Junk Love, page 24
Renata waved to a gray-haired bespectacled man peeking in through the door’s thin rectangular window.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Do you know if the dad’s coming?”
When Renata looked at Cora, she said, “Aiden’s back in Seattle. He doesn’t live here. Does he have to be here for this?”
Propping open the door, he braced a pad of paper against his pinstriped suit. “Can I get his phone number?”
While she pulled up Aiden’s number and read it aloud, her father’s eyes burned into her.
* * *
About half an hour later, Cora paced in the back of the courtroom, wincing at Naomi’s cries. Vanessa sat at the rectangular table on the right, vindicated as if Cora were, even now, hurting her infant. Her mom turned back from the front left pew beside her dad and gave her an encouraging smile.
Through the double doors came muffled snatches of Renata’s conversation with that other lawyer, who she’d asked to speak with in the hall. Although Cora felt guilty for eavesdropping, she was grateful when her pacing brought her closer and when Naomi stopped crying.
“Vanessa is turning it into a witch hunt. She started off on the wrong foot, and she’s doubling down on her mistake.”
“It might be your vision that’s clouded, Renata. We both know you’re a bleeding heart, especially when it comes to young moms.” The door cracked open. “I know my client is more risk-averse than you.” Her icy tone was clearer, louder. “But that way, no one gets hurt.”
The woman powered through, flinging the door behind. She made resting bitch face look good. Even her hair seemed afraid of her in its sleek auburn bob clipped within an inch of its life.
Bouncing her squalling bundle, Cora smiled in apology, preparing for the inevitable eye contact. But with her head high and turning, the dour and polished lawyer marched by as if Cora were a transparent thing. Then she roosted at Vanessa’s table and whispered.
Cora didn’t notice her mother until she was close, holding out her arms. “Why don’t you let me take her? That way you can concentrate.”
“Thanks.”
Her mom opened the double doors, and Renata was standing there, staring as if she’d seen a ghost, with the photo of the tape dispenser dangling by her side.
“I know, Naomi,” her mom cooed, “I know.” She nodded at Renata and pushed through the second set of doors. The first one closed over the lawyer’s belated recovery, thudding like a distant bomb.
A moment later when Renata came in, she looked like herself again. She waved for Cora to follow her to the table on the left and pulled out a padded chair beside the pinstriped man helping Aiden, who sat by the wall.
“Here.” Placing a legal pad and a pen in front of her, she said, “In case you want to take notes. If you need to tell me anything during the hearing, press that mute button. They will be recording.” Her wedding ring glinted as she touched the spindly microphone that stretched up like a black dandelion bud.
In a minute, a door opened to the left of the judge’s elevated bench, flanked by the American and Utah flags.
“All rise,” a woman in a cardigan said, stepping inside the door.
Everyone stood while a man in a black robe entered. His thick white hair was slicked back in an Elvis wave.
“Franklin County Juvenile Court is now in session,” she continued. “The Honorable Thomas Palmer presiding.”
Judge Palmer took the tall black chair behind the Utah State seal and surveyed them. “Good morning, everyone,” he said, booming and baronial. “Please be seated.”
Renata’s eyebrows pinched down behind her glasses.
“Your Honor.” Aiden’s lawyer sidled up to the woman by the judge. “Could the court get Father on the phone? He lives out of state.”
“By all means,” the judge said.
The lawyer handed over a sheet of yellow paper and returned to his seat.
“Good morning, Your Honor.” Vanessa’s lawyer smiled with her hands on her lap, obedient like a Doberman.
“Are you here for the State?”
“Lindsay Schmidt,” she said, standing. “Assistant Attorney General for the Department of Justice, Your Honor. It’s a pleasure.”
“Thank you, Miss Schmidt. Judge Bronski fell ill, and with Judge Hager on vacation, they pulled me over from Circuit Court to assist.”
“Hello?” Aiden’s voice came through the speakers.
