Andy (The Book)

Chapter 3

In the summer of 1998, I often pondered the meaning of life, and death. I'd often wished there was someone who could tell us more about death. Could death be our reward for living? We know nothing about death, so we are afraid of it. But surely it's better then life. Life, I found, was pain and suffering. And even worse then personal pain, is having to watch the pain of others and not be able help them.

Children like Andy who are abused and tortured beyond belief split into little pieces, each coming out one at a time when they feel it is the right time. And of course they are angry, how could they not be. And they know nothing about what is happening now, in Andy's world, just what happened when they first came into it. Some came in when Andy was 10 years old and Susan, his biological mother, raped him. They came to save his mind and his soul.

A hint of the past, given today, and they are reborn. Word is that Susan might know where Andy lives. The saviors come back, yet they know nothing about the present except that a threat may be near. So they come to protect him from the older woman who is now in his life, me, the significant other.

Andy's newly surfacing, angry alters, ancient saviors now misguided, lash out anger beyond comprehension, beyond belief. After an hour of torture aimed towards Andy himself and Andy's significant other, they are captured by the “7^th Calvary” and placed in protective custody. (The 7^th Calvary is what Grenudo, Limpio, Sam, etc. begin to call the alters who have progressed to being helpful, cooperative, communicating- now.  Interesting to note that Andy is, at least, 3/4 full blooded Apache.)

The newest battle is similar to what we once went through with "no-name". His primary alters, now with the 7^th Calvary, facing off now with angry teenage alters who are resurfacing for the first time since taking abuse for Andy when he was a child.

If I had money I would be gone. But this always seems to happen around the 3rd week of the month and a disability check doesn't last that long. Besides, I'M not capable of doing much more then cowering in the corner. If pressed, I can scream at the top of my lungs and lash out in my own frustration, to destroy the home we share, and sometimes I do. But that just brings more wrath from Andy and the newest alters to surface, already angry. 
 

The vituperous words of the ancient saviors cannot be taken back. And those words came from the same presence that is Andy and is the 7^th Calvary- good alters, Grenudo, Rhonda, Limpio, etc. How do I trust them now?

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It wasn't you. It never is you. God I want to be dead!"

I get an ativan and make it upstairs. It might be 90 degrees but I bundle under two heavy sleeping bags, an attempt to hide. Sometimes it helped when I was a kid. If I hid really well, somewhere in my room, and was absolutely silent, Mom would forget by the time Dad got home.

But it doesn't help to hide from Andy. Sometimes he yells, "You don't have to hide. You know I've never hit you." And it's true, he never had. Sometimes it makes him very angry that I hid. He sees it as an accusation, though it's just "my" fear. Loud, angry voices have always terrorized me.

Tonight it's Wisdom who manages to still me so he can place a wing around me and pat me on the back. "It's okay now. They're in protective custody, they can't hurt you anymore." 
  

Soon Andy will calm me and apologize, "It was a new alter, it wasn't me. The others took him to protective custody. He'll get counseling there." And then the famous words, "It'll never happen again. I swear. I promise you. Grenudo promises you. We'll take better control of them, honest we will. It will never happen again!"

For a while there, new alters appeared every day. There was no way to get away from them. They would generally abused me verbally until I was a basket case, hiding in a corner. Then they would take over Andy and force him to swallow a bottle of pills, or something else quite devastating. At this point, I would pull myself out of it enough to scream for Grenudo and some of the other alters that I could trust and eventually Andy would be forced to vomit. This came to be just a typical evening in the life of Andy and Connie Jean.

Eventually these episodes would come less often, but in many ways were as bad. Sometimes it is the unexpectedness of it that is freaky. I learn not to have a life of my own. No friends, but then I never had friends anyway. And never plan anything ahead. The likelihood that anything will go as planned is inversely proportional to the amount of time that you plan it ahead. Heaven forbid that I speak my mind, or express a thought. "And above all, never let your guard down!"

Transportation was often a problem that first year out of town, as our venerable car broke down several times. The road wasn't much better then some riverbeds and we put a new front end, into the car, twice in the first year.

Several times Andy got stuck in town, trying to find a mechanic to help us. Thank God my mother was willing to help us pay for it. The first couple of times it happened, we still didn't have a phone. Messages through the landlord's house, location of the nearest phone, were confusing. Andy managed to sleep on his friend's couch, but I stayed up all night worrying what had happened to him. I didn't know if a heart attack had sent him to the hospital again, or if he'd had another panic attack and was hiding somewhere.

