I Speak For This Child: True Stories of a Child Advocate

by Gay Courter

  “We would always want what is best for her.”

  The door to the office opened and Simone arrived with her friend Eliza. After I was introduced, Eliza ducked out.

  Simone had large, soft brown eyes that had the look of a young, startled doe and was the only Colby to have curly hair, which cascaded prettily down her back. It was the same corn-silk shade as Julie’s, but the effect was less storybook and more sensual. “When can I see my sisters?” Simone asked, then went on to complain that the Lambs were making it impossible for her to get together with Nicole. “They even listen in on her phone conversations,” she said with exasperation, adding, “if I try to see Julie, I’d have to deal with Mom, so it isn’t worth it.”

  “The arts and crafts festival is on this weekend and I could take the three of you.”

  Simone gave me a doubtful look. “You think the Lambs or my mother will agree?”

  “They won’t have a choice,” I said, and meant it.

  My car was filled with exuberant girls. In contrast to the Stevensons, Nicole, Simone, and Julie were delightful companions. As we walked around the fairgrounds, they kept running into friends from school and extended family members. Everyone greeted one another warmly, and I could see how rooted they were in this town. Even more intriguing to me was their curiosity about every artisan’s booth. They studied the sculpture, stained glass, and other pieces, asking what techniques were used and commenting on what they liked and disliked. Simone, in particular, kept saying she would like to try her hand at various crafts. Julie was fascinated by everything having to do with the sea, and Nicole talked about decorating her dream house someday. Nicole was in the school and church chorus and wanted to join the band. Simone already played in the school orchestra. The older sisters kidded each other about boys and mutual friends, while making certain Julie was included. Whenever I bought them a slice of pizza or dish of fresh-churned ice cream, they looked on the treat as something special. I began to fantasize about how they might react if I could have walked into the next stall and arranged an adoptive home where they could all live together again.

  Well, why couldn’t I? Wasn’t this in their best interests? Mrs. Lamb and Mrs. Baldwin had agreed the sisters needed one another. The therapist had stated that neither biological parent was suitable. There had to be a family who would welcome these attractive, intelligent, talented, kind, and considerate sisters. I looked around at the passing crowd. This was a small, family-centered community. Surely there was a home for these terrific girls. Somehow, somewhere I would find them a family, I promised myself.

  Here is precisely what happened next.

  After delivering the Colby sisters to their respective families, I stopped by the home of friends, Darla and Stanley Brandon, who had adopted an infant two years earlier.

  “Ready for another kid?” I asked.

  “Maybe …,” Darla said slowly as she pondered whether or not I was serious.

  “How about three of them?” I went on to explain about the Colby sisters.

  “Well,” Darla said, laughing easily, “we were thinking of something a little younger, but I could ask the pastor at church if he knows of anyone else.”

  That was Saturday. Keeping her word, Darla stood in line after the service and mentioned to the minister that three sisters were looking for a permanent home. He asked if he could give it some thought and call her back. That Monday I left town on business. Thursday morning, my secretary gave me a message from a Mrs. Slater who “wants to adopt your three children. She requested that you phone her from New York.”

  “This is absurd,” I said aloud, but dialed the number in Florida anyway.

  After introductions, Jeanne Slater explained that she and her husband had been to Bible study that Wednesday evening and “the pastor had asked for prayers for three separated sisters who need a home together. I glanced up at my husband, Vic, and he looked at me. I can’t explain it, but at that moment we just knew that we were the ones. We’ll take them.”

  “Wait a minute, you don’t know their names or ages or background.”

  “That’s true, but we’re ready to accept them into our hearts and home.”

  “That is very kind of you, Mrs. Slater,” I said, thinking I was dealing with some sort of nut. “I’ll be back over the weekend and I’ll call you then.”

  “We’d like to meet you. Could you come over on Sunday?”

  Deciding I had better clear this with Lillian first, I pushed the appointment until Monday evening. When I hung up the phone, I was shaking my head. “This is incredible. This is so crazy.” I waited, trying to dispel the feeling that something momentous had happened. Instead I was overcome with a calm certainty that somehow in some way this was going to work.

  Lillian couldn’t see any harm in a meeting, although she doubted anything would come of it. On the way to the Slaters’, I picked up some snapshots of the sisters I had taken at the craft fair. Vic and Jeanne lived in the Country Farms section of town that bordered rolling pastures. Their three-bedroom ranch house hugged the curve of a cul-de-sac. I was surprised to see two children’s bicycles out front.

  Jeanne and Vic Slater were in their late thirties or early forties and both were slim and tan. Vic was wearing emerald golf slacks and a polo shirt with the collar turned up. His wife’s shirt matched his, but she wore a wraparound twill pink and green skirt, pink ankle socks and expensive leather sneakers. Their clothes were color coordinated to the poker-felt green rug, rose and green sofa, and matching shell paintings and decorations. An adorable pug puppy snapped at my feet.

  “Hey, Squire, cool it,” Vic said to the dog.

  As I pushed the dog off, I realized that although this was not a sharpei, he did have a wrinkled face.

