“Don’t let her take me … Don’t let her take me…”
Mary rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. “Patrick, you have to go with her today, but it’s just for the weekend, and after the weekend—”
“A weekend…”
“I have to go to court for you, and I can’t do that until Monday.” Mary heard Olivia talking in the kitchen, and when the TV tank battle stopped and a History Channel commentator came on, she heard what Olivia was saying:
“—637 Moretone Street, please, hurry, he has a gun. Yes, a gun! Don’t hang up, stay with me—”
Olivia was calling 911. Mary thought it was the worst possible thing for Patrick, who started crying harder, so she couldn’t get up and go in the kitchen to stop Olivia. “Olivia! Olivia! You don’t need to do that, we’re fine now!”
“… I don’t want to go with her … I want to go with you…”
Mary shouted again, “Olivia, call them off! We don’t need any help! It’s fine now! Come in and you’ll see!”
“Noooo!” Patrick wailed, sobbing anew. “I don’t want Olivia … I don’t want Olivia … I don’t want her…”
“Dispatch, don’t hang up!” Olivia came barging into the room, still on the phone. She bolted for the coffee table, picked up the gun, and shoved it into her messenger bag, which she hoisted to her shoulder. “I have the gun! I have it, thank God! Yes, please hurry, please hurry!”
Mary felt Patrick cling tighter to her. “Olivia, call them off, please! Look, it’s all over. It’s fine. I have him.”
“… I don’t want to go … I don’t want … I don’t want to go…”
“Mary, are you kidding me right now?” Olivia covered the phone with her hand, her lined eyes flaring with anger. “He had a gun! He tried to kill me! You saw it!”
“… I don’t want to go … I don’t want to go … I don’t want to…”
“Olivia, we don’t need 911. They’re just going to upset him more—”
“He shoulda thought of that when he tried to kill me!” Olivia grabbed her purse, and in the next moment, there was the sound of approaching police sirens. “The cops will be here any minute! They come fast when there’s a gun!”
“We don’t need the cops—”
“You’re as crazy as he is!” Olivia headed for the door.
“He wasn’t going to shoot!”
“The hell he wasn’t!” Olivia flew out of the door and slammed it behind her.
Patrick sobbed. “I just want to go with you … I just want to go with you.”
Mary had to prepare him. “Honey, you need to calm down. The police are going to come, and you should be calm. They’re going to take you for the weekend—”
“I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go!” Patrick cried, becoming hysterical. “I want my Pops … I want my Pops…”
Mary heard car doors slamming outside in the street, a commotion out front, then boots running up the sidewalk. She cuddled Patrick, shielding him with her body as a group of uniformed officers burst through the door, drawing their weapons.
“Officers, don’t shoot, it’s fine!” Mary called out, as Patrick cried loudly. “Everything’s fine! There’s no gun! There’s no danger!”
“We have to take the child,” one of the cops said, hurrying toward her as the others holstered their guns.
“Officer, there’s no reason to do it by force. Let me calm him down, he just got upset—”
“Miss, the child has to come with me right now. He’s in DHS custody.” The police officer reached out his arms to take Patrick, but Mary stood up.
“No, wait, I have him, I can just carry him outside myself.” Mary rose with the crying Patrick. “His luggage is upstairs, you could go get his luggage—”
“Miss, we have our orders. Give me the child.”
“Just let me get him out, and I can calm him down, it doesn’t have to be this way—”
“Miss, please.” The officer wrenched Patrick from Mary’s arms, and he started kicking and screaming.
“Mary! Mary! MARY!”
“Patrick, it’s okay!” Mary called back to him, her heart responding to his cries, her arms suddenly empty. The police officer rushed to the door and hustled from the house with Patrick, followed by the other police officers.
Mary rushed to the door, but stopped there, stricken. It took every fiber of her being not to run after Patrick, but that would make it worse for him. She watched the awful scene from the doorway; the police loading Patrick kicking and screaming into one of the police cruisers, and Olivia was giving the gun to another uniformed police officer. The officers hustled around the front of the cruiser bearing Patrick, and Olivia left in a separate cruiser.
Mary stayed at the door until the police cruisers disappeared down the street, then realized that she heard her cell phone was ringing. It had to be Anthony. She looked wildly around, trying to remember where she had left her phone, but it was nowhere in sight. She raced into the kitchen, found it on the table, and grabbed it just as it stopped ringing.
“Anthony?” she said, breathless, but it was too late. The home screen showed a message from him, and she played the message: “Babe, sorry I missed you, I was out with my colleagues and I left my phone in the bar. I’m on the plane and I have to turn off my phone, but I’ll see you tonight.”
“Damn!” Mary didn’t know why he hadn’t called her before he boarded. It drove her crazy that she couldn’t talk to him, but she couldn’t let it stop her. She had set a course in motion and she had to follow through. She had to get into the office, do more legal research, and prepare and file her emergency petition, so she could get a hearing.
She hurried from the kitchen, making one more phone call on the fly. Every woman had a best friend she could call to sort out her thoughts, and better yet, to hear that she wasn’t crazy.
