Chapter 7: The Hearing
The fourteenth came on a Tuesday.
The courtroom was smaller than I'd expected — low ceilings, fluorescent light, rows of wooden chairs that looked like they'd been there since before I was born.
Ruth sat to my left.
Noah sat to my right.
He was wearing a new pair of glasses.
Ruth had taken us to the optometrist the Saturday before, and he'd sat very still in the examination chair and not said much, and when the optician placed the finished frames on his face and he looked around the room and said "oh" very quietly, I had to look at the ceiling for a moment.
Carla was already seated when we arrived.
She had a lawyer beside her — a man in his sixties with silver hair and a charcoal suit who arranged his papers with the careful efficiency of someone who charged by the hour.
She didn't look at us when we came in.
Her lawyer's name was Mr.
Fenwick.
He had a smooth, practiced voice and he used it immediately.
"Your Honor, my client acknowledges that certain withdrawals from the trust account may appear irregular on paper.
However, the trust agreement grants the acting trustee broad discretion over expenditures deemed necessary for the welfare of the minor children in her care.
We intend to demonstrate that all withdrawals served that purpose."
The judge — a woman in her sixties named Judge Calloway, no relation to Ruth, I'd checked — looked at the documents in front of her over the top of her glasses.
"Mr.
Fenwick," she said, "the trust agreement I'm looking at defines welfare expenditures as education, healthcare, and basic living costs.
Can you point me to the clause that covers a private club membership?"
Fenwick didn't miss a beat.
"The social and developmental needs of the children—"
"The children weren't members," Ruth's attorney said.
She was a younger woman named Grace Osei, and she said it without standing up, almost conversationally.
"The membership was registered solely in Ms.
Carla Voss's name.
We have the club's records."
Fenwick adjusted his papers.
"Additionally," Grace continued, "we have bank records showing that eight thousand dollars was transferred from the trust account to a personal account held by Ms.
Voss on the same day the minor child Noah required prescription eyeglasses and was told by Ms.
Voss that there were insufficient funds for the expense."
Judge Calloway looked up from the documents.
She looked at Carla.
Carla was looking at the table.
"Ms.
Voss," the judge said.
Carla looked up.
"Is there anything you'd like to say at this point?"
Fenwick put his hand on Carla's arm.
She shook it off.
"I loved their father," she said.
Her voice was steady.
Controlled.
But it had a different quality now than it had in the gymnasium — smaller, like something had gone out of it.
"I did.
And when he d*ed, I was grieving too.
Nobody seemed to remember that."
The room was quiet.
"I made decisions I shouldn't have," she said.
"I know that.
But I was scared and I was alone and I made bad decisions." She paused.
"That's not the same as what they're saying I did."
"The forged signature," Judge Calloway said.
"That's a specific allegation.
Not a bad decision.
A deliberate act."
Carla said nothing.
"Ms.
Voss.
Did you sign Ruth Calloway's name to the trusteeship transfer document?"
Fenwick leaned toward her.
She didn't look at him.
The silence stretched.
"I need an answer," the judge said.
Carla looked at the window on the far wall.
May you like
A rectangle of gray November sky.
"Yes," she said.
