the whole brunt on herself, she felt she would explode from the shame. She held a hopeful thought, Bruce had reached his hand out to help her and if she has any chances left in this world, it is best to push her pride aside and take the offer. That was if she could find him and if the offer was still available. She knew where Bruce lived and although her hip was in terrible pain, she limped to where she hoped he would be home and ask again for the help he had offered. Feelings between Julie and Bruce were not important to Julie, at this point because continuing to breathe seemed to be the priority.

    “Julie, come in, I have some dinner leftover, please have some,” Bruce said. It was as if he had stripped down hours of apologies, appeals and promises to a single sentence. His welcome and his mannerisms told her there were no hard feelings and that she was welcome to be at his home. This didn’t seem right to Julie, she felt like somebody should slap the shit out of her for her behaviors, but she realized that she had already done a lot of that to herself already. His offer was sincere, and her acceptance needed to reflect the same. “Thank you,” she said, with a difference, she felt for the first time in her life, it was kind of sincere. Bruce didn’t know a lot about AA, but he knew that the law had turned her to that avenue as her chance to straighten out her life. After she took a shower, they talked about a schedule that would provide her with his truck to go to meetings using the online AA meeting schedule. Bruce also assured her that he would do anything he could to help her get back on track. Tears again from Julie and a gentle hug from Bruce convinced her that help had come her way and it was time to try to do her part.

    After Julie had been going to meetings every day, reading sobriety program materials and talking with people that were doing something about their problem, for this first time, she was listening. One evening she was having dinner with Bruce and she shared something that was very important to her. Bruce, “I have found out that when you hit your true bottom in life, you can finally reach out for and accept help. It is very kind of you to be here for me to start on the path of recovery,” she threw her arms around him for a good cry on his shoulders that made her sense that her feelings where coming alive and even if it was in a small way, it was very special. Nothing more needed to be said that evening.

Texas Court of Criminal Appeals

    Julie Walters – Felony Level Driving Under the Influence of Alcohol. Julie had submitted all her documents that showed the judge that she had attended 120 meetings in 120 days. The judge looked over the papers and made her ruling. “Your leave for sobriety is determined as successful and your sentence is reduced to 6 years in the State Penitentiary. You are approved for attendance to daily AA meetings at the state prison.” “Next case on the docket.”

Julie was returning to prison and she expected that, but she was returning to that dangerous place with some new possessions:

-         AA contacts on the outside including a sponsor

-         A true friend that will come to visit and continue to encourage her recovery

-         A feeling that something inside of her had changed to a willingness to lead a sober life

    A tough-looking girl with tattoos covering both of her black arms looked at Julie with a frown of disgust, “So, you are my new cellie, is that right white girl,” Julie answered politely “yes I am, my name is Julie,” then she sat on her appointed bed. Her cellmate was a black girl with long hair that had been colored orange.  She reached out her hand to Julie, “I am Lucia, I have been here for 4 years and I have ten more to go for narcotic drug possession with intent to sell, the strong stuff, you know,” “good to meet you,” Julie said. Lucia spoke up again, “Oh it is very good that you meet me and you are a lucky girl, cause I will look out for you and you gonna taste the best hooch you can get behind these prison walls.” Julie told her, “I appreciate that, but I am going to stay sober and no hooch for me this time”, “no hooch?” questioned Lucia, “there aint much else to do in here girl and I am known in the cell-block for making up the best hooch and inmates will tell you, they really get a buzz from my mix.” Julie didn’t answer this time, but she felt good that her temptation was only a mild and quickly passing feeling, the stronger feeling was a straight life and getting back out. Julie felt comfortable making her stand against drinking that nasty tasting hooch that was made in prison. She had tasted it but never made it herself, she knew that hooch was made by cooking a mixture of rotting potatoes or tomatoes. Sugar would be added to the liquid mix that would be made by the gallon in cutoff prison pant legs that were tied up and in some way the mixture was heated, she had no idea. The mixture could be called a type of wine and she figured that her cellmate created a stronger mix by using a “kicker” which was a small container with extremely rotted tomatoes, grapes or whatever was available. She was looking forward to the first inmate AA meeting.