For Mary, that person was Judy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“You’re crazy!” Judy said, throwing up her hands. She was sitting opposite Mary’s desk in a white T-shirt and gym shorts, her standard outfit for working on the weekends.
“You don’t really think that.” Mary chewed the toasted bagel she’d grabbed on the way in. Sun spilled from the window behind her, filling her office with warm sunlight.
“But you’re talking about a kid. You’re effectively becoming a mother.”
“A foster mother. It’s temporary.”
“How so? What’s the plan?”
“Here’s what I’m thinking. Patrick just went through hell, between the assault at school and Edward’s passing. He has to deal with his grieving, while he’s changing schools. I need to get him into Fairmount Prep and that’s all set to go.”
“It’s hard to change schools. I know, I had ten different schools growing up.”
“Right.” Mary remembered that Judy’s father had been in the military. “Not only that, but he’s at the center of litigation. The criminal prosecution for his assault is about to start, and the Complaint that Machiavelli’s bringing will go forward.”
“You think Machiavelli will still sue, even though Edward died?”
“Of course. When he finds out that Edward died, he’ll amend the Complaint to replace Edward with Edward’s estate. Look, he sent me sixty pages of interrogatories for Edward and Patrick and he scheduled depositions for both of them.” Mary picked up a massive stack of documents that had been on her desk when she’d come in this morning, hand-delivered by Machiavelli yesterday.
“Oh man.” Judy picked up the top set of papers, flipping through them. “He’s going to depose a ten-year-old?”
“Patrick is the soft spot, which makes him the target.”
“Why is he doing this?” Judy tossed the papers back on the desk, in disgust.
“He’s trying to pressure me into settling, using Patrick as leverage. He’ll do whatever he can to hurt Patrick so I’ll write a check to make it stop.”
“Maybe he is related to Machiavelli.”
?
??Now you see.” Mary tried to set her emotions aside, hate-eating her bagel. “So I’m thinking that if Patrick came to live with me temporarily, I can help him through.”
“How long is temporary?”
“Six months to a year. By then he’ll be through the worst of his grief, he’ll be set up at Fairmount Prep, have been in therapy, and his reading skills will have improved.”
“But how do you have the time? You’re too busy to even take a honeymoon.”
“I’m going to have to change things around.” Mary had been mentally rearranging her schedule. “I’m a partner now. I don’t have to take cases from Bennie anymore, and I’ll just say no to new cases and referrals. If we have to, we’ll hire a contract lawyer or a paralegal.”
“So you’ll cut back on your hours?”
“Yes, and I’ll work from home when I can. I’m sure I can hire somebody to get him after school and babysit him at the house. I have the money, he’ll get the best of care. It’s only temporary.”
“But will you really be able to let him go, in the end?” Judy’s Delft-blue eyes narrowed with skepticism.
“It won’t be easy, but I will.” Mary felt her chest tighten but pressed that away. “Right now, I need to get him. I can’t let him stay in the foster system. Do you know what that’s like?”
“What about his psychological issues?” Judy frowned in concern. “He pulled a gun on you.”
“He wasn’t going to shoot and he felt backed into a corner. He’d lost his grandfather the night before. Can you imagine, being forced to move the very next day, at that age?” Mary felt her gut twist and wondered if wolfing down a bagel and coffee was a good idea.
“Where’d he get the gun?”
“Edward must’ve had it somewhere.”
Judy pursed her lips. “But what about the drawings, the bloody drawings?”
“I explained that to you. It’s the same thing, the war stories that his grandfather told him about. His grandfather was his world, and the house was the only place he felt safe. That’s why he pulled the gun.”
Judy pursed her lips. “You’re making excuses for him, Mare.”
“No, not at all. I just understand him. I get him.” Mary gulped some coffee, which was hot and perfect. “I’m not being naïve, I know he has issues, but they’re not issues that can’t be dealt with, and I have the resources. I have money, I have time, I have everything. And he has nothing.”
“It sounds like you feel guilty about that.”
“Of course I do. Have we met?” Mary smiled, but Judy didn’t.
“But that’s not a reason to take him. You can’t feel responsible for the world. You’re not responsible for the world.”
“That’s not the reason I’d be taking him. This isn’t about me, it’s about him, and I just think it’s the right thing to do. In foster care, he’s going to get shuffled from house to house, and he’s not the kind of kid who can handle that.” Mary felt herself getting emotional, but kept it in control. “I can’t turn my back on him. I can’t pretend not to know what I already know. He’s an orphan.”
“Edward didn’t appoint a guardian for him in the will?”
“No. I think he just avoided the issue, but he took care of the financial end, just like you’d expect from an accountant. And believe it or not, Patrick inherits about $350,000.”
“That’s great.” Judy perked up. “I wish I had that much.”
“The estates lawyer is going to get the will probated, and I have to be named Patrick’s legal guardian before I can use any funds for his expenses. I need to get into court. The law favors kinship care, which is what they call it when a family member or someone else steps up to be guardian.” Mary thought it over. “You don’t really think this is crazy, do you?”
“No, I get it,” Judy answered, with a sad smile. “But it’s such a major change in your life and it happened on a dime.”
