Jarrett Pritchard

Jarrett Pritchard

Springfield,Virginia Straight

January 1989 to January 1989


Cop out, Opt out…

By Jarrett Pritchard

It’s hard to even know how to begin to tell you the story of one of the strangest things that has ever happened to me. I guess I would have to start with a little background. I was an average kid from Norfolk, Virginia.  My parents divorced when I was three.  My mother remarried. We were a not so typical early 80’s broken family abusive stepfather situation. I was obsessed with music and playing my guitar and was saved by Punk rock in about 1985. That story and explanation can be found right here if you care to read it.




The short version is that in the Spring of 1988 I left my moms house for the last time. I had run away more than once. I took to the streets, cars, friends’ homes and wandered for a few months until I finally called my Aunt in Florida and decided to head South and live with her and try to get my life on track. I wasn’t what was referred to as a “Druggie” That isn’t to say that I didn’t do drugs- I did. I smoked pot, I drank on occasion, I took acid, Mushrooms- on occasion- but for the most part I was far more concerned with being punk and playing in my band than I was with how to get fucked up- I didn’t steal from people and would never touch anything like Heroin which was rearing its ugly head in my circles. For the most part unless I was hiding from my mother and the cops for running away I went to school. I even got on The Honor Roll on a bet with my mother that I was no longer capable.  I had never even done cocaine at up until the 2 times I did it in the fall of 1988 once I was in Florida while all of this was taking place- it wasn’t my thing- it tasted like shit and I thought it was kind of a bore. Besides that, I always thought of it as kind of a Richie drug. Something asshole yuppies did. Pretty much the type of people I was surrounded by in school and doing social and sometimes physical battle with daily.

So I went to Florida- immersed myself in the blossoming grind/ death metal scene, cut off my Mohawk and went to High School and tried to be a normal kid- no longer on the streets etc.-I made new friends and yeah they were a troublesome bunch but I was really behaving hanging out with my girlfriend even going to school with no authority to force me too. About six months after I got there My aunt found out she and her husband were going to have a baby and intended to move to NSB- I was really enjoying Tampa so I decided I would live with my friend Max and his family. In January 1989 like around the second, I got sick- still don’t know why and I went to the hospital with my then girlfriend and her mother to see what was going on. I went into the hospital room- now let me paint a picture for you really quickly- I was a full blown 80’s punk- I don’t remember exactly but I’m sure the remnants of eye makeup on my face- Hair probably in a bandana Leather jacket painted and spiked big engineer boots probably a ton of spikes and bracelets- I mean it was the 80’s you know and I was already a lifer. They decided to do some test on me by putting a tube up my nose to extract stomach fluid- Let me tell you having that thing crammed into your face is very painful. I was a scrappy little punk kid- and I’m sure I had broken my nose at least once at a show and when they pulled that thing out of my face they must have hit something and it gushed blood into the bowl they were extracting fluid into. Naturally I was really pissed.

So I sat there cleaning myself up and not particularly happy at the time when a woman walked into the room and started to give me the third degree. “How much coc are you doing?” Me-” What the fuck are you talking about?” Her, “Oh come on look at you look at your face” etc.- Me with the diplomacy of a Sherman tank ” Why don’t you get fucked you stupid cunt- get the fuck out of here- Don’t come in here deciding you know a thing about me because you don’t like how I look fuck off and die.” And she left in a huff. Really smart. I could still use some work on diplomacy even today. Amusing to say the least as I’m laughing while I type this remembering it all.

Well that probably wasn’t very smart. I got my things together and returned to the waiting room where my girlfriend and her mom were and I said- “Hey something isn’t right, we need to get out of here now.” Right as the words came out of my mouth a cop appeared at the only door out asking for me by name. Shit I knew this was going to be bad. I got marched into the social worker who I had called a cunt’s office and she had my mother on the phone- I’m telling you wouldn’t believe the lies this woman told my panicking mother in Virginia who hadn’t seen me in nine months or so. She told her that I had a $200.00 a day cocaine habit and that I was shoplifting from Circle K and selling the snickers bars or whatever I stole to support my habit- Seriously that was what she told my mother and she believed it. Do you know how fucking ridiculous that is? Hell skip ridiculous do you know how improbable it is that a person strung out could function well enough to pull that everyday without getting caught- and hey you know I would only have to have stolen/sold 400 snickers each morning- I mean the snickers are a metaphor but I’m sure you get the point- The Lighter caps I had crushed to the belt of my jacket were supposedly from the lighters I was stealing and selling…but if I broke them who in the hell is buying? It was completely stupid and I still wasn’t even remotely taking it seriously it was so stupid. I probably should have but I didn’t believe anyone could believe such a thing.

