It’s Over When It’s Over

“He had butterflies in his belly but he was quite assured that his harrowing experience will finally be over.”
It was past half twelve and the freezing cold made his bones chill. He went closed to the blue-sheet covered bed, fell like a log, the right arm T-squared on his receding forehead, his eyelids meeting on the centre but his mind was standing on the very brink of a deep and dark precipice.
He was bewildered, confused and shocked.
Will he go back to the Philippines? Will he see his children again? Will he get divorce papers? A spark of questions was zapping from his cerebral circuit.
He thought he was right. How many times did he confront his wife way back in the Philippines and the police decided not to file charges. There was pushing, shoving, yelling and fisticuff. But the police stood behind him. They understood him. They commiserated with him.
That was the Philippines. A patriarchal society. A macho society. A society which seemed to treat the husband better than the wife. Why, even the judiciary encourages settlement (areglo) by way of payment of an agreed sum and it doesn’t matter whether the crime is heinous or not.
“I came home. I saw her on the computer,” Joe said.
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong. But something was ajar. I saw a man on the webcam,” Joe continued.
“It may be an old acquaintance. But nothing serious,” I countered.
Then there was silence – deep and deafening.
Joe could not believe how deep the hole he had sunk in.
He tried to hide the tears rolling on his bony cheek but his red eyes could not betray the contrary. His lower black-pitched lip showed a fresh mark of teeth firmly embedded on it evoking anger and disbelief. His dirty greased fists, which endured long hours operating a machine in a remote Ontario factory, were clamped and his knuckle joints cracked.
“I still love her,” Joe professed.
“If I could see her back, I’m willing to thresh out things and start anew,” he admitted.
Joe was staring at me, dejected and perplexed. The glass that separated us bore witness to a man who would crumble anytime like a castle built on the sand.
“What are my chances?” he asked.
“It depends. We’ll find out,” I replied.
Four hours ante, Joe shoved his wife while on a chatting journey and unleashed emotionally beating outbursts on his frightened and caught-unawares wife. The police rushed to the scene. He was handcuffed. He was arrested. He was booked. He was locked up. And he was charged for domestic assault.
“You might attend a partner assault response (PAR) counselling program” I added.
“After completing the program, you may plead guilty in exchange for a conditional discharge. That does not carry a criminal conviction which may disqualify you from applying for citizenship,” I advised.
Six (6) months after the incident, Joe, who was dressed up to the nines, attended court and patiently waited for his matter to be called. He had butterflies in his belly but he was quite assured that his harrowing experience will finally be over.
“You are not allowed to be within 100 metres where the complainant resides or works. You are not to communicate with your wife and children, directly or indirectly, unless with a written revocable consent from the complainant. You are to reside with your surety,” the lady judge, who was wearing a red sash, sternly ordered.
“I’m scared. Women have more rights here,” Joe said.
“That’s not true. An assault is an assault no matter who committed it. Shoving is an affront to one’s personal dignity,” I explained.
Joe was out of the calaboose. He worked double time to recompense the days he lost while in jail. He was seeing his wife and children but his wife was adamant. She was not going back. She was filing for divorce.
He was shaking his head. Guilt enveloped his whole being like dark clouds.
“I live in a society where women have equal rights as men; where women say it’s over when it’s over,” Joe concluded, tongue-in-cheek.
(The writer is a member of the Law Society of Upper Canada and Integrated Bar of the Philippines. He formerly contributed articles for the Peoples’ Journal and its broadsheet, The Courier. The article is a general opinion only and no portion of it should be treated as an independent legal advice. Please direct comments to rignaciolaw@gmail.com or call (905) 597-0963)