Chapter 5 - THE EMERGENCY HEARING
My family-law attorney, Rachel Kim, met me at the hospital that evening.
She was carrying a laptop before she was fully through the door.
“Police report?”
“Being prepared.”
“Medical documentation?”
I pointed toward Noah’s chart.
“Photograph the cast. With his permission if possible.”
That wording mattered.
Noah had experienced enough adults deciding things around his body.
I asked.
He nodded.
Rachel continued.
“Did Lena admit knowing Travis had violent outbursts?”
“In front of the detective.”
“Good.”
I hated that word in this context.
She saw my expression.
“Legally useful. Not morally good.”
Better.
“What happens?”
“We request temporary emergency custody and a protective order restricting Travis from contact.”
“Lena?”
“That depends on what investigators uncover.”
“She left him with Travis.”
“Yes.”
“She knew he punched doors.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would she get access?”
“Because family court works from evidence, Michael. Not your anger.”
Apparently everyone had decided that was the lesson I needed.
They were probably right.
The emergency hearing happened the next morning by video because Noah was still being observed.
Lena appeared beside her attorney.
No Travis.
He was being held pending his own proceedings.
Rachel presented the medical report.
The 911 call.
The responding officers’ notes.
The detective’s preliminary statement.
Most importantly, my original call with Noah had been captured partly through my company conference system because my phone had been connected to the room’s audio equipment.
Thirty-one seconds.
His voice.
My questions.
Then Travis shouting:
“Who are you talking to? Give me the phone!”
The judge listened.
Lena cried silently.
My hands shook beneath the table.
The court granted me temporary sole physical custody.
Travis was prohibited from contacting Noah.
Lena received no unsupervised visitation until the child-safety investigation progressed.
It wasn’t a final ruling.
But it meant Noah was coming home with me.
Except there was one problem.
The house no longer felt safe.
Travis had hurt him there.
The bat was from Noah’s own garage.
His mother had walked out and left him behind.
So I didn’t take him back.
Derek helped me move Noah’s favorite things into my downtown apartment.
Blue blanket.
Books.
Toy trucks.
The surviving half of his dinosaur.
At bedtime, Noah stared around the unfamiliar room.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Can you leave the light on?”
“Absolutely.”
“All night?”
“All night.”
He thought for a moment.
“Can Uncle Derek sleep here?”
Derek, sitting on the floor assembling a small nightstand, looked up.
“I have been informed I’m staying.”
Noah nodded.
“Good.”
Then he asked something that made both of us stop.
“Is Travis mad I told?”
I sat beside him.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“He said bad kids tell.”
I swallowed.
“Noah.”
He looked at me.
“Telling someone when you’re hurt is never what makes you bad.”
“But Mom said family problems stay in family.”
May you like
There it was.
Another sentence investigators would eventually ask Lena to explain.
