Marked Man

4

“I’ve changed, Mr. Carl,” said Theresa Wellman. “You have to believe that.”

But why? Why did I have to believe that? Because she was pretty and well dressed and her print dress fit tight around her hips? Because her trim hands were wringing one another with sincerity? Because her eyes and voice were pleading with me to believe every last word out of her delicate little mouth? All very compelling, I must admit, but not enough to assuage my qualms.

I had grave doubts, just then, about the possibility of anyone past adolescence truly changing in this world. We were, all of us, prisoners of our character, unable to alter our true inner natures. When we said we had changed, what had only really changed was our luck. Put us in the same circumstances as our previous folly and suddenly we’d revert, all of us, to what we were. That’s what I believed, which meant I didn’t quite believe Theresa Wellman.

“I made mistakes in the past, I admit,” she said. “But I have changed, and I am my child’s mother, and she belongs with me.”

We were in our rather ratty conference room. Beth was sitting beside Theresa Wellman at the table, leaning forward, offering support. I was standing in the corner with my arms unhappily folded. I suppose you could say we were playing good lawyer-bad lawyer, except we weren’t really playing.

“Why don’t we start at the beginning, Theresa,” I said. “Tell us about your daughter’s father.”

“His name is Bradley Hewitt. I met him when I was twenty and I was working in a Toyota dealership. He came in looking for a Lexus, chatted with me while he waited for the salesman, and called me up that afternoon. I wasn’t supposed to go out with a customer, but I couldn’t say no. He was tall, handsome, he had money and liked to spend it. It was thrilling just to be with him.”

“So it was his inner beauty that attracted you.”

“I was young, Mr. Carl, and I had never before dated anyone like him. The way he spoke, the way he dressed, the way he touched me, both gentle and firm. He was older, he knew things, he wore suits as expensive as a car. At the time I was living at home, sheltered by my parents and fighting them tooth and nail. Bradley seemed like a way out. He set me up in a nice place, helped with the rent, and things were wonderful for a while, until they weren’t anymore.”

“That’s usually how it goes,” I said.

“We partied almost every night with his friends, drinking, dancing. We took fabulous vacations with his old college buddy. His crowd were all big spenders. Champagne and lobster and, yes, drugs, but not crazy drugs, nothing in excess. Just fun. Bradley was fun and charming, except when he was angry and violent. I didn’t see much of that side of him at first, but after a while it became more and more apparent. Occasionally, angry at something, he would lash out, sometimes verbally in front of everybody and sometimes, when we were alone, with the back of his hand.”

“Did anyone ever see him hit you?”

“No, Bradley was too careful for that. And he was always sorry afterward. He was quite charming when he apologized.”

“What kind of business is he in?”

“He’s in construction, but not like a construction worker. He wears suits and makes deals with the help of his college friend and gets projects off the floor. He earns a piece of the entire project for putting things together.”

“Nice job if you can get it.”

“It had its ups and downs. Whenever he had a business problem, I learned to stay away from him, or I’d be putting makeup over the bruises for a month. I was still having fun, living like I had never thought I could live, with a man I thought I loved even though he wasn’t always good to me. And that’s the way it was with us, calm and settled and a little dangerous, until I got pregnant.”

“How did Bradley react?” said Beth.

“He didn’t really react much at all. He just expected me to get an abortion. He set up the appointment, took care of the money. But I didn’t want an abortion. I wanted the baby.”

“Why?” I said.

“I don’t know.”

“To keep Bradley around? To keep his money flowing? Why did you want the baby, Theresa?”

“I don’t know. It was a baby. I had always wanted a baby and wasn’t willing to get rid of this one, like an old sweater or something.”

“Okay,” said Beth. “I understand.”

I looked at my partner. Did she really understand that kind of longing? Was that the reason she looked despondent these days, or was I just being a jerk to think the explanation was that easy?

“Go ahead, Theresa,” said Beth.

“He tried to convince me, he yelled and even hit me some, but I was determined, and there was nothing he could say. When he finally realized it, he just stopped.”

“Stopped trying to convince you?”

“Yes, and stopped seeing me, too. He stepped out of my life. I was good, I quit drinking, I took care of myself, and with my family’s help I had a beautiful baby girl, Belle. And for a while we were happy.”

“Did Bradley pay child support?” I said.

“He used to give me some money for Belle now and then, when I called and complained, but it wasn’t enough. I was still in my place, which was more than I could afford, and I had a hard time showing up at work while taking care of the baby. When they decided to let me go at the dealership, things got tougher. I didn’t really have many skills. So I did the most desperate thing I could think to do.”

