This horrific memory has never left my mind. All I can see are red and blue flashing cop lightsoutside my house. I can see the cops put handcuffs on my father and escort him to the cop car. My mother is crying and talking to the police about my father abusing my sister, my mom and me. The paramedics were checking if my sister and I were ok. The police were at the house all night questioning us and gathering evidence. Police officers outside of the house were keeping the news crews at bay. The next morning my mom turns on the news and sees are house on TV. The story was all over the news. My sister, mother and I go to court a week later. I see my father come in the court room in a orange jump suit, handcuffs, and shackles. The trial goes on and the jury found my father guilty of child abuse, assult, and battery. The jury sentenced my father to seven years with no chance at parole. The bailiff escortes my father out of the court room. My father turns towards me and I see one tear drop rolliing down his face. Visiting him at the prison turned into a routine going through the metal detectores and getting patted down. The first time I saw my father I couldn't even recognize him. He lost tons of weight, he was very pale, and he had a beard. When I think of my father i still picture him in the orange jump suit, in handcuffs, and shackles with one tear rolling down his face.