Several months before we'd moved out of town, Andy had attempted to sleep over at that same friend's house. His friend was blind, and Andy often drove him around town and helped him around his apt. They wanted to be up early the next day for some reason I don't remember. It seemed it would be easier for him to sleep there, since we were not early risers and his friend was always up at 6AM. But during the night, his friend accidentally bumped into Andy in the dark. Andy totally freaked, thinking his friend was attacking him. I found Andy hiding in some bushes near our home by the thrift store, after running away from his friend. It took me hours to talk him out of the bushes and get him to tell me what had happened. Then it took me weeks to get him to believe it could have been an accident. His friend, after all, was blind. Finally, he talked to his friend. It still took a couple more weeks before he believed his friend and felt safe being around him.

Finally, Andy found out that his favorite psychiatrist had moved to the mental health office in Pecos. We're half way between Las Vegas and Pecos, so he got permission to go there. And he finally got linked to a good therapist even if, unfortunately, a very busy therapist. But by then he no longer needed someone daily, as experienced alters did therapy with new alters. Plus, his physical health was more the problem now.

Before that first winter was over we'd managed to buy 3 portable electric space heaters. There were problems with the water supply in the spring and I had to give up any dream of a garden. All our fans had been stolen the year before and it was hot in the summer. 
 

The wind howled, near hurricane strength, 11 of the first 12 months we lived there. And I know about hurricanes, I'm from Florida. In Florida people board their windows and stay indoors in wind like that, but here people go to work and school, everything as usual. 
 

Then there was racial tension between Hispanics and non-Hispanics, in which we were caught in the middle. That almost sent us moving to town. But the landlord had brought in the propane tank, bought us a new stove, a new refrigerator, fixed the water lines, teenagers were lectured and forced to apologize thus easing tensions and we survived the first year.

When the landlord moved the old wood heater out of the house, I bought a piece of rug and a futon at a yard sale and put them in its place. I didn't have to climb the stairs that second winter. Other then a small space for my computer, Andy and his alters now had the entire second floor, 1/2 the house, to themselves. I quit going upstairs without their permission.

They also had a locked time-out area, outdoors somewhere. It was also referred to as protective custody. Only they could see it. That's where alters went when they got angry or out of control. They also said there was a whole series of underground tunnels where they could hide when they got scared. Eventually I managed to move my computer downstairs and had no reason to go upstairs anymore.

When Andy feels good, he plays video games, and/or music on his stereo. He has a goal of someday becoming a broadcast journalist, playing music on the radio. But then other days his goal is to be an NFL coach. He also likes to watch videos of old westerns. He studies the history of the Wild West. He says that his biological mother told him he was Muscalero Apache. He looks like it. At 26 years of age, he almost never had to shave.

It's fun listening to Andy interact with his alters. His little girls are 'Spice Girl' fans and they dance and sing, playing the same songs over and over. The boys complain, they want to play a video

game, they get tired of silly 'Spice Girl' music. It's like listening to any siblings' rivalry. When the boys take over you can hear them chant "I am the Rock, do you smell what the Rock is cooking!"

Andy was legally adopted by his grandmother when he was 4 years old, the same time that his grandfather died. She prefers to be called "Mom", rather then "Grandma", so if I say Andy's mom, I mean her. *Susan is what we call his biological mother.

Andy's mom said he couldn't talk at age 4, so she took him to a pediatrician. The doctor told her Andy was severely retarded and would never be able to care for himself. And so that's how she set her expectations for him, for the rest of his life. He was considered disabled and his grandmother received income for him, from the railroad where his grandfather had worked. She expected it would continue for the rest of his life. Of course, it's now obvious that he didn't speak because he was severely traumatized.

Andy was in special education classes as a child, but neither he nor his mom can tell you exactly what he was classified. They say he spoke to his alters, from the moment he first began to speak. Probably this meant that he was in classes for emotionally disturbed.

Andy had been studying for his GED, off and on, since he first came to the state hospital at age 17. He used to sign up for GED class every term, then quit. I later found out that it was because they told him he was ready to take the test. He was afraid to take the test, so he just quit going to class, until the next term. I helped him study. He has some trouble with higher math, but then I used to teach college Algebra to learning disabled at a community college. If he's rested and he concentrates, I'm sure he can do high school level math. He says he took the test when he was in the state hospital, when he was 17. He passed all but two tests. He could have gone back and taken those two tests years ago. But he waited too many years, and was told he had to take them all over. He finally tried it again last year. Again he passed all but two.

