Retrospective

Trial went something like this:

As usual, we arrived around 8am and staggered through the cattle-chutes with the other wood-be justice seekers to enter the courthouse. We were all thoroughly checked for weapons and whatnot, which is always a treat. Sorta like a rice-crispy, with the marshmellowy goodness or the puffed rice.

We then checked Justice into the playroom. This is a wonderful place where children are watched over, and their parents don't have to deal with the increasing boredom of said child. We then went back up to find a place to sit and wait for our case to be called, which likely wouldn't happen until after noon. Oh, we also said hello to Reggie (Justice's father) and his fiancee. They greeted us warmly, and said that they had gotten the photos we had sent. Then we found a comfy, padded bench and waited, and waited, and waited.

I felt like a French refugee from Casablanca.

Again, the efficiency of this system continues to boggle the mind.

Justice's attorney, Susan McPhee came and talked to us. We had sent her an email to work describe various headaches we've been having. She gave us many kind words, and talked about Christmas break. We were advised that a mediator had been assigned to us to help work out Justice spending part of Christmas with her father.

Then, we went and sat back down and waited, and waited, and waited.

Suddenly, Social Worker Dayle was there, and, wonder of wonders, she had Reggie's phone number. This little issue had been part of the email we sent Susan McPhee. Social Worker Dayle had been ordered to be in court the entire day. I felt a slight smile creep over my face. For the first time, Justice's social worker would have to endure the incredible pain and agonizing boredom of sitting quietly through a ten-thousand hour day in the courthouse.

We later learned that Social Worker Dayle, that bastion of efficiency, had not completed the court mandated report and recommendations for this case. Look at my face, will you? I'm shocked. Shocked I say.

A little later the court mediator came out and introduced herself. I honestly can't remember her name. Lisa, or Cheryl or Spartacus. Something with an "s" sound, I think. She took us, Reggie and his fiancee back to her office to work out the Christmas break.

It must have been the easiest mediation she had ever seen. She opened by saying she had been briefed on how mishandled this case had been and apologizing to us, setting the stage to pacify angry, upset and malcontent parents. She had no worries. We immediately discussed how to get Justice to her father's for Christmas break and how soon we could get her there, and all the other necessary arrangements. The mediator, I think I'll call her Susan, that has a kind, compassionate, empathetic sound to it, turned to her computer to type out the agreement so it could be filed with the court. Her skills were not much needed.

We also talked over Justice's particular foibles and follies. Traded phone numbers and addresses. Talked about other interesting things, and assured Reggie that Justice, while cautious, was excited to meet with him. A meeting had been scheduled with the therapist for that evening at Justice's usual therapy session.

When we broke for lunch, we gathered Justice up, and then talked to Reggie and fiancee for a moment. Justice put on her "I'm-shy" act, but kept asking us questions about her father. Our response was, "Ask him." For instance, "How old is my dad?" "I have no idea, but if you ask him, I'm sure he'll tell you." "How big are my dad's feet?" "Again, ask him. I'm sure he won't mind telling." Ad nauseum.

We eventually bribed Justice with the promise of a treat if she would "be brave" and talk to her father. She did, and they started talking back and forth. She asked questions as only Justice can ask them, a ten year-old machinegun rat-a-tat-tat barage of disjointed and, sometimes, annoying requests for information.

After lunch, we returned, checked Justice back into the child play area, and waited. About two hours later, we were called into the courtroom. As usual, we weren't asked anything, and legalese flew about so that we could only understand every third or fourth line. The Christmas break agreement was accepted. Reggie was given 12 months of services to help with reunification. A trial date for six months was set for re-evaluation. Then, the judge looked out at us: Lil, Reggie, his fiancee and me.

"The court would like to offer its deepest appreciation for your patience and understanding. We know that this case has been mishandled, and we apologize profusely for the oversights. It's a credit to all of you, the father, the attorney and the foster parents, at how well you've handled this, and shows just how much this little girl means to everyone."

Or something to that effect. Even the mediator spoke at how mature (I know, I laughed too) and understanding we had all been.

So, that's the story. We'll take Justice up to spend Christmas break with her father. We've exchanged phone numbers. Justice's lawyer, Susan, said that if things went well, Justice could be moved at almost any time we all, (foster parents, attorney and Reggie) agreed that it was time.

Monday, December 4th

Social Worker Dayle Kline has not yet returned our call to get Justice's father's phone number so that we can set up some kind of casual conversation between the two. Once again, I have to resort to contacting her manager.

I'm not certain if this is a compliment to us or not. We seem to be funnelled to the worst or the most over-worked social workers. I like to think it's because we're considered so low maintainance that putting us with otherwise incompetent or overburdened individuals doesn't tax them beyond their already taxed capacity.

Or, perhaps, the Child Protective Services is just so fed up with our antics that they are punishing us this way.

It's sixes.

I'll be out Monday for the court trial. It's supposed to be a trial and an end to all this confusion, instability and pathetic attempts to advocate for a child who is otherwise powerless.

Of course, that's what we've been hearing for eight months now.

I hold little hope that this will actually give us some kind of closure, but I'll keep you posted.