You think he's a simple nuisance; but then, you don't know him at all. I think he's a tragedy waiting to happen, and since I gave him life and raised him, maybe I know better.

My 36-year-old son has been arrested more times than I can count. It's always been drug-related, although in the last few years, the drugs have become secondary to his behavioral problems.

He's mentally ill. Not just a little. Quite a lot. The diagnoses, from multiple health care professionals in various settings, including three separate psychiatric placements (the last being Napa State Hospital) have run the gamut from simple "personality disorder" to "obsessive compulsive" and, in more recent times, "paranoid schizophrenic" and "psychotic."

A couple of years ago, with help from my husband and I, the Public Guardian's Office almost had him conserved. He'd gone from the temporary psych facility in Fairfield to a residential mental health facility in Vallejo. His doctor at the time recommended he spend the rest of his life in a mental facility. After three months of being on a forced regime of anti-psychotic medicines as part of his treatment, he went to court on the matter of a temporary conservatorship. By then, his behavior was near normal. He assured the judge and the Public Guardian's Office that he would continue to take his drugs and stay in touch with Mental Health. Not so much as a single appointment did he make. Not so much as a single dose of any medication did he ingest after he was released that day.

And so - the spiral downward began, yet again.

It wasn't enough that we had to get a restraining order so we could feel somewhat "safe." We went through that hassle at the recommendation of the Police Department. Yet when we'd call on police to enforce it, the officers would give him their little "test," he'd pass, and they'd go on their way.

Mentally ill doesn't mean retarded. He's learned how to answer the questions. Do you feel like hurting yourself? "No, officer." Do you feel like hurting someone else? "No, officer." Yet five minutes before they arrived, he'd be describing in detail what he'd like to do to society - and to me, his mother - the one and only person in the whole world who's cared enough about him to do what I could to help him without enabling, excusing, dismissing or saving him from the consequences of his actions. His dad "let go with love" years ago.

I'm calling upon Solano County's District Attorney's Office to keep him in custody this time. He's been arrested three or four times in the last month or so on drug paraphernalia charges. We're also pretty sure he's "huffing" chemicals.

So far, he hasn't "hurt" anyone, except himself and his family. But if he is released from jail again, he'll be out of his mind, out on the streets, using drugs and coming here for food and money every day or two. And if we aren't here, what might he do to get what he needs?

Two years ago, while we were out, he broke into the house by climbing up to the second story and removing a screen to come in a window. He called my daughter while he was inside, and she thought he'd come in and killed us. She was out of her mind until she reached me on my cell phone. She called police and they took him away, giving us another moment of hope that was quickly dashed.

The restraining order meant nothing. He wasn't charged with "breaking and entering," but with "trespassing." He was released in short order. We then spent a small fortune on a security system for the house - an alarm which causes him not a moment of worry because "if I want in, I'm going in."

He was recently evicted from a decent boarding house we rented for him because he had been mixing chemicals and pouring them down the drain. And he had rocks everywhere - rocks he "cleans" with the chemical concoctions. He was making the other residents sick. He "cleans" the rocks in hopes of finding diamonds and gold inside of them - and they'll only open for him if they're clean.

He was committed to Napa State Hospital once. When he was discharged, he was unable to receive services at the county's Mental Health Department in Fairfield, even though he'd been treated there for years. He was now "off their books."

I called them multiple times, and mostly no one returned my calls. Eventually, I discovered that the man who knew his whole story had retired. I got the run-around from everyone about how he was no longer their patient; that he'd have to make an appointment and come in at some future date. Yet a schizophrenic who is not on meds is incapable of doing that. Essentially, when he was responsive to the idea of getting "help," the system put it out of his reach. Now when I tell him to "get help," he tells me there isn't any for him. And he's right.

I've been told - a number of times now - that "being crazy isn't against the law" and "he has his rights." When, pray tell, do MY rights kick in? When does the potential for him to hurt himself - or be hurt by some policeman who fears he's crazy and therefore, dangerous - come into play? When do his threats to get even with everyone under the sun mean enough to anyone to finally step up to the plate and take preventative action?

I pay my taxes. I'm a good citizen. I've worked all my life, as has my husband. We've had a couple of traffic tickets in our day - but that's about it. We don't drink. We don't do drugs and never have. My husband is a combat veteran, having spent a year in Qui Nhon, Vietnam, from 1966-1967 on a swift boat patrolling the rivers for contraband and putting his life on the line. He's done volunteer search and rescue work for every county we've lived in - including Solano. I've raised a daughter who is a high school graduate and a contributing member of society. I've volunteered in schools, done animal rescue and minded my p's and q's to the "nth" degree my whole life.

When does what we need or want come into play? When does law enforcement and the DA's office start to see our son as something a little more complicated and yes, threatening to society, than a simple nuisance? When does the legal system begin to listen to what all those doctors, including its own, have tried to tell it? When does anyone start to look at his record - as both a mental patient and a criminal - and begin to wonder if there might be a better way to deal with him than the revolving door?

When he's in custody, it's a welcome relief. My stress level goes down considerably when I know he's safe - eating, drinking, with a roof over his head - not being beat up by crazier people on the streets and not being shot by a cop. I don't have to wait for "that call" from the coroner who thinks that a body down there might be that of my son. I can't put a price on a good night's sleep. All I can say for certain is that it's priceless when it comes to my child. Even a grown child.

My son is a mentally ill drug addict. His addiction and mental illness have compromised his ability to live in "normal" society - and his condition is a threat to himself and anyone he comes in contact with. He cannot manage on his own, and it's just a matter of time before his luck - and society's luck - runs out.

I love my son. I want help for him. Long-term help. Before it's too late for him, for us, for everybody.

• The author is a Fairfield taxpayer, citizen and mother.