She was black. An African American woman who earned her place in a robe, laying judgment on others’ lives. Never before in Rachel’s life had she looked upon the skin of someone else and felt dread.
Rachel couldn’t help it. Would race play a significant role in this? Would the judge’s decision be swayed because Owen was black?
She wanted to cry.
“Oh, God.” The Colemans looked smug.
“Don’t look at them.”
Her eyes found the city crest and focused on it.
Without hearing, Rachel recognized that her counsel and that of the Colemans introduced themselves for the purpose of the court reporter.
Judge Sherman looked at both parties and started by speaking to the Colemans. “I’ve read the argument for custody of Owen Moreau from Mr. and Mrs. Coleman.” She turned her eyes on Rachel. “And that from the counsel of Miss Price. “I have to admit, I have more questions than answers. Have the parties come to any agreement?”
Mr. Yanez spoke first. “No, Your Honor. We have not.”
Judge Sherman looked at Clive.
“We have not, Your Honor.”
“All right, then,” the judge said with a sigh. “Let’s proceed.”
Clive stayed standing while Mr. Yanez and the Colemans sat. “Your Honor, before we move on, you need to know that the child in the case, Owen Moreau, has fled the foster care system and is unaccounted for right now.”
The judge looked at both parties. “I assume the authorities are notified.”
“Yes. My client was with them most of the night and all morning searching for him.”
Rachel clenched her fists.
“Let’s see how quickly we can move through this.”
Clive sat down, seemingly happy with the judge’s comments.
Rachel listened while Mr. Yanez opened the Colemans’ case and entered a plea that the judge offer them temporary custody of Owen until TJ returned from Syria. Yanez stated that she was a flight risk, as demonstrated by the documentation already presented into evidence regarding her recent flight to Central America with Owen the previous week.
Clive leaned over and whispered, “They have the burden of proof now.”
She kept silent and tried to keep her face emotionless as they spoke.
Yanez called Deyadria to the stand.
Rachel tried not to stare as the woman walked by. She stated her name and swore an oath that she would tell the truth.
But the first statement out of her mouth was a lie.
“We didn’t know we had a grandson until after his mother had passed.”
Rachel bit her tongue.
“And what did you do when you found out?” Mr. Yanez asked.
“We contacted Rachel Price immediately.”
At least that part was true.
“We told her we would lovingly take Owen with us.”
“What happened then?”
Deyadria looked everywhere but at Rachel. “Nothing. We heard nothing.”
“Miss Price took a job on the East Coast, is that right?”
“Yes. A job that gave her access to international travel on a moment’s notice.”
“Was this concerning to you?”
“Of course. She threatened to leave the country if we pursued custody of Owen.”
Rachel grabbed Clive’s hand. “That’s a lie. I never said that to them.”
He shushed her.
“What happened after Miss Price moved here?”
“Well, she made it look like she was trying to allow a relationship between Owen and us. But she never allowed us time alone with him.”
Rachel leaned over. “He didn’t want me to leave him alone.”
Clive held a hand in the air and made a note on his pad.
“You’ve stated in your complaint that Miss Price is not providing a safe environment for your grandson.”
Mrs. Coleman shook her head. “The home she’s in is falling down. The paint on the walls is peeling. Owen has complained about a headache every time we have seen him.”
“Are you concerned for his health?”
“I am. So is his father.”
“Objection,” Clive argued.
“Sustained. Mrs. Coleman, you cannot testify on your son’s opinion,” Judge Sherman announced.
Yanez took a breath and asked the question another way. “Did your son express concern about his son’s health?”
“Yes.”
Yanez paused and then moved on. “Can you tell us the events leading up to your plea for the court to remove Owen from Miss Price’s home?”
“My husband and I have been trying to establish a relationship with our grandson since we learned of him. Our son, TJ—Tereck Junior—Owen’s father, returned for Christmas and told us he wanted custody of his son. When we told Miss Price our intentions, she became irate and refused to answer our calls after that.”
All lies. Rachel looked at the faces of the others in the courtroom to find several people buying the fabricated story.
“What happened then?” Mr. Yanez stood behind his desk and asked questions while Clive listened and scribbled notes.
“She threatened to leave the country and told us we would never see our grandson again.”
Rachel shook her head.
Clive placed a hand over hers and offered a curt nod in warning.
Her eyes pleaded with him. She grabbed the pen from his hand and wrote on his pad with a heavy hand:
Not true!
“Is that when you went to the courts and petitioned for custody?”
“Yes,” Deyadria said.
“When did you become aware that Miss Price and Owen had left the country?”
“I saw a broadcast of Rachel speaking on behalf of the company she works for when they were in Costa Rica.”
“Is that part of her job?” Yanez asked.
“Objection,” Clive shouted out.
“Sustained.”
Mr. Yanez redirected. “Where was Owen while Miss Price was in Costa Rica?”
“In Costa Rica with her.”
“How did you determine that?”
“Owen has a social media thing, Instagram. He posted a picture of a beach.”
Mr. Yanez lifted a picture snapped from a phone and handed it to the bailiff. “What does Owen say along with this image?”
Rachel’s eyes followed the picture as it traveled to the judge. She glanced at it and then put it aside, no emotion on her face.
“It says, ‘The next time I come back here, I’m staying.’”
“What did that mean to you, Mrs. Coleman?”
The woman’s lip started to quiver and she glanced at the judge. “It meant I would never see my grandson again.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Coleman.” Mr. Yanez sat, and all eyes moved to Clive.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Coleman.”
Her quivering lip disappeared, and nerves in the form of a single tapping finger instantly started to show.
“Good afternoon.”
Clive smiled. “You have testified, under oath, that you didn’t know you had a grandson until after Owen’s mother had passed away.”
She nodded.
Judge Sherman spoke. “You have to answer with a yes or no, Mrs. Coleman. The court reporter cannot write down that you nodded.”
“Yes,” Deyadria lied.
“How did you find out about Owen?”
“My son told us.”
“TJ?”
“That’s right.”
“Did your son tell you about your grandson before or after Emily Moreau’s funeral?”