The next thing that happened was insane- the cops immediately took me into custody and threw me into a cop car- me protesting vehemently- what are the charges???? They took me to a detention center called WT Edwards in Tampa and as I was walking up I could here the inhabitants banging on the walls- the cops were laughing about what would happen when the little punk rocker gets thrown in with the animals. Basically I would get beaten… Shitty- but at this point having been on the fringes of society for years at that point I was pretty good at keeping my head in a crisis. I spoke up loudly- “Hey, I have not committed a crime. You cannot incarcerate me with any charges. Running away from home is not illegal. You have to move me to a group shelter immediately. If you put me in a cell for any amount of time with no arrest and no rights read I will sue you. ” And do you know what? I was right- this wasn’t my first Rodeo with the piggy’s- I had been leaving home since I was 14 years old. I knew the law. They Grumbled and agreed that I was right and I was put into another cop car and taken to Lake Magdalene Group home in North Tampa. There I sat waiting for my mother to come to Florida to retrieve me and drag me back home.

The Next morning I was woken up and taken to court on my 16th Birthday on January 4, 1989 and ordered by the judge to stay at the shelter or I would have committed a crime violating his order and they would put me in a secure facility. When I returned to the facility I was told I would spend my time there is the house with the younger children since there wasn’t room for me in the older kids barracks. This was fine with me because the counselor at night there in that house was really cool. Mostly that they let me use the telephone at night, and smoke. I called my friend Max and spoke with him and his mother about the situation. Karen, his mom was a very interesting and intuitive Native American woman. A very forward thinking woman, who wouldn’t just take the word or the outlines by society standards to form an opinion. She liked facts and she basically said she didn’t feel good about the situation. That I should stay put, let my mother take custody of me so that the court order was fulfilled, and see what happens, but that if things went wrong call from anywhere and she would send me a bus ticket from anywhere in the country- This conversation plays a huge roll in what would happen next.

The week passed and low and behold my mother arrived to pick me up what I feel like was that Thursday I would have to look at a calendar to be sure. She arrived with her best friend in the car and was glad to see me and yammering on about how nice it would be to come home and to see my friends and start my old band again. We got in the car and started the long trek back to Virginia- I had absolutely no intentions of staying once I got there- My life was in Tampa, Florida now. Norfolk, Virginia was a one-way ticket to hell. I still hated my newest stepfather who I had graduated to fist fighting with before I left the year before. My Dad wasn’t really volunteering to move me in. Most of my friends were starting to do stupid shit like heroin up there and I was alive to win- I was going to do something with life and it wasn’t there.

So we traveled. We stopped in New Smyrna Beach to pick up a friend of my uncle named Andy- a Wrestler. My Uncle Mike has been a wrestling coach his whole adult life- so none of this seemed odd to me at the time. We traveled and talked and it was pleasant I suppose. I tried my best to hold conversations that would not infuriate them. As we came into Virginia I noticed that we passed SR58. Anyone from Tidewater knows that when traveling interstate 95, that is the one way to get to the Beach, Norfolk where I lived and Portsmouth. And we passed it. What was happening? So I asked “Hey where are we going?” “Oh we are dropping Andy off near Richmond.” Made sense I guess… Ok driving north still… Pass Richmond… “Hey where are we going? “. “Not much further now.”. My mind was racing.  “Oh shit what in the fuck is she up too- ” and the internal argument ” No, No everything is ok your mom would never do that to you” hahahahahahhahahaha yeah. Never.

You see Straight INC was legend and fucking terrifying to all of us- we knew what it was and we knew what happened to kids that went there. First of all, they fell off of the face of the earth. Second of all when and if they ever did come back they were not ok. Now most of my peer group had been to a hospital at least once- I did my time at NPC for getting caught with a weapon in my jacket and some pot in my wallet the year before. OK I admit that wasn’t a very nice kid thing to do. Hey it was the 80’s. I was a punk and walking alone was Dangerous. We were chased, spit at, jumped, bottles thrown at, and let’s face it traveling through Norfolk you can find your self in some hairy places pretty quickly. At school anyone of us could get jumped, Punched, kicked attacked and the administration would do nothing- Fight back and you are suspended. Look crooked- suspended. Searched for no reason- Incidentally after that the next year where I went to high school with a guy who I saw in Straight when I arrived- When anyone got busted doing drugs- I got searched. Strip searched. Lock cut off my locker and I was sick of it. So protecting myself wasn’t a random act of carelessness. I was carrying because it was tricky in those days. Nothing like it is today where that is the norm. People would see someone different and in seconds you were in a fight.