“This is Judge Palmer from Franklin County Court—juvenile court today. Is this…” He squinted at the papers in his hands. “Aiden Walsh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. Glad you can join us. We’re just getting started here, so if you could, please mute your phone, and I may have some questions for you.” Then he smiled at Vanessa’s attorney. “What do we have today?”
“The shelter hearing for Naomi Martin.”
“Very good. Miss Martin?”
Cora stood with Renata.
“This is about your baby?”
But Renata spoke first. “Your Honor, if I may?”
“Please. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Ochoa.”
“You as well, Your Honor. I have reviewed the Petition and the Protective Custody Report with Ms. Martin. She and her daughter are correctly named. Their dates of birth, address, and phone number are correct. The Indian Child Welfare Act does not apply. We waive formal arraignment and advice of rights, enter denials to allegations 3A and 3B, request court-appointed counsel, pretrial and trial dates, as well as a permanency hearing. Ms. Martin may retain an attorney, but in the meantime, we would request that FCPD be appointed. We also need to be heard as to disposition.”
“Go ahead.”
Renata paused.
The judge’s assistant peeked out from behind her computer and handed him something. “Denials need to be entered on the record,” she whispered. “Here are the dates.”
“Very good. Denials are entered to—what was it, Mrs. Ochoa?”
“3A and 3B.”
“3A and 3B. Miss Martin, you will be appointed an attorney. Your court dates will be as follows…” He held the papers at arm’s length. “Pretrial conference November 17th at 9:00 a.m., Trial December 29th at 9:30 a.m. And a permanency hearing on November 2nd, 2017, at 1:30 p.m.”
“That’s only if your case is still open,” Renata whispered as they sat.
Aiden’s lawyer stood. “Your Honor, Father will proceed in the same manner—enter denials to C and D, that he lacks sole custody and cannot protect from mother’s abusive and/or neglectful behaviors.”
Could Aiden just agree that I’m abusive?
“He supports the in-home plan.” The pinstriped lawyer smiled.
Nodding, the judge stared at the far wall. “Did you write down those court dates, Mr. Walsh?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Cora wished she could see his face.
“What about you, Miss Martin?” His gaze flicked to the blank notepad before her.
Startled, she grabbed the pen, but Renata’s hand stopped her while the quiet woman who’d been sitting in the back slipped through the half wall, offering a piece of paper.
“We have the dates now,” Renata said, passing it to Cora. “Thank you.”
Judge Palmer nodded. “There should be a phone number for your attorney, who should be appointed in two business days.”
The assistant whispered.
With a furrowed brow and a warning tone, he said, “That is the number for the court.” Then he recovered his smile. “Call in two business days. They will give you the name and number of the appointed attorney.” Addressing his audience, he said, “We do things differently across the street. So, the child can stay with her mother?” The last question was for Vanessa’s lawyer.
“Your Honor.” Lindsay stood tall. “My client has been working diligently to keep this baby with her mother.”
Does she know that’s a lie?
“As you can see in the Protective Custody Report,” she continued, “Mother’s refusal to sign Releases of Information for her mental health records brought us here. Given the suspicious circumstances around the head trauma to this vulnerable infant, compounded with Mother’s history of mental health issues, my client would be remiss not to review these records.”
His nod was like a death knell.
Lindsay heaped more dirt on Cora’s grave. “My client is eager to maintain the current placement with Mother, but we need the court to make certain orders.”
Judge Palmer flipped through the papers.
“The conditions of the in-home plan are on Page 4. Namely that Mother reside in maternal grandparents’ home with line-of-sight supervision, that the family cooperate with the assessment, and that Mother sign releases for her mental health records and complete a psychological evaluation.”
At the end of the enemy’s table, Vanessa’s hissing voice caught Lindsay’s attention. She pointed at something.
After reading from the legal pad, Lindsay said, “Also, my client would like Mother to submit to a urinalysis. Mother’s behaviors at the hospital were concerning for substance abuse, and she admitted to using alcohol.”
