Chapter 29 - The Petition
The court papers arrived before breakfast.
A process server delivered them to Caroline’s temporary address while a police officer stood nearby.
That was how quickly the people behind Northbridge could move when frightened families stopped following instructions.
Richard had filed an emergency petition concerning Noah.
Through counsel, he claimed Caroline had become unstable, removed their son from approved accommodation, and exposed him to people involved in a hostile campaign against his father.
I read the filing twice.
My brother, who was being prosecuted for conspiring to kill an infant, had discovered a sudden concern for parental judgment.
Caroline sat at the kitchen table with the papers spread before her.
Noah was in the bedroom, building a tower from plastic cups.
“Can they take him?” she asked.
Her attorney, Dana Brooks, kept her voice level.
“A filing is a request. It is not a decision.”
“But can they?”
“They can ask. We will answer with records.”
I wanted to call Richard and scream.
Instead, I asked Dana what she needed.
“Proof of the housing arrangement. Communications about the support. School records. Anything showing who made decisions and why.”
Caroline opened her bag.
It contained nearly her whole life.
Folded notices.
A birth certificate.
Medication receipts.
Noah’s first school photograph.
People with filing cabinets had spent years telling her she was disorganized.
The people making that judgment had never had to carry every important document through three motel rooms in a month.
Emily helped sort the papers.
She did not take over.
She asked where things belonged.
I watched Caroline become steadier as the piles began to make sense.
Then Owen called me into the hallway.
“The petition included this address before the process server arrived.”
I looked back toward the apartment.
“How did Richard’s lawyer get it?”
“We’re checking.”
“Caroline’s attorney?”
“No indication of that.”
“The police?”
“Too early to say.”
The answer did not comfort me.
It was still better than a confident guess.
By noon, Dana had filed a response.
By one, the court had declined to grant the requested emergency change without a hearing.
By two, Richard’s lawyer requested direct contact with me.
Celia joined the call.
His name was Paul Berrin. His voice had the smooth irritation of a man accustomed to charging for other people’s panic.
“My client is concerned about his son.”
“Which son?” I asked.
Silence.
Celia gave me a warning look.
Berrin recovered.
“This matter should be resolved without unnecessary publicity.”
“Then stop filing accusations you can’t support.”
“We have information concerning Ms. Reed’s mental health.”
Caroline had received counseling after months of intimidation.
Of course they had turned that into a weapon.
Celia spoke before I could.
“Send anything you intend to rely on to her counsel. This call is over.”
Afterward, I found Emily sitting on the floor beside Noah.
His cup tower leaned dangerously.
She held the bottom steady while he added another cup.
“Mom says we might have to talk to a judge,” he told her.
“Yes.”
“Did I do something?”
“No.”
He placed the cup.
“Because I didn’t finish my school packet?”
Emily’s face tightened.
“Noah, grown-up disagreements are not caused by children missing worksheets.”
He considered that.
Then he looked at me.
“Do you know my dad?”
I sat on the floor.
“Yes.”
“Is he bad?”
I could have answered quickly.
I had enough anger to make it easy.
But Noah was looking at me with Richard’s eyes and a child’s need for something he could survive hearing.
“He has made choices that hurt people,” I said. “He has to answer for those choices.”
“Does that mean I’m like him?”
“No.”
The word came out so firmly that he startled.
I softened my voice.
“No. You get to become yourself.”
That evening, Hayes called with a development.
Richard denied authorizing the emergency petition.
His signature appeared on the verification.
He claimed he had never seen it.
May you like
I leaned against the kitchen counter.
For once, I could not tell whether my brother was lying.
