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reunifi cation of the father with his ten-year-old son and four-year-old daughter.
Heather held Judge Oliva personally responsible for the abuse of the children since she had been the one to order the removal of the two children. The judge hadn’t wanted to hear the facts Heather had brought to her and wasn’t interested in proof the father was a good parent.
The fact that he was their only source of emotional support, as well as their biggest protector, was of no consequence to her. All she heard when they stood in front of her seven months before was mention of drugs and it had been over for the Bradley family.
Heather didn’t fi nd it appropriate that the judge’s decisions were born from her Christian and political views. She wasn’t the only caseworker to believe the overbearing hag should have stepped down long before.
With contempt already making its way through Heather’s veins, she looked up at the bitch in her black robe and tried to soothe the knot of anger in her chest before her case was called.
She wasn’t as afraid of the judge as she was at the idea of losing control in front of the judge. Heather also suspected the woman came down harder on her because she’d found out about her arrest record. In the absence of the truth and valid facts, the woman had undoubtedly passed fi nal judgment on Heather and she seemed to take it out on the families she brought before her.
The attorney sitting next to Heather stood up when his case was called and she noticed Lucas, the 44
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communications liaison for her agency and the judge, sitting quietly on the same bench. As usual, he wore pants that had never known a wrinkle and his perpetual laptop sat atop his knees. Heather wondered if she would even recognize him if his computer weren’t attached to him like an appendage.
Her favorite part of Lucas was his sarcasm. He was quick-witted and he offered shock value she always appreciated but rarely got to be the recipient of. He presented himself both professionally and as a man of honor. Since she found him attractive, Heather knew his nobility had to be a front.
His eyes were icy blue and his dark hair had a perfect little wave, like a lead singer might don in a fi fties rock band. Lucas smiled at her and then returned his gaze to the monitor in front of him.
“Where have you been?” he whispered.
“In front of my judgy wudge,” she whispered back.
Lucas smiled. Everyone knew Heather was partial to Judge Alvarez who presided over a different division.
She really hadn’t made an effort to hide it. Despite the fact that her favorite judge had ruled against her in a sensitive sexual abuse case, she still looked up at him with a star-struck and goofy gaze.
Judge Alvarez was a brilliant man. His place atop the pedestal was well deserved and he decorated it with stuffed animals so he could offer one to each child he came into contact with. She knew her own experience in such a dismal and maddening world was intense and was well 45
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aware the judge’s experiences far exceeded her own. She trusted that his decisions never came from a self-serving or selfi sh place. His heart was as open as his decisions were fair and Heather felt honored each time she had the good fortune to bring a case before him.
Lucas kept his eyes on the computer and Heather kept at least one eye on her not-so-favorite judge. The last thing she needed was to be made an example of for whispering in the back.
“Scared?” Lucas asked teasingly. He knew how she felt about his boss and he seemed to fi nd it amusing.
“No,” Heather lied.
The parents in the case were usually present at the hearing but the Bradleys lived out of state and would be present via the telephone.
“Man, she hates you.” Lucas grinned and looked Heather directly in the eyes, obviously waiting for a response.
“Thanks,” she said. At least his insensitive confi rmation worked to dispel her paranoia.
She looked down at Lucas’ pants and thought about how put together he always was. She wondered what organization felt like as she sometimes had trouble not dressing backwards.
“Bradley!’ The bailiff screamed.
“Shit,” Heather said, louder than planned.
She headed to the seat reserved for her beside her waiting attorney and worked hard to maintain an aura of professionalism as she quietly unclasped the latches on 46
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her briefcase. She pulled out a tattered folder fi lled with partially torn documents and reminded herself that her preparations wouldn’t matter in front of Judge Oliva. She leaned in to her attorney and whispered.
“Is she in a bad mood?” Heather asked her attorney.
Cindy wasn’t only a sharply dressed and successful attorney. She was absolutely beautiful. What she couldn’t win with her mesmerizing arguments, the woman could with her perfect features. Cindy’s ability to integrate beauty and brains into such an approachable person was a rarity and Heather used the lawyer’s image as a measure to fi ght her own aging anxieties. If she could be half of what Cindy was by the time she hit forty-four, Heather would stop worrying about aging entirely.
“Just don’t push anything, Heather. Please,” Cindy pleaded.
The attorney had been exposed to her client’s sensitive cases in the past and knew that Judge Oliva tended to unravel in Heather’s liberal presence.
Heather gave a hurt look and shrugged innocently.
“What do you mean?” Heather whispered, offering a pathetic shrug.
She jumped when Judge Oliva’s voice spilled loudly from the microphone sitting in front of her.
“Announcements!’ she yelled louder than necessary.
