D* was being forced to do things he didn't like as a precondition to seeing dad. After time he would make the association. In this letter on a torn piece of paper he complained that he had to take medicine, which he hated, before taking my phone calls. It kills me to know that my calls triggered his torment. They told me they were giving him psychotropic medicine for depression and anxiety. He was sluring his speech and his art work was reduced to scribbles and torn paper.
I complained that he needed to go out, not drugs. I complained he could see a park right outside his window where kids were playing with their families. In response they covered the window.
I complained about the conditions to H*, and she replied that he needed the treatment.
I made up a flyer explaining D*'s conditions and handed them out widely. D* was punished for my flyer by having his visitation and phone priveledges with me taken away. I had been his only visitor.
