We all stand when the bailiff announces the judge’s arrival.
He calls for court to begin, and since the case was brought by the Clarks, making them the plaintiffs and us the defendants, they’re given the privilege to speak first.
Unsurprising, the first thing the attorney—Benjamin Welks as he identified himself—calls into evidence is the paternity test that does confirm Cory Clark as the biological father. He continues to speak about the family and how they are the perfect fit for raising a child. I have to give kudos to the attorney because he doesn’t mention flaws of my clients in his opening statement, but I know the tables will turn if April or Apollo take the stand.
I use the same tactic, giving nothing away with my own opening statement, but a lot has happened that affects this case since I was first hired, and every incident works in the Fosses’ favor.
We sit patiently while Mr. Welks brings Serena to the stand and then her husband, showcasing how supportive they are of their son and how they will be there every step of the way once they have custody of the baby. Egotistical jerks.
I have no questions for either of them, and the smile on Mr. Welks’ face grows with confidence as I remain silent. Things take a turn when he rests.
The judge, a man I know for being strict on both sides of the fence when it comes to custody hearings, clears his throat.
“Mr. Welks, are you forgetting a witness?”
“No, sir.”
“You’ve listed Cory Clark as testifying.”
I know the look the judge gives the man. It says he’s not happy that the man requesting custody doesn’t have the balls to get on the stand and speak for himself. If Mr. Welks refuses to put Cory up there, it goes in our favor. If he does decide to put Cory on the stand, I’m going to tear him up. Of course, I’m wanting the latter. I know it’ll put me on a more level playing field after all the things that have happened to me.
I burn from the inside out to have that rush of adrenaline that comes with proving to others that someone isn’t fit to be a parent.
Mr. Welks leans in, speaking to Henry Clark instead of Cory. The older Clark shakes his head, not wanting his son up there, but concedes with a harsh nod of his head after Mr. Welks whispers something to him.
“I’d like to call Cory Clark to the stand,” Mr. Welks says as he turns to face the judge.
Cory is sworn in, and the agitated look in his eyes makes me think this could go either way.
The young man gives half-stilted answers when questioned, not drawing an ounce of favor from the judge.
I take a moment to go over my notes when it’s my turn.
“Mr. Clark, can you tell me what happened the night of September fourth?”
Cory tilts his head to the side in confusion, a curse leaving his father’s lips. “I don’t recall.”
“I completely understand your memory being a little fuzzy that night. Maybe this document will help jog your memory.”
After going through the proper procedures of admitting several documents into evidence, I hand the report to Cory.
If looks could kill when he realizes what the thing is, I’d be dead.
“Can you now recall what happened September fourth?”
“I was arrested.”
“For?” I prod.
“DUI.”
“Driving under the influence,” I clarify.
“Yes,” he growls.
“Of alcohol?”
Cory glances at his father, an evil look in his eyes.
“Cocaine,” Cory answers.
“And that second document there. Can you tell the court what that is?”
Cory flips to the second page. “An arrest report.”
“For?”
“Unlawful carry of a firearm.”
The judge snaps his head in Cory’s direction.
“Specifically...” I prod.
“A shotgun.”
“You’re nineteen, Mr. Clark. Shotguns aren’t illegal for you if purchased properly in California. Why would you be charged with unlawful carry?”
“It was sawed off.”
“The barrel was shortened?” He nods in confirmation. “When did that arrest occur?”
Cory looks back down at the paper. “September sixth.”
“Two days after your arrest for being under the influence of cocaine while operating a motor vehicle?”
“Yes.”
“Have you gone to court for either of those cases, Mr. Clark?”
He shakes his head, prompting the court reporter to remind him he has to give verbal answers.
“No, I haven’t,” he says with such an attitude the judge clears his throat in warning.
“That third packet of information there. What is that?”
Cory scrunches his nose as he looks down at the documents.
“From what I can tell, notes from a meeting.”
“Can you confirm by reading the title?”
“Clark v. Fosse Mediation.”
“Do you remember participating in that mediation?”
“Just come out and say it,” Cory snaps.
“You’ll answer the question young man,” the judge demands.
“I was there,” Cory hisses.
“And you can confirm from the notes that you declared that you didn’t want to raise your child, that your parents were the ones trying to force this on you?”