Renata pressed the mute button and whispered, “I am objecting to that.” The coppery flecks in her dark eyes glowed like embers. Her righteous anger was like Holly’s, facing off against Vanessa in her orange towel: “Improvise, Adapt, Overcome.”
Cora sat up straighter. What would Holly do?
Lindsay droned on, “In addition, Your Honor…”
Almost smiling, Cora whispered, “Couldn’t hurt, might help? A drug test would be clean.”
“…my client would like the Court to order…”
“Are you sure?” Renata frowned.
Cora nodded.
“…Mother not to co-sleep with the baby to avoid a fatal accident.”
“Thank you, Miss Schmidt. Miss Martin? You’re willing to comply with these conditions to keep your baby with you?”
Standing beside Renata, she couldn’t track what the conditions were anymore, but even if they included swimming with sharks or a transorbital lobotomy, she was ready to agree.
“Your Honor, I need to be heard regarding disposition,” Renata said, motioning for Cora to sit.
As Cora obeyed, she wondered if the sharks were disappointed.
“First, the Protective Custody Report is fraught with errors and misrepresentations. It implies that Ms. Martin intentionally hit her baby out of anger and frustration. That is not what happened.”
When Renata pulled out the photograph of the tape dispenser, Cora twinged, reliving the thudding impact after the burly thing slid into Naomi’s sweet head, and the moment of silence before she cried. She couldn’t look up from her lap until Renata had walked from Lindsay, who hissed to Vanessa for a second, and then to the judge.
“Ms. Martin had not torn the diaper in a fit of frustration,” Renata said. “She was trying to salvage a bag of defective diapers. The tabs had fused, so she was using tape. The accident happened when the tape failed to cut. Because it was the end of the roll, the dispenser slid to her daughter’s head. The injury was very slight and has already healed.”
The judge squinted back at Naomi.
“After the accident, Ms. Martin put ice on her daughter’s head and brought her to the hospital to make sure she was okay. There were no conflicting reports about the accident from Ms. Martin, as the report tries to suggest—only what appears to be confusion, suspicion, or both on the part of one nurse and one caseworker. Ms. Martin’s words were twisted and taken out of context. She said she was ‘in a daze’ and ‘trying to wake up’ during the diaper change—not at the hospital.
“Caseworker Dixson described Ms. Martin as agitated and hostile in the hospital, but some emotion would be expected from a distraught first-time mother of a newborn. Especially if Ms. Dixson was prodding Ms. Martin in an unprofessional, accusing manner. Ms. Dixson was the only person at the hospital who reported Ms. Martin being angry, which included hospital staff and Ms. Dixson’s supervisor.
“Ms. Dixson made exaggerated, erroneous claims in her report. For example, during her visit to maternal grandparents’ home, she noted fear that Ms. Martin might injure her with a water glass. My client and her mother can only surmise that Ms. Dixson experienced this unwarranted fear when my client reached for forms near a water glass. If Ms. Dixson imagined that my client would start a bar-fight-style brawl in her parents’ home, that was not based in reality.
“Furthermore, the comment that Ms. Martin was ‘sluggish, consistent with coming down’ is complete speculation. I am sure Your Honor is familiar with the problem-solving principle of Occam’s razor.”
Cora wasn’t. The judge smiled with his mouth but not his eyes.
“When faced with two competing theories,” she continued, “the theory with the fewest assumptions is generally correct. Here, Ms. Martin appeared tired because she was sleep deprived, being the sole caregiver for a newborn. There is no need to search for another explanation. There is certainly no factual basis to jump to substance abuse as Ms. Dixson has. At the home visit yesterday, Ms. Dixson was fishing for evidence against Ms. Martin.”
Fishing isn’t a violent-enough analogy. Maybe whaling with a harpoon.
