Another 1,000 miles have been added to the frequentfatherometer, and it seemed like just another routine three-day weekend. My wife and stepdaughter came along this time, so it was five of us crammed into a hotel room, enjoying the free buffet, the indoor pool, running around on the beach in spite of the cold weather, and even a jaunt down to Boston for the afternoon. It was, as always, wonderful to have some time with my kids, but sad to say goodbye to them for a while. The difference this time was the thing in the air, the thing we can't discuss, the specter that is haunting everyone.
The custody case.
It's been 2.5 weeks since the prior hearing, and it will be another 2.5 weeks until the next (and hopefully final) one. I have hit new lows emotionally and mentally during this period, often unable to work, think, speak, or be around other people. My nightly phone calls with my kids have been a burden, as I am so depressed I can barely converse with them. In short, I am paralyzed by the way things are, and am absolutely frightened at the prospect of being told "no thanks" by the judge.
I am trying my best not to think about that potential outcome, but I can't. I know it is very possible that the court will conclude that removing the alcoholic from the home will take care of the problem, and then give my ex one more chance to prove that she can be a responsible parent. It's equally possible that the judge will conclude that she needs to know more about me and my lifestyle before transferring custody, which would mean appointing a guardian ad litem who would then spend several months and several thousand dollars investigating my life. That may be the worst outcome of all: more waiting and more money that I don't have.
Being back in Maine for three days was harder than ever. First off, I hate November in Maine--the trees are barren, the sun goes down before 5:00, and the permanent midnight of the Maine winter is beginning to set in. Second, I felt myself feeling like telling my kids what I was doing and why I was doing it, but I know that I can't put them in the middle of this. Finally, and most importantly, I found myself looking around, knowing in my heart that, if the judge says they have to stay where they are, I will have no choice but to come back to this place, where everything reminds me of failure, of the nine years of my life that I wasted there, of the stupid decisions that led me there.
In 16 days I will be back in the courtroom again. I get three hours to prove to this judge that my kids need to be with me. Those three hours will, for better or worse, permanently alter the course of my life and my kids' lives. As much as I want that day to come, I dread it as well. Either way, it is going to be a momentous day, one that will replay in my mind for the rest of my life. I am in no way ready for it, but really, how could I be?
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Saturday, November 2, 2013
90,000 Miles
I'll get the good news out of the way. I went to court two days ago and the judge ordered the irresponsible drunk stepfather out of the house by 4:00 p.m. the next day. Now he is presumably gone, and my kids will no longer be in danger from his presence. I have shared this news with many people--my wife, my mother, other friends and family members--and they all have told me that this is "great" or "wonderful" or that I should be "happy" about it. Instead, I have really never felt worse in my entire life that I do today. Let's consider.
My son went to the E.R. 56 days ago.
I hired a P.I. three days later.
The P.I. documented the continuing alcohol abuse in the house within a week.
I hired an attorney and she prepared an emergency custody motion within two days.
It took a week to serve my ex-wife, get her to acknowledge service, and file the motion at the court.
It took more than two weeks just to hear from the court as to whether or not they would grant an emergency hearing.
They granted the hearing, but set it for another three weeks down the road.
The hearing was limited to 90 minutes, and the judge was 15 minutes late, leaving just 75 minutes.
The first witness--my ex's neighbor--wasted half the hearing with a bad amnesia act that caused the judge to warn her about perjury, and most of the rest of the time was taken up by the P.I. telling the court what she had actually said to him a few weeks earlier.
The judge concluded that there was no doubt that the stepfather was still abusing alcohol on the property, and asked the attorneys to come to her chambers to discuss how to remove him from the property
They remained in chambers for the rest of the 75 minutes.
When they came out, the judge ordered my ex to obtain a "criminal trespassing order" that bars her own husband from being on her property. The judge also warned her that the court would hold her responsible for making sure that the guy stayed gone.
The judge set a date for the continuation of the hearing...36 days later.
And....scene.
So there it was--my day in court. I spent hundreds of dollars on plane tickets for myself and my wife, a rental car, and meals (we thankfully stayed with a friend for free), thousands of dollars on a P.I. and an attorney, got dressed up, planned what I would say and do, and then all I did was sit there and do nothing, while the above kabuki act played out before my eyes.
Now it's going to be another five weeks of waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting. My next visit with my kids will pass next weekend (yes, another trip to Maine), another Thanksgiving will go by without them, as my ex gets them for odd-numbered years, and then I'm supposed to get an actual three-hour hearing, at which my children's future will ostensibly be decided. In the meantime I have to wonder whether or not my ex will actually take the court order seriously this time and keep her drunk husband out of the picture. I have no faith that she will do this, so I have told several of her neighbors what has happened and that they need to call me and/or the police if they see him hanging around. I also don't know what she's going to tell the kids--I'm sure she will say something like "Your daddy is mean and made him leave." It wouldn't be the first time.