I taught learning disabled for years, and I can see evidence of a learning disability in Andy. He does show vast discrepancies in his abilities, but then it could just be different alters. It also could be the result of some brain damage from the abuse. He has an incredible memory, especially if Limpio is present. Limpio has the entire town’s phone book in his head. But Limpio can't do math. That's okay though, because Grenudo and Annie can, at least moderately well.

Andy is a whiz with video games, no matter what alter is integrated, but he can't hang a shirt, on a hanger, straight, to save his life. He still smokes and he smokes outside because of my asthma. If I'm outside too, I ask him to stay upwind. But he can't tell which way is upwind, even in 50 mile/hr. winds. His vocabulary isn't great, but it varies with different alters, the same with his comprehension. He discovered chess, and became quite good in a very short time. I think it's his ability to visualize. I've never beat him. Then he started playing pool with his best friend, who was a cop. They would play a couple hours during free pool at a local sports pub, whenever Andy felt good. It turned out that Andy was very good at pool. But then his chest pains started getting worse, his heart attacks more frequent and less mild, and his hands began to shake too much for him to even play his video games.

A lot of Andy's alters originated when he was teased as a child. No one understood why he talked to himself, least of all the other children around him. He was rebellious and got in trouble as a teenager. He got into alcohol and drugs, but overcame them himself. He became concerned that he could become like his father. This concern is what keeps him sober today. There were frequent blank periods in his life, especially when he was a child. These were times when alters took his place. He became known as a liar because he didn't remember doing things. To this day, he can become violently defensive if he thinks you're calling him a liar.

Andy had a few positive experiences in his growing years. One was school sports. Andy was chosen as quarterback at the high school, when he was actually only in 7th grade. He took his team to a state championship twice. He changed high schools in 9th grade and took that school to a state championship too. He also played basketball. Andy’d often talk about to becoming an offensive coordinator with the NFL. He uses his understanding of plays to win all the football video games.

Another positive experience was being with his cousin Yvette. She had money and a car and she took Andy to many big concerts in Texas, New Mexico and Colorado. She also formed a band and Andy played the guitar and the drums. They made one recording. I've heard it and it's really quite good. The last time he saw his cousin was just days before he and I started seeing each other. She lived in Texas and they lost touch for awhile. She eventually tracked down our phone number and called to stay in touch. She'd become a police officer in Texas. I had hoped someday we could see her, she seemed to have meant a lot to him.

Andy was only 15 when he dropped out of school, having only completed 9 grades. His probation officer agreed that school wasn't helping him. A family that owned a small carnival took him in and he traveled with them for a time. They also seemed to have meant a lot to him. He’d see them when they came to town and they often asked him to join them. He almost did in May of 2000, but decided his health was too bad.

Some of Andy's alters were impossible to control and his mom finally had him committed to the state hospital when he was 17. By then he'd already been on anti-psychotic medication for many years. It drugged him so he was easier to control, but alters don't go away with medication.

When Andy got out of the state hospital, he spent several months in a transitional living program. Then he was placed in an apt. in the community.

When Andy and I met he believed what he'd always been told, that he was retarded, schizophrenic and would never be able to take care of himself. It took me awhile to convince him they were wrong.

He had confidence about some things, but not about others. People took care of him, and he didn't think he had any right to tell them what he wanted. For example, a case manager from mental health had always bought his groceries for him. It never occurred to him to tell her he didn't drink milk, eat white bread or eat cereal. When I met him, he had stuffed as many gallons of milk and loaves of bread into his freezer as would fit. Then he filled his refrigerator. He also had 20 or more boxes of cereal on his shelf. They also bought him a value pak of meat at the beginning of every month. Yet, no one had ever taught him how to repackage it for single servings before freezing it. I saw him throw away about 10 rancid pork chops. He had thawed the whole package, cooked one, then refrigerated the rest until they spoiled.

Andy's mom drove the 90 miles from Oakdale about twice a month. She took him to the laundromat and to Walmart for things case managers didn't buy him. Andy was quite spoiled in some ways. You may remember that Sam had fits in the store. No one knew it then, but it was Sam who went to Walmart with his mom.