But those rehabs were country clubs- You just basically said yes and waited for your 30 days of insurance ran out and when you got out behave yourself or at least try to so you didn’t get in trouble again. Then you went to NA and AA with a bunch of other kids who could care less about a program- Girls that were down, Other punks, Kids you would never meet from other high schools it was actually an interesting teenage culture in the 80’s. Maybe not the smartest thing to put like minded trouble bound kids in contact but hey.

Straight was the worst nightmare you could imagine… Nothing was worse. That was where the joke stopped- and getting kicked out of there- which was nearly impossible-we were always told Eastern State was the Next stop- the real deal- Electro shock treatment. Never coming home… And like I said- it was horror show legend to everyone. It was so bad I believe one girl I knew went and even her parents removed her immediately.

“How much further is it ?” I said. “Not to far now don’t worry.” I remember seeing the snow as we drove and thinking “Oh shit this is happening.” We stopped at a gas station to use the bathroom and I remember thinking I should have run then but it was freezing and I literally would have no where to go somewhere between Richmond,Virginia and Washington,DC on 95. That was the clench there was my last mistake… ” Are we going near DC?” ” No not much further now.” And then we pulled up. I am pretty sure it was a yellow brick building. It has been a long time. As soon as I saw it I knew. I don’t know how but I reached for the car door in a panic and the child Locks had been engaged while I was in the bathroom at the gas station. Andy who was in the back seat basically put his hand on my shoulder and said- ” Man I don’t want to be here at all. Just do me a favor and walk in so I don’t have to tackle you” I knew I was fucked… Prison. It was the worst thing that could happen too you.

I was marched inside still not completely sure of where I was. I had an Idea but I guess I was hanging on to that last ditch piece of hope that I was ANYWHERE else.

I asked where the bathroom was and went in to get myself together and think about what was happening. Someone came in behind me. A small guy. I asked him “Where the fuck am I?” His answer didn’t suffice-“you are somewhere to help you man” I’m not sure what I said I’m sure it was along the lines of something not pleasant. Anyway I went into the office- you all know the one- the one that looks like a lawyers office where they “talk” with you and your Parent/s about why you are there. They asked me all kinds of questions to which I replied, “Fuck off” to most of them- I don’t remember the details but I do remember my mom. Saying that “Jarrett Lives in a fantasy world of Black Magic and Witchcraft” To which I responded, ” You want to see fantasy? Keep fucking with me.”

The next thing I remember was the intake room. It was small with tiled linoleum floor with wood paneling on the walls. I remember thinking that this wasn’t a very good quiet room- having been in one during my previous tour at NPC I remember laughing to myself thinking that I could turn that room to splinters in moments. Single chair center against the Back wall facing two people sitting in Chairs on either side of the doors. Asking question after question trying to get me to admit things that just were not true. Things that just weren’t who I was. Don’t get me wrong I was a very wild child- it just wasn’t drugs- they were around but they were really far down on my priority list and people that were overly obsessed with partying annoyed me. Completely. Time passed questions upon questions- I remember telling them that I could easily take the folding chair I was in and decimate them and the room I was sitting in with very little trouble. I think they went and got a few more… I seem to remember there being four people in the room at that point. All of this was hazy- I was tripped the fuck out. I was scared and uncertain all I knew was that it was bad- like really bad. And me scared… That’s arguably worse than me pissed.

Marched into the big room. Girls and guys separated. Two areas with Chairs. White walls. That American flag, I think a Prayer and Maybe the twelve steps on the walls…And that podium. Where the master of ceremonies spoke. Constantly Manipulative. Trying to get into our heads- trying to break us. Trying to make you buy that you were a horrible human being. That you were dead without them. Strangely that they were the Saviors. It never occurred to them that a person like me had been an outcast for years already- I’m not whining it was a choice- I was in a different state of mind- I couldn’t give a shit what anyone thought of me so that whole peer pressure thing didn’t work at all.

