The Mongol Reply

by Benjamin M. Schutz

  “That depends. Let me get some information about this family. How many children and their ages?”

  “Tom Tully, Jr. age six, and Tina Tully, age four,” Garfield said.

  “Any special needs? Learning disabilities? Emotional problems?”

  “No. I think you’ll find that these are normal children, Doctor.”

  “Are the parents involved with other parties? Any other de facto caretakers?”

  “No, Doctor. They were just separated this weekend.”

  “Are there any special questions that need to be evaluated?”

  This time it was Stuart. “What does that mean, Doctor?”

  “Beyond looking at parenting skills and ‘goodness of fit’ with these children, are there allegations about things such as domestic violence, child abuse, drug or alcohol abuse, a history of mental illness, suicide risk, unusual sexual practices, religious cults?”

  “Most definitely, Doctor,” Garfield intoned. “The basis for our emergency hearing was a combination of these factors. Mrs. Tully is a seriously disturbed woman. She’s been hospitalized before and made numerous suicide attempts. Her illness has affected her ability to bond and care for her children. As for drug or alcohol abuse, my client suspects that she is self-medicating at this time and has for quite a while. Her deteriorating condition led her to threaten her husband with castration, so yes, domestic violence is also an issue.”

  Reece shook his head. “Any other issues? Sexual or religious?”

  “My client has not enjoyed a sexual relationship with his wife for quite some time. The reason for that he believes lies in her emotional condition. There’s also a rift between the parties about religion. He’s Baptist. She is a non-practicing Catholic who has refused to allow the children to go to any church.”

  All four horsemen of the Marital Apocalypse, thought Reece: sex, God, money and children.

  “How about you, Mr. Stuart, is your client making any allegations in these areas?”

  “Dr. Reece my client vigorously denies any of these allegations.” He tried to remember what she’d said about her husband. “She denies any threats of violence to her husband, in fact she has lived in constant fear of the man, who has been verbally abusive to her and intimidated her throughout the marriage. She denies any problems in her care of her children. I have not yet seen the records of her psychiatric care, but I am sure she poses no harm to anyone and that her husband is blowing this entirely out of proportion.”

  “Let me interject here, Dr. Reece. I’ll have a copy of the transcript of the hearing sent to you. The testimony of Mrs. Tully’s psychiatric problems came from her sister—not my client. He has downplayed her problems. If he’s erred in any fashion, it’s in staying with her this long.”

  Stuart scrambled around for a rebuttal and settled for, “Obviously, sorting all this out is going to be your job, Dr. Reece. I don’t think what we tell you is going to carry much weight, am I right?”

  “Not in my conclusions. It just helps me figure out the scope of the evaluation that needs to be done.”

  “Time and money, Doctor,” Garfield said. “Do you have an idea of the cost of this evaluation? Money is tight for these people.”

  Reece looked at his notes. Not a simple evaluation, but not the most complex either.

  “I’m asking for eight thousand dollars as an initial retainer, to be split equally by the parties.”

  “And how long will the evaluation take?” they both asked.

  “I estimate it will take four or five weeks to complete. Then I’ll arrange for a meeting with both of you to present my conclusions, and then I’ll see your clients to tell them what my findings are.”

  “Will that include a written report?” Garfield asked.

  “No. I usually ask that a court reporter be there to transcribe my presentation. Their appearance fee is much less than the time for me to prepare a formal report. A transcript can be made if this matter doesn’t settle and that can be entered into the record as my report. I do it this way because the vast majority of cases I do get settled, not litigated. This saves your clients money.”

  Reece’s last comments were aimed at Albert Garfield who would litigate whether the sun would rise, and if he lost that, he’d be back the next day to argue about the direction.

  “While I’m working I’ll accept no ex parte communications. If either of you wants to tell me something, we do it by a conference call. Same thing if I need to get in touch with you.”

  “Why would you need to do that?” Stuart said.

  “I may require your assistance in getting copies of records. Subpoenas, court orders, etcetera. If Mrs. Tully’s mental health history is extensive, that may be the biggest delay. It can be difficult getting records, particularly if they’re old and not local.”

  “I don’t have any questions, Dr. Reece,” Albert Garfield said.

  “We’ve got a problem with this fee of yours, Dr. Reece. I don’t think my client has access to that kind of money. Do you accept any other kind of arrangement?”

  “I’ll accept other arrangements provided that they are acceptable to both of the parties. If one side wants to advance all the money against reimbursement later out of the property settlement, that’s fine. If either of you has a concern about my knowing where the money comes from, you can send it to a third party who sends me the check. That shields the origin of the money. I just need to know before I begin working.”

  “There’s no need for Dr. Reece to endure our deliberations on this matter, Mr. Stuart. We’ll call as soon as we’ve reached an agreement.”

  “Fine. All I need are your clients’ phone numbers so I can contact them and start the process.” When Reece scribbled down the numbers they gave him, he hung up.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Gerald Stuart went to the library he shared with all the other sublettors and found the continuing legal education pamphlet entitled, “Sample Forms for Interrogatories and Production of Documents in Domestic Relations Cases.” He copied them, filled in the appropriate blanks, sealed them up and set them out for the mailman.

