“When people say Mom can’t keep me because she doesn’t have enough money.”
The silence afterward was different from the silence before.
Before, it had been judgment.
Now it was discomfort.
Mr.
Brackley stood.
“Your Honor, I strongly caution against allowing a child of seven to interpret adult legal discussions.”
Judge Elwood’s eyes sharpened.
“I agree completely.”
Mr.
Brackley seemed relieved.
Then the judge continued.
“Which is why I am concerned that he appears to have been exposed to them.”
Logan’s face changed.
Mr.
Brackley sat back down.
Judge Elwood addressed Crew again.
“Who told you that your mother might lose you because she doesn’t have enough money?”
Crew stared at the floor.
I stopped breathing.
He did not answer immediately.
Then he whispered, “Dad said Mom couldn’t give me what he could.”
Logan pushed his chair back.
“That is not what I said.”
The judge raised one hand.
Logan stopped.
Crew looked over his shoulder.
“You said your house was better,” he said quietly.
“And you said the judge would see.”
“Crew,” Logan said, forcing a smile, “buddy, you misunderstood me.”
Crew’s fingers went back to his shirt collar.
The judge noticed.
So did I.
Mr.
Brackley tried to redirect.
“Children often compress complicated conversations into inaccurate statements.
My client’s home does offer material advantages.
There is nothing improper about acknowledging that.”
Judge Elwood folded his hands.
“Material advantages are not the same as parental fitness.”
For the first time all morning, nobody on Logan’s side had an immediate response.
The judge returned to my documents.
He asked about rent.
I answered.
He asked whether utilities were current.
They were, though sometimes barely.
He asked whether Crew had health coverage.
He did.
He asked about meals, school attendance, transportation, and the pediatric appointments.
I answered every question.
Not perfectly.
Not elegantly.
Just truthfully.
Then Judge Elwood asked the question I had been dreading.
“Are you struggling financially?”
I looked at Logan’s attorney.