“Maternal grandmother shared that my client proactively sought counseling when the family was grieving after the disappearance of her older sister, Julie Martin. If the State is trying to imply that Ms. Martin must share her sister’s mental health issues because they are related, that would be wild speculation.
“Ms. Dixson even turned maternal grandmother’s words against her, alleging that she has memory issues or was feigning them to protect her daughter. She only said she wanted to take notes during their conversation since her daughter had not yet joined them.”
Renata consulted the scrawled notes on her yellow pad, checking off items.
“As to the State’s recommendations, we support Naomi being placed with her mother. We stipulate to them residing in maternal grandparents’ home. And we stipulate to Ms. Martin not co-sleeping with her infant; she does not make a practice of that, regardless. Those are the only lawful conditions. The remaining conditions are not legally or factually warranted, and we object to them. Line-of-sight supervision is unnecessary to ensure child safety and would be unduly burdensome on the family.”
“The drug test,” Cora whispered.
Renata muted the microphone. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, so Renata released the button and said, “The requested UA need not and should not be ordered because the facts do not support it, but Ms. Martin will voluntarily complete one today.”
Judge Palmer made a note.
“Your Honor.” Renata waited for him to look up. “I can’t stress this enough. If the Court were to order Ms. Martin to sign releases of information, that would be reversible error. Conditions of an in-home plan must be tailored to increasing protective factors and promoting child safety. Any condition designed to assist with the State’s investigation is an unlawful end run around a parent’s right to due process of law.
“I also move the Court to amend the condition that Ms. Martin and maternal grandparents cooperate with DCFS’s assessment. To be a lawful order, the condition should read that they will cooperate with the safety plan, not the assessment—their investigation. Thank you, Your Honor.”
Lindsay hopped up as if they were on a teeter-totter. “Your Honor.”
The judge bowed his head.
“Thank you,” she simpered. “I’m sure the Court can see through Counsel’s defense tactics.”
Truth isn’t tactics.
“Rather than addressing each of Counsel’s claims, I will let the Protective Custody Report speak for itself. My client is trying to protect a vulnerable infant who has already suffered head trauma at least once in her mother’s care. That’s why these conditions need to be ordered. Cora Martin’s sister suffered a schizophrenic break. Schizophrenia is genetic in origin, and it manifests around Mother’s age.
“The baby’s head trauma is concerning. Mother’s mental health is concerning. The agency needs to do its due diligence. If, after a thorough investigation, we determine this was indeed an accident and that Mother does not have mental health issues, we will be happy to close this case.” Lindsay settled her hips into the seat like a satisfied socialite chicken. A man-eating chicken who consorted with snakes.
Judge Palmer scrutinized the papers before him. The paneled courtroom seemed relieved to have peace and quiet, but Cora needed it to end so she could breathe.
“May I say something, Your Honor?” It was Aiden.
His lawyer stood. “Mr. Walsh, just a moment. Your Honor, Father supports the in-home plan with Mother, but we were not able to discuss all the conditions, so if he could be heard on that.”
The judge nodded. “Go ahead, Mr. Walsh.”
Cora stared at the table while Aiden spoke.
“I’m glad to hear this can be over once they can see Cora’s a safe mother. She doesn’t need supervision. And she doesn’t have a drug or alcohol problem. Cora is one of the sanest, most grounded, kindest people I’ve ever met. Naomi couldn’t have a better mom.”
Her vision blurred.
“Thank you, Mr. Walsh. Miss Martin.”
Using the table for balance, she stood with Renata, swiping a tear.
“You have an opportunity here, and I hope you take advantage of it—for your daughter’s sake.”
She nodded.
He waited.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“You have an excellent attorney, but I hope you understand that everyone here wants to ensure your daughter’s safety.”
You don’t understand. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“I’m happy to order the following: placement with mother, conditioned on her continued residence with maternal grandparents as safety service providers.” He smiled at Cora’s parents in the front pew. “I am not ordering line-of-sight supervision. Mother will sign Releases of Information for all mental health records.”
