From that day on Bobby seemed to want to test the both of us even more.  He started with small things , like leaving the refrigerator door open. And I don't mean while he was making a sandwich. I mean after he was done he would walk out of the kitchen and leave it open for hours.  Screaming matches at the drop of a hat.  Then things started to disappear, a hand held scanner, a pager, any change that you didn't pick up.  I got into the habit of wearing what little jewelry I had all the time.

One night one of the neighbors called the police because of the arguing. Two officers showed up at our door.  And they were ready to arrest Terry, apparently  Bobby had told one of the neighbors that his step dad was beating on him. We got control of the situation very quickly. After explaining what had been going on, we kind of turned the tables on Bobby.  The officers were then threatening to take him to jail. We also explained to them that he was saying that  he was going to destroy items in the house. They told us to lock him out during the day, give him lunch and a couple bucks to buy sodas with. And we gave that some serious thought. And a couple days later when he kept up with his episodes and tantrums and just plain being mean, we thought we would give it a try.

First day, we made him a couple sandwiches and chips, cookies, and a couple dollars to get drinks and told him to have a nice day and we would see him when we got home after work.

First day we didn't hear of any problems or complaints. The next day the manager of the apartment complex called me and told me that Bobby needed to be let into the apartment cause he was hanging around the office an the laundry room making a pest out of himself.  She made it sound that I needed to agree with letting him in.  But I told her that if he does any damage to the apartment from that moment on I was not responsible for it.  She said fine whatever. And she let him in with the master key.

Now on the third day, we told him that he had to stay in the apartment.  He wasn't allowed to be at the pool, manager's office, or the laundry room. And we left for work.  About two o'clock I received a phone call at work. It was a social worker that worked with the police department. She was ready to have me arrested. And she told me that locking my son out of the house from the time we left in the morning until midnight was not right.  And also the fact that he didn't have anything to eat all during this time, and that the clothes he had on was not appropriate for him to be wearing in the summer weather.

To tell you the truth, it took me a few minutes to get my jaw off the floor.  And I asked the lady if she was ready to listen to me now. She told me that she would hear what I had to say, but didn't think it was going to change her mind. I said well listen anyway.  I told her that the boy sitting in front of her was a chronic liar, thief, predator of children, liked to set fires and hurt little animals.

What she had in front of her was a sociopath. And that he had been in the detention center, training school, and was well known by the local officers in two different towns. And that I could give her names and numbers of people in authority that would back up my version of this story. And if she still wanted me arrested AFTER she had spoken to those people I would be more than willing to come to her. She asked if she could call me back in a few minutes, I said certainly and hung up.

About ten minutes later I received another phone call from her.  And this one had a very different tone to it. She had called several of the people I had mentioned and all of them told her that he was a master con-artist at the age of fourteen. They also recommended locking him up until I could get there to pick him up. She apologized a hundred times during the conversation.   And she ended with the  conversation with they would have him stay there at the office until I got off work and then an officer would bring him home. I told her that was fine with me. I would call her a little after five when I arrived at home.