Phoebe decided not to tell anyone about her little run-in with Family Services on Monday morning. Instead, she ignored the day’s events completely – hoping they’d just disappear. However, when Tuesday morning came, those problems finally chased her down – along with her mother.
Mrs. Gatteau burst into the strip club just before noon, quickly moving from bright sunlight to dark shadows as she approached the hostess stand.
“Where’s Phoebe Gatteau?”
The hostess stammered, caught off-guard for a brief moment, “You mean Porsche?”
“Portia? God no, Portia wouldn’t catch herself dead in this place!” Just then, she noticed both Tracie and Phoebe attempting to hide from her.
“Phoebe Eva Gatteau, stop right there! I have to talk to you!”
The entire club came to a standstill. The dancer on stage stopped hustling businessmen as everyone turned towards the door. The DJ even ran his hand across the soundboard, turning the music completely off.
“Come here,” she demanded, grabbing her bikini-clad daughter by the triceps and dragging her out of the club. Mr. Gatteau waited by her car, his arms folded across his chest.
“Daddy,” pleaded Phoebe, “I swear I didn’t know what to do.”
“You knew exactly what to do.”
Tracie, along with some security guards, dancers, and businessmen came out the front door, curious as to what would happen next. Mr. Gatteau pointed to Tracie.
“Get my daughter’s stuff and bring it out right now.”
“Yes, Mr. Gatteau.”
Mr. Gatteau drove Phoebe home, where Portia and Alex waited in the living room for the rest of the family to arrive. As soon as Phoebe’s car pulled in front of the old brownstone, he marched out onto the front porch, closely followed by Portia.
“Why the hell didn’t you say something?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
“Jesus, Phoebe, what the hell’s wrong with you?”
As Alex approached her, Mr. Gatteau stepped between them. Portia came around both of them, knocking Phoebe in the face with her hand. Phoebe started for Portia and Alex started for Phoebe. Mr. Gatteau did all he could to keep everyone apart.
“This will not solve one thing! Let’s take this inside right now!”
Mrs. Gatteau took Phoebe inside while Alex and Portia tagged along behind their father. Phoebe ran upstairs and grabbed a t-shirt to throw on. When she returned downstairs, Alex and Portia were on one side of the living room, her parents were on the other. Phoebe sat next to her father, keeping him between her and Alex…and Portia, too, for that matter.
“So what happened?” asked Phoebe.
“Like you don’t know…”
“Shush, Portia,” said Mrs. Gatteau.
“I really don’t know what happened. The caseworker came and the next thing I knew, they took Ramona and Penny away.
“They?”
“You know, the Police.”
“I have a hearing in Domestic Relations Court tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow’s Altoona.”
“We’ve got more pressing matters here.”
“I’m not giving up another solo,” said Phoebe.
“We’re using your car.”
“No way, dad.”
“Phoebe,” interrupted Alex, “we need your car. The hearing is in the morning and your solo is at night. We can probably do both.”
“It’s a four hour ride from Pittsburgh to Altoona, Alex.”
“No it isn’t sis. It’s only like two hours.”
“This isn’t fair at all.”
“I’ve got the keys and the title is still in my name, so it’s really my car,” explained Mr. Gatteau. Phoebe gave everyone in the room a hard glare. Everyone else was silent, including her mother. Phoebe shook her head as she stomped upstairs to her room.
“That was easy,” said Alex with a tinge of hard irony and sarcasm in his voice.
Everyone went to his or her usual corners. Portia borrowed Alex’s car to fetch dinner for them. Everyone else made separate rounds in and out of the kitchen, including Phoebe, who made it very clear she was still upset and still not talking to anyone.
That night, nobody got much sleep. The next morning, the battle lines were still drawn as Phoebe spent a long time showering, sure to lock the bathroom door behind her.
“Come on!” said Portia, “We’re all going to be late because of this.”
Phoebe didn’t care who she held up, at least until her father had a say in things.
“Phoebe, if I have to break down this door, I’m not only taking your car, but I’m kicking you out of my house, too.”
“Ryan,” whispered Mrs. Gatteau, “You wouldn’t dare!”
“I absolutely would.”
After a brief pause, Phoebe emerged from the bathroom without a word of apology. It seemed yesterday’s regrets had been replaced by today’s selfishness. Portia squeezed between her father and the doorway, and quickly got ready.
“Come on, let’s go,” urged Alex.
“Who’s riding with who?” asked Portia.
“You can go with Alex and we’ll take Phoebe’s car.”
“You don’t need two cars,” said Phoebe.
“Five of us can’t fit into one car.”
“I’m not going.”
“Yes you are.”
Phoebe stood there momentarily, waiting for someone else to back down. Nobody did. Finally, she marched out to her car and waited for her father.
