One Man's Story © Charles Gutierrez
Summer 1993
When my children were little we loved each other. We played together. We
planted a garden. I toilet trained them. I bathed them each evening, brushed
their teeth, read them stories, and prayed with them. We went for walks in
the hills and to the library. When I came home from work they greeted me
with hugs and kisses. We were best friends. I always provided for them.
And I never yelled at or hit their mother. I am not a deadbeat dad !
Eleven years ago, when the marriage seemed doomed, I first offered my
wife around $2100 a month, which, considering the fact I was making around
$2400 - $2500, was ridiculous. It would have meant living in my VW van on
the streets, which I tried, and froze my hiney off. All I really wanted was
for the children to continue as normally as possible and feel loved. Some months
later, after we tried but failed to get back together, my wife promised to wage
legal war and make me pay for it. She filed for divorce and took me to
court to fight over money. I offered her $1500 on condition that we
cooperate, as there was no way I could afford to support her and finance a
war against myself. She wouldn't agree to this. She and her lawyer were
about to falsely accuse me of spousal abuse and Satanic ritual abuse of the
children. The judge didn't buy it and awarded her $900 a month. I paid this
amount for about 8 or 10 months until she began giving me the kids 21 days
out of 30. At the time I was living in a jeep camper that I happily,
though uncomfortably, shared with my children. After a few months of us
living on the road my employer went belly-up and couldn't pay me so of
course I couldn't pay my exwife. We lived sparsely on $600 to $900 a month
but it was enough to get into a run down old building in downtown Pittsburg.
Here we spent the next year and a half. Sure, I could have made more money
and had a better house and car, but then my children would have been raised by
strangers and government schools. I didn't want that. I love those kids and
I believed they should be raised by parents. Their mother wished to pursue
her career. So all day we had homeschool and homelife, the park and field
trips, and were happy. I worked 3 or 4 hours a night rebuilding pianos and
we survived on it. Later the payments were reduced to $300 a month but I
still couldn't pay. I had the children 10 to 12 hours a day, 5 to 6 days a
week, and many overnights We were barely surviving but the children were
clean, warm, and well fed. I had taught them to read and they were advancing
brilliantly, but their mother put them in government school the next fall.
They tested above their grade levels and the court social worker used this
as justification to testify to the judge that the children were thriving in
the public school and should remain there.
The next February (1989) I remarried, life stabilized somewhat, and I
resumed paying support. In a few months I had the children in homeschool
again and there was momentary peace. In the fall we lost our job caring for
mentally ill adults and I could not pay my exwife. She took the children
from me again, causing incredible stress. A few days later my wife miscarried
our first child. We moved to my parents so I could have help for her while I
worked on an invention so we could start a new business.
About this time the children began to complain of abuse by their mother.
I was unable to get the state to act so I eventually took the children and
fled in order to protect them. I was immediately apprehended and sat for 2
months in jail (beginning 4 years of profound depression) while the children
remained with their abuser. Five months later I was finally allowed to see
the children but only after agreeing to pay a guard $25 an hour for the
privilege. Furthermore, the children and I were subjected to total
censorship. Every word, whether by mail, phone, or in person was to be
monitored. Face to face speech could not refer to the past or future. It was
an Orwellian nightmare. Every extra dollar went to buying time with my kids.
I certainly had nothing left for their mother (who was now remarried).
After several years the DA's office called about my mounting child
support debt. I asked the investigator, Pat Nelson, "If you had very limited
funds and had to choose between buying time with your children or sending
money to the DA's office, which would you choose?" She answered that she
would choose time with her kids. I told her that was what I was doing. Then
she gave me some advice about going back to court to get things changed
(like there was anything else I thought about). All my energies were going
to this custody and free speech problem. What little money I had went to visits.
After 4 1/2 years of buying time with my children the guards wanted a
$10 an hour raise. I refused to sign the new contract unless they changed
the unconstitutional restrictions on parent-child free speech. They wouldn't
budge so the children and I had no visits for a year and a half while I
challenged the Constitutionality of the prior restraints on our speech. This
battle finished us off financially but finally in December of 1995 my kids
and I had our first free speech visits in 6 years (and our first Christmas
since 1988). I haven't the words to express the joy and thrill of
that reunion.
Meanwhile the DA had decided to prosecute me for failure to provide (Ca.
Penal Code 270). On January 2, 1996, just a week and a half after that
Christmas reunion, I was convicted and sentenced to 7 l/2 years (all but 1
1/2 years stayed). I'm presently scheduled to spend at least 9 or 10 months
in the county jail. I have to say, that after 10 years of working and
wearing out my life trying to love, teach, and nurture those children,
always against State Opposition, this is a bit of a slap in the face. I've
done my absolute best to preserve the rights of my children, and provide for
them. On the very day I went to jail, my "deprived" children went to
Disneyland. I think Jesus and Shakespeare were right about lawyers.
Now my new wife and 3 small children are without a husband and father,
provider and protector. My wife refuses to go to the state for help. The
prospect frightens her (but I was thinking maybe she should go to the DA and
get them to sue me for child support).
My oldest three must now add nearly a year to the six they have endured
under total censorship. I greatly fear they will reach adulthood thinking
this is how America is supposed to be. And these victims of mine, my
children, how do they feel about me? In the words of my 13 year old
daughter, Joelle, "I feel like I'm doing nothing. If there's anything I can
do for you, anything, please tell me....I do know how much you're doing for us,
how else would we have gotten those visits?...I really, really miss you, and
think about you day and night, practically, the only thing I think about."
I pray to God things can settle down after I get out of here. I have felt
like a hunted animal for eleven years. I'm tired of it. Should it be this
hard just to be dad?
-Thanks to Sharad Sharif.
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