Mental Health and Suicide

Rhinox

too old for this
Citizen
talked to the police yesterday.
they say this wasn't an accident. She was murdered. She was hit by their car and when she tried to get away they got out and beat her to death.
There's going to be a press release within the next few days and they say they have a couple of suspects already.

I really don't know how to feel right now. I know my wife is just lost with this revelation. Like, on the one hand, we knew she wasn't stupid. Getting hit by a car, in an accident, that just wasn't her. But knowing that this was a targeted act of violence just changes everything. It's a very different kind of hurt.

*clarification. The detective I talked to when we first arrived was a family friend not attached to the case. He knew what we knew at the time, which wasn't much. The detective we spoke to yesterday was one of the heads of the West Palm Major Crimes division. This is a much bigger deal than we'd been told before.
 

Caldwin

Eorzean Idiot
Citizen
Geeze! I don't know what's worse: thinking it's an accident and that the police can't do anything or knowing she was deliberately targeted but at least the police are taking it seriously. I'm so sorry your family's going through this.
 

Echowarrior

Well-known member
Citizen
Well, I know that what I'm going through is nothing compared to what Rhinox is having to deal with, but I'm still getting harassed by neighborhood kids. I'm at the point where I've decided that a security system is a good idea.

I just wish I didn't have to do this. What happened to good parenting?
 

Rhinox

too old for this
Citizen

This is the first time I've been able to get online at my computer since the 5th.
We still don't know what is going on. We heard that more search warrants were executed today and that maybe there'd been an arrest, but we're getting third party information. The detective just says "we're working hard".
It's not that I doubt him or anything, but some crumb of news would really be nice.

The funeral was a funeral. Jon, her husband, planned to have her cremated, but he wanted a viewing so the girls could see her one last time. They had to do some pretty serious work to make her presentable. Not that any body is pretty, but you could tell this took some extra time and the results weren't great.

Made it back to Kansas on Tuesday and went back to work. Bosses have cut my hours and are keeping me at sites where I don't have much interaction with the public till they're sure about me. Haven't done any schoolwork for over 2 weeks and I'm terrified of how I'm going to catch up.
Life hurts guys.
 

Rhinox

too old for this
Citizen
I'm okay. Life just really sucks. and honestly, I don't have time to stop or to 'take care'. I've gone 2 + weeks without work or school. Got no money and bills are due.

Here's a fun bit of irony. My classes are all for my criminal justice degree. Somehow we're all on the chapters discussing statistics. Apparently the odds of this kind of event, a murder committed by someone who isn't an immediate family member is extremely rare.
Nice to know that we can't win the lottery, but by god we're #1 in the misery showcase.
 

Rhinox

too old for this
Citizen
I just heard from my wife. They know who did this. He's not been arrested yet, he ducked a warrant.
Apparently she'd had a stalker. and he caught her out alone with a flat tire.

but they know who he is.
 

Princess Viola

Dumbass Asexual
Citizen
It's absolutely nothing compared to what's happened with Rhinox but I had a ******* breakdown last night.

Never posted in this thread about what's been going on my life (although some people already know) but to get everyone else up to speed with what's been going on this past year (WARNING - IS LONG):
- Late last November, my 96 year old grandfather (who I lived with and raised me since I was a wee lass) lost his balance and fell in the kitchen at around midnight while trying to pick up a piece of spaghetti that was on the floor

- After about an hour, I finally convinced him to let me call 911 because even if there was nothing serious that happened, the way he was positioned meant that I literally couldn't get him up because there was nothing for him to grab on to

- The paramedics get there and help my grandpa up and he decides that 'Yeah I should go to the hospital' because he literally cannot stand up without intense pain, so they get him out of the house and onto a stretcher and take him to the hospital.

- Turns out that he broke his hip and fractured his thigh in the fall, so he's in the hospital for...I actually don't remember how long, I think it was like a week or two before being discharged to a nursing home and rehab center for physical therapy and he's there for a good while to before he finally comes home in early January (the fall was like the third week of November).

- Obviously because of his condition, he is basically bedridden now and the rehab center schedules and he starts doing in-home physical therapy as well as having someone come by each week to change his clothes, wash him up, etc.