Andy's heart attacks didn't begin until we'd been together a year. Before he started having medical bills, his money was enough for him to have pretty much whatever he wanted. Unfortunately, he never thought then to buy something useful like a car, after all he was supposed to be retarded and schizophrenic. And he took care of his belongings like any spoiled adolescent. He had his video games, a TV set with cable plus, an expensive stereo and lots of CD's and cassette tapes. Now doctor bills take all our money and Andy is learning to be more frugal.

Andy's medical doctors suggested we file a lawsuit against mental health for the misdiagnosis and damage to his muscles, especially heart muscles, from the medication. We continued looking for lawyers.

-Andy died one night. Then he came back again. It was similar to other near death experiences that I'd heard about, but so much more real because I was by his side the whole time.

It was the middle of March, in the year 1999. He'd been spending most evenings upstairs, alone with his alters and guardian angels. The occasions when he felt good enough, he'd play video games, maybe listen to his stereo, or watch a video of an old western. Those nights, he didn't mind how loud my TV downstairs was or what I was doing. But those occasions were becoming fewer and fewer. Most nights he complained of chest pains, or the sense that he was going numb again. I'd offer to go up with him and once in a while he'd let me sit by his side. We'd chat while he was numb. We'd talk about what we'd do with the money from the lawsuit when we got it or the alters would act silly to entertain Andy. Andy would be numb, so he couldn't move their mono-bodies, and he'd ask me to help them. Mostly it would be Sam who'd entertain, and I'd hold his body as he danced and the sound of his singing came from Andy's mouth. 

When Andy pulled out of it, he'd say he was going to sleep and I'd go downstairs and be very quiet. Sometimes after a bad spell, it had to be absolutely quiet, and this meant no TV or movement of any kind that made sound (such as doing the dishes). This left me staring at the walls, feeling sorry for myself because I couldn't afford reading glasses. I did love to read and reading is a very quiet thing to do. Sometimes Andy would call down, "go ahead and watch TV, I think I can handle it if it's not too loud". I'd call up, "make sure you tell me if it's too loud" and I'd turn it on very low, wishing I'd learned to read lips, or at least had closed captioning on my TV. More and more, Andy would just disappear upstairs without me and I didn't even know if he was playing video games or numb. He'd tell me later, he'd had 3 milds, as he called them. I'd say why didn't you call me, and he'd answer "it's okay, I'm used to them".

That night in March was different. He'd had the shooting pains in his arm, across his chest and the bee stings. What most concerned me was he also complained of difficulty breathing. I followed him upstairs and tried to talk him into going to the emergency room. I reminded him, he wasn't numb yet, I could get him to the car and drive him myself. He refused. I approached his alters, as often they can convince him. There were a couple who wanted to go, but not bad enough to override Andy's decision. A vote was taken and all agreed, if Andy wanted to stay home and die, they'd stay and die with him.

He agreed that he'd like it if I stayed by his side and we talked about the experience as it was happening. He said he was tired of the pain and he wanted to die. Limpio, Grenudo and Wisdom were to be buried with him and the other alter's mono-bodies were to stay with me. His guardian angels, Jon and Samantha were with him, he said, and they were reaching for his hands. At first he said he was scared. I snuggled as close to him as I could and he tried to pet my hair, but he was too weak he said. He told me not to be scared. He said he was going to take Samantha's hand. He said he would stop breathing when he took her hand, and that she was going to take him to God. He told me, Samantha says God may want him to return, or God may let him stay, it was up to God. He said the money from the lawsuit would come to me, not his mom. It was for me to do with what I wanted. I told him, I'd hire an electrician, a plumber and a stucco man to fix his mom's house. Then I'd put what's left into a foundation to help abused children. I'd get that motor home I'd wanted and I'd travel to speak to politicians, to teachers and social workers. I'd work to get kids identified and helped as early as possible. He said he'd like that, and now he was going to take Samantha's hand.

His breathing, which had been very labored, slowed as he whispered, "they're coming closer", "they're reaching for my hand". He repeated himself until his whisper faded. His face relaxed and he appeared to have stopped breathing. After a few minutes of my own tears, I felt his pulse. It was slight but it was there. About ten minutes later he came back.

