“There’ve gotta be some nonprofits set up that would take him.”
“Not when he’s emancipated, and not in Utah. If he finds his way to a bigger state, maybe they would be able to help him.”
“Ummm . . . hello? How about you take him to another state?”
“Ms. Rollins,” she said sternly. “I’m speaking to you as a courtesy. What I should do is call the police for you breaking into our home.”
“And how about I tell the cops you threw your son out onto the street?”
“What we did is not illegal. We’ve consulted with lawyers.”
Unfortunately, what she said was true. In Utah, once children turned eighteen, the parents were not required to take care of them—even if they did have mental disabilities.
“I don’t believe this. You dropped him off at the shelter like a sack of garbage. What kind of person are you?”
Tears filled her eyes. “I’m the type of person who’s been a prisoner for eighteen years. I don’t have that much of my life left, but I’m not spending it as a prisoner anymore. Now please get out of my house. You’ve been paid your full fee, and we don’t wish to have any more contact with you.”
I left the house in a stupor. How could human beings do that to another human being, much less their child? When they’d dropped him off, they had to have seen what kind of men Teddy would be with: eyes like sharks’, blank, looking for any little fish to tear apart. His parents didn’t care. How long had they been waiting for his eighteenth birthday to do this? How many breakfasts and holidays did they go through with Teddy, knowing full well they were going to dump him on the streets?
Back on the sidewalk, Teddy clutched his book tightly and hummed to himself.
“Can I go home now?”
I looked down. Now I was the one who couldn’t look him in the eyes. “No, buddy. You’re going to be staying with me tonight.”
“A sleepover?”
“That’s right, a sleepover.”
19
We got to my house, and Teddy went in and stood in the living room. He looked like a child checking out a zoo he’d never been to—fascination, wonder, and disgust all at once. I got some blankets and pillows and put them down on the couch and said, “All right, bud, we’ll have you sleep here tonight.”
“No, I can’t. It’s a couch.”
“Yeah, but it’s big. Plenty of room.”
“Couches are for sitting, see. They’re for sitting and not sleeping.”
“Yeah, but . . .” I could see there was no persuading him. Couches were indeed for sitting and not sleeping. I led him back to my bedroom.
“Well, the bed is yours, then.”
“Okay.”
I’d started to leave when he said, “I need to brush my teeth.”
“What?”
“I need . . . I need to brush my teeth and watch a show.”
“What show?”
“We watch SpongeBob SquarePants. I need to brush my teeth and watch SpongeBob SquarePants.”
“Buddy, I don’t have SpongeBob SquarePants, and you can go for one night without brushing your teeth. It’s cool, I promise.”
I turned to leave again and he shouted, “I need to brush my teeth and watch SpongeBob SquarePants!”
He was trembling. His hands shook so violently I thought Huck Finn might drop. His lower lip curled and straightened in a slow rhythm.
“Okay,” I said calmly, “we’ll figure something out.”
Teddy and I roamed the aisles of Smith’s, the local grocery store, until we found the toothbrushes. He took five minutes to choose one, and then said he needed the toothpaste with Iron Man on it. I bought both for him and the cashier said, “I like your toothbrush.”
“Thanks,” he said. “We’re having a sleepover.”
“Oh,” she said, looking at me, “that sounds fun.” She smiled and said, “I worked with special needs children a while ago.”
“Oh yeah? Hey, do you know of any shelters that take, um, special needs adults who don’t have anywhere else to go? Like somewhere safe?”
She looked at me like I had just announced I was an animal rapist. Quickly putting the brush and toothpaste in a bag, as though she didn’t want to touch something I was going to touch, she said, “They’re just like you and me. No different. They don’t deserve that.”
“I just meant . . . never mind. Thanks.”
“Bye,” Teddy said, waving to her.
“Bye,” she said with a smile, before trying to shoot poison at me from her eyeballs.
We got home, and I set him up in the bathroom. The first thing he did was drop his pants and sit on the toilet. I turned around and said, “Whoa, bud, you gotta warn me when you do that.”
I went to shut the bathroom door and he said, “Danielle?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you leave the door open? I get scared.”
“Sure.”
After he went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth he said, “Where’s my jammies?”
One more trip to Smith’s and we picked up red Santa Claus pajamas. The same woman checked us out, and she glared at me the entire time. Once outside the store I said, “Teddy, is there anything else you need? Anything at all? Because I’m not coming back here.”
“Ummm . . .” He thought for a few moments, slowly shifting his weight from foot to foot. “We have Fruity Pebbles every morning, see. Fruity Pebbles and orange juice.”
“Fruity Pebbles and orange juice . . . okay. Anything else?”
“Um, SpongeBob—”
“Yeah, I know about Mr. SquarePants. Anything else you can think of while we’re here?”
He shook his head. We went back inside and purchased Fruity Pebbles and orange juice, and the cashier stared at me again. I said, “You’re kinda cute when you’re hateful.”
She rolled her eyes, and I thought she was going to throw the cereal at my head.
Back home again, Teddy got into his pajamas and we purchased the first season of SpongeBob SquarePants from Amazon. As he watched, I stood in the doorway and watched him. He was a child in the body of an adult, and I wondered how many other people I’d met who I could say the same thing about. At least half the judges I knew.
