"I see," the judge said upon Shawn finishing the telling. The judge made notes as the court stenographer recorded every word.
Deidre turned and looked down at her daughter, then up at Shawn's profile, trying to make sense of it all.
"And you, madam, are the child's mother?" He finally looked up and asked Deidre.
"Yes, I am," she returned, breathless from the accounting of it.
"Introduce yourself, please," he commanded, reading over the paperwork from the previous night and all that was recorded surrounding the arrest, the questioning in the police station, statements from Shawn and his daughter.
"Deidre Charlotte Wherrington-McPherson."
"Are you and Mr. McPherson divorced?"
"Yes, we are."
"Thank you, now...how about you tell me what is going on where the child dwells with you that at the age of nine years old, she feels compelled to run away from home, hop a plane to be here with her father?"
"I hardly feel that what was going on in my parent's home is the issue here. What is paramount is that she has made such a declaration against her father. That is what needs to be dealt with."
"Ms. Wherrington…I can assure you, I am perfectly capable of conducting this interview without any assistance. I ask the questions, you answer them. Now, what possibly compelled this child to take the chance she did, to be away from there?"
Just then the door opened and Sylvia came in, walking carefully to take her seat next to Shawn; the officer was at the door and closed it to stand before it. The judge looked at Sylvia. "Are you okay now, Ms.?…"
"Payne, Sylvia Payne," she answered, sitting down with Shawn searching her face, his eyes conveying the question of, Are you alright? She wasn't, but she gave him a slight smile and answered the judge as well. "Yes, I'm fine, Your Honor."
He turned back to Deidre. "You were about to answer my question," he reminded her of where they left off when Georgiana spoke up. "I don't think this has anything to do with her; she should wait outside." She meant Sylvia. Shawn's back teeth were under threat of shattering from clamping his jaw so tightly.
The judge looked over the top of his glasses at her. "Who are you, madam?"
"I am the child's grandmother. Georgiana Victoria Wherrington, and I find this entire procedure totally unorthodox."
"Be that as it may, in your estimation, madam, I am the judge here, and I'm telling you now as I told your daughter, I ask the questions, then I get my answers. I haven't asked you anything. Make another sound and you will be waiting outside, do I make myself clear?"
Georgiana sat back in a huff, biting her tongue so as not to say anything to keep from being removed from the room. The judge looked from Georgiana back to Deidre with the raise of his brow, he waited for her to respond to his question, not about to ask it again.
"I haven't a clue. My daughter is very spoiled. She's been indulged a great deal, and has become accustomed to having her way. This matter with her running off, is no doubt a stunt she's pulling to once again, have her way."
"And what is it that she wanted to have her way with this time?" he asked pointedly.
Deidre sat struggling with the answer, her pause had the judge shifting expressions. "Well? Are you having a hard time understanding the question?"
"No, your honor, I am not."
"Very well then," he invited her to answer.
"She was upset because I changed my mind about relocating here."
"'Here' as in, Wisconsin from California?"
"Yes."
"You say you changed your mind? That gives me reason to believe that you somehow built up an expectation of coming here; so why the change of heart?"
"Excuse me, I am not on trial here. I don't have to answer that! She's a child, I'm an adult. She cannot always have her way and that is something she must learn. I've flown here to collect my daughter, at which point, I will be leaving."
"Right now, she's classified as a runaway in custody of the court. Until I release her back to you, you won't be taking her anywhere. Our records are overflowing with missing children, our streets are filled with them alive...and dead…do you understand that? There are children right now, tucked away somewhere out there...dead...we just haven't found them yet. Yes, shiver...look horrified, you should be. A nine year old runaway is a serous matter. There's a problem…and before she ends up on the streets..." He let his sentence trail off, looking at each of the adults, and then her. "...I'll do my part to see that she is where she needs to be in order to keep this act from repeating itself. So you'll have to forgive me if I seem callous to whatever inconvenience you may be suffering," he finished, looking from Angela to Deidre. Deidre remained silent looking down and away.
The judge turned to Angela.
"Young lady…what is your name?"
Angela looked up at her father, who nodded to her. She turned to the judge, sitting up straight and swallowing from fear. "Angela Rae McPherson," she answered timidly.
"Has your mother spoken the truth about you?" he asked firmly. Angela's eyes grew big, unsure of how to answer, she then shrugged her shoulders.
"What does that mean? Sorry, I don't speak shrug. I need to hear it from you, why you've put your parents through what you have."
"I want to-to live with my dad," she squeaked out.
The judge made a face, looked down at the paper work, then back at her. He leaned an elbow on the table, grasping his chin and looked at her. "If that is true, why would you say what you said about him? Hm? Look me in the eye, young lady…that's an ugly, ugly thing you accused him of…any man guilty of such a thing is vile. Certainly not suitable to be father of a little girl."
"But he didn't do it. I told a lie. I was mad at him, and...and..."
"Mad at him why?"
"Because he wouldn't listen to me. He wouldn't try," she said softly.
"He wouldn't try what?"
"To go back to my mommy again. She said she still loved him and—"
"Angela!" Deidre stopped her.
