Jackson was back on his feet. “Uniform Parentage Act, Your Honor?”
Judge Chen nodded. “Quite so.” He turned to Holloway. “The State of California is not in the habit of tearing children from a secure home environment without cause. The Court will determine whether a paternity test is warranted based on the evidence presented.”
“I understand, Your Honor, and to that end, we would like to read a notarized statement from Karen Simmons—friend to the deceased Molly Abbott—and to enter said statement into the record of proceedings here.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Jackson said, but the judge held up a hand.
“This is not a trial, but an evidentiary hearing. I’ll allow it.” He nodded at Holloway. “Proceed.”
Holloway set a pair of glasses on his nose.
“‘I, Karen Jane Simmons, do swear under penalty of perjury that the following is true and correct: Molly Abbott was a close friend of mine since we were thirteen years old. After high school, Molly began to drink pretty heavily, and traveled place to place, hooking up with different boyfriends. But we always managed to stay in touch. She told me when she got pregnant, and I met up with her in Bakersfield after the baby was born. She told me the baby’s father was a guy named Ross Mathis but that he wanted nothing to do with Olivia. Molly said she’d hooked up with another guy around the same time named Sawyer. He was studying to be a lawyer and that meant he was going to be well off. She said that her current boyfriend wouldn’t stay with her if she kept the baby so she was going to drive to San Francisco where Sawyer lived, and tell him it was his baby. I didn’t see her or hear from her again after that and was saddened to learn of her death. She was my best friend and I miss her.’
“Signed,” Holloway concluded, “Karen Simmons.” He took off his glasses. “Miss Simmons has provided text exchanges between her and Miss Abbott around the time in question that verify her statement, and has agreed to testify, either in deposition or in open court, should the Court desire it.”
Ross Mathis. Olivia’s natural father. Hearing the name brought bile to my mouth. He didn’t want his own child, but I did. I would fucking die for that girl, but instead I was fighting to keep her. Under the table, my hands clenched into fists.
“Your Honor,” Holloway said in a closing-statement kind of tone, “Alice and Gerald Abbott are loving, devoted people who lost their daughter to the terrible disease of alcoholism. They had no idea they had a granddaughter, and the instant they learned of her existence, they set about taking the steps to see her, to be with her, and to provide for her the kind of life she needs and deserves. At this time, they request weekend visitation rights, and that a paternity test be administered, to either establish or refute Mr. Haas’s claim that he is Olivia’s father, before any further steps are taken toward granting permanent custody. Thank you.”
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Even my pounding heart slowed to a heavy clang.
The judge nodded. “Supervised weekend visitation is hereby granted, and a paternity test shall be administered at the Health and Human Services department on Monday of next week.”
Jackson was on his feet again. “Your Honor, my client has just completed the requirements for graduating UC Hastings law school, and is set to take the bar exam in Sacramento the week after next. We request a postponement of all proceedings until the completion of the exam, to give him time
to focus and prepare without the threat of this outrageous and callous attempt to separate a loving father from his daughter hanging over his head.”
The Abbotts visibly flinched at this. Judge Chen fixed me with a scrutinizing look. I probably looked like nothing like a ‘loving’ father, but I remained still as stone, afraid I’d shatter if I moved.
“There is one other issue we feel is of interest to the Court,” Holloway said.
“Jesus, now what?” I whispered to Jackson.
He made a silencing motion with his hand.
“Mr. Smith has stipulated that his client has provided safe and adequate care for Olivia, yet a rudimentary investigation reveals that his childcare provider, Elena Melendez, is not licensed to run a daycare. She is merely a neighbor who babysits Olivia for eight hours a day while also taking care of her own two small children.”
Jackson shot to his feet.
“I believe the obvious health and happiness of Olivia speaks for itself. This is irrelevant, Your Honor, and frankly, it’s insulting to the good work and kindness of Ms. Melendez whom Mr. Haas pays appropriately for her excellent care.”
“I am merely speaking to the general environment in which the child is raised,” Mr. Holloway said. “Mr. Haas relies on unlicensed childcare from Ms. Melendez and occasionally from Darlene Montgomery, his upstairs neighbor.”
Jackson held up his hands. “Again. Relevance?”
“It’s relevant,” Mr. Holloway said, “as Ms. Montgomery was incarcerated for drug possession three years ago and spent three months in a New York County jail.”
It felt as is the air in the room had dropped twenty degrees, as I went cold all over.
“What’d he say?” I blurted stupidly. The words fell out of my mouth. I had to have misheard…
“Is this true, Mr. Haas?” the judge asked.
Jackson looked to me, eyes full of questions.
I shook my head. “I don’t…I never…”
Darlene. Jail. Drug possession.