They never seemed to ask, “What were your parents like?” At least not to me. Mine were liberal theater people and a musician turned scientist for NASA in Hampton. My mom and her husband smoked dope. So did her sister and brother, Her best friend (basically my god mother) All of my friends parents. We were the children of the me decade most of our parents and us from Fucked up 70’s splintered marriages that were too self absorbed to realize who we were until it was too late. My parents were in the theater community- held and took me to cast parties. I was around wild very nice people my whole life. I grew up on things like the Sound track to Rocky Horror. I didn’t even realize that society thought differently about Gay people until I entered public school in the 5th grade because it was all a part of what I saw every day. I didn’t need saving. Just one day I woke up and became my own person and in fairness. I don’t really blame my mom. I’m a parent of two now and I know she was scared. I know she thought I was going to die. I know that when she saw me change from being a victim to a monster and couldn’t understand anything I was into or doing she just wanted me to be ok. We are good now. We understand each other fine. I had to go my way because her way didn’t work for me at the time. And neither of us regrets it. I didn’t need Brain washing or saving and these people sure weren’t the people to do it if I did. Families didn’t work and I wasn’t going to sit around docile and quiet getting in line doing as I was told answering to people who hadn’t earned the right to tell me shit. Little anarchist. But you know, I’m not much different now.

The only things I can really say about my 9 days would be that I knew from the start what they were trying to do to us. Re program. Re value. And they used humiliation, abuse, peer pressure, and pretty much any means they could to do so. When an old friend who in life had been an ANNOYING drug seeker ratted me out telling them lies about my outside life- I realized that the abuse was so bad that the patients turned against each other to gain favor with their captors. Psychotic. Literally psychotic. I sat in that chair and I though about anything I could to keep them out of my head- While you were talking I was reciting song lyrics, Dialog from Movies, Telephone Numbers, Anything. Anything at all I could to keep them out of my head- when I saw others motivate I Snapped out of it and motivated. I knew they would never call on me. As soon as someone was chosen, I went back into my hole. I wanted nothing to do with this place. I didn’t hear them. I wouldn’t allow this to take me.

Throughout the days Interesting things happened. One was that in hearing some of the stories I came to realize that some of the people in the place probably did need some help. I never stole from my parents or wrecked a car or smoked crack- I mean I was bad by some standard I got in fights, Ran away from home. Had sex, Took my share of drugs I guess, Hated school and wanted nothing else but to play in my bands-but not anywhere close to some of what I was hearing. And hey that’s ok no judgment just an observation I made. I remember the talks about the image- and how you couldn’t have anything from your old life- but my only shoes were a pair of Vans… Maybe those stupid shoes helped anchor me. I don’t know. Belt loop walks. Screaming at people- Days ran together as did every moment I was there trying to find a way out. There was another kid there who tried to run and was bad constantly I think his name was Glenn. But he was helpful because I saw by watching him that running from the group was impossible. He tried it repeatedly and was just tackled and to tell you the truth they only brought us In and out of the back into the parking lot- So I couldn’t remember the layout of the building at all. I got sent to the infirmary where somebody tried to tell me I was on heroin. That was amusing to say the Least. Me? Anyone who knows me knows how much I hate it and at the time how violently reactive I have been to any of my friends who were doing it. At one point while in line the Kid Behind me and I had a deal. I told that if I pulled he better let me go or else- I was fucking running and that was it… You were all in there; you know what it was like so I’m going to move on to the events of the last day I was there and the escape. Oh Mic talk…God that was rich. Hahahahaha. And singing those ridiculous songs. For some reason I remember Gilligan’s Island and the song I have hated since I was an infant “Leaving on  a jet plane” seriously I HATE that song with every single thing I have.

I opted out and I defy anyone to say I “Coped out” of shit. I took my life into my hands and I took control, I did it the hard way. I started with nothing but a backpack and I created my life as I sit here in a hotel in Cleveland… On tour as a respected FOH engineer. I’m writing and looking at the phone waiting for the mastering engineer to get back to me about the new album I’m finishing up that I produced. FUCK YOU to each and every one of those people that perpetuated that shit on all of you and tried to do it to me. To this day wereI confronted with any Staff member from those nine days I have no idea how I would react. I doubt it would be in a healthy positive manner though. It infuriates me to think that it even existed. It infuriates me to think that so many of you didn’t escape it. I wonder, if they affected me in such a reactive way in nine days what happened to you that were there for a year? 2?

