Chapter XXIII
PUSHING OPEN THE heavy wooden doors, the familiar scent of paper, ink, and wood polish surrounded Mae.
She paused for Winona to catch up. As she settled Winona’s shaken body into a chair, she oriented herself to this courthouse’s landscape, noting the doors leading to the gallery and courtroom, the clerk’s desk off to the side of the entrance, and the corridor presumably leading to the offices and judges’ chambers.
“Let me check with the bailiff. I’ll be right back,” she assured Winona in a soothing tone. Winona nodded her tear-stained face imperceptibly.
Straightening up, she pulled her shoulders back and walked with purpose over to the bailiff. He placed his hand on the door handle, ready to open the door for her when she asked, “Good morning. I need an audience with the presiding judge. Whom do I speak to regarding this?”
The bailiff paused thoughtfully and nodded his head toward the clerk’s desk. “Clerk, Ma’am. He’s the man you want.”
Mae thanked him politely and crossed the foyer to the official-looking desk manned by a younger man in a pressed suit. “Good morning, Ma’am,” he began, “what can I help you with?”
“Yes, sir. I’m here to request an audience with the presiding judge regarding two minors taken into custody at the Children’s Home. I have paperwork from a judge in New York pertaining to a stay in the children’s adoption placement.”
“Certainly, Ma’am. If you could fill out this form. I will have the judge review it at his earliest convenience.” He sorted through a set of folders and placed the necessary form and a pen on the desk in front of Mae.
“Very well. Do you know when the judge will recess and an audience likely?”
“He has several more cases on the docket for the afternoon. They usually break about four-thirty. I will have him review your form at that time and he will determine its relevancy.”
Mae glanced at the clock and saw that there was more than an hour before the recess would occur. “This matter is of some urgency. Will it be likely that he will see me today?”
“Most likely tomorrow morning. But if you’d like, you may stay and watch from the gallery. If you are present, he may be more likely to see you today.”
Mae thought back to her promise to Winona.
The visit to the Children’s Home would have to wait.
“Yes, that will do.” She stepped to the side and scanned over the document.
She’d filled out these forms hundreds of times over the course of her career.
But this one was different. This one could mean the difference between Simon coming home with her and Simon being lost to her forever.
Her hand trembled as it hovered over the form.
Using her best penmanship, she filled in all pertinent information on the form.
Once she was satisfied with its completion, she handed it over to the clerk.
Her mind knew that she had an hour or so to wait, but her heart screamed silently to the clerk to rush.
She wanted to beg him to stop all business and run it directly over to the judge, to force him to decide in this moment, to put an end to her interminable wait.
Instead, she forced herself to smile amiably and made her way back over to Winona.
“We need to wait in the gallery. Follow me, and as long as we are quiet, we can wait for the judge’s decision there.
” Winona looked up at her numbly. The words cascaded over her distraught face, and Mae realized that she would need physical coaxing to make it into the gallery.
She leaned down and helped Winona out of the seat and led her like a child through the double doors, which the bailiff so kindly opened for them.
As she checked back to see if the clerk had made any movement to relay her form, she saw the familiar gray overcoat and felt hat from the train.
Her grip on Winona tightened as she paused.
Her other hand found the watch through her coat as she forced herself to keep walking.
He was speaking quietly to the same clerk, scanning over her completed form.
The clerk leaned closer as if receiving instructions, then scribbled something onto the docket sheet before sliding it into a separate folder.
Mae wanted to march back over to the clerk and demand why he had shown her form to this man, but knew that his goodwill was the link to getting an audience with the judge.
After settling Winona onto one of the wooden benches, she removed her coat and folded it neatly over her suitcase resting at her feet.
As the watch swung forward, she guided it back to its place just above her heart and let her hand fall away.
She thought about helping Winona out of her jacket, but it had been enough just to get her in here, so Winona sat in a heap within her patched jacket, her hands resting without purpose in her lap.
The court proceeded in the same fashion as Mae remembered the New York courts proceeding.
