Page 88 of After the Rain

"The harm isn't always visible immediately. It's about long-term psychological damage."

"That's not what I asked. Have you personally witnessed Cooper being harmed or neglected by his father?"

Richard's pause was telling. "Not directly, but?—"

"Have you seen Cooper demonstrate any behavioral problems, academic difficulties, or emotional distress while in his father's care?"

"The boy doesn't understand what he's being exposed to."

"Again, that's not what I asked. Yes or no, Mr. Fletcher: have you observed any negative effects on Cooper from his father's relationship with Mr. Mitchell?"

"No, but that doesn't mean?—"

"Thank you. No further questions."

Jazz's surprise testimony about Richard Fletcher's business practices introduced evidence I hadn't expected. She presented documentation of unethical deals, worker exploitation, and community manipulation that painted the Fletchers as people who used power to control others rather than protect them.

"Richard Fletcher's construction company has a twenty-year history of underbidding projects, then cutting worker wages and safety measures to maintain profit margins," Jazz testified. "I have contracts, payroll records, and OSHA violation reports. This isn't about protecting Cooper—it's about Richard Fletcher maintaining control over his family through intimidation and financial manipulation."

By the end of the first day, the emotional momentum had shifted decisively in our favor. The contrast between Wade's authentic love for Cooper and the Fletcher family's manipulative control tactics was becoming impossible to ignore.

Judge Morrison announced that she would interview Cooper privately the next morning, and my stomach clenched with anxiety.

The courthouse smelledlike paper and polished wood and nerves.

Wade hadn’t said more than a handful of words on the drive over, his jaw tight, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel.I didn’t push. What comfort could I offer that didn’t sound like a promise I had no power to keep?

This wasn’t about me. It wasn’t even about us. It was about a seven-year-old boy being asked to help decide the shape of his future.

Judge Morrison’s chambers felt less intimidating than I’d expected. She’d traded her black robes for a cardigan, and a low table in the corner was scattered with puzzles and building blocks, worn from use. It helped. A little.

Still, I sat beside Wade in the hallway, every muscle in my body drawn tight, watching the door close behind Cooper and knowing that whatever he said in that room… it would matter. Maybe more than anything else had up to this point.

Through the closed door, I could hear occasional laughter and Cooper's animated voice describing his life with Wade and me. His natural enthusiasm provided stark contrast to the adults' complicated legal arguments. Whatever he was telling Judge Morrison, it was making her laugh.

When Cooper emerged from chambers thirty minutes later, he ran straight to Wade and me, hugging both of us tightly.

"I told the judge about our family," he announced proudly. "I told her how you teach me about building things, Daddy, and how Mr. Mitchell helps me read hard words, and how we're all happy together."

His simple summary encompassed everything the lawyers had struggled to explain in hours of testimony.

Judge Morrison appeared in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral, but I caught a slight smile as she observed Cooper's obvious comfort with both Wade and me. The child's natural affection and security in our presence spoke louder than any expert testimony about his emotional wellbeing.

"Mr. Mitchell," Cooper said while tugging on my sleeve, "I asked the judge why some grown-ups want to keep families apart when love makes people happy."

Out of the mouths of babes. Cooper's innocent question encapsulated the moral heart of our case, cutting through all the legal complexity to the essential human truth at stake.

"What did the judge say?" I asked.

"She said that's a very good question, and she's thinking about it very carefully."

The second day of hearings began with a parade of community members who'd observed Wade's parenting and Cooper's development. Parents from Cooper's soccer team described his confidence and enthusiasm. His current teacher talked about his academic improvement and social growth.

Mrs. Rowland from the school cafeteria testified about Cooper's excitement when describing family dinners with "Daddy and Mr. Mitchell." The crossing guard talked about Cooper's proud introductions of both Wade and me as his family. Even old Mr. Kowalski described watching Cooper help Wade and me with yard work, noting the child's obvious happiness and sense of belonging.

Uncle John’s testimony provided crucial religious perspective, and I felt tears in my eyes watching him defend our family with theological scholarship and moral conviction.

"Many faith communities view love and family commitment as sacred regardless of gender," Uncle John explained to the packed courtroom. "The biblical call to love one another, to care for children, to build families based on commitment and compassion—these values are embodied in the Harrison family. Wade's authentic identity and loving relationship with Ezra demonstrate faith in action, not the moral failing suggested by the opposition."

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