"Ms. Wherrington, one more outburst from you and you will wait outside. You and your mother. You had an opportunity and you didn't take it. Now this is my last warning," he firmly commanded. Turning back to Angela. "Go on...finish."
Shawn had Sylvia's hand underneath the table, his thumb stroking over her knuckles maintaining contact with her, even if it could only be with his touch hidden from view.
"She said that she still loved my daddy, and that we would move where he was. Maybe then, he would see she's changed and would take her back. Plus, I would get to be with him instead of there at my granddad and grandmom's house. I don't like it there…they don't like me."
"Who doesn't like you?"
"They don't…my grandmom and granddad. I have to stay in my room most of the time, I have to be quiet and not make too much noise. I can't have friends over, and they won't let me go to my friends' houses. They said I don't need friends because they will only want to be with me because we have money. Granddad says they may ask for money or steal from them, so they can't come over and I can't go there."
"I see."
"Oh, this is ridiculous! I've heard enough of this nonsense! I'm going to call our lawyer!" Georgiana stood and stormed from the room, knowing her outburst would get her tossed out.
After her departure, the judge sat jotting down notes, thinking a moment. "Ms. Wherrington, how old are you?" Deidre swallowed, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm thirty-four."
"Thirty-four years old? Did you know about the circumstances your daughter just described?"
"Your Honor, my daughter is very well cared for. She has everything a young girl could need. The best of everything! Her room is filled with every kind of toy imaginable. Every kind of computer game. Her closet filled with more clothes than she will ever wear before she's grown out of them. There are many, many children, far more worse off than she. There is no excuse for her behavior; she is ungrateful and disloyal!"
"Emmm," the judge murmured and nodded, then
asked, "How much time do you devote to your daughter each week, Ms. Wherrington? Let's narrow it down, each day?"
"I have to work, Your Honor. By the time I get home from work, and she's home from school, it leaves little time for us. I assure you, however, I try to make it up on the weekends," Deidre argued in her own defence.
"But you work lots of weekends," Angela pointed out.
"Why is that, Ms. Wherrington?"
"My job sometimes requires my attendance; it's not all the time."
Again the judge nodded, making notes, then asked Shawn, "You pay child support, Mr. McPherson?"
"Yes, Your Honor, I do, every month."
"How much?"
"Two thousand a month, Your Honor."
"Any alimony?"
"I never required that he pay me alimony!" Deidre blurted. The judge looked at her without a word; she sat back in her seat, knowing he was about to send her out. All remained quiet until he spoke again. "I guess that answers that. Even so, why do you feel that overtime at a job is the priority over your daughter, when you're a single parent most of the time? I don't for a moment believe you need the extra income, Ms. Wherrington. I have a hunch that you work all the extra hours for other reasons. Reasons I will spare you right now. However, I think you need time to sort out some things…and because Angela, for the time being, is a ward of the court, I think we're going to keep her that way a bit longer."
"What are you saying?" Deidre asked, unable to sit quiet.
"I'm advising you to sort out your life, Ms. Wherrington. You have a nine year old daughter who is prisoner in an ivory tower. Surrounded, I do believe, by many things, but it is obvious those things mean little. I assure you, as well, this scenario is not new to me. I see it a lot; the victims of this type of lifestyle are children that end up in my courtroom. Some so badly messed up, one can only wonder why. We're not going to take that chance with Angela Rae McPherson. We're going to nip this in the bud now, while there's still time."
"She said her father touched her!" Deidre reminded him.
"Yes…there is that matter. To be honest with you, I believe she lied, just as she's claimed. No child experiencing that is going to run in all desperateness to it. I read the account from the previous night, and I think she struck out at him." He thought it over and then turned to Angela. "Where did such a thing come from, if not your father?" he asked her.
"A girl at school," she confessed.
"A girl at school? Explain that to me," the judge asked.
"Her father...touches her. She told us, me and Zayna. She hates going home…and one day, she didn't come back to school—she ran away. I don't know where she is now," she explained with her eyes flooding with moisture. "The police came to the school to ask a bunch of questions." She shrugged, then remembered what the judge said. "It just popped into my head because my father won't go back to my mom. I thought-I thought he was...being mean...so...so I wanted to be mean back. But I didn't mean it. I want to be with him. My dad always talks to me, takes me places with him. He likes my friends and they like him. We go fishing, to the movies, to the park, we laugh and talk a lot. He's so funny, my dad...and he takes me with him on his photo shoots. We do all kinds of stuff together…we have a special code, too, for when I get my report card. Wanna hear it? It's really cool," she asked brightly, sitting up, getting excited over her favorite subject, her father. The judge didn't miss it either, he smiled and nodded.
"Well, A is for Absolutely the best at a subject or class. B is for Building bridges to the best. C, I'm Contemplating being the best. D, I'm in Distant observation of the best." She stopped and giggled, Shawn was looking down at her smiling as well. Sylvia sat forward with a tender smile watching her as she explained, in awe of him and the relationship they'd obviously had as Angela went on to explain the last grade. "And F...?" this was asked by the smiling judge.
