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Judge Stephen Cunnison then got up and left the bench. I sat with Jack, waiting for my hearing on the restraining order to be called. After about twenty minutes, the bailiff came in and told us that court was closed for the day. “Jack,” I whispered, “How could this be? I get a hearing, don’t I? Doesn’t the law, the Constitution guarantee me a hearing?” “I think so,” he whispered back. We got up to leave. “Let’s go check the calendar,” I suggested. The calendar would be on file in the clerk’s office, so we trundled downstairs and into the probate office. “Would you check this morning’s docket, to see if a restraining order hearing was scheduled?” I asked. The clerk bustled off. In strode David Horspool. He parked himself at the counter, about three feet away from us. He appeared to be simply lounging there, making no effort to engage the clerks. “I think he is spying on us, Jack,” I whispered. Jack suddenly seemed very nervous. “I have to go smoke,” he announced. “Let’s go.” “No,” I said. “I need to wait to see what the clerk has to say about today’s schedule.” “I need a cigarette,” he said loudly. “So go have one,” I suggested. “I want to leave now!” he bellowed. I whirled around to face him. “So leave,” I said. “You can leave right now. I am waiting to see what the clerk has to say.” Jack glared at me, but he didn’t leave. The hennahaired clerk came bustling back. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. “There was a hearing on an RO scheduled at 10:30 this morning I, case number RIP 080974.” (EXHIBIT 9 shows that no one was listed as being in court for this restraining order hearing.) I looked over at attorney David Horspool. He was still leaning idly against the probate counter, staring blankly into space. “Let’s get out of here,” I said to Jack. “This is unbelievable.”
I was talking with someone today about what happens when “they” offer you a check. According to my friend, you better take the check or you’re dead. It reminded me of when I refused the check, as discussed here in EXILE. Is this what ruined me?
Mom had come to the hearing and we were going to go out for lunch. We were standing outside the courtroom when Melodie came marching up. Her eyes were an ice cold shade of red. “You are disallowed to have lunch with your mother,” she announced. I saw the shock waves and pain pass across my mother’s face. Mom left with her prison guard and Mel and I were alone in the hall.
She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse. “Just this once,” she said, “I am going to offer you a check.” I looked at this tall, imperious woman, waving an envelope in front of me. I didn’t want any checks from this woman. I wanted my mother back. “What about my mother,” I said quietly. Melodie responded as quickly as a raptor. “You won’t quit,” she said, then bellowed, over and over: “You won’t quit! You won’t quit!”
Then, shockingly, her anger turned into a sneer. “You won’t quit!” she declared, as if pronouncing final judgment.
EXILE is available at thebookpatch.com
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