I went and lay down on my couch and closed my eyes.
20
In the morning, I heard someone in the living room. I opened my eyes and saw Teddy standing over me. I gasped and nearly jumped off the couch, which made him laugh to no end.
“Buddy, you can’t sneak up on me like that.”
“It’s time for My Little Ponies and Fruity Pebbles.”
“My Little Ponies? What happened to SpongeBob?”
“It’s not bedtime, silly.”
I lay there a second and then swung my feet out. I bought the first season of My Little Ponies and Teddy ate in front of the television: a massive bowl of Fruity Pebbles with a tall glass of orange juice. I had court in an hour. I called Will.
Twenty minutes later, I was showered and in a suit when Will walked in. He wore jeans and a beige jacket, and I thought he looked like a model for Gap.
“You’re kidding, right?” he said. “This was just an elaborate ploy to get me over here.”
“Afraid not. He’s in the bedroom watching My Little Ponies.”
He quietly sneaked down the hall and looked into the bedroom. When he came back out he said, “You really want me alone with him? I don’t know anything about kids.”
“He’s harmless, and he’s eighteen now. I don’t have anyone else to ask. Michelle’s a psychopath and would probably get Teddy some hookers. It’s just for a little bit. I’ll hit this court appearance and be right back. I already called the office and told Kelly to start looking for a group home for him.”
He folded his arms. “Dani . . .”
“What? How is this my fault?”
“You can’t just take him in. You don’t know—” He glanced back to the bedroom and then whispered, “You don’t know the first thing a
bout taking care of someone with special needs.”
“What was I supposed to do? Let him get raped at the homeless shelter?”
He shook his head.
“Look,” I said. “You’re awesome for doing this and I love you for it.”
He cracked a smile, and I kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks again.”
Today’s appearance was in one of the roughest courts in the state: Magna Justice Court. It sat in the middle of a barren desert, and the moment I got out of my car, dust blew into my mouth. I spit it out, grabbed the file for Hernando Ramirez, and ran inside the courthouse. The building used to be offices for a Frito-Lay plant next door, which had been torn down.
The inside of the building smelled of sewer with a hint of dead rat. The doorknobs were greased with fingerprints, boogers, saliva, and whatever other bodily fluids people saw fit to toss on them. The windows were never clean, and the bathrooms were unusable. In fact, the entire place reminded me more of a bathroom at a public park than a court of law. Still, somehow, it was fitting, considering Judge Borth was one of the craziest bastards this side of the Mississippi.
I found my client pacing around in the hall.
“Hernando, how you been?”
“Good, D. You gonna get me outta this today, or what?”
“I’ll see,” I said, opening his file to see if there were any updates. “You testing clean on those UAs?”
“Yeah. Two months now.”
“That’s good. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
I pushed my way inside the crowded courtroom and saw the prosecutor sitting in a side room with someone representing herself, a pro se. I waited outside the door until they were done and watched the crowd gathering inside. It seemed like the place was made for fifty people and a hundred fifty had crowded in. I leaned my head back and stared at the ceiling, pretending I was sitting on a beach somewhere, listening to the waves, Stefan lying next to me with Jack playing somewhere near us. Will close by, hanging out. Paradise.
The door opened and the pro se stepped out and vomited.
She had bloodshot eyes and stank of booze. She nearly fell and I grabbed her, and bits of vomit splattered my suit. The bailiffs rushed over and snatched her away. The stench, mixed with the already unpleasant air of the court, made me want to gag. Instead, I stepped inside the side room and shut the door. I grabbed a few tissues from a box on the table and wiped at the vomit on my suit.
“You catch some shrapnel?” the prosecutor said.
I remembered him only as Bob, and the last time I was here we had gotten into a shouting match. His wide smile indicated he didn’t remember, so I said, “What can you do? Occupational hazard.”
“Ain’t that the truth. Who you here on?”
“Mr. Ramirez.”
“I’ve got four Ramirezes on the calendar today.”
“Hernando.”
He flipped through his stack of files and pulled one out. “Oh, yeah. The public pisser. Didn’t he piss on a cop car?”
“That would be him.”
“Little shit. He’s lucky they didn’t mace him.”
“Little shit though he may be, he’s got a minimal history. What do you think about amending it to an infraction and having him pay a fine and be done with it? He’s been sober now for two months and we’ve got the UAs to prove it.”
He nodded and closed the file. “Here’s what I say to that: go fuck yourself.”
“What?”
“You think I don’t remember you, Rollins? You embarrassed me last time in front of my judge. For you, you just stroll in here once every few months. But me, I gotta be in front of this psychopathic prick every day. He gave me shit about that motion I lost for months.”
“It wasn’t my fault your cop was a liar.”
“He wasn’t a liar, you just made him seem that way. And you pulled me down into it, too. So no, no deals. You can set it for trial and take your chances.”
“You gotta be shitting me! You wanna waste both our time on a trial for someone who pissed on a car?”
“Yes. And you better win, or I’m gonna ask for as much jail as I can get.”
