MISS MADISON
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?” Asked the officer swearing her in.
“I do,” Sinclair replied,
“State your name and where you work,” The heavy set officer asked.
“My name is Sinclair Madison and I am the owner and director of Aged Out Foster Care, Inc.” Sinclair replied.
The walls of the courtroom were covered with dark wood panels and had the American flags on either end of the judge’s bench. They were several officers that guarded the prisoners and guarded the door as many attorneys, families and friends came in and out of the courtroom.
Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, Ronald sat with his hands handcuffed in front of him looking very competent that he would soon be released. His attorney sat next to him at the defense table ready with all her documents to support Ronald’s case.
Sinclair sat on the witness stand in the courtroom for the second time in three months. Although she hated taking the stand, she had to convince the court not to send Ronald to jail.
“Ms. Madison, can you please tell us what your agency does?” the young attorney asked.
“My agency is for former foster children now turned adults that have aged out of the system and no longer qualify for assistance. My agency picks up where the system left off. We provide housing, food, clothing and educational resources to them.” Whenever Sinclair took the stand she got knots in her stomach.
“This is a two part question. First, how do you provide such services as not being a state agency? Second, why can’t these people get these services on their own?” The woman asked while pacing the floor in front of Sinclair.
“I give them contact information for agencies that deal specifically with their needs. To answer your second question, coming right out of the system is a very scary thing and not having anyone there to guide you through is even worse. I show them where to go and how to ask the right questions.”
“I have a question for you?” the judge turned to Sinclair.
“Besides giving out information, is there anything else you do? “
Sinclair answered the judge while remembering everything she puts into the bags. “I give all my clients a backpack filled with clothes, personal hygiene items and something to eat and drink. During the winter months they are also given a coat or told where to go get one for free.”
The judge took notes while listening to Sinclair’s response. “And how is your agency funded, Ms. Madison?”
“We are a non-profit agency. We rely solely on grants and donations.” Sinclair hopped Ronald would not be sent to jail.
Ronald sat with his attorney paying very close attention to everything that was being said. Aged Out had given him something he had never had before and that was hope. If only the judge would see the same thing, he would be released.
“One last question,” the judge asked. “Where do these donations come from?”
“Basically everywhere. Churches, charities and my neighbors donate. I also get donations from stores and various different vendors. A sandwich truck owner delivers fresh sandwiches to us weekly to feed my clients. I even donate my personal clothing sometimes.” Sinclair explained with great detail.
“Ms. Madison, is there anything else you would like to add?” The attorney asked in hopes this would better help the case.
“Most people don’t know what it’s like to be a former foster kid. While you’re in the system you are being cared for, but when you age out that is when things become extremely difficult. That means there is no one to take of care of you but you. Now the question is how do you do that when you have nothing and no one to turn to? Where do you live and how do you eat? These things come into play after you age out. Now, I have secured housing for Mr. Witherspoon for the next twelve months, at which time he can apply for public assistance, as well as enroll in school to get his GED.” Sinclair gave them what they wanted and a little extra.
“Defense rests,” the attorney said taking her seat next to Ronald Witherspoon.
“I don’t know why I’m asking you this question.” The prosecutor began as she rose from her seat. “But why shouldn’t we send the defendant right to prison?” The sarcastic prosecutor asked.
“Ronald stole a few pairs of pants, some shirts, deodorants and bars of soap. And yes, he stole food as well. I’m not saying what he did was right by any means, but he was just trying to survive.”
Ronald held his head low thinking of the foolish mistake he had made that had caused him to be in this predicament.
“He wasn’t trying to make a profit, but rather trying to get himself a job so he wouldn’t have to resort to stealing. He’s not a criminal, but a man trying to survive in this cruel world.”
“Your honor I don’t have any further questions right now. But I ask for permission to recall the witness.” The prosecutor stated.
“So ordered. Ms. Madison, we might need you to take the stand again,” the judge explained.
*******************
Against her contractor’s wishes she had chosen a light coffee colored paint for the walls. Adjacent to the two public computers aligned against the right wall was a small rounded table with four chairs. The large bulky desk which sat blocking the window was replaced with a high counter that rounded off by the window inviting the sun in. The reception desk, waiting area chairs and tables were all a deep chocolate tone to coordinate with the coffee colored walls.