Sunday January 15, 1989…

I awoke in the host-home, got up and was transported to the Building. God the cloths I had were gross. I remember it was cold and the whole Mom taking the kids to school vibe was so weird contrived and fake to me… Riding in these cars with these parents that were preyed on…Fear and Psychiatry the religion of the 80’s…. Parents in Panic. Looking for help and like a serpent tongue beckoning. Come to us come here we can help we will save them. Submit to us. Disgusting. So the day started Bad. There was a really pretty blonde girl about my age that I had noticed- Of course I did let any one know I noticed because looking at a girl was a cardinal sin for these people. I had heard people getting screamed at for looking at the girls’ side of the room. But I had noticed her and for whatever reason they decided she wasn’t being a good little drone. They stood her up and were screaming and yelling at her calling her a whore telling her she was a fake and not working their program. Shoving a Picture of her in her face- and I heard a sound from the back of the room and it was a female staff member who threw a boot at her. It was apparently what she had on when she came in and it hit her. People around me in the New Comer first row including myself started to yell ” What the fuck man?” And “Leave her alone” and were silenced and that was the climate of that last day… So I sat there. I knew I could never play this game. I knew it just wasn’t in me. I thought about the two years until I was eighteen. I thought about my friends in Florida. I thought about my Guitar that I had been playing since I was a kid. I thought about my Girlfriend in Florida… and I think I hit my breaking point. I just leaned forward with my face in my hands and tears started to flow. It felt so hopeless I was so tired from trying to keep these people out of my head. They had called me names I had heard my parents lie at Microphone talk. They tried to coerce me into saying I was things I wasn’t. I saw them abuse people. I saw Glen (I think that is his name) get beaten on every single day and the fact that it was being done by other kids in the same jam as we were was maddening to me- We outnumbered these people. Why didn’t anyone see that in under five minutes we could have taken over and been done with it?

All of a sudden I felt the person behind me Grab me and Yank me backwards into my seat. I started to scream fuck you and the person next to me put a hand over my mouth, which I immediately tried to bite. The person to my left had a hold of my left hand and was literally intentionally trying to break my fingers. I was trying to punch the person next to me that had my fingers to no Avail- try swinging across you sometime. Basically they had me and I was completely restrained. Instead of continuing to fight a calm came over me and I said to myself. ” I don’t care who dies, I don’t care if it kills me I’m leaving this place tonight.”

So the day dragged on… Feeling worn out like tears and adrenaline will do to you I sat there. I motivated to make them leave me alone. Finally we went to the host home in the town of Silver Spring, Maryland. There were five of us there. After the dinner was complete it was shower time. The troublemaker and myself I mentioned above and a guy who had been on fourth phase and put back to second were on shower shift together. One hand on the Shower rod at all times. Take a shit with two other guys in a 6×6 bathroom. Humanity at its finest. After the three of us were done we went into the living room while the other two started their showers and the host parent went to bed- I am guessing it was about 11:00 Pm. As the three of us sat there, the usual warped way of communicating began. “Tell this guy” such and such. There was an ashtray on the coffee table with half cigarettes and I noticed my second phaser looking at it. Right then I knew we were leaving. I started to speak…” Man I need a cigarette” ” Shut up you cant say that ” ” Sorry man its true I need a cigarette lets go get some” ” Shut up” ” Hey man I’m just telling the truth I need a fucking cigarette this shit is insane lets fucking go” The 2nd phaser got up and went toward the hall- I honestly thought he was going to get re-enforcements to shut me up- But he didn’t he looked down the hallway and came back to the Front door and reached for the knob but noticed the Alarm on the door. And Stopped- he turned and looked at us and said ” You want to get out of here lets go NOW!!!” I jumped up and so did Glenn(?) I grabbed my jacket. I had one shoe in my hand one on my foot and he headed to the side/ back door of the house. No Alarm. He opened it and we were out the door onto a side porch. My feet never touched the ground in that back yard- I jumped from the porch over the fence and we took off running silently and fast. Running through the snow.

We ran like hell- I was running for my life. I wasn’t fucking around. If a cop had seen us I, still to this day, think they would have had to shoot me because there was no way I was going back. We ran about a mile through the snow through a neighborhood until we found the cover of some trees. It was vaguely forest like and dark where we couldn’t be seen. I sat down on the ground and put my other shoe on that I had been carrying and I realized I was lucky that I had on wool socks- if you don’t know wool can get wet and still keep you warm unlike Cotton or polyester. I had on a windbreaker type of jacket not nearly enough for this weather but I was going to have to deal with it. Cold. But free.

