Scot stood up again. “Ms. Baill is seeking immediate reunification with her daughter and asks that a temporary order of joint custody be entered.”
Bill stood up. “That’s patently ridiculous. Ms. Baill has no job and no money and nowhere to live. How can she possibly take the responsibility of joint custody for the minor child? Additionally, Ms. Baill has no parenting skills. As I pointed out previously, her own mother was an addict who abandoned her, so Ms. Baill knows nothing about positive parenting. Perhaps after some parenting classes she would be ready to assume some limited custodial care, but not now. Also, we should overlook neither Ms. Baill’s bad behavior in prison—she was repeatedly sent to solitary confinement in 2005 for fighting and drug use—nor the flight risk she poses. Her only family is in Florida. Who is to say she won’t try to take Grace away with her? She’s already shown a disregard for the laws. We submit that there should be no visitation and no attempt at reunification until the parenting plan is modified next year. That will allow Ms. Baill time to show her true desires with regard to parenting.”
“Your Honor!” Scot said, rising. “That’s punitive on its face. Ms. Baill does not have a drug problem. It’s—”
The commissioner held up his big hand. “I am going to allow supervised visitation between your client and her daughter. Because of the severity of this situation and the extreme separation that has occurred, a professional reunification specialist will supervise every visit unless one of the child’s relatives agrees to be present. Between now and the trial date, this court will receive regular reports from the GAL.” He hit his gavel on the desk. “Next case.”
Lexi felt that little gavel strike reverberate up her spine. Turning to Scot, she tried to keep a smile on her face for his benefit. He had tried so hard. She didn’t want him to know how the words supervised visitation sickened her. She’d been in that room before, under the watchful eyes of some dispassionate professional; only she’d been the little girl. Now she’d be the untrustworthy mother. “I get to spend time with her, that’s what matters, right?”
Scot took her by the elbow and steered her toward the side door. Once in the hallway, he led her down to a quiet corner. “I’m sorry, Lexi.”
“Don’t be sorry. I know you did your best. And I get to see her. Get to know her. I’ll prove to all of them that I deserve another chance. A year is a long time. Maybe by then—”
“It’s not that simple,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“The court wants a professional social worker to accompany your visits, someone who specializes in difficult reunifications.”
“I heard that.”
“People like that are really, really expensive.”
An unfamiliar bitterness welled up in Lexi, left a sour taste in her mouth. “Of course it comes down to money.”
“I’ll get started on research. There must be a way around this, but all I can see on its face is to ask one of the Farradays to supervise.”
“Yeah. That’s going to happen.”
“Don’t give up, Lexi. I’ll keep trying.”
“Sure,” she said, slinging her purse over her shoulder. She couldn’t wait to get out of these ridiculously girly clothes. She should have known better. The whole legal system was set up to give people like the Farradays what they wanted. “I’m outta here, Scot. Thanks.” She started to walk away.
He grabbed her by the arm. “Don’t do anything stupid, Lexi.”
“Like what? Love my daughter?” Her voice broke on that and she turned away, walking fast.
Twenty-four