Committed to Psych Hospital by the Court, Diagnosed With Bipolar and Delusional Disorders

Once upon a time, in March 2000, not long after Desiree and I met in Phoenix she shacked up with me and we moved back to Los Angeles. And shortly after that, she went on a drug binge and disappeared for a few weeks.

Eventually, I found out from her mother that she had been arrested in Santa Monica, under a fake name and had been booked into the county jail. After days of getting the runaround from the Santa Monica Police, the LA County Sheriffs, and various courts, I found she was being held at a place called Penn Mar in El Monte. It turned out Penn Mar is a psychiatric facility for the criminally insane ... well, okay they don't call it that; they call it a "therapeutic center", but six and one half dozen. This is the story of that time. And I swear (as always), every word of it is true.

So, after commencing her drug binge, I got fed up with her and ditched her with some friends of her family in Torrance. A few days later they called me to tell me they eventually had to call the police because she refused to leave their home. After the police showed up, she left and nobody had heard from her for over a week.

Out of a misguided sense of obligation (I was, after all, the one that brought her to LA), I took time off work to try to track her down. I contacted the various police agencies. Nobody had any record of her.

Then, while I was on the Third Street Promenade, hoping to find any information about what had happened to her, I ran into a couple of street kids she had befriended earlier. They informed me she had been tripping balls on the Promenade and was arrested. She had used a fake name - Virginia Tomlin. That's why the police had no record of her.

Apparently, she had been so ripped she was in some public parking structure, hallucinating, and was refusing to leave.

From the reports, when she was arrested on March 13, 2000, she gave the police the name Virginia Tomlin. Yeah, she gave the police a fake name, and she openly admits this court records; email dated 2012-02-08. She was incoherent, belligerant, and talking all kinds of crazy shit.

She was booked in, and on March 14, 2000, went before a judge for her initial appearance. Three days later, on March 17, 2000, she had a pretrial conference (PTC).

During the PTC she refused to sit still. She refused to discontinue her conversation with the paper clip. She'd never met such a beautiful and insightful paper clip. She was overwhelmed with happiness and wanted nothing more than to dance. To dance and dance and dance. So she danced. She had no time for the judge and his silly shenanigans. Desiree and paper clip guy were going to run off to Yuma together and raise mentally retarded, alopecia platypuses and sell them to horizontally challenged Orwellian utopians. It was going to be great.

Through her murky cognition she hears some angry voices. Such ugly, ugly words. Is that a judge? Why is he screaming? Why is he in my bathroom? What? Wait, no, stop touching me. What is this table saying to me ... What? You're peeing on the floor. Wait, what? Who ... no, ugh, too much chaos. No, silly, I'm not peeing on the floor ... oh ... I am ... DANCE! I wanna dance ... dance with me, judge. Fucking lunacy!

And this is four days after her arrest. She was no longer high. She's just fucking crazy.

She pled no contest and was sentenced to seven days in jail and one year of probation. And, given her insane behavior in the courtroom, she was committed to a psychiatric hospital for evaluation. Even though her sentence was only seven days, the psychiatric commital meant she would be kept in custody at the psych hospital until the doctors determined she was mentally fit for release.

Some time later, she awoke in a strange place, surrounded by literally strange people. She came to learn she was at the Penn Mar Therapeutic Center in El Monte, California. A psychiatric hospital.

Days passed. Not much for her to do. Talk to doctors, read, socialize with crazy people.

After a few days, I finally tracked her down at the Penn Mar Therapuetic Center (don't let the name mislead you, it's still a psych hospital). I picked her up a few books and a few packs of Camels, and went to see her.

The doctors weren't telling her much, you know, on account of her being bat shit crazy and under a court ordered commital. I told the doctors I was her husband. She went along with that so I could visit and bring her smokes and whatever other daily sundries crazy people use.

I asked the doctor why she's here. The doctor told me she's very ill and needed continued treatment. I told the doctor I didn't believe she was committed by the court. I asked to see the paperwork. The nurse brought me the papers, then went off to deal with some psycho who's shadow was being verbally abusive with her. The doctor fading into the background or something, fuck I don't.

I reviewed the documents. Yep, sure enough, the judge described her as erratic and appearing to suffer from severe mental illness. Included with the documents was the doctor's preliminary diagnosis and recommendations for the court. Bipolar and delusional disorders; maintains conversations with inanimate objects, particularly walls; refuses to accept reality; violent outbursts.

Seeing both the nurse and the doctor had left us alone, I excused myself. I brought the file out to my car and stored it safely away in the glove box.

Some time later, the nurse returned and asked for the file back. I said, "File? What file?" The nurse went away and was soon replaced by the doctor, who also requested the file back. I said, "You know, I really don't think Virginia needs to be here." Remember, she gave them that fake name. The doctor, catching the hint, said he'd be right back. Moments later, he returned and said he'd be willing to sign off on Virgina's (Desiree's) release, into my care, if that paperwork were to be found.

I obtained the file from my car. The doctor authorized Desiree's release. And she went home with me, where she wouldn't have to get the treatment she so probably needed.

True story! And just like the true story about the time Desiree tried to force a miscarriage by repeatedly punching herself in the stomach, if it wasn't true it would be so incredibly easy for her to prove - you know, the court records and hospital records. But of course, she will never do that because, unfortunately, it IS true. Desiree was committed, under court order, to a psychiatric hospital and diagnosed as bipolar and delusional. Oh well.