Alex followed Mr. Gatteau to the courthouse garage, parking on the roof. The morning sky was blue and calm – maybe that was a sign of good fortune.
They went together, finding their way through the maze of buildings to Domestic Relations court. The large waiting room was relatively empty. Ramona sat with her cousin Jimmy next to their courtroom, waiting for it to open.
Alex greeted them with open arms before sitting next to Ramona. Phoebe sat next to Jimmy. Portia put as much distance between herself and Ramona, sitting next to her parents.
“What are you doing here?” Phoebe said.
“Jimmy bailed me out this morning.”
“That’s good, right?”
Ramona nodded, “I think so. I hated it in there.”
When the doors opened, they filed into the empty courtroom and sat in the first bench, keeping the same basic order, Alex and Ramona first, Portia last.
People slowly filled the court as the first case, a case of child abuse and grandparental custody, was being heard.
“Now, ma’am,” said the Judge, “How do you feel this would be in the child’s best case?”
“Her mom is working two minimum wage jobs and her father no longer lives at home.”
“And how do you feel you’d be best served to raise the child?”
“We’re both retired teachers – we’ve both dealt with children all our lives.”
The judge nodded.
“And, your honor, we have stable incomes and a large home in a good neighborhood.”
The judge nodded.
“Does the mother give consent?”
The court appointed guardian and an administrative lawyer stood up simultaneously.
“Your honor,” said the lawyer, “the mother is indigent. She has a track record of child neglect and drug abuse.”
“Is she present today?”
“No, ma’am, the mother of the child is in a rehabilitation program, going through heroin withdraw.”
The judge leaned back in her chair and scratched her cheek as she looked at the dependent’s grandparents.
“Alright,” said the judge, “I need the court guardian to meet with the grandparents and draw up an action plan, gather all the paperwork, you know, bank records, pay stubs, mortgage agreements, so on and so forth, and bring it back to me. We’ll have the bailiff set up your next meeting time – in about two weeks, to make sure everything is in order. Until that time, we’ll award custody to the state, pending the outcome of the next hearing.”
“Thanks, your honor,” said the lawyer. Meanwhile, the court guardian leaned over and whispered into the grandmother’s ear. She gave a nod and smile. They filed out of the courtroom while the lawyer approached the bench and spoke for a few moments. The bailiff returned to his desk at the front of the courtroom, and called out the next case.
It went on like this for approximately two hours as the Gatteaus waited for their turn. Finally, around 11:30 the Bailiff excused the court for lunch.
“Oh, come on,” hissed Phoebe.
They adjourned for recess, venturing over to the hot dog shop right across the way. It wasn’t much, but it wasn’t the courtroom cafeteria, either. Phoebe ate just a single soft pretzel – something to fill her tummy, yet keep her from putting on baby-weight around the waist. Portia, who was actually the one pregnant, wasn’t looking after her figure at all. She grabbed three chili-cheese coneys and shared them with Alex.
“How much longer is this going to take?”
“It’ll be over when it’s over,” replied her father.
“It’s a two-hour drive.”
“And it’s only noon. The game doesn’t start for another 7 hours.”
Phoebe popped the final bite into her mouth and stood up, pacing back and forth next to the table.
They returned to the courtroom just before 12:30. The judge and bailiff arrived promptly at 12:30, but sat in conference at her bench for several minutes. Mrs. Aldene James, Ramona’s Case Worker, arrived just as they began the afternoon session.
“Did you know this was going to be heard in the afternoon?” Ramona whispered to Mrs. James. Mrs. James nodded.
“Why didn’t you say something yesterday?”
“I didn’t have to.”
Ramona stewed as the next case was heard. It was another neglect case. The child was awarded to the care of the state in that case, too.
“State of Pennsylvania vs. Ramona Johnson.”
Ramona approached the defendant’s table and sat next to her court-appointed attorney.
“Miss Johnson, how do you plead to the charges of Child Neglect, Endangering a Child, Welfare Fraud, and Public Intoxication?”
“No Contest.”
“And that means you understand that you do not contend with the facts of this case, is that correct?”
Ramona nodded her head a bit, and then changed her mind, and shook it.
“You don’t agree?”
“I mean, I didn’t hit my child and I wasn’t drunk, either.”
“Mrs. James, what are the facts you present to the court?”
“I was making a routine visit to Miss Johnson’s residence, when I found out that she not only knew who the father of the baby was, but that she withheld that information from several Federal documents. She received illegal payments of no less than $7,039.25, to include aid for the dependent child, food stamps, and Supplemental Income cash disbursements. She also appeared to be drunk at the time I made the visit.”
“I wasn’t drunk,” spat Ramona.
The D.A. quickly whispered in her ear.