The next case was called. It was a vagrancy/prostitution case against an older woman of obviously low means.
Her clothes were tattered, and Mae could see the judge noting her immodest bustline.
The prosecution stated the charges, and the judge turned to the woman. “And how do you plead?”
The woman leaned forward and whined, “It weren’t my fault, Judge. I’s just waiting for me friend’s is all.”
The judge’s nostrils flared and his jaw tightened. “So, not guilty, I presume?” He delivered his question as a stated assumption. Turning to the prosecution, he inquired, “What is the evidence against this woman?”
“The woman was seen to have been consorting with the male clientele entering the establishment. An officer heard her solicitation directly, and she was taken into custody at the time. He has provided a written statement for the courts regarding the events, which we have supplied to the court, Your Honor.”
The judge cast his eyes back at the woman. “Do you have any rebuttal to the officer’s sworn statement?”
The look of confusion on her face stalled her answer as she looked back and forth between the prosecutor and the judge. “Well, Madam?” The judge pressed.
“No, sir?” Her answer reflected her uncertainty in the matter, and the judge quickly jotted something onto the paperwork in front of him.
“I find the evidence overwhelmingly in favor of the prosecution. I find the defendant guilty and determine that she will be remanded to the county jail for no less than thirty days. Ma’am, I suggest you think about a new line of work while you have the time.
” He banged his gavel and scooped up the papers, setting them to the side.
The bailiff walked over to the dazed woman and shuffled her out of the courtroom. The efficiency of the courtroom impressed Mae.
The next case was a younger, terribly gaunt man charged with petty theft.
He was accused of stealing another man’s chicken from his yard.
As the charges were read, a woman sat sniffling behind him with her arm around a young child no more than three years of age.
Mae saw that all three had scrubbed themselves clean, but the clothing they wore was stained and threadbare beyond repair.
When asked about his plea, the man simply stated, “Not guilty, yer Honor. I’s just tryin’ to feed my youngin’.” He gestured to the child sucking his thumb behind him.
The judge glanced at the small family to his right. “And what evidence are you presenting?” His eyes meandered over to the prosecutor as he tapped his index finger on his desk.
“An officer’s sworn affidavit that the owner’s bird was found in the defendant’s possession, with its neck wrung and half-plucked.”
“And what was done with said chicken?”
“The chicken was returned to the owner, although the owner has stipulated that this costs him in future earnings for failure to produce eggs.”
Mae gritted her teeth. She had to strain to keep her eyes from rolling. A stolen chicken—which ended up being returned? This was what claimed the court’s attention while her own child waited?
“And do you object to any of the facts as stated?” The judge was now questioning the defendant again.
“No, Judge, I don’t. I just got let go from the mill and couldn’t scrape up enough cash. Like I said, I’s just tryin’ to feed my youngin’.”
“Well, sir, motivation is not a consideration the law can afford take into account when such evident rules are broken. In this case, I do find judgement for the plaintiff. The defendant will pay restitution in the amount of three dollars, due in thirty days from judgement.” Once again, the judge noted his verdict on his paper.
Looking back at the man, he handed out another bit of advice, “Young man, I suggest you find some work next time you are trying to feed your young one.” The words came out with a tinge of disdain.
“Any man worth his salt will take on work enough to pay for his family’s food. ”
The man’s face warmed as he was escorted out.
His wife and child scurried from their seats to follow him.
Mae felt Winona shift in her seat. Winona whispered, “Three dollars?” Her whisper grew louder.
“He already can’t afford to feed his family, and the judge wants him to pay three dollars?
” Mae froze as Winona’s voice echoed in the nearly silent courtroom.
The judge looked up, and his gaze landed solidly on the two women.
He glared at Winona, who was still leaning toward Mae's ear, then rested on Mae, lingering a moment to gauge her reaction.
Mae looked straight ahead and waited for the judge to put his head back down and hissed, “Be quiet. That case doesn’t matter. We need to appear in the best light possible if we want him to meet with us.”