Not me this time!
Yesterday he went walkabout on Harvey while they were shopping for new clothes for him.
She looked away for a second and POOF he was gone.
He interacted with a store employee who knew something was wrong whom called the sheriff's office.
The deputy who came out found him relatively quickly, and here's where it all goes wrong.
The Boy doesn't intimidate.
The deputy was going all John Bull Lawman and issuing all manner of compliance threats, like "don't make me pepperspray you"...
(Aside, doesn't that just sound just exactly like an abusive husband saying, "look what you made me do?")
The Boy got verbal back and the deputy and started spitting. More deputies arrived and it took four of them to get him cuffed and five to get him in the back of a Ford Explorer.
Harvey and I got to watch the whole thing, vainly trying to explain his disability to them and that their normal methods were actually making it worse. I think if they had backed the fuck off we could have talked him down, even if we got spit on a bit.
After The Boy was in the car, they had a little circle jerk mutual pep talk about they "did what they needed to do" and "he can't be spitting at us".
OK, Only Ones, you know you arrested me for less interaction from being spit on just a month ago, right? I am fascinated how I cannot claim I was defending myself if The Boy gets injured while restraining him by my lonesome, but cops can claim it when they bring eight to one odds.
I managed to keep my big trap shut and did not ask them, "You got spit on, and you're trying to act all justified? Aren't you MEN? Men don't need to talk themselves out of feeling guilty when they do the right thing! You're feeling guilty because you know what you did here was wrong."
The Boy was remanded to the psychiatric treatment ward of the local hospital rather than the psychiatric isolation bay of the jail, so one of the late arriving deputies who knows us must have prevailed.
Under Florida's Baker Act he's got a three day stay in the ward being evaluated.