Mr. Brown, I think I can answer your question now.


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Posted by Ginger Warbis (199.227.5.172) on March 14, 2000 at 09:58:48:

Mr. Brown was an enthusiastic music teacher; knowledgeable and talented in his craft and well blessed with the ability for and love of teaching. Like the rest of the faculty of West Florida Christian School, he was vaguely aware that a few students were clients of an unconventional adolescent drug rehab in Sarasota. But, aside from accommodating occasional absences due to program Staff directives, signing permission slips for field trips and athletic events and helping us to catch up on missed studies, I don't think they really had any clear idea what The Program was all about. Clients and parents were sworn to secrecy about it.

I have always loved to read and study. So, when I reached third phase and was able to attend school, I made the most of it. I was a good student in most subjects, earnest in all and an eager participant in the school's band, choir and drama programs. So my teachers and fellow students were surprised, to say the least, when one day I and three other students, unaware of each other's plans, suddenly flew the coop.

The second and final time I ran away from Straight Inc., was in October of `82; just before my 18th birthday and just under 2 years after first becoming a client. After I legally came of age, I returned to Sarasota from my brother's home near Atlanta to try and work things out with my parents and to talk to my former teachers and friends; to try and explain my recent behavior and the reasons behind my decisions.

I specifically remember a conversation with Mr. Brown. He was very disappointed in me. He just couldn't understand how I could have been so selfish as to default on my responsibilities to the school and, specifically, the rest of the band just before the holiday concert season.

In the final weeks of my involvement with Straight Inc., there was a lot of tension within the group. As a group member, I was not privy to any of the external conflicts that were going on between Staff and HRS investigators (et al). But I knew that a lot of people had left and suspected that many of them had been removed from the program by their parents. Staff was always in a foul mood, often interrupting raps to announce revocation of privileges for individuals or whole phases, 4th phase days off and permissions were revoked at one point, I believe, and a lot of people were unexpectedly started over or otherwise punished. We weren't getting straight enough fast enough for Staff's liking so the entire group was being sanctioned by degrees.

I think I started vaguely making plans when I began to realize that even us 5th phasers might loose the degree of freedom necessary for a successful escape. And I was beginning to suspect that none of us would be allowed to 7th step any time soon. But the one incident that gave me the impetus to act was what happened to Bobby Ragleas*.

Bobby was a 14 year old boy, growing fast. I'd stayed in the Ragleas*' home as a foster sister to Bobby's sister Cathy. Bobby had recently run away and been found weeks later sleeping out in the cold in an abandoned hotel near the beach. When he was captured by former clients and returned to the program, he was half starved, fatigued and none too happy to see us. Bobby refused to concede that he needed to be in the program. And that was the one unforgivable sin.

In retribution for his sin, ostensibly to save his life by bringing him to his senses, Staff ordered a line of treatment euphemistically termed "Time Out". TR (Timeout Room) meant that the client was taken out of group and placed in one of four large closets, maybe six or seven feet square. Three or more other clients were selected from the group to provide intense "confrontation" therapy. The TR upstairs just under the aluminum roof and almost out of ear-shot to the group was particularly uncomfortable in the Florida Summertime and was usually reserved for the real hard cases. This is where Bobby was taken.

Staff would hand down the sentence pretty much on a whim after having the client stand up for confrontation by the group. Staff would ask the group "Who wants to take so-and-so to TR?" It was a rhetorical question as the slightest perceived lack of enthusiasm for anything that Staff asked was tantamount to treason and might be met with swift and severe punishment. Or it might not; uncertainty is an important ingredient in this recipe.

Bobby's "Time Out" was the most brutal and sadistic event that I have ever witnessed. As I recall, it lasted for two & a half to three days. During that time, Bobby was subjected to constant verbal and physical abuse at the hands of three to six other male clients, each replaced after a few hours by another client selected from the group by Staff. During TR, the client was usually forced to remain standing, often denied food, water, sleep and every human dignity up to and including the "privilege" of using the bathroom. A couple of times a day, Staff would order Bobby to be trotted out in front of the group where various other clients would be selected to "confront" him about his problem, unwillingness to "be honest" about the "objective reality" of his current stature as a worthless, filthy druggie piece of shit and his need for "rehabilitation".

The overall effect of this exercise was to re-enforce in his mind that the group was solidly behind whatever was going on inside that tiny room. The effect on the group was to re-enforce in our minds just exactly what might happen to any of us, including his big sister, should we choose to break ranks.

By the middle of the second day, I'm pretty sure the effect was lost on Bobby. He was gaunt, glassy eyed, slack jawed and unable to remain standing without the assistance of the clients providing his "confrontation therapy". I don't even think he was aware of his surroundings. Over the past 17 years, Bobby's face has hung in my mind. I've often wondered what happened to him; if he ever got over the trauma, if his parents ever realized their grave error or if he even survived.

I am not entirely proud of how I chose to respond. I left and, until very recently, have studiously avoided even thinking about the whole thing. I did not try to help Bobby, even after I was well out of harm's way. When asked by Mr. Brown why I'd chosen to abandon my responsibilities to the folks who were counting on my performance in the Fall Concert fund raiser, I'm not even sure that Bobby's face came to my mind. Although what happened to him was, by far, the most shocking and traumatic event I'd ever been aware of, except by degrees it was not in any way an unusual occurrence at Straight. And I was pretty well conditioned to unsee anything negative and to quietly dismiss any "bad thoughts" about the words and actions of Staff and clients, anything I'd been asked to do or anything at all relating to The Program.

The only reply I could make in response to the query was "Mr. Brown, there are some things in life that are more important than High School Band."
Ragleas* name changed


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