    Julie would get a 1-hour release from her cell to go to the AA meetings in the basement of the prison and soon her cellmate was getting jealous. “What the hell do you talk about in those meetings?”, she asked. Julie told her, “we talk about life’s experiences and 12 steps to learn how to live without taking drugs and alcohol.” Lucia never asked again about the meetings, but she still felt that it was not right for her cellmate to get that hour of free time every day.  She decided that she would do something about the unfair situation. Lucia had a close connection with the inmates because she was known for her hooch production and it came at a high price of cigarettes and favors. From an inside contact, she heard that tomorrow was going to be a full shakedown for her row of cells. That means searching all toiletries and any possessions for illegal substances or weapons. Lucia made up a batch of hooch and hid It under Julie’s mattress. The shakedown occurred as scheduled and Julie was brought before the prison board. The head of the board spoke directly to Julie, “you realize Miss Walters that your involvement and possession of this substance will affect any parole recommendations and any considerations for future sobriety trial release time”.

    Julie knew that ratting out a fellow inmate violated about 12 internal jail codes and would be a sure way to get a beating or worse. However, Julie had a possession in her life now that meant more to her than any beating or retribution and that was her sobriety. “That is not my hooch and I did not make it,” she continued, “my cellmate is known throughout the prison for making this mixture, she is jealous of my meeting times, I believe that I have been set up and if you watch her closely or observe the bartering behaviors of the inmates you will easily see what I mean.”

The board knew what she was risking by making these assertions, but it was a much different plea than the usual tears and cries of “not me.” They told Julie to lie low and miss one week of AA meetings and they would investigate it.  During the next week, Lucia was gloating as she saw Julie sit each day without her usual 10:00 AM attendance at meetings and she even made some snide remarks, “not so big in that AA club any more are you girl?” Julie had no response and later in the week, Lucia was brought up on charges before the board for her involvement in mixing intoxicating substance. Julie was moved to a new cell, with a new cellmate, and was able to return to her meetings, but she watched her step in everything she did because she was sure the devil would sooner or later have her way.

    It came on a Thursday afternoon after shower time, as she walked to the towel room. A steel bar came crashing down on the side of her neck. That was the side of her bad hip and although she tried to protect that area of her body, the next blow hit directly on that very hip as if the attacker knew where it would hurt the most. An already tender area had now gotten crushed and caused Julie to scream. A red-haired girl about 6 feet tall at the other side of the towel room was moving to help her, but before she could jump in, Julie had taken another direct blow across her right eye and the bridge of her nose. The big girl named Sharon, ran over and threw a snap kick of her long leg directly into the face of the attacker and then wrestled the metal bar away from her. The guards were finally on the scene to control any additional fighting and to get Julie to the infirmary ward.

    Julie had been severely injured, and the only positive outcome of the attack was that her hip now required complete reconstruction and although Julie had needed medical attention to her hip for many years, she could never afford for anything to be done. In later years Julie would relate to this incident when she spoke at AA meetings. She would say that “gratitude came from that time of physical harm and injury which required medical attention and extensive recovery efforts for an end result of being in much better physical shape, just as I had to almost destroy myself to get to where I allowed a program of healing and recovery to put my entire life in a more complete and productive state, thus a grateful recovering alcoholic, a person who is grateful for having a disease.” She was offered various pain pills which she declined during her hip therapy. “I’ll get by with Tylenol and do without something that I could become addicted to.”

     During her hip therapy Julie was moved to a private cell where she spent her time outside of exercises reading various AA materials, the Big Book, the 12 and 12 (steps and traditions), and any other books that her AA friends would bring to her during their visits (AA books were quickly checked to be sure they were indeed just books and then immediately approved for her). She had completed her exercises diligently and her leg was getting better, her walking getting much easier. Bruce would visit often, and Julie was falling in love with him, she always knew that he was wonderful, but the true miracle was the rebirth of her feelings and being able to truly feel love and when she returned to the outside to sincerely express her newfound feelings.

