Page 38 of After Midnight

I was in tears, this time unable and uninterested in hiding them. I didn’t look at Margarette, since I knew this was what she really wanted. To see me devastated. She had succeeded in ripping apart everything that ever meant anything to me. She truly was evil personified.

When we left the courtroom, Mr. Langdon put his arm around me and said, “I’m sorry, son, but once Child Welfare has their fangs into a situation, they don’t let go easily.”

The darkest day came when Olivia met with the family court judge. I watched the video as a nervous-looking Olivia lied. The only thing working in my favor came when they asked her to describe the entire incident where I’d allegedly beat her with the hairbrush, and it was clear she’d been coached. At least, it was clear to me and my attorney. The look on the judge’s face did give me some hope maybe she’d seen that too.

That our stepmother would put both of my sisters through this mess for any reason, let alone going so far as to force Olivia to lie in court, made me physically ill. What sort of people would they become at that vile creature’s hands if I couldn’t protect them?

“Oh, Olivia, what has that monster done to you?” I asked, almost sobbing as Mr. Langdon placed his hand on my shoulder. Of course, I’d been expecting the worst but hearing Margarette’s hatred come out of my little sister’s mouth still broke me.

This had to be the final death nail in my relationship with the girls. As a twenty-one-year-old biracial gay man, I’d already faced a difficult hand in petitioning the courts for custody of two white girls I wasn’t biologically related to. Even if we could prove the accusation false in this court, I didn’t know where that would leave us overall.

When the video ended, I felt sick and disgusted. Margarette sat across from me looking smug and proud of herself, which, fortunately, didn’t go unnoticed by the judge.

Mr. Langdon stood immediately. “Your Honor, we ask that the child be interviewed by qualified, non-biased experts. We also recommend that both girls be removed from the home of Margarette Shipley, as the video makes it clear the child had been set up to give false testimony against her brother.”

When Margarette’s attorney objected, the judge waved him down, then addressed mine. “Mr. Langdon, nothing is clear from the taped interview, however…”

The judge sat quietly for a moment, looking through some papers, before casting a discerning eye on Margarette. “Ms. Shipley, did I read correctly in the court records submitted by your attorney that your two stepdaughters receive twenty-four-hour care from a nanny under your employ?”

“Well, of course, Your Honor,” Margarette said, using a newly acquired Southern accent. For God’s sake, where had that come from?

“I, too, have concerns the child’s testimony was coerced, and until she can be interviewed by court-appointed experts, I’m ruling that all contact cease between her and either Ms. Shipley or the defendant. Out of concern for the welfare of both children, the same applies to her sister,” the judge said. “If, Ms. Shipley, you can guarantee the nanny can provide adequate support to the children, you won’t have access to either child until after the experts have spoken with them.”

The judge looked to the social workers sitting behind us, and gave them instructions to get the girls’ nanny’s sworn agreement. If the nanny couldn’t do as the judge requested, the girls would be taken into custody and placed in foster care. My heart felt like it stopped beating at the thought of them goinginto care. I’d heard all the scary stories, many from Margarette herself, but from other reliable sources as well.

My mind raced with worse-case scenarios and fear for my sisters when the judge turned to Mr. Langdon. “I am going to hold off on deciding about visitation until after both girls are interviewed.”

I barely heard the judge’s words. I’d probably have sat there for hours, lost in a state of disbelief, had Mr. Langdon not ushered me out of the courthouse. How was it possible to feel so raw and completely numb at the same time?

I wasn’t prone to depression, I’d always been able to fight it off, but this had taken me to a new level. Margarette had been telling me for years I was worthless, a nobody, and for the first time in my life, I believed it.

***

Two weeks later, we were back in court for the ongoing lawsuit. The moment Margarette’s attorney stated there was a child abuse allegation against me, everything went up in smoke. The judge began making rulings left and right about the surrender of my trust fund for the well-being of my sisters. Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any worse, a fresh wave of shock and disbelief filled me. Margarette had somehow won, not only the case but in thoroughly ruining my life and those of my sisters.

My entire body shook as we exited the courtroom, a feeling of complete and utter despair threatening to consume me. However, when I looked at Mr. Langdon, he was smiling like he’d just won the lottery.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, raising my voice. “How can you smile? My life just blew apart in there, or didn’t you notice?” My anger toward Margarette, which had gone dormant since I’d emotionally shut down after the previous court hearing, wasnow focused squarely on my attorney. How dare he make light of my suffering?

Mr. Langdon waited until we were outside the courthouse to answer me. “Today’s rulings were so egregious, so unfounded, and so outside the rule of law, even the most biased appellate court would have no choice but to overturn them. Son, what happened in court today can’t be allowed to stand, or every trust fund in the state of Colorado would be in jeopardy. Trust-fund babies can’t have their money ripped away just because they’re accused of wrongdoing, innocent or not. There’s no way a court will allow such a thing to become case law.”

“So, this is what you were hoping for?” I asked, allowing myself to feel the smallest glimmer of hope.

“This is exactly what I was hoping for,” he responded.

“But I’m still without my sisters. I can’t imagine them being under Margarette’s thumb without someone decent to at least counter her evil influence. Look at the destruction she’s already caused, dragging the girls into this alleged abuse bullshit.”

He sighed. “I’m not going to pretend Olivia’s allegation won’t prevent you from getting custody. In fact, I think even if the court were to dismiss the case, they’ll never let the girls live with you. But we will still fight it to the end.”

I think Mr. Langdon knew his words would cut me deep. He was offering me a sliver of hope but took away the opportunity for me to feel it just as quickly.

“I figured as much,” I said, unable to hold back a tear that slipped down my cheek. “Will I have some say in who gets them, at least?” My voice was shaky as I tried to rein in the pain and anger at the injustice of it all.

He shook his head. “It’s unlikely. I’m sorry, son. The best we can hope for is the judge will see the girls are attached to you and you should have some visitation rights.”

“Great, this just gets better and better,” I said, letting the tears roll unabated now. I thought I’d hit rock bottom in court two weeks ago, but I was rapidly discovering I had further to slide.

I needed to go somewhere, do something, see someone… anything to get out of my head for a while. I needed a distraction. As I drove home, my mind kept circling back to Dillon.

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