Tina Bennett, of the notable NJ Bennetts, needed a drink.
Not Poland Spring or a Mountain Dew, but something much harder.
Her go-to was AppleJack Brandy.
The owner of The Last Start Ranch, Timmy Jenkins, always did bed check at 4:00 a.m.
But he was away for another few days, and he had forgotten to assign someone else to do it.
Tina Bennett, planned her escape around Timmy’s brief trip. She was betting that no one would be doing bed checks or doing the normal headcounts Timmy did multiple times each day.
She was right.
Tina’s alcoholism had gotten her down to 98 pounds, which is a very low weight for an average height woman, but Tina was 5’8”.
Not a pretty picture.
She basically could hide behind a broomstick.
She had only been at the ranch for five days and had spent the first three in a bed going through the first terrible stages of alcohol withdrawal. Shaking, sweating, doubled over in pain, uncontrollably urinating as she lie there.
Her family had held a fifth intervention only a week before.
These interventions were usually led by a therapist or other mental health professional.
It went like most of them do. The addict is ambushed upon entering a home or office, and all of their intensely worried, and important family and acquaintances are there and ready to “intervene.”
Of course they all came equipped with heavy servings of guilt and judgment.
Tina sat and listened to all their threats and whining one by one…
“... if you don’t get help, I can no longer be your daughter. Your alcoholism has caused me to suffer in the following ways, blah blah blah…”
“... if you don’t get help, I will have to start divorce proceedings and get the court to render you unfit so you will never see my children again. Your alcoholism has caused me to suffer in the following ways, blah blah blah…”
“... if you don’t get help, I will have to fire you. Your alcoholism has caused my business to suffer in the following ways, blah blah blah…”
Tina had sat there, and listened, with “FUCK YOU ALL!” so wanting to come out her mouth.
But she held her tongue. Well, at least for a minute.
This is what she did say.
"To my husband, your children? When did that happen? The fact that they came out of my body still warrants you saying our children, don't you think asshole?!
You are all incredibly selfish. I want to drink, yes, more than being a wife, mother, employee, etc. I don’t know why, but you all have to get over yourselves and stop defining your existence by what this one drunk woman does.
To my son and daughter, it doesn’t mean anything bad about you, or me, that I am a neglectful drunk. This will kill me and I am ok with that. But you both have to stop living as the victim of my addiction once and for all.
It is pathetic and childish. I don’t have a maternal instinct. I do love you but only agreed to have kids because your father begged me.
You both are doing great. You aren't stupid enough to think that is in spite of me and not because of me? Are you?
If so, your need to be victims is much worse than any addiction I have.
I wasn’t born with the things you need from a mother and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you will finally grow up.
And stop going to those teen children-of-addicts support groups! God damn it! Your mom-victim-status looks like a clown mask at this point.
Mom never made me a birthday cake.
WAAAH!
Mom walked on to my little league field, pissed herself and passed out on the pitcher's mound.
WAAAH!
Mom didn't love me like my friends' moms did.
WAAAH!
Boo Fucking Hoo! Grow the fuck up!
You can’t keep abusing me for lacking characteristics you wish I had.
That would be like complaining that I am 5’ 8”.
Even if I didn’t drink, there will not be any change in me. I am not a drunk who drinks to escape herself. I love myself and just like whores like sex, I like my AppleJack. Like the whore, I am looked down upon for my choices. Fuck all of you judgmental moralizers.
I am a bad mother, wife and worker? By whose standards? All of yours?”
Tina lets out a genuine loud laugh and cackle.
She continues: “Why do you think your standards and index of acceptable behaviors can be applied to me?
Who the fuck are you? God? Far from God, you are malignant narcissists! I can come up with 20 fucked up things each of you do, but those are none of my business.
My weakness just happens to be on display. Some of yours are much worse than anything I have ever done! But I still love and accept you all without judgment, you all should try it sometime!