He told me heaven was a beautiful place. He said he wanted to stay, but God told him he had to go back for a while, it wasn't time yet. There was a long line of people waiting behind him for their turn to be with God. So, Samantha and Jon escorted him back and said they’d remain with him. And then he was in pain again. I asked him if God was able to tell him anything useful, like why he was still here, what he was yet supposed to do with his life. He said God wouldn't tell him.

Life almost settled down for a while. Andy discovered a new little cafe just one exit down off the interstate. He went to work. It turned out that the owner couldn't count on him because of his health, but she liked his work. He started calling on the days he felt good and she'd let him work a few hours, or all day if she felt she needed a day off.

This wasn't the first job Andy had ever had. He worked in restaurants before. And when his mild heart attacks first started he'd been working, almost full time, in a music store. Andy wants very much to work and earn a living. Every time he has a couple good days, he goes looking for work. He even tried to work full time in a bookstore in Santa Fe that year. He lasted a week. I didn't have the heart to tell him not to try. But he spent a fortune in long distance phone calls, trips to Santa Fe using gas and eating out, and his expenses far exceeded what he earned. The same thing happened when he took on a paper route. No one works harder for less, then Andy. He tries so hard!

I joined a work program at mental health. Andy understood that it was good for my self-esteem to get out. I hoped eventually to find a part-time professional job where I could make good enough money, hourly, to come out ahead working only 10-12 hours/week. I planned not to lose my disability check, or overly stress myself. I'd been a client at DVR (Dept. of Vocational. Rehab.) for years. They weren't clear on how much I could make without losing my check which was a serious concern. They paid about 1/2 the cost of the glasses I wore for distance and I could not come up with enough to get reading glasses, too. 

I got our first computer with the last of the money I inherited when my mom sold our family home. But it didn't have a printer or a complete word program and DVR couldn't help with those. They did pay for me to take a continuing ed. class on "How to get Published". So I wrote. But I needed reading glasses to read the listing of publishers. They let me use a computer they have for clients, but that still meant leaving Andy home alone when I go there to format and print material. The idea was, if I completed the program at mental health, then DVR wouldn't give up on me. They also found that I could make $700/month without losing my disability check. The timing seemed right as the landlord called the middle of September to say he was raising the rent. This came at the same time my mother, who'd been sending us $300/month said she could no longer help us. That amount, $300/month, was just what we'd be paying for rent. And winter was well on its way!

We couldn't move back into town because of the gangsters. Andy's best friend, Larry, was a police detective. He even told Andy, whatever you do don't move to town. They will kill you. When Andy'd go to town, he'd meet with Larry and they'd do things together. Larry protected Andy, but he could only be there part of the time.

One day, completely out of the blue, Andy read the classified ads and found rentals he had to check out. Andy is like that. When he decides something, he's got to do it. We drove to Mora, the town above Las Vegas, about an hour north. The place was much nicer and only a few dollars more/month. I reminded Andy that it was an hour further from his cardiologist and there was no emergency room in the town. In many, many ways it was better, but the distance from everything was a definite negative.

If you remembered that Andy's mom still believed he's retarded, you could understand what followed. He had to have it. I pointed out the pros and cons and left the decision to him. I felt there was no sense in arguing. If I had told Andy what to do, he would have thought I was controlling him, just like his mom and workers at mental health did for so many years. He would have become defensive and a major fight would have ensued.

So we gave the man the deposit and I went home to pack. Andy, of course, had chest pains so I had to do everything. I packed everything from the kitchen and all my personal stuff, except a few things that were needed until the last minute. Nothing of Andy's got packed, and I was preparing to insist he let me start on it. Then it occurred to him, he'd be another hour further away from his cardiologist. We lost a $350 deposit and I had to unpack. To think, this all started because I was worried about money, what with winter coming, and the rent going up. Now we had $350 less to help us through the winter.

Have I ever mentioned that I'm not physically well either? I suffer from fibromyalgia and am in serious pain all the time. Stress aggravates it and so does extreme physical exertion. That year I had heel spurs then that hurt so bad I could sometimes barely walk, especially if I'd been on my feet a lot. And recently I re-injured the tendon in my left knee, making me hobble at best. Then, of course, my blood pressure and my diabetes are also aggravated by stress. The nurse at mental health, again, told me I shouldn’t be ambulatory with my blood pressure so high. And my medical doctor said he could write a prescription for medication that would control my blood pressure but I couldn’t afford to buy it so “why bother”.

