Chapter 8: The Petition
I sat on the edge of the bed with the phone against my ear and the door to Lily's room open so I could see her still sleeping.
"He used the video," I said.
"The video, a written statement from Diane, and a written statement from Brooke." Grace's voice was controlled.
"He's also submitted a statement from a colleague of Diane's — a therapist who has never met you — who opines that the behavior in the video is consistent with, and I'm quoting, 'an escalating pattern of emotional dysregulation.'"
"A therapist who has never met me."
"Correct.
We'll challenge the admissibility.
It won't survive scrutiny." A pause.
"But Emily — the hearing is Monday.
Three days."
Lily turned over in her sleep.
One small hand opened and closed.
"What do we do?" I asked.
"We go to court Monday with everything we have.
The pediatric report.
The DCFS confirmation.
Carol's recordings.
Mara's documentation.
The journal." Grace paused.
"And I want you in my office today.
We need to prepare your statement."
"I'll be there at ten."
"One more thing.
The petition includes a request that Lily be placed with Jason's family during the proceedings."
"With Diane."
"Yes."
I stood up.
Walked to Lily's doorway.
She was on her side, her yellow-socked feet tucked up, her face soft and clear.
"That will not happen," I said.
"No," Grace said.
"It won't.
But they filed it because they want you frightened.
A frightened person makes mistakes.
A frightened person might accept a settlement." She paused.
"Don't be frightened.
Be ready."
I spent Saturday in Grace's office.
Mara came with me and gave her formal statement.
Carol transferred the complete recording archive to Grace's secure server and signed an affidavit.
By evening, Grace had a response filing three inches thick.
Sunday, Jason called.
I let it ring.
He called again.
I let it ring again.
The third time, I answered.
"Emily." His voice was different.
Quieter.
"I need you to listen to me."
"I'm listening."
"My mother — what she did to Lily — I know it was wrong.
I know I should have stopped it." A pause.
"But this is getting out of control.
The press briefing, the investigators, Mara — Emily, Mara has nothing to do with us—"
"Mara has everything to do with us," I said.
"She was you and me, five years ago.
And you let it happen to her the same way you let it happen to me."
Silence.
"If you drop the custody petition," I said, "and if you cooperate with the DCFS review, and if you agree to supervised visitation until the court determines what's appropriate — I will not pursue you personally in the civil matter.
My case is against your mother and against Holt.
Not against you." I paused.
"But if you go into that courtroom Monday and try to take my daughter, I will make sure the judge sees every single thing I have.
Including the statement Mara gave on Friday."
A long silence.
"Mara gave a statement," he said.
"Yes."
"About Sophie's wrist."
"Among other things."
The silence stretched out.
I heard him breathing.
"Jason," I said.
"I'm not doing this to hurt you.
I'm doing this because Lily looked at me first.
Before she cried.
She looked at me because she already knew, at two years old, that I was the one who would come." My voice stayed steady.
"Don't make me fight you for her.
You won't win.
And you'll spend the rest of your life knowing what you made me use to beat you."
He hung up.
I didn't know which way he would go.
I found out Monday morning, when his attorney called Grace at eight forty-five, fifteen minutes before the hearing was scheduled to begin.
Jason was withdrawing the emergency custody petition.
He was also, his attorney said in careful legal language, prepared to discuss a cooperative parenting agreement — pending the outcome of the DCFS review and the separate proceedings against Diane Bennett and Richard Holt.
Grace relayed this to me in the courthouse hallway.
I nodded.
"Is it over?" Carol asked.
She was standing beside me, her coat still buttoned.
"No," Grace said.
"The custody piece is paused.
The rest is just beginning." She looked at me.
"Diane's license review hearing is in three weeks.
The ARDC complaint against Holt was filed Friday.
The State's Attorney's office called this morning — they want to meet with Mara and me on Wednesday."
The courthouse doors opened.
People moved around us.
"What happens to Diane?" I asked.
"That depends on the licensing board and on what the State's Attorney decides about the trust." Grace picked up her bag.
"But Emily — a licensed family therapist with a substantiated DCFS finding, Carol's recordings, and Mara's documentation of Sophie's wrist?
Her license is already gone.
She just doesn't know it yet."
I thought about Diane at her birthday table.
White roses.
Crystal glasses.
May you like
The cake she had cared about more than my daughter's face.
"She'll know soon," I said.
