Paper Cuts & Other Life Threatening Injuries

I wake to the all too familiar news that my friend, Dennis, is in jail. The police found him passed out on the side of the road with the engine running, his foot on the brake, and an open container in his hand. It's his third offense which means that there are fifty or a hundred that he got away with and they waste no time or nicelties hauling his scrawny ass to a cell. Friends and family blow up the internet with sympathy and worry and well wishes and a Gofundme to raise his $3000 bail. They point out that he has cancer he needs treatment for and that he was just released from several weeks in the charity hospital for a life threatening infection in his intestines. There is rampant speculation that he isn't being allowed his medications, that he is confined to a cell for 21 hours each day, that his significant other has refused to bail him out and that his family is being indifferent to his plight. They are quoted as saying he's a worthless drunk, it's his own doing, and he can rot for all they care. If you really care about him, one sister writes, You'll take his damn keys and throw them in the river. The words are harsh and painful to hear but they resonate with me more than I like. The line between helping and enabling is thinner than a paper cut. It can be invisible but still hurt like a son of a bitch. The effort to raise the bail money barely causes a ripple and though I struggle with it, in the end I decide not to give. I don't believe that the local police will let him die in custody and apart from his poor health issues, I don't believe jail is likely to do him any harm. I'm very much in the minority about this and it's not a decision I come to lightly. There's a good chance he'll be angry with me - as will others – possibly it could even mean an end to our friendship but I'm willing to risk it. As my friend Charli reminds me, if he gets angry, then he gets angry. He can be angry for a lot of years to come, God willing.