  Impossible, I told myself. Don’t get your hopes up because none of this makes any sense.

  Mrs. Slater served coffee and homemade lemon squares. I filled the Slaters in on the girls’ first names and general background. “They’ve been subjected to various forms of abuse, but as far as I know, there has been no sexual abuse.” I passed out the pictures.

  Vic pointed to Nicole’s and handed it back to me. I looked from the photo to Jeanne and back again. There was no question that the resemblance to his wife was startling, especially since they had the same dark hair and soulful eyes.

  “Simone was my grandmother’s name,” Jeanne said softly. “She was French-Canadian, but I grew up in Maine.”

  “Where are you from, Mr. Slater?”

  “I was born in Ohio, but met Jeanne in Washington, DC. We both had government jobs and took early retirement.” He explained that they had sunk their savings into a sporting goods franchise, sharing the management duties. Vic handled the accounting while Jeanne organized the stock and personnel.

  In about an hour I had learned that Jeanne had been married at fifteen and had one grown daughter. Vic had a teenage son, who lived with his mother in Virginia. Both hinted at unfortunate first marriages at a young age but stated that their twelve-year relationship was stable and happy. Jeanne explained that they had temporary guardianship of her two grandsons from Maine, so they knew a bit about taking in other people’s children. It looked as though they might keep them for many years to come due to “a drug problem with their parents.”

  “Why would you want these girls too?” I asked.

  Vic stroked his Van Gogh beard. “We feel a spiritual calling to take them.”

  I passed back a picture of Simone with her arms around the waist of one of the boys she had seen at the fair, the one with whom she had gone to Disney. “They come with boyfriends at this age.”

  “I know about that,” Jeanne remarked flatly.

  After reviewing the children’s legal situation, I explained that Julie might need a home on an emergency basis. “We’re ready,” Vic replied, “just tell us what we have to do.”

  I conferred again with Lillian. She reminded me that the Colby children had a routine court appearance for their six-month case
review the following week. “Make sure everything is in your report,” she counseled. “Don’t mince words. Don’t worry about hurting feelings. This document will start the process rolling.”

  Because Guardians ad Litem have access to so many files, we can synthesize them in ways that the social services and legal people cannot. While our reports are always centered around the best interests of the children, I made certain that the Colbys’ material also hinted at the direction the case might take even though it was far too early to mention termination of parental rights or adoption. As part of the “information received” introduction I included an outline of the history of the case. Regarding their father I wrote:

  Mervyn Colby is currently incarcerated, and even when he is free, is not able to provide an appropriate home for these children. He has had many opportunities to remedy his substance abuse problems, but there does not seem to be any change in this area. Despite his problems and the abuse they suffered, the children speak of him with some affection and wish to remain in touch with him.

  About the mother I stated:

  Mrs. Lottie Colby Hunt has had custody of her children intermittently. Simone has been out of the home for more than 18 months, living with the Baldwins, who are the parents of a friend. Simone is adamant that she would never wish to live with her mother again and she does not feel that her mother is an appropriate parent for either sibling.

  Nicole would not return to her mother or her father and does not feel Julie should remain with her mother because of a risk of psychological abuse in that home.

  Julie is currently living with her mother. She was sent to the Holy Family Home in Miami last August; however, the administrator feels this is not a suitable placement because the other students have addictions and other severe problems. When Julie’s mother married Mr. Hunt, it was felt she might do better at home than in an institution. Since then, Julie reports being extremely unhappy and would rather live “anywhere else.” Her choices include being returned to the Holy Family Home where the rules were “strict, but fair” and where they treated her “like a real person, with respect.” She felt loved there.

  Mrs. Hunt states that she might consider having Simone back and wishes to keep Julie, but that she does not want Nicole again because she is afraid Nicole might become violent and hurt her. She thinks the Baldwin and Lamb families are taking care of her daughters because of “what they are going to get out of it financially.”

  Under my “summary and recommendations” I stated:

  Ultimately, the best solution for the Colby sisters would be a permanent, stable home where all three could live together and be financially secure.

  I then presented separate recommendations for each child. For Simone and Nicole I suggested that they remain in their current homes and have more frequent contact with each other. When it came to Julie, I stated that I had been a witness to the extreme nature of the clash between mother and child. Mrs. Hunt had not been the primary parent for most of this child’s life, and the bond between mother and daughter was tenuous. Julie was sad, distressed, possibly malnourished, and depressed. She was unable to concentrate in school and was underachieving. I wrote, “Julie desires to live anywhere but with her mother, including to be returned to the Holy Family Home in Miami, to live with the family of one of her friends, or any other yet unknown, but caring family. Ideally she would like to be reunited with her sisters in a home where she would be cared for and trusted, not be left home alone, and would receive dinners every night.”