“Just like that.” Mary had thought of that phrase before, when it came to death. But maybe it applied to life, as well. “You really don’t know where life leads you. You just have to respond.”
“Like falling in love.”
“It kind of is.” Mary felt a peace inside.
“Is he cute? I don’t want a temporary nephew who’s ugly.”
Mary felt her heart lift. “My God, I didn’t even think about that! You would be his aunt. Temporary Aunt Judy!”
“Yay!” Judy’s eyes lit up. “We have a baby but we don’t have to have a baby. I could teach him to draw!”
“There you go!” Mary smiled.
“But you haven’t talked to Anthony yet.” Judy made a funny face. “Ruh-roh. What’s hubby going to say?”
“I don’t think he’ll love the idea initially, but I think he’ll understand why it’s the right thing to do. And once he meets Patrick, he’ll be totally on board.”
“Your parents will be over the moon.” Judy grinned.
“Agree. They don’t care where they get a grandkid, just so they get one.” Mary switched mental gears. “So, do you know anything about guardianship law?”
“That’s a trust-and-estates issue.” A slow smile spread across Judy’s face. “That was John’s expertise before he came here.”
“Our John? John Foxman?” Mary thought of her outburst the other day in the conference room.
“He’s in. I noticed his door’s closed down the hall.”
“I guess I have to apologize to him.” Mary rose, taking a last bite of her bagel.
“Say you’re sorry like you mean it when you do, Mom.”
“Thanks.” Mary picked up her coffee, left her office, and went down the hall to John’s, where she knocked on the door.
“Come in,” he called from inside, and Mary opened the door, not surprised to see him in a white Lacoste shirt and khaki pants. Neat stacks of documents sat on his desk, and on his bookshelves were Bisel’s Pennsylvania Orphans’ Court Lawsource, Trusts and Estates Magazine, and The Philadelphia Estate Practitioner Handbook. Accordion files sat in alphabetical order atop his file cabinet, and his diplomas and certificates of admission hung on the walls. There was nothing personal about the office except for a signed photo of some tennis player.
“John, hi.” Mary managed a smile.
“Oh, hi.” John straightened at his laptop, blinking behind his glasses.
“Listen, I’m sorry that I snapped the other day.”
“Not a problem.” John smiled stiffly.
“Hey, do you know anything about guardianship law? The little boy in that special education case needs a guardian, and I want to be it.”
“I can tell you exactly what to do. I know everything about guardianship in Pennsylvania.”
“How is that? I thought you were a litigator before.”
“I’m my brother’s guardian. He has cerebral palsy.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.” Mary’s mouth went dry.
“No one does, here. So you see, I would never make fun of the disabled. I know better.”
Mary felt like a total jerk. Obviously, there was more to John than she’d thought.
“So.” John gestured to a chair opposite his desk. “Come in and tell me about your case.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Mary, let me clarify where you stand now,” John said, after she brought him up to speed. “You currently have three lawsuits pertaining to Patrick. Primary at this point is the dependency proceeding, during which you hope to be appointed his guardian. Second is the special education matter, under which you are hoping to transfer him into Fairmount Prep. Third is the Common Pleas Court matter, and you are defending the allegations of assault against the teacher’s aide.”
“Exactly.” Mary realized the litigation had gotten suddenly very complicated.
“So do you have any questions for me?”
“Yes, what happens at a dependency hearing? Is the procedure different from a matter in Common Pleas Court or in federal court? It’s a judge, not a master, right?”
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br /> “First, call it a ‘shelter care hearing.’ That’s the term they use in Family Court.” John folded his hands on his desk. “A shelter care hearing is held in front of a judge or a master, and the procedures are different than other courts. The rules that govern shelter care hearings and any subsequent hearings are the Pennsylvania Rules of Juvenile Court Procedure.”
“Good to know.” Mary assumed she could find the rules online. “So we go to the shelter care hearing, and basically, my job is to prove that I would be a good guardian for Patrick, is that right?”
“Roughly put, yes.” John frowned. “But you don’t represent yourself in the shelter care hearing. You understand that, don’t you?”
“No.” Mary blinked.
“A shelter care hearing is more like a trial than an oral argument. You have to present evidence.”
“So testimony is taken through witnesses?”
John nodded. “You have to prove you’re a good guardian. That won’t be difficult because you easily qualify, but you’re going to have to take the witness stand. You’re going to be subject to direct examination by the City Solicitor and the Child Advocate.”
“So I can’t represent myself.” Mary realized this was more complicated than she had thought. “So what do I do?”
“You need a lawyer.”
Mary wondered when law got so complicated that even the lawyers needed lawyers. “Where am I going to get a lawyer, this quick? I wanted to go to court on Monday.”
“I’ll represent you,” John answered without hesitation.
“Really?” Mary’s face burned. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I’m happy to do it. Really.” John smiled, genuinely. “I meant it at the staff meeting, I do want to work with you.”
“Do you have the time?”
“I’ll make the time. Family law is like that. Everything’s an emergency, and you have to drop everything. Have you ever been to Family Court before?”