"F is a Fierce dislike for a subject or class." She smiled.
The judge chuckled. "Fierce dislike, you say?"
Angela nodded, shrinking back bashfully.
"I see." The judge nodded. "So…any Fierce dislikes?"
"Nope…I'm Absolutely, Building Bridges and Contemplating everything!" She shrunk back again and giggled.
"Good girl…good girl," he responded.
He turned to Deidre.
"Ms. Wherrington, I'm going to maintain her as ward of the court for thirty days. In that time, I suggest you find a home suitable for your daughter and yourself. You're going to also register with the Social Services and Child Welfare at home. In the meanwhile, you're going to find a new home, a different place to stay, one where she can feel comfortable returning to."
"You can't do that!" Deidre blasted.
"I can and will!"
"Well, where will she be staying?"
The judge turned to Sylvia. "Ms. Payne, you signed for the girl. Do your circumstances still allow for foster care of the child for the duration of the thirty days?"
"Yes, Your Hhonor. I don't work. I'm at home all day, she'll be fine with me."
"What is it that you do that you can be home all day, Ms. Payne?"
"I'm a writer, Your Honor. However, not yet a successful one. I'm able to stay home all day because my first husband passed away a few years ago and I'm living off of his life insurance, for the time being. I paid cash for my home and car; my furniture and things I already had. I took a portion and invested it, and another portion is in a savings account. If I hold off from touching it one more year, I will have accrued enough interest to start living off of that."
"How did he die?" the judge asked while looking over the report that came back on her.
"In a car accident. He drank, Your Honor...on and off of the wagon. He came off one time too many and wrapped his vehicle around a very large tree; the tree survived—however—he did not."
The judge nodded and read.
"You're not feeling well today? Anything serious?"
Sylvia stared at him a moment, stumped by the question. Pregnancy was very serious.
"I'm fine, Your Honor, I no doubt ate something that didn't agree with me."
He nodded. "Your report came back clean. You have two children?"
"Yes, Your Honor. A daughter and a son. They no longer live with me, they live in La Crosse. My son is going to college, my daughter is married with two sons and is going to school as well as work. She and her husband share their sons care."
The judge nodded, writing out his notes.
"Okay…Mr. McPherson, the same still stands for you. Until your things are collected, looked over to show evidence of your innocence, we have no choice but to follow it up. They are there now going through your home. What do you do for a living?"
"I'm an artist and a photographer. I do novel covers for a living...mostly romance novels. I work from home, as I've always done. Annnd, um, Your Honor…I'm going to be seeking full custody of my daughter."
The judge looked up at him. Deidre shot forward, looking around Angela at him. "How dare you! Mother said you were up to this! I should have known! You will not get my daughter!"
"Calm down, Ms. Wherrington. That is not in my hands, so I don't wish to hear the fight in my chambers. That will have to be done through the California court system, where your divorce took place. Do you understand that, Mr. McPherson? I cannot grant any type of custodies. You must acquire an attorney and file that where the child was born and where you two were married."
"I understand, Your Honor," Shawn stated.
"Very well. Once your things are cleared and social services has talked with your daughter, you will be notified as to whether she can be left with you alone again. As far as I can see, that shouldn't take any more than a few more days. In the instance that you are cleared, she will still, however, be ward of the court, and will continue on in the care of her foster parent until we resume back here. Until that clearance, understand me that you'll not be able to see her alone or sleep where she sleeps. We will meet back here in thirty days, unles
s those changes have been made before then Ms. Wherrington, and you have met with satisfaction with Child Welfare. My suggestion to you, madam, is that you remember your life is not just about you now…you must share it with your daughter, or else…perhaps give serious consideration to letting her live with her father." The judge stood from the table and said before he departed, "You both have things to sign, good day to you all." He left them then as the clerk came over, took his seat and laid out papers for them to sign. Sylvia stood, deciding to give them a moment in private and headed for the door. Angela stood to join her. "Angela, stay and talk to your mother," Sylvia pressed. She looked up and shook her head no, grabbed her hand and wouldn't let go. "I want to use the washroom," she said. Sylvia looked up from her to Deidre, who was staring at them.
"We'll be outside," she said.
"I'll be right out, babe, soon as I sign these papers."
"Shawn...you need to talk. Sign the papers, and then communicate...try it." She turned with Angela close by and left the judge's chambers.
Deidre turned away back to the clerk; unable to resist, glanced up beside her at Shawn. He looked at her and said, "We do need to clear the air on some things." He informed her and turned; started signing where the clerk directed them, as she explained what was expected of them both.
Chapter 39
Sylvia stood looking out of the upper floor window at the traffic passing outside, snow was falling—it was better than rain. Angela was in the washroom and all she could think of was of all the things that had been taking place in the short 24-hour period. She felt weary and tired, unable to stop it, she yawned.
"Excuse me, how much longer are they going to be in there?" Georgiana approached Sylvia and asked.
She turned, surprised by her.
"Um, not much longer…there are papers to sign, they should be out shortly," Sylvia returned kindly.
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