  My recommendations included that Julie be moved to a temporary, nurturing home for a cooling-off period between mother and daughter, and that it should be in the county to facilitate stability at her current school as well as to enable the sisters to see one another often. I wanted her to receive counseling from a qualified therapist with at least a master’s degree and receive testing and evaluation. Most important was that a more permanent long-term placement, with a genuine commitment from another family, be sought for Julie. I suggested that a placement that might include Nicole and possibly Simone be given primary consideration, rather than just looking for a home to place Julie. In any case, I wanted HRS and the families concerned to facilitate frequent contact among the sisters. There was a notation to ask Mr. Colby and Mrs. Hunt to contribute at least fifty dollars per month each for Julie’s upkeep.

  This report, like all other official ones, was submitted with a certificate of service to all parties in the case including the HRS attorney, the caseworker, the parents, their attorneys, and the Guardian ad Litem.

  Two days later, I received a phone call from Mrs. Baldwin. “Julie is gone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Her mother was so upset when she read your report saying that Julie didn’t want to live with her, that she shipped her off to that place in Miami last night. Can she do that?”

  “She still has legal custody of her children.”

  “Now Simone is worried that her mother might do the same with her.”

  “She could.”

  “You mean that after eighteen months with us, Lottie Hunt could march in and send Simone to Miami?”

  “Until the court changes the children’s status to foster care, HRS only will intervene in a crisis.”

  “A lot of good they’ve ever done,” Carol Baldwin said with a sniff.

  “My goal is to get the kids into a much stronger legal position and my report was the first step.”

  “What about poor Julie? She wasn’t even given a chance to say goodbye to anyone.”

  “I want her back in the county, but not with her mother.”

  “We’re in her school district.”

  “Would you take her?”

  “For a few weeks.”

  “Thanks, Carol. It would help if she could be with Simone, and you’ve worked with her speech problem so she knows and trusts you. Court is on Tuesday. We’ll tell the judge exactly what happened and let him decide.”

  Judge Donovan was not pleased. No matter how Mrs. Hunt or her attorney tried to explain it, it was obvious that Julie had been sent away to spite both the guardian and the child. The judge ordered that Julie be returned to our district immediately.

  I conveyed that the Baldwin family was willing to keep her until something else could be found. The HRS attorney added that since the agency already had approved the Baldwin family for Simone’s care, he had no objections.

  The judge ruled that Julie be returned from the Holy Family Home and placed with the Baldwin family, where Simone resided, that protective supervision by HRS should continue, and that Mrs. Hunt should select a mental health counselor for her children to see.

  As we were leaving the judge’s chambers, Mr. Colby, still in his prisoner’s suit, clanged by in his leg irons. “May I talk to my girls?” he asked the bailiff.

  The bailiff looked at me. I introduced myself to Mr. Colby. “Only Simone and Nicole are here. I’ll get them.”

  Buddy Colby kissed each daughter on the cheek and put his arms around them. “I love both of you, you know that?” They nodded but were clearly uncomfortable being hugged in a public hallway by a man in an orange uniform.

  “You miss them,” I said matter-of-factly as I moved to extricate the sisters from his grip. “When you are free, I’ll help you to see them as often as possible.”

  Just then Mrs. Hunt walked by. Mr. Colby turned to face the wall rather than confront her. I led the girls back to where Mrs. Baldwin was waiting to take them to school and told them I’d call that night.

  On the way out of court, the HRS attorney, Calvin Reynolds, stopped me. “Mrs. Courter, when I saw that you had been assigned the Colby case, I knew that it was a lucky day for those girls.”

  “Thank you.” I was taken aback because Calvin wasn’t usually complimentary to guardians.

  “These children take up an entire file drawer in my office,” he said shaking his head sadly.

  To me this drawer represented a family’s painful past. “Want
to clean it out for good?”

  “You bet!”

  “Then don’t fight me when I ask for a termination of parental rights.”

  “Why go to that trouble?”

  “So they can be adopted.”

  “Individually?”

  “No, as a family group.”

  “Nobody will ever adopt three adolescent girls.”

  “Don’t you believe in miracles?”

  Calvin’s face changed from dubious to challenging. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

  “If this works, I won’t be able to take the credit.”

  “Who then?”

  “I leave that to you to figure out.”

  My first phone call was to the Slaters. “Julie’s coming back!”

  “Great!” Jeanne said. I had to remind myself that they had never met.

  The Slaters and I made plans to have dinner with the sisters a few days later. Before then, however, I took the girls out for burgers and played a game of “what if.”

  “What if you could live together with one family, is that what you want?”

  “Yes,” they chorused.

  “Even you, Simone? You have a good deal with the Baldwins.”

  “I’d rather be with my sisters.”

  Nicole had a faraway look.

  “The Lambs aren’t working out, are they?” I asked her.

  “No.” Nicole’s lips narrowed into a tight, angry line. “Now they won’t let me call Julie because she’s with the Baldwins.” She started breathing rapidly and I could sense the rage beneath the surface. I gently rubbed her neck and shoulders until she relaxed slightly.

  “Listen, girls, there is a family I want you to meet. They heard about three sisters who weren’t living together and wanted to help out. I don’t want to get your hopes up because there are many legal steps to go through and lots of ways this could fall apart. Plus, your mother is still in charge of you and can make any final decision about where you live.”

  “Do they have a dog with a wrinkled face?” Julie asked.