The next step, besides revising the new Danny chapters, I think I’m sending him and Kitty to therapy, is to get a copy of, or the number on, the police report of my assault.
Which, given it was in 1984, is almost impossible. I’ll get a copy of the transcript from the hearing on Friday, which is helpful, but this police report thing is a major trip down the rabbit hole. I spent over an hour on a series of phone calls with people explaining why they couldn’t do it, but finally I got a woman who found it interesting, that’s the trick, get them interested, and she spent another hour on her computer rooting around for me.
Because, apparently, according to the parole board people, I may be eligible for financial compensation or at least relocation money, but first I need that copy of the police report to fill out their application.
Which, given it was in 1984, is almost impossible. I’ll get a copy of the transcript from the hearing on Friday, which is helpful, but this police report thing is a major trip down the rabbit hole. I spent over an hour on a series of phone calls with people explaining why they couldn’t do it, but finally I got a woman who found it interesting, that’s the trick, get them interested, and she spent another hour on her computer rooting around for me.
Because, apparently, according to the parole board people, I may be eligible for financial compensation or at least relocation money, but first I need that copy of the police report to fill out their application.
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