“Your honor,” stated the D.A., “A breathalyzer right-to-refusal was administered to Miss Johnson.”
“Is this correct?” the Judge asked Mrs. James.
“That’s correct, your honor, because she willingly complied with the police officer’s request for a test.”
“Still, Mrs. James, you know the standard procedures and it was just as much your responsibility as the officer’s to make it clear to Miss Johnson that her civil rights were being infringed.”
“But, your honor…”
“You know I can’t allow this…”
“What just happened?” Phoebe whispered.
“It looks like Ramona’s going to get off scot-free.”
“Good.”
“However,” continued the Judge, “I can order regular testing based on the testimony given here – by both the police officers and Phoebe Gatteau.”
The D.A. whispered in Ramona’s ear. Ramona nodded and pointed to Phoebe. Now, it was Phoebe’s turn to take the stand.
She crossed from the gallery to the stand as the bailiff showed her the way. She took an oath and sat in the confined wooden cubicle.
It was different than she imagined. The weight of several pairs of eyes on her was nothing like being on stage or singing a solo. For Phoebe, it was utterly disarming.
“Judge, as you can see in the witness affidavit, Miss Gatteau clearly states that she and Miss Johnson had several drinks and smoked marijuana the night before.”
“Miss Gatteau, is this true?”
Phoebe stammered.
“You are not on trial dear, we just want your honest testimony.”
“Well, yeah, we’d been…uh.”
“Had you been drinking?” asked Mrs. James.
Phoebe nodded.
“Out loud for the court.”
“Yeah, we drank a little,” she stammered, “Is that a crime?”
“No, but it establishes a pattern of behaviors with Miss Johnson. In addition to both alcohol and drug abuse, she has neglected to watch her own child, having relatives, friends, and sometimes even strangers watch her baby.”
Mrs. James interjected.
“This is why, your honor, we have to put the child into Foster Care until we can establish who the father is and what is in the best interest of the child.”
Portia glanced down at Alex. Alex remained silent.
“Go ahead and step down, Phoebe.”
Phoebe made her way to the gallery. Then, Mrs. James called Alex to the stand. He passed his sister on his way to the podium. She looked straight ahead, keeping her eyes focused on the far end wall.
“Can you state your name for the court?”
“Alex Gatteau.”
“Are you the father of Ramona Johnson’s baby?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you were living with Ramona?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Were you aware she was collecting welfare?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Could you tell us why weren’t you paying child support?”
“She was living with me.”
“But you know it’s your responsibility to support the development of your child, correct?”
Alex squirmed uncomfortably.
“Ramona didn’t want to marry me.”
“But you were living with her until just recently, correct?”
“Yes,” he answered abruptly, “I left her four months ago and took Penny with me. She didn’t even want to raise the baby. She just wanted Welfare.”
“But you know she cannot receive Welfare if you’re able to help support her.”
“I was working part-time and I didn’t make that much money. If we were married, she’d lose her cash payments and she didn’t want that.”
“She didn’t even report you were making any money. She didn’t even report you existed.”
“I can’t stop her from filling out forms.”
“But you could’ve reported her.”
“I didn’t really know what to do with her. I just wanted Penny and Ramona wasn’t about to get a job. This way, she kept out of my hair.”
The judge cleared her throat.
“Mr. Gatteau, there will be penalties for this. I’ll have to confer with the Child Support Enforcement Agency of Allegheny County. We will contact you in a few days to see what repairs you’ll have to make. Then, we’ll take a portion of your checks to repay the debt and to pay Child Support going forward.”
“What about her?” said Alex as he pointed to Ramona.
“The court will deal with her separately. You are still responsible for paying back that money. Is that clear?”
Alex nodded.
“Court adjourned. Mr. Gatteau, you’re free to go. Have a good holiday. Bailiff, take Miss Johnson into holding.
“That ain’t fair!” cried Ramona.
“Like I said, Miss Robinson, we will deal with the two of you separately. You’ve both committed different crimes. As such, different rules apply.”
As Alex joined his family while the Sheriff escorted Ramona out of the courtroom. Portia let out a sigh of relief. Alex, on the other hand, wasn’t so relieved.
Luckily, there was still something to take all this off his mind.
“Can we go now?” asked Phoebe.
Mr. Gatteau nodded assuredly. The Gatteaus split into two groups. Portia and Alex went in one car. Phoebe and her parents took the other. Alex and Portia rushed home and got ready. By the time they got back to their parent’s house, everyone else was ready and raring to go.
“Come on, no one’s going to ruin this for me now!” exclaimed Phoebe.
She snatched the keys from her father’s hand. She wasn’t going to leave one more thing to chance. If she were to be late, at least now it would be her fault.
No comments:
Post a Comment