- It takes some time, but eventually we both figure out how to make things 'work' considering his current condition. Like for the first few days, I was trying to give him his meals while he was lying in bed and that was just a real pain in the ass until I realized that like...he's not fuckin paralysed, my grandpa can still get up and scoot to the front of the bed (with my help to get him sitting up, although as time went on he became able to do that himself too) and I can set up one of the foldable TV dinner tray tables there and he can actually eat while sitting up (and he often enjoyed sitting up like that for a bit after eating so he could see the TV better)

- There were a few times where he had to be rehospitalized because of things like 'his catheter bag was blocked and it wasn't draining his urine and it felt like his bladder was going to explode' and they'd keep him for a couple days and either discharge him back home or, in once instance, back to physical therapy for another week before he got home.

- After one rehospitalization (which was only for a couple days), I don't know what the hug happened but his condition had somehow deteriorated. Like literally before he went into the hospital, he was able to stand up (while holding something like his walker, some furniture, etc.) and could stand for a good few minutes without moving and was able to walk with his walker (albeit with me or someone behind him to make sure he wouldn't fall) but after this one? Nah, he couldn't do that. Like when the people who brought him home from the hospital dropped him off, he was begging for them to help him get to the bedroom because he literally couldn't even stand up enough to use his walker. But nah, they just left because their job was just to bring him home and that was it, so he ended up sliding onto the floor by the front door (and I ended up having to call 911 again because of his position to help them get to his bedroom)

- Then one day in mid-May, he is having a bad night. He's had bad nights before where he just...would not go to sleep for hours until he did fall asleep and then the next morning he'd apologize for how he behaved the night before because it wasn't fair to both of us but this was different. This was literally ALL night he would call me into his bedroom to complain about how I didn't get him ready for bed, even though I did. I would get him positioned and ask if he's comfortable and put his sheets and blankets over him and leave and then he'd call me like 10-15 minutes later complaining about 'he's not set' and he'd just completely pulled off his blankets and was back in the position he'd started in. This literally went on ALL NIGHT, I am not joking. I tried to get him ready for bed around like I wanna say 12:30 to 1am and it was all night. I even got so frustrated with him that I just told him 'It is 3:30 in the ******* morning, I have to go to bed, you are ready and set for bed, I have been doing this for like 3 hours now. I am going to SLEEP' and then he kept going on about how 'I'll let you go to bed but I won't let you sleep, I'll keep calling you' and this kept going on until PAST 5 AM (again - I tried to get him ready for bed at 12:30 to 1 am) when he now has to go the bathroom

Which, okay, fine obviously I'm hella frustrated with this whole thing because again I GOT NO ******* SLEEP THAT NIGHT, I think I got like 30 minutes sleep around 4am and that was it but I'm not a **** who'd just let my grandpa jive his pants. I get the portable commode set up for him (since using the actual toilet is too much of a pain in the ass with his condition (even when it hadn't suddenly deteriorated like it had recently) and so he's sitting on his toilet doing his thing when he starts telling me to call 911 because 'he feels like he's gonna pass out', so I call 911 and the paramedics arrive (I try to get him 'presentable' even though I know paramedics have seen everything and more) and take him back to the hospital and, after they leave, I go to clean up in his bedroom/dispose of the bag that he went the toilet in/etc and I notice that uhh well...his stool looked...odd. I google it and it's like 'Yo that could be upper GI bleeding' and I consider calling the hospital to inform them of this later (it was now 6:30 am) but I just needed to sleep (because of the whole 'kept awake all night' thing) But they do end up calling me later in the evening to talk about my grandpa's condition and yeah they did find the upper GI bleeding and I talk to my grandpa too and he sounds...fine-ish (although they've had to put him in the ICU)

- I don't get any calls the next day, but the day after, my grandpa calls me multiple times throughout the day and he just sounds completely out of it. Like claiming that they 'took out his eyeball and put it back in' and that they're going to 'do something to him and I won't see him again' and all this other stuff and he's going to report this place to the police and whenever any of the staff try to reassure them, he eventually starts telling them that 'they got to you too' and he even starts doing that with me when I try to get him to calm down.