“Here, throw this away for me, would you?” I put my vomit-laden tissue into his file.
I left the room and saw Hernando standing by the door. He raised his eyebrows, asking me what the verdict was. I shook my head and I heard him say, “Shit” from across the room. Nothing to do now but wait for the judge.
Borth, I had heard, had suffered a psychotic break in his fifties, after he was already a judge. The rumors said it was dementia brought about by severe alcoholism and untreated mental illness. Sometimes I’d come to this court and he’d smile and ask me how my family was, and sometimes I’d come here and he’d scream so much his face became a chubby, sweaty mess of red flesh as he wore out his vocal cords. No way to know ahead of time whether you were getting Jedi Borth or Darth Borth.
The bailiff finally announced, “All rise, Magna City Justice Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Clarence Borth presiding.”
I rose and watched as Borth strolled in, wearing a jogging suit—something a retired old man would wear in Florida. The light-green velour didn’t look all that different from the vomit I had wiped off of myself only a few minutes ago.
He mumbled to himself as he took his robe off a coat hanger behind the bench and put it on. Then he sat down and leaned back, drawing a deep breath. “Any private attorneys ready to go?”
I stood at the lectern and said, “Danielle Rollins for Mr. Hernando Ramirez, please, Your Honor.”
Bob sat down at the prosecution table and stared at Borth. Neither of us knew exactly who was going to get yelled at today. Bob glanced at me and then flipped me off by pressing his palm against the table with only the middle finger up. I’d done what I had to do to win the motion he was so pissed about, but I didn’t think I deserved this kind of treatment. So I stuck my tongue out at him, and he shook his head.
“Ms. Rollins,” the judge said calmly, “how are we doing today?”
“We’re doing just fine, Your Honor. How’s everything with you?”
“Oh, you know, just enjoying my grandkids. That’s the reason to wake up in the morning for me, now. I have eight of them.” He reached into his pocket and came out with a wallet full of photos. “Come look.”
I glanced at Bob, who rose slowly. We approached the bench as the judge pointed to each photo and named the child. “This is Suzy, and Eric, and Catherine, and . . .”
He didn’t have eight grandchildren. He had ten grandchildren, and he listed each one. Then he put his wallet away and looked at me and then looked at Bob and said, “What are you two standing here for?”
I looked at Bob and said, “You were considering dismissing this case, Your Honor.”
“I was?”
“No,” Bob said, “that’s not what you were doing. You were showing us photos of your lovely grandchildren.”
“Oh, yes. Did I tell you I had ten grandchildren, Ms. Rollins?”
“Each more lovely than the next, Judge. Now how about ruling on that motion to dismiss?”
“There is no motion to dismiss!” Bob said too loudly.
The judge closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them, you could tell something was different. The shouting had snapped something. “Mr. Macalusso, we do not shout in my courtroom. Least of all . . .” His voice was now rising in volume. “Least of all to me! Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Judge.”
“What do you think this is?” Borth said, his voice going up again. “A whorehouse? Do I look like a whore for you to yell at, Mr. Macalusso?”
“No, Jud—”
“Ms. Rollins, do I look like a whore to you?”
“No, Your Honor, but if you were, I must say you would make an absolutely lovely one.”
“Damn straight.”
He turned back to Bob. There was no stopping him now. The floodgates of sanity had crumbled.
“Damn
it, Bob, I don’t deserve to be treated like this!” Borth said, slapping his palm down on the bench. “I went to Harvard, for heaven’s sake. Do you know I worked full-time and was still top of my class? Did you know that?”
He was full-on shouting now. He didn’t seem to realize that a courtroom full of people were hanging on his every word.
Borth shouted for five minutes. I leaned my elbow on his bench and watched. Bob had turned bright red. He stared at the items on the bench—pens, pads of paper, the gavel—letting Borth’s abuse go in one ear and out the other. Eventually, the flush in his cheeks faded and he just looked tired.
“Now,” Borth finally said, “I’m going to make my ruling on that motion to dismiss. Ms. Rollins, I found your argument persuasive. I’m dismissing the case against your client.”
“Your wisdom astounds me sometimes, Judge. Thank you.”
“Your Honor,” Bob said, the flush in his cheeks returning, “there is no motion to dismiss. She hasn’t filed anything.”
“Next matter, please,” Borth bellowed.
We left the bench and Bob whispered under his breath, “I’m appealing that. No way I’m letting it stand.”
“Fine. But Borth is the one you have to file the appeal with. I’m guessing he won’t be too happy with you questioning his omniscience.”
“Up yours, Rollins.”
I couldn’t help but slap Bob’s shoulder and grin. “You need to get more enjoyment out of life, Bob. Quit taking this shit so seriously.”
“This is a court of law, and you treat it like it’s a circus.”
“No, a circus has to make sense. This”—I motioned around the room with my hand—“is random chaos. Entropy is the only rule here. You roll with it, or you break, and you’re gonna break if you keep taking everything so personally.”
I grabbed Hernando just as Borth began lecturing a man in a trucking cap about the proper way to change lanes. I didn’t feel I had escaped until I actually inhaled the sour, dusty, smog-infused air and knew I was out of Borth’s clutches for certain.
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