“Well, you can have the minors on the domestic violence case. You’re better with the kids than I am anyway.”
Sabre went to find her new client, the child beater. She always struggled with this type of case. She found it difficult to understand how someone could beat up an innocent little baby.
Maybe my client’s not the bad guy
, although the information she’d received from Bob indicated otherwise.
She counseled her client and explained his rights and the court process. She looked at the scared, young man, who appeared so innocent, and thought how different he must have been when he used his baby as a punching bag.
After the hearing, Sabre gathered her files and went into Department Four to wait for the other attorneys on the domestic violence case. It had been an easy morning so far with mostly old review cases. Just that new domestic violence case and she could go eat.
Bob came into the courtroom. He and Sabre seated themselves at the table. Another attorney sauntered in, followed by his client, Peggy Smith, an attractive, young, pregnant woman with a bandage on the left side of her forehead. They took a seat on the right side of the table next to Sabre and Bob.
The door opened and the Public Defender entered with Gaylord Murdock, a tall man with sandy blond hair and cutting blue eyes. Murdock stared at Peggy with an intensity that made Sabre shiver. Peggy’s face tightened and she squirmed in her seat, unable to tear herself away from his gaze. After about three seconds, Murdock’s face softened and his lip curled up in a smile. No sign of remorse or shame emanated from him as he glided to his seat with his broad shoulders straight and his head held high.
Sabre watched their interaction and wondered what she failed to see.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Murdock said, in a strong southern accent as he squeezed between the railing and Sabre’s chair. She studied him for a moment. In spite of his obvious good manners, she perceived a hardness about him.
She thumbed through the file and read he had been born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia. She hated when her calendar was so full she didn’t have time to read the reports prior to the hearing. This wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, that she had to read and listen at the same time.
“In the matter of Alexis Murdock and Jamie Smith . . . ” The court officer called the last case on the morning calendar.
Sabre glanced at each page in the report to determine the most pertinent information. Her client, a ten-year-old girl named Alexis, lived with her father and Jamie, the two-year-old son of her father’s pregnant girlfriend. According to the detention report, a neighbor had heard loud voices, a woman screaming, and what sounded like furniture breaking, so she called the police. When the police arrived they spoke with a very pregnant Peggy Smith, who told them her boyfriend, Gaylord Murdock, had hit her and split her head open.
As Sabre read, she heard the attorneys introduce themselves. When her turn approached, she stood up. “Attorney Sabre Brown appearing on behalf of the minors.” She sat back down and continued reading the police report.
Peggy Smith is a white female, 24 years of age, light brown hair, dark brown eyes, about 5’ 4” tall, weighing about 135 lbs., and approximately eight-and-one-half-months pregnant. Smith had some redness and swelling on her right eye and an inch-long laceration that was bleeding and appeared to need stitches. Smith stated her boyfriend became angry because dinner wasn’t ready fast enough and he hit her in the face with his fist.
The case continued, with each attorney making statements for the record. Sabre had done this so often she had become quite adept at listening and reading at the same time. It appeared to be a typical domestic violence case. She continued reading.
We talked to the ten-year-old girl, Alexis Murdock, who said her father came home from work and he and Peggy started yelling at each other. She said her dad was real angry but he didn’t hit Peggy. She fell and hit her head on the coffee table. Gaylord Murdock gave a similar version of events, but because of Smith’s pregnancy, her lacerations and her earlier statements of physical violence, we took Murdock in for questioning. Officer Jacobs called an ambulance for Smith. By the time the ambulance arrived, Smith had changed her story and said she had fallen and hit her head on the coffee table. We proceeded to take Murdock downtown for questioning and the minors, Alexis and Jamie, to Jordan Receiving Home.
“. . . so even though my client vehemently denies the allegations, he’s willing to attend the programs the social worker is suggesting. In the interim, we’d request the court detain the child, Alexis Murdock, with her father, pending the next hearing,” Mr. Murdock’s attorney finished his request to the court.
Sabre took her cue. She stopped reading and responded with words she had stated so many times they rolled off her tongue void of any conscious thought. “Your Honor, I’d ask, if the court is so inclined, it only be done with my concurrence. I’d like to speak with the children and see what they have to say.”
“Very well,” Judge Cheney said. “The social worker has discretion to return the children to their parents under the following conditions: the criminal charges are dropped; the parents are living separately; any other criminal check comes back unblemished; and minor’s attorney is in agreement with their return.” He hit his gavel on the block. “That ends the morning calendar.”
Before Sabre could stand up, Mr. Murdock appeared at her side waiting to pull her chair out for her. As she rose, he stepped forward and opened the gate for her and the social worker to pass through. Sabre thanked him, though skeptical of his southern gentleman manners, something she rarely saw in southern California.
Bob and Sabre walked out of the courtroom together into the hallway. “The social worker seems to like both of the parents, especially the father. This case should settle at the next hearing with a voluntary agreement,” Bob said.
“Well, I’m anxious to see what the kids have to say. I’m going over there now. We could stop at In-n-Out Burger for a quick bite on the way. Do you have anyone to see at Jordan?” Lunch together was a daily ritual, limited to a few select restaurants due to Bob’s unwillingness to experiment with his taste buds.
“That works for me. In fact, I do have a kid I need to see in Teen Housing. I’ll be right with you,” Bob said, as he walked across the room toward a client who stood talking to one of the bailiffs.
Peggy and her attorney walked outside, followed by Sabre. Just as they stepped out, a woman flung the courthouse door open, nudging Sabre’s arm.
“Mother Fucker,” the woman screamed as she stomped out waving her arms in the air. “Supervised visitation, my ass. I’ll see my kids when I damn well please. Fuck that.” Bob followed her out. He and Sabre watched while the bailiff escorted her to the bus stop.
