Halloween--- a night when human cruelty, deception, and pretend violence are celebrated and worshipped. When people explore their darker sides, when adults act like children, and when children find razor blades in apples.

The irony of meeting with the DA today was obvious, and I was glad Hillary had accompanied my Public Defender and I to possibly work out a "deal" regarding Peter's death. I wasn't sure of the results, but I was glad to know I now had my mother/father/freak on my side.

"I saw it all. It's in the police report. He killed him completely out of self-defense." Mumbled Hillary in the sterile room, the DA looking at her. "It's not murder."

"That doesn't change the fact he's still in question regarding the death of his wife."

I was quiet, trying to look as professional as possible--- and as innocent as could be.

"Look," spoke my Defender. "You have nothing solid to prove that. And while yes, my client did brandish a weapon under emotional distress at his establishment."

"At friends of his who have filed suit against him." Said the uptight DA.

"But I'm afraid..." mumbled Hillary. "That is...my fault." You could feel the air in the room shift, eyes turning towards her. She continued, "You see, my Steve has not had a normal life. I know that is a relative term, particularly coming from me, but I know what his life has been--- or rather, what his life wasn't. I was his father, his mother died at an early age--- raised by a cantankerous grandmother. Only within the last two years did we re-connect, when he returned into my life. I then disappeared, only to return as what I always knew I was-- a woman. I ask you to show leniency. Any kind of emotional distress my son...has gone through...must be understood with patience and love."

"While I agree with the claim of emotional distress your son has gone through, I am not willing to pardon all his charges. But I am willing to make a deal if you're willing to agree to it. Your psychological profile proves to the necessity of counseling, therefore I request 4 weeks of psychological counseling at the Graystone Medical Center and pending release-- 300 hours community service. However, should you falter in your stay at Graystone--- or if doctors feel you're still considered a danger to society---you will not be released."

"So you're betting I'll mess up?" I said, staring him down.

"You want a deal, this is what I'm putting on the table."

There was silence in the room. My mousy Defender shook his head, about to speak, when...

"Take it or leave it." Said the DA, "End of discussion."

We weren't buying a car, we weren't haggling over the asking price of a two-bedroom house--- we were trying to save my ass.

"Fine." I blurted out. Hillary looked at me, concerned. My Defender started going through his paperwork, trying to come up with a counter offer when I reached over and touched his arm, shaking my head no.

"I'll be fine."

He stared me down, "You should be aware of various clauses in institutional psychiatric evaluations--- they can deem life sentences for seemingly innocent behavior."

"Like I told you--- I'll be fine." I looked right at the DA. "You want me to be a good boy, I can do it. I've learned my lessons about my emotions--- and know the difference between managing and losing control."

"I hope so son, because there's a part of me that thinks you're liar."

I am. A big liar.

"My son is not a liar," said Hillary. "He's human. And we need to understand that."

The paperwork was shuffled and while we would have to wait for some pending agreements, I had to prepare for a month long stay in a mental health institution.

Let the games begin.