“I brought you guys something back.” Sinclair announced as she walked in with a box of cookies that smelled up the entire office.
When Sasha had changed her hair color from blond to brunette it had made her pale skin stand out even more. Her brown eyes became more vibrant and you could even see her beautiful smile. With her thin frame and tall height, she was definitely model material. Oliver had a tanned skin tone and red hair with freckles dotted over his chubby cheeks. This heavy set man always came to work dressed to impress and was ready to dig in and help wherever he was needed.
Her employees’ eyes lit up when they saw the blue and brown signature color.
“Yes, cookies from Miss Dee’s Bakery.” Gleefully Sasha said as she dug into the mouth-watering cookies Sinclair handed her. “Oh, you have a package on your desk.”
“How was court today?” Oliver asked while Sinclair put her purse and briefcase on a nearby table.
“It went very well. I’m praying the judge will be easy on him.” Sinclair reached into her briefcase and pulled out a piece of paper which she handed it to Sasha. “I need you to fax this document over to Tracey at the Welfare Office, and then fax it to Arnold at the Housing Center.”
“No problem, I’m on it.” Sasha replied.
“And thanks Sasha.” Sinclair didn’t know what she would do without her or Oliver because they were the best employees she had ever had.
“You’re welcome. Thanks for the cookies.” Sasha said as she hurried to the fax machine.
“Well you guys enjoy these cookies, I’ll be in my office if you need me,” she said as she climbed the stairs to her loft office.
Sinclair continued that same color scheme of light coffee colored paint right to her loft office upstairs. Accent pieces such as vases and other small items had a dash of red here and there. While downstairs green was sprinkled throughout the area. The large antique desk that had been blocking the window downstairs now sat in the middle of her office gracing the huge area. The abundance of light from the windows made Miss Marjorie’s picture stand out even more on the wall as well as her picture of the Eiffel Tower in Paris where she dreamt of going one day.
As soon as she hit the top of the stairs she saw something that made her smile. She gasped at the sight of the colorful orchids sitting in a vase on her desk.
“Sinclair, Just Because, Kingston,” the note read.
Sinclair immediately dialed Kingston’s office number and waited for his secretary to put him on the phone.
“They are lovely.” She said as soon as he got on the phone.
“I was beginning to think you didn’t like them. I know they were delivered two hours ago,” Kingston said while sitting at his desk with his feet up.
“I was in court this morning and I just got back. They’re beautiful.” Sinclair said as she smelled the orchids.
“How did you know I love orchids?” Sinclair felt like God was surely shining down on her because he could not stop smiling.
“I watched how you tended to your garden and you gave exceptional care to the orchids you had planted. I figured those were your babies,” he answered her while reviewing some papers.
“Well you figured right because they are my favorite flowers Mr. Carter, or should I say Pastor Carter.” She joked.
“To answer your question that I know is coming. Just because is, just because I was thinking of you. I don’t believe it has to be a holiday, birthday or any other special day just to do something nice for someone. Just because you made me smile on our date is reason enough for me.” Kingston explained while smiling to himself. He could hear the happiness in Sinclair’s voice.
“That’s so sweet of you Kingston. I just wanted to thank you.” Sinclair said fighting back her tears because she had never received flowers before. “I was having one of those roller coaster days and this made it all better.”
“I’m glad I can be of service,” he paused before continuing. “Sinclair?”
“Yes,” she answered softly.
“There’s a nice jazz festival this weekend if you’re interested,” Kingston was really praying she’d say yes.
Ever since their first date he could not stop thinking about her. She was fine as ever and their conversation had lasted into the wee hours of the morning. Her curvaceous figure and the way she wore her dress showed pure confidence. He loved a woman that oozed confidence, not arrogance.
Sinclair had swag and she didn’t even know it. And those legs that went on forever drove Kingston insane.
“Jazz festival sounds great, but I have to drive up to Bel Air, MD this weekend to pick up items that are being donated to my agency from two different churches.” Sinclair really wanted to go to the festival and she really wanted to see Kingston again.
