Chapter 36
Chapter
Thirty-Six
Dhara
“All rise for the Honorable Judge Lancaster,” the sheriff called out as he lowered his hat and held it to his chest.
The judge swept in. He was an alpha, his gray hair combed back, his black robes swishing around him as he walked in with his head held high and took his seat.
Once he sat, everybody followed orders and sat back down.
The judge put on his reading glasses and started the proceeding. Already, he looked like the no-nonsense type, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing yet.
The nerves rose up, starting in my stomach but swiftly taking over. My hands shook almost violently and sweat broke out on my skin.
Mom had walked in right before he did and was staring at me. It was pure intimidation and I hated that it was working.
She sauntered in like she owned the place, a smug smirk on her face. Everything was a show with this woman. When she saw us waiting she lit up, holding a hand to her chest as if she just couldn’t believe we were here.
Gavin and I stared straight ahead, ignoring her completely.
It was all a show for everyone else. Not from any sort of love or remorse towards us.
“This is an unconventional custody case,” the judge said as he looked up at us, starting with our mother, who was doing everything in her power to look small and contrite, then looking at us.
Gavin and I clung together as we stared back at him.
His expression softened as he gave Gavin a nod.
“I do things a bit differently,” the judge said, “but I need both parties to understand that when the other is speaking, you are quiet. I will hear both sides thoroughly before I make my judgment.”
We nodded our agreement, and my mother bowed her head as if deferring to the alpha.
I’d never seen her perform like this. We only knew the twisted version of her hidden away. The monster.
“Mrs. Livingston, we’ll start with you,” he said. “Please have a seat up here.”
Our mother walked forward and swore to tell the truth before her mouth opened and nothing but lies fell free. She spun a story of the doting, loving mother who worked hard. I was, apparently, an uncontrollable child who had to be in control.
She looked right at me now as she continued, her voice strong with forced emotion. “When Gavin was born, she decided he was hers. She made my life miserable for trying to simply mother my own son.”
My jaw was tight, and Gavin was clinging to my hand so hard that it ached.
The judge glanced our way, gauging our reactions, but said nothing.
We didn’t, either. I wasn’t going to throw the case because of her lies. The truth would come out soon enough.
Even our lawyer was glaring up at the stand as he listened to the story, knowing it was all bullshit.
The ghost of a smile that crossed his face every time she said something completely outlandish filled me with hope.
I couldn’t wait to see him tear her apart.
“And can you explain what happened during the events that led up to the emergency custody order?” her lawyer asked.
“She lost it that night,” she said as she dabbed at her cheeks and let out a shuddering breath as if the memory alone was causing her pain. “I feared for my and Gavin’s life. I tried to step in, and she left me no choice but to defend myself.”
“We would like to submit evidence from that night,” her lawyer said.
He approached Judge Lancaster, who waved him up as he carried a set of pictures to the bench.
The judge shuffled through them, raising an eyebrow.
“These scratches and bruises are from your daughter?” he questioned.
She shifted her eyes, looking to me, and there was the ghost of a smile before she looked back, appearing sorrowful once again.
“Yes, Your Honor. She was completely unhinged.”
“I have nothing further,” her lawyer said as he smugly took his seat. I couldn’t wait for both of them to face reality.
Now it was our lawyer’s turn. He stood, straightened his tie, and walked forward as if he had all the time in the world.
He laid a set of pictures out in front of her. The same ones they’d also presented to the judge.
“Could you tell me where each of these injuries occurred?”
“My arms and my face,” she said. Some of the meek act had already fallen away. She hated being challenged and that was the entire role of our lawyer. Even if she was losing her composure, she was ready for battle.
“I’d like to submit her mugshot from that night.”
“Actually, I’d like to see that, too,” Judge Lancaster said as he held out his hand. I could see the suspicion on his face already and had to force myself to not let hope sneak in. His jaw clenched as he studied the pictures. The rest of us couldn’t see them, but I knew what he’d find.
More lies.
“Can you explain why your mugshot didn’t show any of these scratches or bruising?”
“That is a low-quality image,” she argued. “It’s meant for data entry. That does not mean it showed every scratch and bruise that I had on my skin.”