“One of yours?”
Bob nodded. “Charming, isn’t she?” He removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, and lit it up. “Let’s go eat. I’m buying.”
Just then, Gaylord Murdock walked out of the courthouse. He looked toward his girlfriend, and once again Sabre spotted a glare from him. She watched the muscles tense up in Peggy’s face and then her shoulders slump, as her body tightened into itself.
2
Hi, Ms. Brown.” Kathy, the clerk at Jordan Receiving Home, greeted Sabre when she came in the door. “Who are you here for today?”
“Jamie Smith and Alexis Murdock. They still here?”
Kathy nodded and raised an eyebrow. “They sure are. Alexis is something else. Wait in Room #3. I’ll bring them right out.”
Sabre went into the interview room used for visits between the children and their parents or their attorneys. The modest but comfortable room contained a sofa, a table with a couple of chairs, and some brightly colored toys and books for the children. A sliding glass door led to a small square with a patch of well-groomed, dark green grass, a sandbox, and a shade tree so visitors could take the children outside. Offices and other visiting rooms bordered the square, so people couldn’t leave without going back through one of the rooms. Occasionally, a parent tried to escape through the square with their child, but they were seldom successful.
Kathy returned with a two-year-old, dark-haired little boy, and a thin, blonde girl, in a pink, cotton dress. The little boy, quiet and solemn, buried half of his face in the side of the girl’s leg. The little girl, on the other hand, grinned from ear to ear.
“Ms. Brown, this is Jamie and Alexis.”
“Hi, Jamie. Hi, Alexis,” Sabre said.
“This nice lady is going to talk to you and explain some things about what’s going on. I’ll see you in a bit.” Kathy left them alone to have a private conversation with their attorney.
Alexis sat down on the sofa and the little boy immediately climbed up on her lap. She pulled him close to her and comforted him as if she were his mother. As she did, a trace of tranquility crossed his face.
“Your dress is very pretty,” Sabre said.
“Thanks. My father bought it for me. He says little girls should look like young ladies, not tomboys, so he makes me wear dresses.”
“And what do you think? Do you like to wear dresses?”
“Sometimes.”
“Well, my name is Sabre Brown and I’m your attorney. Do you know what an attorney is?”
“Yup, a lawyer. You go to court and say, ‘Objection’ and stuff.”
“True, and sometimes lawyers go to court for their clients so they don’t have to, especially when their clients are children,” Sabre said. “Alexis, I’m going to ask you a few questions, but before I do, I want to explain something to you. Do you know what ‘confidentiality’ means?”
“Nope.”
“Well, because I’m your lawyer, anything you say to me will be confidential, which means I can’t tell anyone unless you give me permission. The law is designed in such a way so you can feel safe when you talk to me. Then I can represent you and protect you better because I know what’s going on. It’s kind of like a secret. When someone tells you a secret, you’re not supposed to share it with anyone, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, this is even more powerful than a secret. Lawyers can’t tell the secrets their clients tell them or they can get in a lot of trouble and maybe not even be able to practice law anymore. Do you understand?”
“Yup. So if I tell you something, you can’t tell anyone?”
“That’s correct.” She waited to see if Alexis wanted to add anything. When she didn’t, Sabre asked, “Alexis, do you know why you’re here?”
“Yup,” she said, and paused for a moment as if to line up all the pieces. “Peggy was doing that stuff she does that makes Father really angry. He talked to her at first. Then they started yelling at each other. Then Peggy fell and hit her head on the coffee table. Then the police came and brought me here.”
“What ‘stuff’ does Peggy do that makes your Father angry?”
“You know, drug stuff. It can hurt the baby inside her. ‘A person who is pregnant should not do drugs,’” she obviously mimicked.
“Have you ever seen Peggy do drugs?”
“Nope, but they argue about it all the time.”
“Have you ever seen your father hit Peggy?”
“Nope.”
“What about you? Has he ever hit you or hurt you in any way?”
“No,” Alexis snapped.
“Alexis, I’m sorry if I upset you, but there are questions I have to ask and sometimes they are uncomfortable for both of us. Just remember they’re just between you and me. Okay?”
“Okay,” she answered, as she looked down at Jamie and tightened her hold on him. “I’m teaching Jamie his ABCs. It’s never too young to learn them, you know. Everyone should know them. I love my father. He’s a good father. Peggy shouldn’t do those things to make him angry. She shouldn’t do drugs. She could hurt the baby. You shouldn’t hurt babies. When I grow up I’m going to take care of little kids.” She continued to hold on to Jamie while she babbled.
“You love your little brother very much, don’t you?”
“Yup, he’s the best. He’s real smart, not like . . . .”
“Not like who, Alexis?”
No response.
“Alexis,” Sabre spoke softly, “can you tell me what happened before the police arrived the other night?”
“I heard them yelling at each other.”
“Where were you?”
“In the bedroom doing homework and watching Jamie. When I heard them yelling, I came out. I don’t like it when they yell. It scares me.”
“Did you hear what they were yelling about?”
“Yeah, about drugs. My father hates it when Peggy uses drugs.”
“Then what happened?”
“My father got real mad, but he didn’t hit her,” Alexis said. “She was screaming real loud. She tried to hit him with that soup thing, you know, the thing you dip soup with. He tried to take it away from her, and she fell and hit her head on the coffee table. She acted real crazy. I’ve never seen her act that bad before.”
“Alexis, did you tell Marla, the social worker, what you just told me?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you mind if I tell her what you just shared with me? Remember, I can’t tell anyone what you tell me unless you agree.”