August 10, 2011, was the day our nightmare began. Two days earlier my beautiful 16 year old son Zane had kissed me on the cheek and told me he loved me as he headed out the door to go hang out with some friends. He was due back by curfew that night. When I finally tracked him down two days later, he was with a different group of friends than the ones I had given him permission to hang out with. He promised he would be home by curfew that night and apologized for scaring my husband and me. We knew he was going to be in a lot of trouble with probation and would be sanctioned for it. Looking back now I wish that is all he would have had to face. Why didn’t we make him come home right then and there? So many times in the last year I have asked myself that question. Zane did not come home that night as promised. Monday morning I made the dreaded call to probation to let them know what was going on. His probation officer told me I needed to go up to the police station and file a run-away charge against Zane so they could pick him up. Thinking I was doing what was best for my child and trying to show that “tough love” I did exactly that. While sitting in the local police station I received the news that would rock my family to its core. Zane was a suspect in an armed robbery that had taken place the night before. I am not sure what happen for the next several minutes. I was in a fog of such intense pain and disbelief. Not my son! Zane would never do something like this. He was a good kid just testing his boundaries at home. Not my son! But it was my son. He was the youngest of four suspects that attempted to rob a gas station. I called my husband at work…I couldn’t breathe. He was devastated when I told him about Zane. He left work and together we listened to what the police knew. We promised to bring him in. After tracking Zane down we went and picked him up. As he walked to the car I was taken back to a time when he would run to me with open arms so excited to see me. This is my baby, my little boy.
I can’t even explain to you the pain; the gut wrenching pain of those moments knowing that my little boy was about to be taken from me. We didn’t take Zane home. We took him to McDonalds to get him something to eat and then to a park. We told Zane what was about to happen. We all sat there crying and holding onto one another. Trying to hold together what we had. Trying to get the courage to do what we knew we had to do…turn our son in. To turn his life over to someone that really didn’t care what happened to him. My husband told him what to expect when he got to jail. How to act, how to carry himself, and what to watch out for: all this in a 5 minute car ride to the police station. He begged us not to take him that he was sorry and scared. He messed up. What a childlike thing to say. He is still just a child with childlike thinking. This was armed robbery! My son stared at me with tears running down his face as they hand cuffed him and read him his rights. We never broke eye contact until they took him away. Every moment of his young life flashed before my eyes in those few seconds. The last thing he said to us was that we were great parents and he loved us very much. Zane was waived to adult court three days later. We fought to get him back to juvenile court with no luck. Each court date took a little more out of us…and him. I saw the hope fading from his eyes. He spent the first 6 months in a county jail in solitary confinement. I watched as my animated full of life child disappeared. He became withdrawn, depressed and hopeless. He begged to come home. How do you tell your child that he can’t come home? Every time I walked away from visiting my son a little more of me died inside. My son has been gone a year now. We are still fighting for him in court. He is facing an 8 year sentence. About three months ago they finally put him in a block with other inmates. For months I didn’t sleep. I had nightmares of my baby being beaten and raped. I am unable to protect him or save him for the first time in his life. I have been forced to leave him to the mercy of the courts and pray that God will protect him in my absence. Our days have blurred into Tuesdays and Sundays…visit days. It’s what we live for now. I know the day is coming that my son will go to a much scarier place. We are trying to find the courage to face the days ahead and to accept that our son is going to adult prison. God is the only one that can protect my baby now. All I have left are prayers for his safe keeping and memories of a time before August 10, 2011.
Family Profiles in Courage:
Kathy and Zane Payton
August 10, 2011, was the day our nightmare began. Two days earlier my beautiful 16 year old son Zane had kissed me on the cheek and told me he loved me as he headed out the door to go hang out with some friends. He was due back by curfew that night. When I finally tracked him down two days later, he was with a different group of friends than the ones I had given him permission to hang out with. He promised he would be home by curfew that night and apologized for scaring my husband and me. We knew he was going to be in a lot of trouble with probation and would be sanctioned for it. Looking back now I wish that is all he would have had to face. Why didn’t we make him come home right then and there? So many times in the last year I have asked myself that question. Zane did not come home that night as promised. Monday morning I made the dreaded call to probation to let them know what was going on. His probation officer told me I needed to go up to the police station and file a run-away charge against Zane so they could pick him up. Thinking I was doing what was best for my child and trying to show that “tough love” I did exactly that. While sitting in the local police station I received the news that would rock my family to its core. Zane was a suspect in an armed robbery that had taken place the night before. I am not sure what happen for the next several minutes. I was in a fog of such intense pain and disbelief. Not my son! Zane would never do something like this. He was a good kid just testing his boundaries at home. Not my son! But it was my son. He was the youngest of four suspects that attempted to rob a gas station. I called my husband at work…I couldn’t breathe. He was devastated when I told him about Zane. He left work and together we listened to what the police knew. We promised to bring him in. After tracking Zane down we went and picked him up. As he walked to the car I was taken back to a time when he would run to me with open arms so excited to see me. This is my baby, my little boy.
I can’t even explain to you the pain; the gut wrenching pain of those moments knowing that my little boy was about to be taken from me. We didn’t take Zane home. We took him to McDonalds to get him something to eat and then to a park. We told Zane what was about to happen. We all sat there crying and holding onto one another. Trying to hold together what we had. Trying to get the courage to do what we knew we had to do…turn our son in. To turn his life over to someone that really didn’t care what happened to him. My husband told him what to expect when he got to jail. How to act, how to carry himself, and what to watch out for: all this in a 5 minute car ride to the police station. He begged us not to take him that he was sorry and scared. He messed up. What a childlike thing to say. He is still just a child with childlike thinking. This was armed robbery! My son stared at me with tears running down his face as they hand cuffed him and read him his rights. We never broke eye contact until they took him away. Every moment of his young life flashed before my eyes in those few seconds. The last thing he said to us was that we were great parents and he loved us very much. Zane was waived to adult court three days later. We fought to get him back to juvenile court with no luck. Each court date took a little more out of us…and him. I saw the hope fading from his eyes. He spent the first 6 months in a county jail in solitary confinement. I watched as my animated full of life child disappeared. He became withdrawn, depressed and hopeless. He begged to come home. How do you tell your child that he can’t come home? Every time I walked away from visiting my son a little more of me died inside. My son has been gone a year now. We are still fighting for him in court. He is facing an 8 year sentence. About three months ago they finally put him in a block with other inmates. For months I didn’t sleep. I had nightmares of my baby being beaten and raped. I am unable to protect him or save him for the first time in his life. I have been forced to leave him to the mercy of the courts and pray that God will protect him in my absence. Our days have blurred into Tuesdays and Sundays…visit days. It’s what we live for now. I know the day is coming that my son will go to a much scarier place. We are trying to find the courage to face the days ahead and to accept that our son is going to adult prison. God is the only one that can protect my baby now. All I have left are prayers for his safe keeping and memories of a time before August 10, 2011.