    The day of Julie’s parole hearing arrived, and it was a very hot August afternoon. 105 degrees brought sweat to every brow and seemed to rob the governing board of any patience or careful consideration that they were capable of. Julie’s pulse was racing, and her expectations were hopeful but guarded. The judge looked up at her as her case was called and Julie stood for the decision. The judge had reviewed her records which included the sobriety release and the fight and infirmary time. She asked Julie the obligatory questions, “do you feel that you are rehabilitated and ready to re-join society,”, “yes, your honor,” she answered. “You have made progress on your sobriety, are you comfortable with continuing your participation in Alcoholics Anonymous?”, Julies heart raced as she felt hopeful but did not want to appear to be over-zealous, but she still loudly blurted out, “absolutely your honor.” As the judge looked back down at her records, Julie was thinking, ‘did I overdo it, did I sound like I would say anything to get out?’

    The judge looked down at Julie and said, “you have made great progress on your sobriety,” Julie felt that her face must be flaring red as her blood pumped strongly with hopeful expectation. The judge continued, “I think you may be ready to return to society at your next parole hearing and I am reducing your remaining sentence by a full year,” the judge spoke as if she was being very generous but Julie felt like l an old leaf that somebody had just shut the encyclopedia page on with a slam to leave her intact for long timekeeping.   A voice came from the audience, “your honor,” Julie recognized Bruce’s voice, “I have come to this ruling with a group from Alcoholics Anonymous,” (14 people, young, old and middle-aged stood up in the second row), Bruce continued, “I have also come with a petition from over 60 members of AA who have visited, shared and even learned from Julie as she has worked so hard on making her sobriety the most important thing in her life.” The judge said, “this is highly irregular, but let me look at the paper,” as Bruce continued, “we come to your honor, in Julie’s support and as a statement of her progress, but mostly to call not on your sympathy but your good judgment that Julie will be not only a responsible person within society but also an active and helpful member of Alcoholics Anonymous.”

    The judge looked up at Bruce after scanning the petition, “well said sir, and ladies and gentleman, thank you for your attendance today”, she turned her look down to Julie who was trying desperately to hold back the tears that were forming, “Julie Walters, you are released on one year’s probation, report to the clerk for assignment of your parole officer and your release will be processed immediately”. A soft applause came from the gallery to applaud the action yet keep the response humble and controlled.

Julie went home with Bruce that day to begin a new life that made her think about the simple AA sayings, “it gets better,” and “a day at a time.” She found her “home group,” which met every Wednesday at noon and what she loved about those meetings was the same people would see each other each week and you couldn’t pull one over on them, if you were hurting or dishonest they knew right away and it would be discussed. She had many talks about life and sobriety with her sponsor Barbara on the phone and every Tuesday and Thursday when she would meet her for lunch. Julie was asked to speak at various times at what were called simply “speaker meetings.” She loved to talk about how miracles happen at AA and how her story was true testament of that.

    Soon, Julie would see an example of how anything is possible through AA. At her Wednesday home group, two new members were in attendance. She immediately recognized one of the girls, but she had to get busy with announcements as she was the leader of the meeting. As she read the agenda she asked if there was anybody at their first AA meeting and if so, could they introduce themselves, first name only. The girl in the back with the orange hair spoke up, “my name is Lucia and I am an alcoholic”. Julie was amazed but very pleased that her rough and seemingly hopeless cellmate from years ago had found her way to recovery. Julie delighted to speak with her after the meeting and the whole experience clued her in on what she needed to do next.

    That evening after dinner, she packed up her backpack with her Big Book, various other AA materials and a folder of copies of local AA meeting schedules. As she turned to leave, Bruce was watching TV and he yelled out from the couch, “where you are going, Julie?” “Actually, Bruce I’m going back under the bridge,” she turned and gave him a wink as she caught the screen door so that it didn’t slam.

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