Billy Feral (I had to change his identity for the purposes of this story, but his real name was just as fantastic and fitting) was a giant, at least 6’8” about 390 pounds. Billy was a homeless man living in a tent. He had some hygiene issues, to put it kindly. If he was in the pacific northwest, he’d have his own paparazzi group following him thinking he was Bigfoot. The resemblance was uncanny, a matted beard and mane of hair, toenails that were only tamed by scraping on the pavement he walked on. Truly wild like his namesake. As big as he was on the outside, he was just as small on the inside. Emotionally he was a child, innocent and simple, think real world sling blade.
Billy was on probation for a DWI. He borrowed someone’s car and drove to local store. He was drunk and driving way too slow on the roads. Like most DWI probationers, he had a lot of conditions to work his way through to avoid jail time. Orders to go to Alcoholic Anonymous Meetings a few times a week, classes, and pay an enormous fine. Billy did none of those things. Not to be defiant, but because he just didn’t have the capacity. As a result I had to cite him back to court.
Billy lived in a trailer park, behind the manager’s lot, close to the woods, in a tent. Upon approach the smell would hit you, a mix of blue cheese, sweaty feet, and old outhouse. Worst part was, due to the humidity the smell would stick to your clothes and skin long after you left. Luckily, Billy was standing outside his tent when I got there. I told him about his failure to comply with his probation conditions and his scheduled court date. I might as well been speaking latin, he didn’t understand a word I was saying.
“Don’t forget your court date tomorrow Billy. If you do, they are going to issue a warrant for you, and I’ll have to arrest you.”
Billy’s girlfriend Trish came out from the tent, the door flap refreshing the thick air with some more funk.
“I’ll make sure he shows,” she said. She had genuine concern on her face. She cared deeply for him. That gave me hope; for Billy and for humanity. There is someone out there for everyone.
As a surprise to no one, Billy didn’t show for his court hearing. The judge issued a warrant for his arrest.
I arrived to his tent later that day, still in my tie from court. When I came around the corner, Billy was sitting on a tree stump drinking a beer. He was surprised to see me and tried to tuck his beer under his leg.
“You missed your court date today, Billy.”
“Oh no, I did? I forgot all about it. I’m sorry,” he said with the innocence of a child, chin tucked into his chest, looking at his feet for an answer.
He stood up and I put the handcuffs on him. He was so large he needed two pair. He had a t shirt on with athletic shorts, no shoes. To my horror, he was not wearing any underwear. Trish came out of the tent looking scared to death.
“Oh my goodness, we forgot, I’m so sorry.” She said with sincerity. “What about his medications? Can I bring them to jail later?” I was touched by her care for him. He was a Sasquash, smelled like a sewer, and she loved him. She stood on the tree stump Billy was sitting on earlier, cupped his face and kissed him. “You’ll be okay, honey.”
I carefully walked Billy to the caged car for his transport to jail. These cars are not built for comfort, and do not have any leg room. Billy was way too big, even lying down in the back, he had to tuck his feet in to close the door. I almost clipped a toenail.
The jail was crowded that day. There were some experienced guests waiting to get booked in when we arrived. When they saw Billy, they saw opportunity; a simple giant they could manipulate and control. Billy looked scared. I motioned for him to ignore the chinless goblins and sit on one of the concrete blocks.
“…Jail is cold,” he said, resembling Eeyore. They pump the AC in the jails and there is no warmth of any kind, just concrete, iron, and evil. Billy was in way over his head.
Now, I’ve felt bad for probationers before, but this was another level. This was a boy, scared to death, cold, and thrown in a cage with real animals. I tried to reassure him, “You’ll be okay Billy.” Gripped his shoulder and gave him a smile.
On his court date a few weeks later, Billy was escorted in his orange jumpsuit with his hands strapped to his waist. He didn’t look any less scared or confused then he did the day I booked him in. Trish was there looking hopeful. When the judge wanted my recommendation, I asked to approach the bench and talk privately. What I wanted to say was not professional and might embarrass Billy. Doubtful, but possible.
“Your honor, Mr. Feral doesn’t have the mental capacity to attend any DWI classes or meetings, it’s a waste of time. Making him sit in jail is just as much of a waste. He isn’t a menace to society, he’s a harmless hobbit.”
The judge could see I was right, but wasn’t super confident. If Billy were to commit a violent crime in the future, the judge would be responsible. He looked over his glasses at Billy one more time and made eye contact with me. I gave him a nod, “It’ll be okay.” Not said but heard.
The judge decided to dismiss the case. Billy could go home. Trish was overwhelmed and began to cry. You’d think it was OJ Simpson up there. Billy was confused and asked me what it meant. I told him he could go home today. He began to cry.
Once in a while I’ll drive by the trailer park where Billy’s tent once was. I roll down my window and smell for the funk. Last I checked, he was still there.
The Trouble With Omens 