Everyone sitting at the table provided their name and title to the court. As Heather listened to the attorneys, the guardian ad litem representatives and the supervisors explain their roles, she fought the sudden need to giggle 47
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and had to make efforts to refrain from crossing her eyes at them. Teasing was her juvenile gesture of admiration and it came from the desire to help her colleagues out of the mundane world they were stuck in, if only for a short moment.
Heather was familiar with most of the attorneys in the circle and was still surprised at how much she had grown to like them. She had found many of the lawyers shared her same perceptions and same sense of humor.
Court was her only opportunity to commune with them and their presence made appearances more enjoyable.
Heather forced her attention toward the judge and listened as the woman directed a question to the telephone sitting beside her.
“Sir, can you hear me?” she asked whoever was at the other end.
The microphone squawked and everyone instinctively grabbed their ears. Heather thought about how her client always seemed to attract bad luck.
“Yes, ma’am,” said the capable father. “I’m here.”
James Bradley had a southern accent that couldn’t be missed. He also had an anger problem when confronted by authority and he detested the system. Bitterness was a common feeling among her clients but James just couldn’t hide it as well as the rest and Heather worried about what he might say.
She fought the instinct to prevent an impending argument and reminded herself that her constant coddling of her clients served her well only at hearings.
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It didn’t enable them to do important things on their own so she often had to fi ght the need to fi x their problems.
Her nurturing nature gave them the chance to defl ect accountability and it made her feel like a phony when she stood up to represent the state.
There was constant confl ict between what was best for the children and what she was legally allowed to do.
That’s why the Bradley case bothered her even more. It was clear to everyone involved that nothing was endangering the children except for the beliefs and decisions made by the judge.
It was unjust that the father was even involved. Every hearing he attended and every class the state forced him into only took him away from his kids. The constant time away from work threatened his job and he needed it to continue to support them. Heather feared one day Florida would become a police state where a sudden knock at the door could be government offi cials coming to remove a child because a curse word was uttered. She agreed that the dad’s habitual pot smoking wasn’t in the best interest of the Bradley children but the alternatives had proven far worse and nobody else wanted to admit it.
Judge Oliva summarized the case for the court and began the proceedings by facing Cindy.
“You may begin,” she said to Heather’s attorney. The judge looked sternly down at all of them and Heather realized the bitch had found herself the only job where she could literally look down at everyone.
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Cindy turned to face Heather and she began to ask the usual questions.
“Are you the care manager for this case?”
“Yes, I am,” Heather replied confi dently.
“Are you familiar with this case?” Cindy asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Is the father compliant with his case plan tasks at this time?”
Heather usually directed her eye contact toward the judge but she always glanced over at her compliant clients with an eye wink of support. James was too far away to notice the gesture so she sent him support telepathically.
“He’s completed a substance abuse program, has stable fi nances and housing, and has been compliant with drug screens.”
“Are his drug screens clean?”
“He had fi ve positive screens as the marijuana worked its way out of his system. Then he came up negative.”
Heather reminded herself that withholding and lying weren’t the same thing and she prayed that the judge wouldn’t ask for specifi cs.
“And his screens have been negative ever since?” she asked.
Shit, shit, shit.
“No, Your Honor, they haven’t. Each of the two screens after that were positive again.”
The judge’s expression turned to one of shock and horror. Heather had no doubt that the old hag practiced the look in the mirror for moments such as this. She knew 50
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she was in trouble and wanted desperately to yell out the truth to everyone listening. She wanted to tell them that the court was turning a good man into a criminal and that they had been forced to send the children to homes where no bond existed.
Judge Oliva held so tightly to her own self-imposed values that she never saw the big picture or the negative affect she had on so many lives. Heather considered she just might hate the woman and struggled to maintain control of her voice and her movements.
The judge leaned forward and made eye contact that was so intense Heather thought her heart might stop beating. An eye twitch took hold and she fought to keep it under control.
“Do you and your agency fi nd a problem with your clients using drugs?” she asked calmly.
The judge was using her most condescending tone and Heather looked at Cindy with raised eyebrows. The gesture was a friendly warning that Heather felt her control slipping away. She began to seriously wonder how long a jail stint was for contempt of court.
Heather started to speak and her tone picked up more confi dence after she realized her vocal chords were on alert and wouldn’t fail her.
“We’re very serious about drug use, Your Honor.
However, this man takes very good care of his children and he only came to our attention because the mother, and primary custodian at the time, overdosed and was Baker-acted into a psychiatric hospital. We just want to 51
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allow Dad to maintain custody of his kids while he’s completing his tasks.”
Heather just wanted the little girl and boy safely home with their dad. She glanced at the phone and wondered what kind of expression the father was wearing at that moment.