Kingston tried his best not to sound disappointed. “Maybe another time?”
Sinclair went out on a limb and said. “How about a road trip and lunch instead?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Kingston wasn’t about to pass up the chance to be with Sinclair no matter what he had to do.
While Sinclair is talking to Kingston, Sasha handed her a note.
“Oh, wow. I have to go back to court now. They want me back on the stand in an hour.” She said in an exasperated voice. “This is the part of my job I so hate.”
“I thought you loved what you do. Why do you hate it so much?” Kingston asked confused.
“Whether you believe it or not, I hate public speaking. For some reason it scares me and I don’t know why. It just does.” She revealed to Kingston while preparing to leave her office.
“Well you must be speaking very well because it has gotten you this far. I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he reassured her.
“Thanks, I really appreciate that. I have to go now, but I’ll pick you up on Saturday about eleven.” Sinclair said. Not only did she have company driving up North but she had a sexy pastor as her date. Her day was beginning to look even better despite her court appearance.
“I’ll text you my address and see you on Saturday. Good luck this afternoon. Bye now.” Kingston said before hanging up and getting back to work.
It was just what Sinclair had needed, some bright flowers to brighten her not so bright day. It also helped that she had another date with the handsome Kingston.
******************
Sinclair had never been called to the witness stand twice in one day. But there she was an hour later back on the stand for another round of questions.
The courtroom had become more crowded since the morning hearing. Now almost every seat on the old wooden benches was completely filled with people. Ronald was seated next to his attorney paying close attention to the proceedings.
The prosecutor began her questions without haste. “Ms. Madison I have taken into consideration everything you had said earlier today on the record. I would like to know what the average number of clients that you help is.”
“I see between forty and fifty people each and every week.”
Sinclair had the upper hand when it came to answering questions in the courtroom properly because Desmond had coached her many times before. She knew the rules about answering lawyers’ questions. Give them what they ask for and nothing more. That is unless they ask for more. She was so focused on answering the questions she didn’t even notice that Kingston had slipped into the crowded courtroom.
“Ms. Madison, how it is that you average maybe ten clients per day and yet you say you rely on donations? Isn’t it a fact that the services you offer are nothing more than public information? And you expect the court to see you as an expert in this field? You don’t have any formal education or a degree in social services or any degree for that matter. So why should we consider you an expert?” The prosecutor had begun her rant as she stood with her arms folded.
This is what Sinclair despised the most, rude attorneys. “First off, I never said I was an expert, you did.”
“Answer the question Ms. Madison.” The prosecutor shouted at her.
“Objection!” The defense attorney jumped to her feet. “She is badgering the witness and Ms. Madison was not called to be an expert witness, but rather to be a character witness.”
“Sustained. For the record Ms. Madison is not to be considered an expert.” The judge said as he turned to Sinclair. “You may continue answering the other questions now.”
She took a deep breath before she began. “You are absolutely right Ms. Tartron; I don’t have any formal education. And if you must know, I only have a high school diploma.” Sinclair heard a gasp from someone in the courtroom.
“I opted not to take drugs to wash away the pain I felt from my daily struggles of being homeless. I opted not to commit crimes just so I could have a warm bed and three square meals a day; instead I slept in a cardboard box in an alley. Refusing to sell my body for food, I ate out of the trash or simply went hungry. Determined not to let my circumstances become my future, I read anything and everything I could get my hands on to help myself. When you checked out my background, you should have dug deeper because you would have found that I was a foster child myself and I too aged out the system. I might not have a degree, but my experience outweighs any degree that could ever be bought.” Sinclair had reached back so far in her life that she had to fight back her own tears.
There was not a dry eye in the courtroom, including both Ronald and his attorney. Realizing she was defeated, the prosecutor had no further questions. Sinclair was excused from the courtroom and went straight to see the judge in his chambers because he too was touched by her story.
Kingston was blown away at what Sinclair had just revealed. He now knew why she had rarely spoken about her past, because it hurt her so much, yet she put it on display to help a stranger out. He thought to himself she was truly a special woman indeed and she would make a perfect fit in his life.