II The Court

“Tell me the story.” Ruth types as I pour out the details of the past six months. She has agreed to meet me, after her last client of the day. One of God’s angels, she spends the night fashioning a script for court in the morning. She loves the theatre, antagonists battling for the judge’s favour, strange pedestal lover.


The courtroom is whisper quiet. I sit near the back with a yellow legal pad. Ruth has told me to write everything down. I’m a good student and do as I’m told. Only now has it occurred to me that this action was meant to keep me too busy to throw up or say something hysterical to the judge. Perhaps she did not gauge accurately my level of bafflement or shock.


Snooks comes in, pinned between twin bodyguards, J.C. and J.C’s older and only sister, Everdead. I know the name lacks beauty but, as such, it fits. J.C.’s name is an invention. Chameleon like, he changes his name and age to suit his purposes. Reptilian, snake oil and seeping pustules - J.C. oozes charm and talk “signifying nothing.” They hustle Snooks to the front and squeezed shoulder to shoulder to shoulder, he tries to sneak a peek over his shoulder. Everdead intercepts.


“All rise. Judge J presiding.”


The judge hears J.C.’s presentation first. I take careful notes and relax a little as I realize he has made a mistake in representing himself. He talks on and on and the court reporter rolls his eyes. The veneer of care and concern begins to wear off. Although slim, in a dark pinstripe suit and an educated voice, he looks less and less slick and professional and more and more like oil and a bad haircut. The bad news, however, is that the judge is the same one who granted J.C. interim custody. It is highly improbable for judges to reverse their own decisions.


“Why have you brought a nine year old into court?” The judge interrupts the interminable testimony. Snooks is sent from the room. He walks down the isle, leaning forward on tip toes, his arms up like a little squirrel, hunched over like a wizened old man.


“Hghaaaaaaaaaaaaa.” The gutteral throaty hiss seems to rise from the bowels of Hades rather than those of a little boy. He startles me with his malevolence. “We’re going to get you,” trails on the end of the curse. Although I don’t know it now, this incident will forever alter my world view. I have witnessed and recognized the existence of evil for the first time. Pollyanna has glimpsed something that a friendly smile and greeting cannot defeat.