The Beginning (cont'd)
suzanne was doing her best to push her words out, like when you are in a dream and can't make your body move.  I heard, "I think Jon shot someone in the stomach!"  I went into immediate shock......"What? What did you say?  What!  Where is Jonathan?? Where's Dad!!"  After telling me she learned of this from Jonathan's ex-girlfriend she was incapable of saying anything else and dropped the phone still crying hysterically.  I tried to call my husband repeatedly, but got no answer.  I found out later that he knew something was wrong that day...he had an overwhelming sense of dread..  He left work early and was busy going to all of Jon's friends houses looking  for him.  No one seemed to know where he was.  By the time he located our son by calling the police station (no one bothered to call us, his parents) Jonathan was already in police custody. He had been taken to the juvenile detention center and was being questioned without his parents and without counsel.  Dan and his mother rushed over to where Jonathan was being kept to be with him and told him not to answer any more questions until we could find a lawyer.  My husband and Jonathan's grandmother were not allowed to touch him or hug him and after a brief visit were told they had to leave.

During this time I was making multiple phone calls trying to piece together what happened and where in the world my son was.  I finally got a hold of my sister-in-law who told me that Dan, her mom, and Jonathan were at the Cape County Juvenile Detention Center.  By the time I called the Juvenile Detention Center approximately three hours after his arrest, my husband and his mother were already gone, and I learned that Jonathan had been moved without our knowledge.  When I asked the juvenile officer why he had been moved and where he was I was told, "Ma'am he was suicidal and in extreme shock after the incident so we moved him to an adolescent psychiatric hospital."
"I don't know."
"Who does know?  How can I find him?"
"I'll leave a message with the supervisor and you can try calling tomorrow,"
Tomorrow!!?? Are you kidding me!!!  Do you not know how I feel!! Broken! Devastated! In Shock! Worried to the depths of my soul! Powerless!! Where is my SON!!

I had to get home.  I went to speak broken and crying with my commanding officer to plead for an early release to go home.  He was very kind and told me he had gotten into the same trouble way back when he was young.   He encouraged me that he had a good judge who wanted to give him a second chance and that's most likely what would happen with us.  He promised me I'd be on a plane the next day headed home.

All I knew by the end of that day was my son was in serious trouble, the boy he shot was in surgery, and I was utterly, totally alone.

 For some reason known only by God, as I prayed desperately for Jonathan; my husband felt the same desperate pull to pray for Jeremy (the boy Jon shot).

That is how DAY 1 ended.

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