- After a few days of not getting any calls from him (although I get calls from the hospital talking about his condition and what's going on), I work up the courage to go to the hospital to visit him (I was just scared and was expecting to see him like unconsicous and hooked up to machines and jive just keeping him alive) but well...yes he was in the ICU and yes I had to wear gloves and a robe when visiting him and stuff but he was awake and conscious and I got talk to him and he sounded...weak but he was still aware and I got talk to him about how I had lobster rolls for dinner the night before and he kept insisting that 'he's not sick!'.

- I continue to visit him when I'm able to (I don't drive nor work so all of my money was coming from his own bank account that I had a credit card for), I try to visit him every day in the morning or afternoon.

- Eventually the time comes when we start to discuss moving my grandpa to hospice care. His condition clearly isn't improving and I make the decision to put him on DNR because his age means that it's likely that any attempt to resuscitate him would very likely just...kill him.

- So they move my grandpa to hospice care (and now my mum is involved with this, my grandpa was my paternal grandfather, not my maternal one, so she was his ex-daughter-in-law) and I visit him a few times. The visits are....sad, I'll be honest. At this point he's just completely non-responsive, just lying in bed all day and night, I don't even know if he knew I was there or could hear me tell him that I'm transgender. I wanted to tell him while he was still responsive but I never got the chance.

Sorry this post was so long I had to split it into two
 

Princess Viola

Dumbass Asexual
Citizen
- One day, I'm visting him in the evening and a family friend of his also comes and visti. It's getting a bit late in the evening (it's like 7pm-ish) and I had a small errand to run so I tell my grandpa that I'll see him tomorrow again and I encounter that family friend who'd just found her way to the hospice area of the hospital and I go to Publix to get a few things I needed (and stop by GameStop to buy myself a video game - don't judge me) and then I head home and I'm putting the groceries away and then I sit down to relax a bit before making dinner when I get a phone call at 8:42 pm.


He's gone. My grandpa just died. 4 June 2024 at 97 years old. I won't ever see him again, not tomorrow, not ever.


- Well, I tell my mum what happened and she has to plan to come down here to help me out with everything (funeral, wills, etc.) Especially so after a couple of weeks where word gets out to my grandpa's credit union that he's died after a couple of weeks and they close his account which means now I have literally no way to pay for groceries!!!! (My mum and her husband order me some grocery delivery from Walmart + I still had food in the house, wasn't like I was out of food entirely)


- My mum flies down from upstate New York and arrives here on my birthday (25 June). Yay! Unfortunately, we couldn't go out for my birthday dinner that evening because my grandpa's car was dead too.


- My grandpa's funeral is the following day. We decided to have him cremated because it was cheaper, even though his wish was to have a proper burial. Of course, in the end, it turned out that there was a complete misunderstanding of his burial arrangements and his entire funeral had already been pre-planned and almost completely pre-paid for (literally the last payment due in order for his funeral to be completely paid for...was June 2024). But what's done was done, he was cremated, a bunch of people from his church attended the funeral, and they put his urn in the same plot as my grandma (the issue is we didn't realize until we were planning the burial at the cemetary itself that my grandma's plot was a double depth plot - it was supposed to have two caskets on top of each other - my grandma and grandpa obviously). (And then we have my birthday dinner/lunch after the funeral, yeah I know it was weird to do so but like...life doesn't stop going on)


- A couple days later, we go and see the lawyer who's the executor for my grandpa's will. This is what he tells me: my grandpa set up a trust for me and the way the trust works is I have access to 1/3rd of the trust starting at age 25, 1/3rd at age 30, and 1/3rd at age 35. I turned 28 on my birthday so I will have access to 1/3rd of this trust. Then comes the discussion of the properties my grandpa owned - my grandpa owns three properties: my dad's home (my dad passed in 2018), a summer cottage in Massachusetts, and the home that he lived in (and the home I live in). I am adamant that I want to keep the summer home and my own home, my dad's home? I don't really care, that home can be sold. The lawyer tells me he thinks I'm not being realistic considering my financial situation (again - no job and no money)


- We pack up some of my things in the rental car and my mum drives me back up to New York with her. We hit a fuckin deer on the way when we were like an hourish from where she lives btw.


