It’s Wednesday, October 15. For nearly two weeks, we’ve been waiting for a bond hearing for Hawk—ever since his lawyer filed a motion to reduce his bond on Monday, October 6.
That hearing is finally scheduled for tomorrow at 9 a.m., right after Hawk’s earlier juvenile case from April.
This post is my honest, unfiltered reflection as a mother—about the waiting, the heartbreak, and the fragile hope that this time might truly mark a turning point.
A Quick Timeline
April (the first stop)
Hawk was pulled over for rolling through a stop sign. Officers said they smelled marijuana, searched his car, and discovered more than 60 Xanax pills that weren’t prescribed. No marijuana was found. He spent one night in juvenile detention, then was released to us pending court.
September 20 (the second stop)
The same officer stopped him again—this time for speeding nearly 30 miles over the limit. They claimed the car smelled like weed, searched it, and found loose-leaf marijuana, multiple vaping devices, mushrooms, and a handgun beneath the front seat.
October 6 (bond-reduction motion)
Hawk’s attorney filed to reduce bond, but the court’s Judicial Assistant was on vacation, and no one stepped in. The delay pushed everything back nearly two weeks.
October 16 (tomorrow)
Two hearings, one morning: the April juvenile case and the motion to reduce bond. If the motion is granted, Hawk could go straight to residential rehab.
The Emotional Toll on Our Family
This journey has shaken us to our core. My husband and I have always been openly against drugs of any kind. When our kids were still in elementary school, we enrolled them in drug-education programs. I knew, as a former teacher, that programs like D.A.R.E. don’t always “work,” but we believed knowledge mattered.
Despite years of therapy, family structure, and steady involvement, Hawk somehow drifted toward substances. His lawyer recently told me maybe it’s about social capital—the peer validation, the illusion of status that can come with risk.
What makes it harder is how the system itself delays progress. Our county courts are understaffed, so his rehab slot has been on hold for weeks. We’re praying he can go directly from jail to treatment.
He’s told me about the constant tension in jail—how men fight over phones, food, or mattresses. He’s seen things no young adult should. As his mother, it’s excruciating to hear.
Trying Everything and Letting Go
We didn’t just parent—we poured our lives into creating experiences that mattered.
Family time was non-negotiable: dinners together, game nights, and weekend hikes. We prioritized educational trips—museums, national parks, and historical sites. We even traveled internationally as a family, exploring Europe and the Caribbean to expose our kids to different cultures, perspectives, and gratitude.
We encouraged church involvement, sports, and volunteer work. We limited screens before it was common. But as the first generation of parents raising children in the social-media era, we were navigating the unknown.
Schools were encouraging kids to bring iPads, teachers were assigning projects on Instagram, and “fitting in” meant being online. I resisted at first, but eventually, like so many parents, I gave in. Looking back, I wish I’d fought harder.
Social media and devices became addictive. They distorted values, normalized chaos, and eroded community. After COVID, after fewer church gatherings, and fewer neighborhood connections, isolation took root.
Through all of this, though, I’ve found myself returning to faith—praying more, reading Scripture, and realizing that sometimes the only answer is surrender.
Understanding the Reality at Home
One misconception I want to clear up: the late-night visitors we saw on our home security cameras weren’t demanding drugs or threatening us. They were either dropping off or picking up from our house, as far as we can tell. We presume it was drug-related, but we can’t be certain.
Still, it was terrifying—to know our son had put our home, our safety, and our peace of mind at risk. We told him countless times that he had to choose a brighter path. After his last rehab stay, we even created a living contract outlining what would happen if boundaries were crossed. Sadly, now we have to uphold it.
What Comes Next
If the judge grants the motion tomorrow, Hawk will go straight into a 30-day residential rehab, followed by sober living and a daily twelve-step program.
We love him deeply—but love now looks like boundaries:
He can’t move back home. We can’t fund his lifestyle. Trust must be rebuilt, slowly, deliberately.
We still don’t know how he obtained the gun or where the drugs came from. But we do know that addiction and immaturity have stolen too much already.
A Prayer for Grace
At this point, I can only pray—for grace, justice, and redemption. I know my son is an addict. I pray this is the moment he decides to rebuild.
To every parent facing something similar: please don’t carry shame. You didn’t cause this alone. Addiction is complicated, cultural, and human. Offer yourself grace, and extend it to others.
If you know a family in crisis, don’t judge—help. Drop off a meal, send a message, listen without advice. Sometimes compassion is the only thing that helps someone breathe again.
Tomorrow at 9 A.M.
Two hearings. Two chances. One prayer.
If granted, Hawk will finally walk out of jail and into rehab.
That’s the grace I’m praying for—and the start of whatever healing God has planned next.
Coming Next: An Update on Hawk’s Case
As I write this, we’re standing on the edge of whatever comes next. Tomorrow morning’s hearings will decide whether Hawk remains behind bars or finally gets the chance to begin treatment.
In my next post, I’ll share what happened in court—whether the judge granted his bond reduction, how the rehab transition unfolded, and what we’ve learned about navigating a system that moves painfully slow when families are desperate for help.
I’ll also talk about what recovery looks like from both sides: a son trying to find his footing and a mother learning to heal without rescuing.
Stay tuned—our story isn’t finished yet.