I've read about this in the police report... I'm going to add in my own detail though too, from what I can remember. This is the most detailed account I've ever given anyone, including my dad, so... Idk. Maybe I'll print it up and show him later, haha.

In July 1999, my mom (Grace-28 years old), her boyfriend (Tim-32), my brother (Steve-8), and me (9) all went to Grand Rapids. They were having a wrestling match at Van Andel Arena. My grandma got tickets for my brother's 8th birthday.

It's about a 2 hour long drive. There was a family picnic beforehand though, so my mom and Tim were already pretty much shitfaced. Now you probably see where this is going. It's a 2 hour long drive and they're completely drunk off their asses. Of course, they still decided to go.

In the police report, I said that Tim had been drinking "alcohol from a bag" the entire day. They thought I meant a brown paper bag, but I was talking about Crown Royale. A 9 year old doesn't exactly know the names of booze, even the 9 year old of a drunk, haha.

So we got there... And they just kept drinking. And drinking. They both fell out of their chairs several times. Now, I was 9, but I wasn't stupid. I was smart enough to know that if they can't even hold themselves up out of their chairs then obviously they aren't in any condition to drive.

When we left, it was late. Probably around 10 or 11. We started out for the car-- just my mom, Steve, and I. I think that might have been what gave me the courage-- Tim, the abusive one, was in the bathroom at the time (or he says that at least- everyone pretty much agrees he went to the bar across the street before the match ended).

My mom was fumbling with the keys when we were out near the car. She couldn't even get the key in the lock. Something clicked in my brain that if this woman's motor skills were impaired to the point of not even being able to get into the car, then she was definitely not in any condition to be driving it-- especially not 2 hours home.

So I did what anyone else with half a brain would do in the situation. When she managed to get the door open and my brother got in the car, I yanked him back out and told her I was refusing to let myself or Steve get in that car.

She just kept saying, "Amber, get in the car. Get in the car, it's fine. Let Stevie in the car."

We were crying. We looked across the street and there was a bar, something called lobster something? And we considered going there to get help. We were freaking out. And finally, I just flagged down the closest person who was watching the scene and said something along the lines of, "Do something, my mom's drunk and she's trying to get us to go home with her." We were in hysterics. What does a kid in this situation do? I dunno. But that's what I did.

The woman called the cops. The cops showed up and she actually started fighting them. She punched one and tried to run over another and abscond from the scene. Naturally, this was grounds enough to arrest her. I think she ended up getting charged with drunk and disorderly along with assaulting an officer.

We ended up going to the local Kids First. I couldn't stop crying. Everyone tried to make me feel better, but all I could think about was what I had done.

And the next couple of years were HELL.

Whatever love my mom had for me really died that night. Once she got out of jail, I became the punching bag for YEARS. I think Steve can take it so easily because he never had the negative attention. It was always "Amber, you got me arrested." Every night for years. I had to deal with that as a 9 year old, a 10 year old, an 11 year old.

After that, though, something happened. Mom started talking to dad, telling him stories about how Tim beat her up and raped her and made her dig her own grave and put her purse around her neck so they could identify the body.... I guess the final straw for him was when Tim pushed me down a flight of stairs. At that point, my dad didn't let us go back there for the weekend.

He started the custody battle, and won it when I was 12-- 2002. So from 1999 to 2002 I lived pretty much in guilt hell about ~getting her arrested~ that one night.

Even to this day, she does whatever she can to make me feel bad about myself. I never talk to her anymore, and whenever I do give her a chance, she always is an asshole. So yeah, I've given up on her.