- I'm in New York now and we've still been talking with the lawyer and such and we are operating under the assumption that he cannot touch either of the homes in Florida until we have time to go back down there again.


- Then we learn that he's put my dad's house up for sale (even though I have things in that house that I need to get out there, the lawyer doesn't understand why I care so much about some of these things but I do)


- About a week later, we learn that they've put the other home, my home, up for sale. I start freaking out because uhh HI ALMOST ALL OF MY ******* STUFF IS IN THAT HOUSE. Literally this is what I had brought with me basically: my laptop, my phone, my tablet, my Switch, my 3DS, all my Switch games (not hard considering I only had like three physicla games), some of my 3DS games, two of my TVs (that at this point were now set up in the den by my bedroom at this house and in my bedroom), my plushies, some DVDs/BDs, a small number of books and manga, and a small number of figures. Also my clothes of course.


- WELL eventually my me, my mum, and her husband all fly back down to Florida in mid-September to pack up my belongings so they can be shipped up here, as well as well as seeing the lawyer for more discussing about y'know the trust and stuff. The sale on my dad's home has already closed but I'm told the stuff we told them that needs to be taken out of the house was moved to the other home.


- When we see the lawyer, he tells us that my dad's house sold for more than they were asking for. Listed it for $285k (my grandpa bought it in 2002 for $100k...yeah you can cry now, buying a whole ass home for $100k, can't do that now unless you wanna live in the middle of fuckin nowhere in a rural region lol) and it sold for $335k. He also tells me about the trust and the money.


He tells me that he believes that I will be able to keep the summer home in Massachusetts but here's the thing: we'd been discussing giving me monthly payments of $1500/mo from the trust but it would actually be $700/mo payments because out of the $1500/mo, he would take $200 to pay for any expenses at the summer home and $600 would be given to my mum to reimburse her for the costs of food and jive for me. And also if there were any purchases I needed to make that were too much for my limited budget (like say if I wanted a TV for my room or a new bed or whatever), we could contact him with what I needed and he would pay for it out of the trust money. He also wants this money to last me the rest of my life so he is going to be investing some of it so it can grow.


But here is the other thing: remember what I said earlier about how I have access to 1/3rd of the trust at age 25, 1/3rd at 30, and 1/3rd at 35? Yeah, legally speaking - I am completely entitled to just be given 1/3rd of the trust all at once as a lump sum. But as the lawyer explained - that means that like everything would be responsibility. Keeping up with the payments of my summer home, any potential investing, etc. If I blow all the money on something, that's it, that's all my money gone until I turn 30 and get access to another 3rd of the money. So we decide to just do the monthly payments because, while I'm not a total dumbass who'd blow all her money at once - I also know jack and jive about investing and we're given our first checks right then and there (with some discussions about my monthly income possibly increasing in the future)


So anyways, we also pack up belongings from my home (including things from my dad's home that were brought over from there before that sale closed - which was literally just 'a late 90s gaming PC from like 1998 and 1999 with accessories and a bunch of floppy disks and two TVs from 1982 and 1986, although I made the decision to only pack the 1982 TV and leave the 1986 one. If the situation were different, I'd have brought both and sold off one of them to some other fuckin dorkus who's into vintage tech like I am but yeah), it's like 20 boxes consisting of a mixture of my own things, some tableware we wanna keep, Barbies my older sister wants (and that my grandma promised her apparently), photos of my grandpa and his medals and jive from his service in the military, a model boat that my great-great-grandfather from....uh well he was from Newfoundland but he was actually born on a ship that was sailing from Ireland to Newfoundland during the Irish Potato Famine built himself that was a model of the fishing boat he worked on, an antique musket from the 1840s we've got, etc.


BUT I WANT TO MAKE ONE THING CLEAR THOUGH - I did not want my home sold. I never did. I never agreed to them putting the home up for sale, it was not anything I wanted. I made it very clear that I wanted to keep my home. My home was put up for sale without my permission and, as far as I am concerned, my home - WHICH WAS PROMISED TO ME BY MY GRANDFATHER MULTIPLE TIMES BEFORE HE DIED - was stolen from me and fraudulently sold. I don't care what the law says, I don't care if the lawyer as the trustee legally could have sold my home. I don't give a jive. I don't, I don't care if he thinks he was doing this to ensure financial stability for me because my inability to work. Keeping my home was more imporant than any amount of money.