Ok, now that that is out of my system, where am I going this time?”
The 20,000 acre ranch had been in the Jenkins family for 20 Generations and it was 200 miles to the nearest town or the nearest neighbor. The driveway alone was 100 miles of dirt that led to Highway 41. Highway 41 dead ended there and headed west.
The ranch had gone through many changes over the centuries but mostly it had been used to raise some kind of cattle. Cows, bulls, oxen, lambs, sheeps, yaks, you name it.
Timmy had almost died when he was 18 from a Fentynal overdose during his freshman year in college. His parents decided to do something to help other addicts so they turned the ranch into an addiction inpatient facility.
They changed the name of the ranch to The Last Start Ranch.
Today Timmy kept this going along with his wife and four children.
It was usually the last stop or hope for the addicts that they took in, but Last Stop or Last Hope were much too negative for Timmy's parents, so they named it the Last Start Ranch.
The main gate sign read:
Last Start Ranch
The Last Start You Will Ever Need
The 200 miles of nothing but desert between the ranch and the next town made it a perfect spot to dry-out, get clean, get on the wagon, etc. etc.
That didn’t stop many over the years whose addiction was so strong from risking certain death to get their fix.
Timmy’s father was always confused how addiction specialists could put someone through a 28 day inpatient treatment, only to release them back into the dysfunctional world that turned them into addicts in the first place. It was a recipe for relapse and he thought most likely it was a scam to get more than one 28 day inpatient treatment fee from all the patients.
You can't expect someone to come back into their world that caused, supported and exacerbated their addiction, in only four weeks, and expect continued sobriety.
It was an insane system that made many people very wealthy, and kept clients very addicted.
So he took his ranch, and turned it into what addicts need to recover.
1) No access to their drug of choice and
2) No consistent interaction with the people from their dysfunctional worlds for much longer than 28 days and
3) He used the cattle and other farm work as part of their therapy.
He knew that tending to the cattle and farm chores out in the middle of nowhere, gave them their best chance at long term sobriety. After all, they had saved his son's life.
Tina took some gallon milk containers from the recycling and filled them with water. She had 5 ready and hidden. She made an elaborate harness with twine she stole from the farrier so she could hang them on her body. She just needed to get to Highway 41 and then she would hitchhike from there.
On a Monday morning, she and the other patients watched as Timmy drove down the ranch driveway towards Highway 41.
Monday evening, around 11pm, Tina snuck out of her bed, went and fetched her water filled milk containers, hung them on herself, and headed down the ranch driveway.
As she walked, she drooled over the imagined taste of AppleJack Brandy on her lips.
She was still shaking and sweating from alcohol withdrawal.
She had tried to find the ranch vehicle keys, but the Jenkins family learned long ago how to keep them out of the hands of the recovering addicts.
It wasn’t until Thursday at 10am, when Tina was due for a blood test, that everyone realized she was missing.
After speaking to the employees and patients, it was agreed she had left after lights out on Monday night.
They figured she had been gone 2 ½ days.
They knew Tina had embarked on a journey of certain death if she wasn't found in time.
Timmy’s wife called the State Police but got their voicemail.
She then called Timmy and he told her to send all vehicles down the driveway looking for her. He then got in his pickup and headed towards home.
Timmy’s wife drove down the driveway, constantly panning her eyes from left to right.
Other staff took off on quads into the desert.
After 44 miles she came upon Tina’s stiff body, face down, 2 out of the 5 milk containers still full of water.
A note was tightly held in her right hand.
It read.
“To my family and friends. I lived my life how I wanted and gave what I could. I suggest you do the same.
I hope you never endure the pain of constant mass judgment and threats that I have had from you.
I do love all of you and expressed that love in ways that God instilled in me. That was never enough for any of you, but this is no fault of mine. I can't give what doesn't exist inside of me.
The fault is within all of you.
Goodbye.
Tina Bennett"