  That done, he called his client, who waited by the phone tapping out Morse code in caffeinated agitation.

  “When can I see my children?” she asked.

  “That’s something the evaluator will have to decide. He’s going to call you today to set up a first meeting. You can ask him directly.”

  Serena’s heart sank and she steadied herself against the kitchen counter as she lowered herself into a chair.

  When she said nothing, Stuart went on. “We have to discuss money, Mrs. Tully. Dr. Reece has asked for an initial retainer of four thousand dollars from each party. Can you get that kind of money together?”

  Four thousand more? This in the space of seventy-two hours. Did Tom have that kind of money in the accounts? She’d been offered money like that once before. She did a runway job at a fundraiser for some Arab-American group and a man in sunglasses and a djelleba offered her that for a weekend underneath one of the visiting dignitaries. Something about her hair being as golden, soft and fine as sunlight.

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to check. I’ll call the bank and see what we have in our account. Tom took care of the money. If there isn’t enough there, I have a gold card with cash advance. I can use that to write a check. Let me find out and I’ll call you back.”

  “Okay. We should also make an appointment to go over some things that your husband’s attorney raised today.”

  “What things?”

  “He claims that you have an extensive history of psychiatric treatment and that because of that you’ve threatened him with harm, neglected your children, abused drugs and abandoned the marital bed. If there’s truth to these matters, Mrs. Tully, I can only say that regaining custody of your children may prove difficult.”

  “Oh my God. That was years ago. Yes, I’ve had problems but it never affected my children. Tom doesn’t even know which one’s the girl!”

  “Why
don’t we make that appointment now and I’ll let you call your bank. How about four o’clock today? Can you make that?”

  Serena Tully fought the impulse to shriek. Unreality was seeping into every segment of her life. First her present disappeared. Gone were her home, husband and children. She was living in someone else’s house, barred from seeing her children, forbidden to reach out and tousle their hair, kiss the tops of their heads and feel the strength of their love flow back through the arms that squeezed her legs. Her future had evaporated into a hole followed by cascading dollar bills. Now her past was being rewritten, inverted and perverted. She looked down at her hands, turning them over and then back again. Only the shiny ridges that ended her career as a hand model seemed real to her now.

  “Mrs. Tully, four o’clock. Can you make it?”

  “I have an appointment. How about five or five-thirty, actually?”

  “All right. I’ll see you then.”

  Serena pulled the telephone into her lap. She dialed information for the bank’s phone number. When she was connected, she asked for the balance in their account. The teller told her nine dollars and sixty-three cents.

  “That’s not possible. That account never gets that low. How long has it been like that?”

  “Let me switch to another screen. Since Friday. There was a withdrawal that day of two thousand and twelve dollars.”

  There was more money there. Where? Tom used to joke about it. Overdraft. An overdraft line of credit.

  “What about the overdraft line of credit? How much is left on that?”

  “Let me check for you. That’s been cancelled, ma’am.”

  “As of when?”

  “Friday, also.”

  “Thank you.”

  Panic began to take hold. Serena saw the firestorm of her husband’s rage roll out in shining waves and incinerate everything in its path. Convinced of the answer, she pulled out her wallet and began to dial 800 numbers for all of her credit cards. Her credit cards, that was a laugh. They were all in his name, with her as an approved user. Tom said she could get higher credit limits using him as the income source. Anyway, he said, it was only fair since she didn’t work.

  One after another she dropped the cards onto the floor. On Friday she had been cancelled as a user on all of them. All the store cards, the ATM machines, the gasoline company cards, the phone cards. Even the grocery stores had been contacted and advised that she had no money in her account against which to write checks.

  While Serena Tully sat there feeling each side of the coffin her husband had built for her, Gerald Stuart, answering a silent alarm about the negotiability of her retainer check, was taking it down the street to his bank. He asked the teller to call the bank it was drawn on to verify that there were sufficient funds to cover it. The teller put the phone down and handed the check back to Gerald Stuart.

  “Well?”

  “I’m sorry sir. The bank says there is no money in that account.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Stuart said as he pocketed the check and hurried back to his office. Maybe Garfield’s client would cover his fees.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Albert Garfield adjusted his notepad and pen, then took the phone out of the hollow of his shoulder and reviewed the morning’s developments with his client.

  “He’s going to be sending over interrogatories. Those are written questions that you have to answer in writing. Don’t worry. I’ll go over your answers before you send them out. These are sworn to as truthful. He’s also requesting a lot of documents about the marital assets. When we see them, you’ll have to produce copies for him. That’ll show him what property there is to fight over. We’ve already sent ours over to him. We’ll see what her position is on all this.”

  “She gets nothing. Not a fucking thing.”

  “And that’s what we’ll try to do. I’m only interested in her position to see what it tells me about what’s important to her. Not that I have any intention of giving it to her. It tells me what she cares about, where she’s weakest. Think of it as a look at the other side’s game plan.”