But why did I have a breakdown last night? Well, I randomly decided to look up my dad's house to see if they put it up for sale and what it looked like now (we drove past it when we were down in Florida last and they were already tearing down the front porch) and I saw that it was listed for sale at the start of the month and completely renovated. None of that bothered me because I had no real attachment to the home, sure it was weird looking through the photos and seeing like 'Oh that was my dad's bedroom' but now it was just empty and repainted and stuff but yeah.

Then I decided to look up my home...my home is up for sale too. Sure, from the outside it looked fine and probably looked like something I would do. Nice fresh coat of paint, fixed up the outside step that was a bit worn.

But the inside...the inside. The whole ******* house has been remodeled. No, not remodeled. RUINED, they've completely ruined my home. It's all wrong, it's all different, it's all ruined. I posted photos on another forum of the various rooms included in the listing photos of like the kitchen and how that is NOT what my kitchen looks like, it's completely wrong and ruined, neither of the bathrooms are correct either (THE TOILET PAPER HOLDER IS IN THE WRONG PLACE), the hallway is all wrong (WHERE IS THE SECOND REFRIGERATOR AT THE END OF THE HALLWAY WHERE IS IT).

And then I included a photo of my grandpa's bedroom and I just started shaking and crying because it's all gone. I knew it was my grandpa's bedroom because of the windows but it's all gone. His bed is gone, my grandma's bed is gone, his nightstand is gone. Everything is gone. All of it. It's all gone. Every single thing of my grandpa's (and grandma's) that I couldn't pack up and bring with me is gone. It ś all gone.

There were no photos of what was my bedroom in the listing and I am glad because I would have completely broken down over it because that is MY BEDROOM and now it's all gone and empty.

IT's not ******* fair. I never wanted my home sold, I never wanted it sold. I am autistic and my home represents comfort and stablity for me, I don't even care that I'll never go back to the shithole state of Florida anymore, I want my ******* home back and I want this ******* garbage 'restoration' (MORE LIKE A RUINATION) undone and I want my home ACTUALLY restored to exactly the way it was, I want everything back too. Everything back. Every single thing that was in the home when it sold. I don't care what it takes, I want it back, it has to be returned back to me. My home is my home, it is always my home, it always will be my home. The sale was a fraud. I don't care what they say. I never agreed to it, I never wanted it sold.
 

Rhinox

too old for this
Citizen
I know what that's like, Princess.
Before I married my wife and moved in with her, I shared a house with some friends from work. I had my own space, my own living room, even had room for my kids. Honestly, I had never had a place before that was "mine". Even with sharing rent and everything with the guys, it was my place, my space. I miss it still. Especially now.
Living with my wife is hard. Her second ex-husband lives across the street from us, having moved to follow her years after she came to Kansas. He is always at our house. He helps with the animals when we're all at work and tries to pitch in, but he leaves a mess, takes far too long on any projects and when I try to do things, he gets mad, winds her up and she ends up pissed at me. It became clear that her house really isn't my home. I don't have one of those anymore. I'm sorry, I totally get where you're at and why you're mad.

So, as far as the case goes, we've heard nothing from the police. Edina, my wife, is being contacted by someone who is allegedly one of Linda's friends and who is, again allegedly, talking to another detective whose feeding her information. They served a search warrant the other day, but they didn't find him. Edina was given a name, but honestly, I don't know how much faith to put into this. I don't know this source, I don't know how valid the info is.

My wife is tired. And hurt. She wants to go back to Florida in December alone. In her words, to 'bust some heads'. I tried to express just how bad an idea that is, but she was not in the mood to listen.
I get it, I really do. Last night at work I helped a man change a tire. When he mentioned that it was his daughter's car and she'd called him for help, I started ugly crying in the middle of the parking lot. Not a good look for a security guard. But I get where she's at. We've heard nothing officially. It's been almost a month. We need some ******* answers.
 


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