She looked over at the judge and realized the woman was still staring down at her. By the expression on her face, it was obvious the judge hadn’t heard a word she said. All that penetrated her hearing was that Dad had a positive drug screen. Heather wondered if she experienced other people’s words like the parents in a Charlie Brown episode or if she just blocked them out altogether. Either way, it was obvious the hearing would not go the way Heather had hoped. The judge wouldn’t allow her mind to accept other concepts. It would be diffi cult for her to hold onto her conservative beliefs. Heather felt her fi sts tighten as they hung beside her thighs.
The judge began to speak in a slow tone, as if addressing a child or a mentally challenged person.
“Do you believe that it’s all right to raise your children while you’re smoking weed just because you’re functionally well?”
Heather was stunned by the question. It was a personal one and Heather only stood before the court to represent her agency and their views, not her own. She wasn’t sure how to respond and she looked to Cindy for support.
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“We . . . ,” she began but was cut off by the judge.
“No, no. I asked this question of you,” Oliva said, obviously annoyed. “I’ll ask you again. Do you believe it’s okay to smoke weed and raise your kids just because you’re functioning well?”
Heather looked at Cindy again and the lawyer nodded. She wanted Heather to answer the question.
“Yes, I do,” Heather answered fi rmly.
She couldn’t believe it came out of her own mouth and was as shocked as the rest of the courtroom. Heather glanced over at Lucas and saw that he wore a bigger smile than she had ever seen on him. She thought it was a shame she would never see him again.
The judge raised one brow and spoke.
“Oh, really?” She drew out the question for an agonizingly long time. “Well, maybe you should reconsider the occupation you’ve chosen for your life.
Perhaps you don’t understand what you’re supposed to represent here.”
Heather wished the judge hadn’t said the words as she felt the anger rise like bile. Her control functions stopped working and her fi lter was clogged. Her words began to spew before they had the chance to enter the inspection area of her brain.
“Well, maybe Your Honor should consider the injustice of bringing her right wing views and Christian values into a courtroom which is supposed to have no place for it.”
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Heather knew she had crossed the boundary and no longer felt the invisible restraint that had worked so well to prevent outbursts.
Judge Oliva’s face reddened and contorted into what Heather could only describe as a look of wrath. The judge looked very spooky to her right then.
“Is there anything else you’d like to share with the court, Ms. Simmons?”
Heather knew it was a question she shouldn’t answer but the invitation was too tempting.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “I think Mr. Bradley is a good father and that the court is single-handedly responsible for the abuse his children have suffered in the foster care you forced them into.”
All chatter stopped and the courtroom became very quiet. Judge Oliva looked around desperately and Heather wondered if the woman was allowed to have one of the bailiffs attack her like a dog.
When Heather continued, she spoke matter-of-factly.
“And you might want to consider why you’ve chosen this grand pedestal for yourself when your closed-mindedness only equips you with the ability to run a cash register.”
Somehow, the silence got even quieter. Heather looked around at the open mouths of everyone in the room and felt her own expression begin to refl ect those around her.
The attorneys looked aghast, the criminals stared at her with pride, and Lucas was still laughing in the back row.
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After what felt like a lifetime, the judge banged her gavel and directed her attention to everyone in her courtroom.
“Quiet! Quiet down!’
She banged again and motioned for the bailiffs to help calm the crowd, Heather knew she would be punished for exposing them all to her outburst. The sudden action was a lot for everyone to handle as court was never usually this exciting. Heather wondered if she’d be out of jail in time for her trip to the beach with her boys in a few days.
The judge looked at Heather and spoke calmly.
“Are you fi nished?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Heather replied. “I’m just trying to help save the world, Your Honor.”
Now she was fi nished.
“Do you know what’s going to happen now?” asked the angry judge.
She looked at Heather with a stare so cold, the temperature dropped a little.
“You’re going to send me to jail?” Heather asked courageously.
Everyone waited for an answer.
“No, ma’am,” the judge answered.
Heather knew that the long pause that followed was intentional. The effect worked like a noose around her neck and each second that ticked by only pulled the noose tighter. She wanted to tell the judge what a drama queen she was but decided the timing was wrong.
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“I’m going to work it out so that you have a few months off of work,” the judge said with a smug smile.
Heather heard the indrawn breaths of everyone present. She knew the judge had a lot of authority but trying to suspend Heather was like a search and seizure with no warrant and in the wrong jurisdiction. It just didn’t work that way.
“How are you going to do that, Your Honor?”
Heather was appalled by her own nerve but helpless to control the anger and resentment the judge had nurtured in her for so long.
Both women were obviously furious and working hard to keep their cool.
“Do you really want to continue this sarcasm with me?” asked Oliva.
When Heather heard the judge’s voice start to rise toward the end of the question, she knew not to say another word. The judge couldn’t succeed in forcing her take a leave but she might decide to throw her in jail after all. Heather decided to just keep her mouth shut and let the judge savor the power she thought she had.