Chapter 8 - The Hallway Confrontation
Friday morning arrived under an overcast, iron-grey sky. The county courthouse smelled of damp wool, floor wax, and centuries of human misery.
Evan and I arrived thirty minutes early, accompanied by Sarah Vance. As we turned the corner toward Courtroom 3B, we saw them.
Mom was sitting on a wooden bench, wearing an austere dark navy suit that looked like something out of a funeral catalog. Brenda sat beside her, nervously chewing on the cuticle of her thumb. My father was pacing near the water fountain, his hands shoved deep into his overcoat pockets, looking like a man awaiting an execution.
When Mom saw us, she stood up, smoothing her skirt. She attempted a look of sorrowful pity, tilting her head.
"Claire," she said softly, loud enough for a passing bailiff to hear. "It doesn't have to be like this. If you just agree to let Brenda and me supervise your care for three months, we can drop this entire proceeding. I'm doing this for Lily's life."
Sarah Vance stepped directly in front of me, cutting off Mom’s sightline.
"Mrs. Dawson, do not speak to my client," Sarah said with icy precision. "Any further communication must go through Mr. Higgins."
Marcus Higgins, a portly man with a rumpled tie, stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Now, counsel, we're just trying to find an amicable path for the child's welfare—"
"Save it for the judge, Marcus," Sarah interrupted, her voice sharp as broken glass. "Because when we step into that courtroom, I will be presenting medical records that directly contradict your client's sworn statements, along with a motion for statutory sanctions against both you and Mrs. Dawson for filing a bad-faith, frivolous petition."
Higgins blinked, his face flushing red. He turned sharply to look at Mom. "Evelyn, you assured me you had the pediatrician's corroboration regarding the low weight."
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Mom’s veneer cracked for a split second, a flash of pure venom breaking through her sorrowful mask. "The doctor is covering for her! Anyone with eyes can see the child is sick!"
The courtroom doors swung open with a heavy wooden groan. The bailiff stepped out. "Case number 24-D-412. Dawson versus Dawson. Parties enter."
