“I understand, ma'am.”
“Now, I've never met Mr. Stephen Solomon and I don't care if his father's the Prince of Wales. You understand that?”
“I think so, Your Honor.”
“So while I have a little colloquy with the gentleman, why don't you just stuff your mouth with a double- glazed?” Judge Rolle turned to Steve and softened her tone. “We're a little less formal on this side of the river.”
“I see that, Judge.”
“Broke my cherry with your father.”
“Beg your pardon…?”
“Tried my first case before Herbert Solomon. You never forget your first one.”
Or your last, Steve thought.
“Auto accident case,” the judge continued. “Ink wasn't dry on my diploma, and I couldn't get a shred of evidence in. Every question, these two snippy insurance lawyers would hop up and object. ‘Irrelevant.' ‘Hearsay.' ‘Improper predicate.'”
“Old trick,” Steve said, “to rattle a young lawyer.”
“Your daddy kept sustaining their objections in that sweet drawl of his. ‘Ah wuz you, Miss Rolle, ah'd rephrase that question.' Finally, he called us up to sidebar. I thought he was gonna ream me out for being incompetent, but instead he turned to those white boys and said, ‘Ah'd like to hear the little lady's questions, so y'all crackers shut your traps, 'cuz your next objection lands you in contempt.' That shut 'em up real quick.”
“Sounds like Dad,” Steve said.
“He didn't always follow the letter of the law but he sure adhered to its spirit. I like to think I do the same.” She opened a file, then turned to Zinkavich. “Now, why does the state say the petitioner should not be granted guardianship of his nephew?”
Zinkavich didn't bother standing up. “Because Mr. Solomon is incapable of caring for a special-needs child. Because he has prevented testing and treatment of the child that our experts have determined to be necessary.”
The child, Steve thought. As impersonal as a lawsuit over property. Had he reminded Victoria to refer to Bobby by name?
“Because Mr. Solomon exposes the child to inappropriate adult materials,” Zinkavich droned on. “And because he has violent propensities and committed serious crimes when he acquired de facto custody.”
“You can prove all of that?” the judge asked. She seemed taken aback, Steve thought. Maybe shocked to learn that Herbert's son might not measure up to his father. She wouldn't be the first to reach that conclusion.
“Every word, Your Honor.” Zinkavich seemed to swagger, even though he was sitting down. “Indeed, we will prove that granting Mr. Solomon guardianship rights would violate both the letter”-he showed a self-satisfied smirk-“and the spirit of the law.”
“Don't suck up to me, Z. Ms. Lord, I take it you disagree with the state's characterization of your client.”
Victoria stood. To Steve, she looked nervous. On unfamiliar ground. A new judge, new legal issues, and a ton of responsibility.
“Steve Solomon is wonderful with Bobby, Your Honor,” she said. “Sensitive, loving, and nurturing. It's true that Bobby has special needs, but he also has special gifts. In the course of the case, you'll hear from Bobby so that you can appreciate the marvelous way his mind works.”
Right, Steve thought. How many kids know twenty-six synonyms for “penis” and twenty-six for “vagina,” each starting with a different letter?
“You'll see how much Steve cares for Bobby and how much Bobby cares for him,” Victoria said. “By the close of our case, I think you'll agree that Steve Solomon is a terrific lover.”
“Lover?” the judge said.
“Father,” Victoria said, blushing. “I meant ‘father,' of course.”
“Of course. Okay, Ms. Lord, let's take some testimony.”
“Petitioner calls Dr. Doris Kranchick as an adverse witness,” Victoria said.
Doris Kranchick stomped through the swinging gate of the courtroom as if advancing on goal. Her hair was pulled back, and her only makeup was a pinkish powder intended to cover the scar than ran down her cheek but only served to accentuate it. She wore plain black flats, a no-nonsense suit, and a white blouse with a frilly white bow that Steve figured was Zinkavich's attempt to soften her appearance. It worked about as well as a tiara on a plowhorse.
Victoria used a friendly, conversational tone, something Steve thought he should try sometime. She asked Kranchick about her educational background, running smoothly through college, medical school, her internship, residency, and fellowships. She complimented the doctor on her stellar academic record and noted how extraordinary it was to also be a champion athlete. The two women spent the next few minutes chatting about lacrosse.
“I still play the sport,” Kranchick said proudly. She slipped a hand in each suit pocket and pulled out two yellow balls.
The only balls Doris Kranchick was likely to ever hold, Steve thought.
Victoria moved on to the monographs Kranchick had written, the studies she'd directed, the programs she initiated at Rockland State Hospital. It was all very relaxed, the litigation equivalent of a base runner lulling the pitcher to sleep before stealing a base. Then, the preliminaries over, Victoria asked: “Precisely what is Bobby's medical condition?”
“I can't say precisely, because Mr. Solomon won't agree to a complete examination.”
Score one for the All-American point on defense, Steve thought.
C'mon, Vic. Don't let her rattle you.
“Then tell us what you can about Bobby's condition.”
“Robert is a high-functioning savant with autistic characteristics of unknown origin. He is fearful of strangers, given to episodes of hysteria, and insufficiently socialized. As the cause of autism is unknown, it is impossible to determine the source of Robert's malady. However, we do know that he suffered sensory deprivation and malnutrition while in the custody of his mother.” She shot a look at Steve. “That would be Janice Solomon, the Petitioner's sister.”
Guilt by blood, Steve thought.
Kranchick dropped the lacrosse balls back into her pockets. “We need to test Robert to determine whether he suffered central nervous system injuries or merely psychological damage that's reversible in therapy. That's the key to understanding the source of the echolalia, the anagrams, the foreign-language skills.”
Kranchick turned to Judge Rolle. Enthusiastic now. Witnesses always are when you let them prattle on about their passions. “That's what makes Robert so important, Judge. If his right brain was stimulated without CNS damage, maybe we can duplicate that in others with drugs or hormones. I believe we can unlock the Rain Man in all of us. Can you imagine what it would be like to recall verbatim everything you've ever heard?”
“A lot of what I hear I'd just as soon forget,” the judge said, “but I get your point.”
“Let's discuss the Child Protection report you filed with the court,” Victoria said.
“Gladly,” Dr. Kranchick said. On a roll now.
“You make some highly critical comments about Mr. Solomon.”
“Not everyone finds him as cuddly as you do.”
“What's that mean?” the judge interrupted.
“They're engaged.” Kranchick raised her eyebrows, as if she disapproved.
Judge Rolle smiled. “Congratulations. You make a beautiful couple.”
Zinkavich put down a glazed cruller: “My condolences, Ms. Lord.”
“Actually…” Victoria faltered.
“Don't,” Steve whispered to her. But he knew too well that she could no more lie to a judge than strangle a kitten.
“We are not engaged,” Victoria said.
Damn. Just don't try to explain too much.