“Well, in that case,” our lawyer said, completely unbothered. “I’d like to submit the video footage from her holding cell that night.”
“You can’t record in holding cells,” our mother cried out.
“Oh, we absolutely can.” It was the sheriff who answered before ducking his head.
The judge looked amused but nodded in agreement.
“In fact, they are allowed.”
Our lawyer held up a tablet and hit play. My mother’s erratic breathing echoed out, and so did her words.
“That stupid bitch isn’t turning this on me. She’s always so fucking dramatic,” she growled. “Fucking pathetic. Always the victim. Should have killed her when I had the chance.”
Little murmurs broke out through the courtroom before the judge called for order.
“Silence.” Only one word, and everything fell quiet.
My mother blinked around the room. For the first time, worry flickered across her face. But this was just the beginning.
“Could you also explain where you took Gavin?” our lawyer questioned, giving her the exact date.
“To visit a friend. We were in Vegas, but it was just a hotel. I would never take my child onto a casino floor.”
She said the last part with enough confidence that the judge practically rolled his eyes.
“Then can you explain these photos?” Chris asked, his voice completely devoid of emotion. My mother flinched as he passed a stack to the judge, then laid them in front of her.
I knew what I’d see. The images from that weekend. The ones they’d likely had to request surveillance footage to capture.
“That looks like a casino floor to me, even if you are having a private game.”
“I didn’t let him participate,” she argued.
Our lawyer said nothing as he gathered up the photos.
She continued to ramble how it was a misunderstanding but he didn’t bother to entertain it.
This case was practically handling itself.
My mother was far too narcissistic to let anyone paint her in a bad light without her intervening.
She was getting sloppy, practically admitting guilt with each new piece of evidence.
“Child Services and the police were called to your home on twenty-six occasions from the time your daughter was ten years old until the final night when she was taken away.”
“She was no longer a minor then,” she bit out, full venom returning. “The rest is irrelevant now.”
That statement had murmurs breaking out through the courtroom again. The judge simply had to tap his gavel once, and the room quieted quickly.
“You are right. However, Dhara’s and Gavin’s statements during each of those twenty-six visits, show systematic abuse that was overlooked by the system. I’d like to submit them into evidence.”
He walked back over, pulled something from his briefcase, and carried the stack of papers back to the judge.
Judge Lancaster adjusted his glasses and read over them. The quiet in the courtroom as the minutes ticked by was suffocating. He kept his expression neutral, but I could see his teeth clench.
The fear of losing was quickly washed away. Our lawyer was out for blood. Hers was practically shaking at this point. Every defense they had he systematically tore apart with no remorse.
Our lawyer went another few rounds with my mother, boxing her into corner after corner, submitting character witnesses that showcased what kind of person—and mother—she really was.
Then it was my turn.
“Is it true that you tried to keep your brother away from your mother every day?” her lawyer asked, drawing out the words and looking confident again.
“Yes, because I feared what she would do. My mother had abused me for years. I feared she would do the same and on several instances took the hit so he wouldn’t have to.
She took over half of every paycheck while I had to use what was left to cover our bills and put food in the fridge.
She stole from me so I couldn’t leave if I wanted to. ”
“She gave it willingly!” my mother screamed. Her lawyer gave her a look. So did the judge. She quieted down and my lawyer turned his focus back to me.
“I didn’t ask about the money,” he said. “Please answer the question.”
“I did,” I reminded him.
“Yes, I kept him away by enrolling him in the Junior Renegades hockey league and by making sure he went to school on time. He ate breakfast every morning at my job at South Lake Diner, then went to school. I was responsible for pickup, doctor’s appointments, and everything in between.”
This was not going how he’d pictured. I could tell by his voice faltering over the next questions. Each of them was a new trap to try and prove I was keeping her child away from her.
There wasn’t a single time that I held him hostage or kept him from her. The truth was my answer every time and the way I stayed calm only made her look more unhinged.
All I’ve done for his entire life was give him stability.
Then it was our lawyer’s turn to ask the questions. He was much kinder with me than he had been with our mother.
“Can you explain the first time you took care of your brother?”