I got back to Virginia late last night, and slept for 12 hours. I know I should be at least a little bit happy about removing the drunk from my kids' home, and maybe even from seeing my ex in tears afterwards--she finally got a consequence for her bad behavior! But I'm not--I'm just paralyzed with fear, exasperation, and anxiety, and just want to sit in a dark room by myself. The nightmare isn't over and, given the ridiculousness of the family courts in Maine, I still have no faith that anything is really going to change in 35 days.
My ex's attorney will argue that it will be too traumatic to remove the kids from their mother and their community, and that there is no threat to them with the stepfather gone. He will make me out to be the big bad wolf, trying to steal the kids from their loving mother. He will impugn my character and accuse me of stalking and harassing her, and I am going to have to try my best to not scream at him. It's not going to be a lot of fun, and I am already sick to my stomach about it.
Worst of all, I have the next 35 days and nights to ponder what may happen, and think myself sick with the horrible possibilities. I just want to rip off the bandage already--I am tired of slowly tearing at it day after day. I know it's going to be bad, because I really don't feel any better after spending the past hour writing all this. I almost always feel better after writing, but it's just not happening this time.
More to come.
My son went to the E.R. 56 days ago.
I hired a P.I. three days later.
The P.I. documented the continuing alcohol abuse in the house within a week.
I hired an attorney and she prepared an emergency custody motion within two days.
It took a week to serve my ex-wife, get her to acknowledge service, and file the motion at the court.
It took more than two weeks just to hear from the court as to whether or not they would grant an emergency hearing.
They granted the hearing, but set it for another three weeks down the road.
The hearing was limited to 90 minutes, and the judge was 15 minutes late, leaving just 75 minutes.
The first witness--my ex's neighbor--wasted half the hearing with a bad amnesia act that caused the judge to warn her about perjury, and most of the rest of the time was taken up by the P.I. telling the court what she had actually said to him a few weeks earlier.
The judge concluded that there was no doubt that the stepfather was still abusing alcohol on the property, and asked the attorneys to come to her chambers to discuss how to remove him from the property
They remained in chambers for the rest of the 75 minutes.
When they came out, the judge ordered my ex to obtain a "criminal trespassing order" that bars her own husband from being on her property. The judge also warned her that the court would hold her responsible for making sure that the guy stayed gone.
The judge set a date for the continuation of the hearing...36 days later.
And....scene.
So there it was--my day in court. I spent hundreds of dollars on plane tickets for myself and my wife, a rental car, and meals (we thankfully stayed with a friend for free), thousands of dollars on a P.I. and an attorney, got dressed up, planned what I would say and do, and then all I did was sit there and do nothing, while the above kabuki act played out before my eyes.
Now it's going to be another five weeks of waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting. My next visit with my kids will pass next weekend (yes, another trip to Maine), another Thanksgiving will go by without them, as my ex gets them for odd-numbered years, and then I'm supposed to get an actual three-hour hearing, at which my children's future will ostensibly be decided. In the meantime I have to wonder whether or not my ex will actually take the court order seriously this time and keep her drunk husband out of the picture. I have no faith that she will do this, so I have told several of her neighbors what has happened and that they need to call me and/or the police if they see him hanging around. I also don't know what she's going to tell the kids--I'm sure she will say something like "Your daddy is mean and made him leave." It wouldn't be the first time.
I got back to Virginia late last night, and slept for 12 hours. I know I should be at least a little bit happy about removing the drunk from my kids' home, and maybe even from seeing my ex in tears afterwards--she finally got a consequence for her bad behavior! But I'm not--I'm just paralyzed with fear, exasperation, and anxiety, and just want to sit in a dark room by myself. The nightmare isn't over and, given the ridiculousness of the family courts in Maine, I still have no faith that anything is really going to change in 35 days.
My ex's attorney will argue that it will be too traumatic to remove the kids from their mother and their community, and that there is no threat to them with the stepfather gone. He will make me out to be the big bad wolf, trying to steal the kids from their loving mother. He will impugn my character and accuse me of stalking and harassing her, and I am going to have to try my best to not scream at him. It's not going to be a lot of fun, and I am already sick to my stomach about it.
Worst of all, I have the next 35 days and nights to ponder what may happen, and think myself sick with the horrible possibilities. I just want to rip off the bandage already--I am tired of slowly tearing at it day after day. I know it's going to be bad, because I really don't feel any better after spending the past hour writing all this. I almost always feel better after writing, but it's just not happening this time.
More to come.
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