“And what was that, Theresa?”

“I hired a lawyer.”

I involuntarily winced. “And how did that work out for you?”

“Not so good. We sued for child support. Bradley countersued for custody, which made me furious, because he never showed any interest in Belle before that. And then things took a bad turn.”

“How?” I said.

“The fix was in. Yes, I had been having problems, drinking too much, a holdover from my time with Bradley, and I was using some recreational drugs with a fast crowd that Bradley had introduced me to. And yes, there were a few times when I left her alone for short periods where maybe I shouldn’t have, but those weren’t serious enough for them to take my baby.”

“But they did,” I said.

“They were going to. Before the hearing, my lawyer told me that things were looking bad, that criminal charges were being contemplated, that powerful forces were working against me. He urged me to work out a settlement.”

“Powerful forces?”

“Bradley has influential friends.”

“So you agreed to give up custody?”

“Outside the courtroom I went right up to Bradley and begged him to stop. In front of everyone, all of Bradley’s crowd, I pleaded with him. But Bradley just stood there, stone-faced with anger. The possibility that my daughter, my Belle, would end up with such an angry, violent man seemed impossible. But the lawyer told me had I had no choice. The fix was in.”

“With a family-court judge? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes. I’m certain. It was his college friend who applied the pressure.”

“So without a hearing you gave away your daughter.”

“I was weak. I was ill.”

“Did you get any money?”

“There was a financial settlement.”

“And now, after selling your baby, you want to get her back.”

“That’s not what it was. And I’ve been in treatment, Mr. Carl. I’ve got a new job. I’ve worked hard to turn my life around. She should be with me.”

“I filed a petition to alter the custody agreement,” said Beth. “The hearing is scheduled for late next week.”

“What exactly are you looking for, Theresa?”

“I just want to see my baby, have time with her.”

“We’re asking for some sort of joint custody,” said Beth.

“Bradley hasn’t been a bad father,” said Theresa, “but a girl needs her mother, don’t you think?”

“Who’s Bradley’s lawyer?”

“Remember Arthur Gullicksen from the Dubé case?” said Beth. “He’s representing the father, and he’s been adamant that Bradley won’t share custody and won’t let Theresa even see the child.”

“What evidence do we have to present?”

“Theresa will testify,” said Beth. “Theresa’s new employer. Her drug tests from the treatment center have all come up clean. We can prove that she’s changed.”

“Can we?”

“You can,” said Beth.

“Theresa, why did you come to Beth?” I asked.

“The woman’s group I was seeing recommended her. They said Beth would come through for me.”

“I bet they did.” Once a sucker always a sucker, I thought. “But I’m sure there are plenty of attorneys with more experience in family court than Beth who would take your case.”

“I tried. No one would accept it. They said I didn’t have enough money. They said I didn’t have a leg to stand on. But really, all the lawyers were simply afraid to go up against Bradley.”

“Why?”

“Because of his friends.”

“Especially his old college buddy.”

“Right.”

“The one who gets Bradley all those contracts, the one who had arranged to fix the custody case, the one who is intimidating half the bar. You mind telling me who it is, or am I just going to have to guess.”

“Are you going to be intimidated, too, Mr. Carl?”

“Theresa, in the face of intimidation, I am like a herd of elephants: I can be stampeded by a mouse. And Bradley’s old college buddy, I’m sure, is bigger than a mouse.”

“It’s the mayor,” said Beth.

“Of course it is,” I said. “Can I speak with you for a moment outside, Beth?”

In the hallway, with the door to the conference room closed, I gave Beth the look. You know the look, the one your mother gave you when you let the water in the tub run until it overflowed through the living room ceiling, warping the coffee table, staining the rug, that look.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“She needs someone.”

“Of course she needs someone, she’s in way over her head, but why does she need us?”

“Because no one else is foolish enough to take her case.”

“So you’re appealing to my innate stupidity, as opposed to my greed or low moral fiber.”

“That’s right.”

“This is going to be a hornet’s nest, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, with a sly smile.

“And it has nothing to do with your identification with a young girl torn from her parent?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just a sucker for lost kids.”

“She’s with her father.”

“He sounds like a jerk.”

“He does, yes, if you can trust what our client says.”

“I believe Theresa deserves another chance,” said Beth. “We all deserve another chance, Victor. And she’s changed.”

“Has she?”

“I think so.”

“I guess we’ll find out. Okay, tell her we’ll do what we can” – I glanced at my watch – “but right now I have to run.”

“Hot date?”

“Sure,” I said, “with a seagull.”