The gangsters had been harassing Andy since we lived in public housing. The west-siders only carried knives and Andy had managed to fight them and gain their respect. Several times he met with groups of 4 or 5, in a public place, and beat them all up. The police would get called and they’d come and watch until it's over. Then they’d arrest the gangsters and take them to jail, where they stay’d, probably, one night. The cops knew Andy was just defending himself and by now he knew most of them. They didn't interfere  But the east-siders carry guns. There are drive-by shootings all the time in town. They are never reported on the Albuquerque television news programs. Someone obviously hushes them up. But our town was reported to have the most violent crime of any town in New Mexico.

Andy’d hear about the shootings through Larry. Occasionally a shooting occurred over a drug deal that'd gone bad. But often it’d appear the victim was an innocent who was shot as an example. Andy'd been shot at numerous times and ordered, by gangsters, to never enter town.

One day a car followed us home. In it were two east-siders with guns. They drove back and forth on the road below our house, I'm sure they knew Andy saw them. He was really freaking out. We fought. As usual, this fight resulted from Andy not talking about what was bothering him. When he finally did tell me the gangsters were there, we argued over what to do about them. Andy kept trying to contact Larry, but the wind was interfering with Larry's cell phone's reception. Finally Andy called his therapist, Jim, in his office in Pecos. From there, Jim was able to get through to Larry's cell phone. Larry arrested the gangsters and the gangsters admitted they were just waiting until dark to kill us both. They went to jail. Since they were wanted for another shooting anyway, they were refused bail.

Every time we were sure there could be no more new alters, another one surfaced. Recently we had assigned Annie to be gatekeeper. We figured as long as someone was being observant, alters couldn't integrate without permission. Annie's extremely trustworthy and we felt we could trust her to determine who should be allowed to integrate. We never expected another new or violent alter, but some alters could act inappropriate at certain times or in certain situations. Annie was to stay integrated all the time or assign someone else to take her place, such as Grenudo or Vincent.

This new alter captured Vincent without Annie seeing him, then overpowered Annie and integrated. After that he took all the alters and locked them in protective custody. It's a similar pattern that other alters had used when they first appeared. "No-name", i.e. Arthur, entered that way for almost 2 years before a therapist was able to talk to him. So did Toby, Clint, and more alters then I can even remember. All of these alters were young males with lots of anger and they were violent. They'd yell obscenities at me, and put me down until I cowered and cried in a corner. I'd usually hurt myself by hitting my head on the wall and pulling out my hair, and I'd break things. All the things I did as a child when I felt threatened by my angry parents.

This alter was worse. He broke things and he physically attacked me. I never thought an alter would directly attack me because I never believed Andy would let that happen. He let alters hurt him lots of times. He would fall on the ground or hit his head on something even causing several concussions. He'd say the alter did it to him. He's overdosed on prescription medications more times then I can count.

This time I ended up with a few bruises and a split lip. Worse, I was more terrified this time then before because I never saw it coming. It had been months since the last time this happened. In retrospect I realize, Andy had the strength to really hurt me, and if it was in Andy to kill me, Evil Brown would have done so.

For months, any arguments that Andy and I had, were between Andy and I. No alters were present or involved at all, except Grenudo. He would usually come along afterward and help Andy see my side. Andy would apologize and it, generally, would be over. And as much as I hate any argument, they were never physically violent, and Andy himself never put me down as a person.

This time Andy was irritable for some time, but then he often is because of his chest pains. It was never clear when this alter took over, and he talked with Andy's voice the whole time. He only switched to 3rd person, in reference to Andy, after the second time he physically attacked me. He said his name was Evil Brown. Then, and only then, was I sure it wasn't Andy himself attacking me.

Eventually the alters in protective custody broke free. Andy sensed they were near and signaled me to open the front door. Then he spoke in Sam's voice, threatening Evil to leave Andy alone. Sam told Evil he couldn't fight off all the alters and I started grabbing the mono bodies (dolls that represent alters) and throwing them at Andy's body where Evil was integrated. I even ran upstairs and grabbed all the ones up there. This had the effect of the good alters overcoming the one bad alter. Then Rhonda, the judge, locked Evil in protective custody in chains and with guards assigned to watch him. This is much like we've done it before, even back when Grenudo, Limpio and Wisdom fought "No-name", six years ago. Andy had an appointment coming up with Jim, his therapist, and Evil Brown would be forced to talk or stay locked up forever.