Julia Karr - Truth

A short man with dark curly hair entered through a door behind the bench and sat.

“All be seated,” the officer said. “Court is now in session.”

Judge Hughes busied himself with reading something. There were voices behind me. I strained to hear what was being said. All I could make out was Miss Maldovar asking one of the officers, “Where is Judge Patton?” The only part of the officer’s reply I could hear was “emergency.” Had Miss Maldovar expected there to be a certain judge?

The judge raised his head. “All interested parties, please identify yourselves. We’ll start here.” He pointed directly at me.

“I’m Nina Oberon. This is my sister, Delisa, and our friend Mrs. Jenkins.”

“Where are Edith and Herbert Oberon?”

“Pops—I mean, Herbert—is, uh… he’s in jail, and Edith is in the hospital. I have a paper here that says she’s going to be fine.” I held out the doctor’s statement.

“Bailiff.” Judge Hughes motioned the court officer to bring him Dr. Silverman’s statement. While he studied it, he said, “Mrs. Jenkins, what is your interest in this case?”

“As friends of the family, my husband and I have opened up our home to the Oberons. They are now living in an apartment in our building.”

“Your husband is… ?”

“Jonathan Jenkins.”

“Jonathan Jenkins, senior Media investigative correspondent?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Interesting.” He laid down the paper and looked directly at me. “Nina Oberon, are you of age?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” I held out my wrist, showing the XVI.

“Your Honor, if I may speak.” Crow Face stood.

The judge narrowed his eyes. “When I am ready, I will ask for your input, Miss… ?”

“Griswold,” Crow Face answered.

“And you are…”

“Child Protective Services. You see, Your Honor—”

“Just answer the questions I ask. When I want more from you, you’ll be the first to know.” He turned to Songbird. “And you?”

“Angie Page, Child Protective Services, junior officer.”

“Thank you, Miss Page. Sir?”

“CPS officer Bolton, Your Honor.”

The judge nodded as his eyes scanned the courtroom. They lit on Mrs. Marchant. “Caroline? Caroline Marchant? Is that you?”

Mrs. Marchant nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“I’ll be damned. I haven’t seen you since, well…” His voice trailed off. “Now is not the time, nor the place. To what do I owe the honor of having you in my courtroom?”

“I’m here on behalf of the Oberon girls,” she said. “I wanted to be certain justice was served. With you on the bench, I’m sure it will be.”

I couldn’t help but notice her eyes cut in Miss Maldovar’s direction.

“Thank you for that vote of confidence.” He scribbled something on a piece of paper, then looked behind us. “And you, ma’am?”

Miss Maldovar stood. “I am Delisa’s teacher, Adana Maldovar. Like Mrs. Marchant, I am here for the girls.”

“Thank you. You may be seated.” He turned to the Prosecution table. “Now, Miss Griswold, what are the specifics in this case?”

“Herbert Oberon was arrested for being a subversive. He’s the father of the infamous, late Alan Oberon. That ne’er-do-well who pumped up the Resistance with his following of nonconformists. The law states that no child will be allowed to stay in the care and under the influence of a known—”

“I am well aware of the law, and hardly need you to remind me of it.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Crow Face at least had the intelligence to appear contrite, which I’m sure was all for show.

“Who brought this to the attention of CPS?”

“Anonymous.”

“Of course.” He turned away from Crow Face. “Miss Maldovar, please approach.”

She came down the aisle to the judge’s bench.

“How has the child been in school? Problems? Poor performance?”

“On the contrary,” Miss Maldovar said. “She’s quite well adjusted, given the horrible circumstances of her recent life—her mother’s death.” She clucked her tongue sympathetically. “And she’s in the top percentile of students. Very bright. I’ve appointed her my classroom assistant.” She lowered her voice. “She’s a delightful child. I think this writ business is ridiculous. Some busybody with a grudge against the Oberons, perhaps? Alan Oberon, whatever he may have been, has not been an influence in Delisa’s life. She’s not even his biological daughter.”

The blood drained from my face. I hadn’t thought that would come up. If they did a DNA scan on Dee, they’d know the truth.

“Of course,” Miss Maldovar continued, “with Herbert Oberon in B.O.S.S. custody he is not caring for nor influencing her. And Edith Oberon has been charged with nothing that I’m aware of.”

Crow Face burst out, “But she’s—”

The judge held up a silencing hand. “Has Mrs. Oberon been charged with anything?”

“No.” Crow Face looked downright disappointed.

If everything hadn’t been so serious, I would’ve laughed at her discomfiture. I was rather enjoying seeing her be treated the way she’d treated me.

“Thank you, Miss Maldovar. Mrs. Marchant. Do you mind?” The judge indicated the space in front of his bench.

Mrs. Marchant’s transchair skimmed to the center of the room.

“What about Nina Oberon?”

“Nina’s a good student. A Creative with a part-time job at the Art Institute, which hasn’t interfered with her schoolwork. I can vouch for her integrity and her responsibility.”

“Thank you.” A look of almost desperate tenderness crossed the judge’s face. “Bailiff.”

The officer went to the bench. The judge whispered something to him and handed him a sheet of paper. The bailiff gave the sheet of paper to Mrs. Marchant, who had returned to her spot by the wall. I tried to catch her expression, but the judge rapped his gavel and all eyes were on the bench.

“It is the finding of this court that there is nothing defensible in the writ as it stands. Delisa Oberon is currently to stay in the custody of her grandmother, Edith Oberon, and her of-age sister, Nina Oberon. Should Herbert Oberon be released from incarceration, the court will ascertain if, at that point, he is legally being considered a subversive. If so, this case will be revisited. But for now, case closed.” He struck his gavel on its block.

“All rise,” the bailiff intoned, and the judge exited the courtroom.

I pulled Dee into a huge hug. Mrs. Jenkins put her arms around both our shoulders. With my eyes closed, and the smell of Mom on Dee’s clothes, I could imagine Mrs. Jenkins was Ginnie. Family. Together.

The spell was broken when Miss Maldovar and Mrs. Marchant joined us at the Defense table.

“I’m so glad it turned out in your favor,” Miss Maldovar said. “I hope I was of some help.”

“You were,” Dee said. “And, Mrs. Marchant, thank you so much for saying all those things about Nina.”

“They’re true,” Mrs. Marchant said. “She’s an excellent role model. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She glided past us, exiting through the same door the judge had used.

Crow Face noisily pushed back her chair and huffed out of the courtroom. Songbird ducked her head, giving me the slightest of smiles. The nondescript man followed them both.

We’d won, and Dee could stay with us, her family. I couldn’t help but wonder who’d actually filed the writ and how this outcome would make him or her feel.

On the way home we stopped at Metro. Gran’s spirits lifted with the news that the writ had been denied. Dr. Silverman was moving her to Edgewater Rehabilitation Center after Holiday, and hopefully home shortly thereafter. The one thing she didn’t bring up was Pops. Which was probably for the best. If she got all worked up again, Silverman might make her stay in the hospital longer, and none of us wanted that.