  “Pretty stupid thing to let you see.”

  “Part of the rules of discovery. That’s the way this game is played. Puts a premium on planning and surprise.”

  “Any news from the p.i.?”

  “Nothing yet. He says she looks pretty bad. She’s either spacing out or looks like she’s gonna pass out. If we keep the heat on her, she may not even make it into the evaluation.”

  “What about this evaluation? Do I have to go talk to this clown too?”

  “Yes, that’s what the judge ordered. Don’t worry about it. The evaluator, Dr. Reece, wrote a book about what he does. I have a copy here in my office. Come by, read it before you go in to see him. It’s like looking at his game plan. He’s got copies of his questionnaires in there. Practice filling them out. In fact, let me see about something. I’ll call you right back. Where are you right now?”

  “I’m at the weight room. Just call the front desk number I gave you. They’ll page me.”

  “Okay, be right back.”

  Garfield dialed the number of his own in-house expert, Dr. Henry Pecorino.

  “Henry, Al Garfield. How’d you like a shot at Morgan Reece?”

  “Where and when?”

  “He’s been appointed in the Tully case. I was thinking of having you do a shadow evaluation of the father and the kids in case Reece comes up bad. But that’s a lot of money, particularly if we front all of Reece’s fee. How about if I send Mr. Tully over to you for a consultation? I’m going to give him Reece’s book and those others you told me about on the Rorschach and the MMPI. If he has any questions, how about he comes to you? We’ll call it parent counseling. He’s learning how to take care of these kids all by himself now.”

  “No problem, I’ll be glad to talk to him. If you want the shadow evaluation, just give me enough notice. I’ll be glad to second opinion that S.O.B.; I’ve waited a long time for a shot at him.”

  “Enjoy. If he doesn’t come out one hundred percent for my client, he’s all yours.”

  “Have your client call me when he’s read the books.”

  Albert Garfield dialed his client back. “Tom. I’ve spoken with Dr. Henry Pecorino. He’s an expert in the area of child custody. After you read the books I have at my office, I want you to call Dr. Pecorino and set up an appointment to consult with him.”

  “What for? I already have to talk to one shrink.”

  “So that you can get guidance on how to best take care of the children, Tom. That way when Dr. Reece asks you questions about them, you’ll know exactly what to say. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Tully laughed. “Loud and clear.”

  “We also have to talk about money for the evaluations. If you’ve been successful in cutting her off from any assets, your wife won’t be able to pay her half of Dr. Reece’s retainer.”

  “How much are we talking about here?” Tully demanded.

  “His retainer is eight thousand dollars. Half from each parent.”

  “What the fuck! Eight grand!”

  “This is what I recommend. Reece won’t work without his fee. The court wants him to do it. If she goes in and says she can’t pay, the court will direct you to do it and then seek reimbursement at the property settlement. I’d rather offer it to Stuart in trade for spousal support. I want to know where her money is committed. I don’t want her to have money to use in ways we can’t anticipate and control. I also don’t want her to have any to live on. Without it, she’s got to rely on handouts and gifts that’ll dry up pretty soon. The more pressure she’s under, the quicker she cracks and you get what you want. In addition, if she cracks in the evaluation, it’ll go against her in the custody dispute. Consider it an insurance policy. We want her to fold under professional scrutiny. You just have to pay for it.”

  “What if she folds before the evaluation is done? Do we get the money back?”

  “Absolutely.
So there’s a premium on keeping the pressure on her.”

  “I don’t know. Another eight grand is pretty stiff. Let me talk to some people about a loan. When do you need an answer?”

  “As soon as possible. I want to get her in front of Reece before she can regroup and pull herself together. By the way, where is she staying?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I have a number for her. Stuart gave it to Reece. Do you recognize it?”

  Garfield read off the number from his notepad.

  “Yeah, that’s Denise’s phone number. One of her friends from the health club. Another bitch.”

  “Any way to force her out of there? Make it too uncomfortable for her to stay there?”

  “I could arrange to call her all the time from public telephones. I could …”

  “Don’t say anything. I’m just thinking out loud. If for some reason Denise came to feel that harboring your wife was not a good idea, it would be to your advantage to have her without food and shelter. Can you come by tomorrow to pick up these books on custody evaluations?”

  “Sure. I’ll have an answer for you about the money, too.”

  “Good.”

  “Any word from the p.i. yet?”

  “Nothing so far. If we can’t catch her with this guy, we may have to change our pleadings.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we ask for the divorce on grounds other than adultery. I wish you hadn’t let it slip that you suspected her, no matter how angry you were. She’s probably cooled it.”

  “Not for long. She wasn’t putting out at home, so she was getting boned somewhere. I know my wife. Two days without a dicking and she started to worry that her looks were going. She won’t be able to go through all this without a man by her side. She’ll crack and go running straight to him.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “Mr. Garfield, Mr. Polansky calling on line two. He says it’s urgent.” Sandra, his secretary cut in on the intercom.

  “Tom, hold on a minute. It’s Polansky now. Maybe he has some good news for us.”