We got up and started moving towards the lights of the suburban cityscape… Strip malls. I knew we were out after curfew and I also knew my mother would be screaming bloody murder that she had warned them I would run and they better catch me and blah blah so I decided right away since we were all from south of us- We should go north. They wouldn’t look that way and my mother in particular would tell them that I was heading south. It was also late at night and three kids walking through the city would be completely conspicuous. We used the strip malls and the Alleys behind them to maneuver through town. You have to remember I had no idea where we were going at all. I was guessing. I just knew we had to get to the interstate. As we crept through town we stopped at a payphone so we could make calls. I called my Friend in Florida and spoke to his mother and told her she was right that the worst had happened. She told me to stay out of sight and get to a bus station and there would be a ticket waiting for me. So we continued to move through the town and the snow piles looking for an interstate. I guess dumb luck took over because we found what I now know was 495 and stood on the on Ramp and hitchhiked for a while. A pick up truck came by and stopped. We got in the back and were in for a very cold ride to I-95.

Once we got on the interstate it was a Cat and mouse trek up the side of ditches, Hiding behind semi-s, sometimes hoping a fence and walking through the neighborhoods next to the interstate so we wouldn’t be seen. Over passes were great because they provided shelter from the wind and snow- it was frigid out. Nearly unbearable. And making my legs work after essentially going from sitting for 9 days to walking running jumping for 20 miles in freezing weather wasn’t really happening. It sucked. But we did it. We arrived in a small town called Laurel. Around sunrise and obviously without the cover of darkness we had to do something. We ended up going to a hotel in Laurel with no money. The lobby coffee and pay phones to make collect calls seemed like a great plan. I knew my fellow escapees had no plan. Once they got on the phones with their Families I made my quiet exit and headed up the street to a bus station. My legs were in near agony at this point and as Promised there was a bus ticket for me to Tampa, Florida. And so began one of the most nervous 24 plus hours of my life time.

I arrived in Florida a fugitive. Private detectives cops the whole trip looking for me. Tormenting my Friends. Wanted posters of me around Norfolk,Virginia where I lived. I was in Florida. I stayed with friends for a time, Worked and ended up moving into a small weekly rental room per week that didn’t ask for ID. It was admittedly in Crack town and rather dangerous but absolutely off the Grid. I wandered made some new friends. In the Spring on 1989 right around June I met the other founding members of the Band I formed called Eulogy. Not that it matters but we were a part of the death metal explosion in Tampa that happened in the early 90’s. We were all 3 basically runaways and stayed together and took care of each other living in trailers and Houses and sometimes wandering. Sometimes we lived in our rehearsal space and ultimately we made it through. When I turned 18, I immediately went home to my Grandmothers house in Norfolk. Got my High School diploma, Drivers License and worked through the summer to buy Equipment and returned to Florida to play and continue what we had started.

I don’t know if there is a way to end this story. Life went on. I became a successful engineer and I still tour and make Records to this day. My Main Job is FOH/ Production manager for the Legendary New Orleans Pianist Dr John. But I do records and tour with a bunch of Metal Bands as well. So Far I’ve managed to pull 2 Grammy nominations and Taught engineering for about 5 years at a university. Mixed 300 or so hours of television for “The Discovery Channel” and most importantly am a single father of twins that are both currently enrolled and doing well in CollegeUniversity. Daughter is on the Deans list and my Son…Well he is a rebellious little genius that gets exceptional grades without batting an eye. Life went ok. The Druggie piece of shit with Leeches for friends did ok. Without years of mental and Physical abuse.

Those people were wrong. And what they were trying to do was wrong. I never encountered anyone else that was there other than Mike K. until I stumbled across a group on Facebook recently. The whole thing is so surreal to talk about.

I’ve never so much as encountered a staff member once-Luckily time has faded my memory and I wouldn’t know one of them if they were in front of me. I know that tiny spec of time is nothing compared to what the rest of you went through. I can’t imagine. You are stronger than me. I don’t think I would have made it. There is no way I could have lasted another minute. It’s impossible to sum this up. Because it shaped so many things that would come. I did end up speaking to my mother a few months after the escape. I found out they were trying to bill her 13,000.00 for 9 days BTW. So if any of you wonder what the motivation for fucking your mind was- it wasn’t to help you I assure you. She took them to court for losing her son (She wasn’t stupid. She warned them I would escape).

Jarrett Pritchard