Have you ever been to court? Because I haven’t, at least not until Monday.
There were more than a few shady-looking people. Apparently, Monday is a busy time in court because of all the drunks and prostitutes that get busted over the weekend.
"This is the parking lot of broken dreams," I said to Scott, as we walked past a couple smoking what looked like a joint but smelled like burning rubber.
We had to go through security, and there were a lot of rules about where you could loiter and where you could use your cell phone, and there must be some sort of problem with people putting their feet on the walls because:
My friend Erin was there with us. She’s an attorney, and also has a daughter in Kai’s class. And also has a passion for special ed law. And also e-mailed me and volunteered her time to come to court with us, and also talked to the State’s Attorney, and also advised him on the statute for battery of a child.
The State’s Attorney didn’t seem too impressed with our case, which Erin argued could be tried as aggravated battery, a felony, rather than simple battery, which is a misdemeanor.
“Aggravated is usually your gunfights, your stab wounds,” he said.
In Illinois, for battery of a child, the nature of the injury is irrelevant, but he still wasn’t impressed with my 8x10 glossies of Kai’s injuries.
“We’ll see what the defense has to say,” the guy said.
We weren’t sure if Mr. X would even show up to court. The address on the police report was different than the one he gave the school, and the warrant was served by mail.
But he showed up. He was shorter than I remember, and a few pounds heavier. I don’t know if he recognized me, but I definitely remember him.
Erin thought we should sit right behind him in court, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t have that kind of mettle. I’d used most of mine up just getting him here.
:::
And so we stood before a judge, and Mr. X decided that he wanted the case to go to trial. He said that he was just doing his job.
This is his best defense, to say that he had no choice but to handle Kai physically to get him off the playground equipment. Even though that's total bullshit.
So now we have a trial date.
It was all very clean and clinical, a flash of Blackberries to add a trial date to various calendars. I never spoke a word to Mr. X. I didn’t even have to look at him.
The State’s Attorney took my glossies and my witness lists and my doctor’s report and wrote down a bunch of notes.
On the way home, Pearl, the social worker from DCFS happened to call.
“Mrs. Judy,” she said, “I just wanted to let you know that we concluded our investigation.”
I asked her what they found.
“We found that he was indicated.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, it's either ‘unfound’ or ‘indicated,’ meaning that excessive force was indicated. It was indicated.”
I didn't need her three month investigation to figure that out, but I thanked her anyway. I told her that we had been to court that day, and that we had a trial date set.
“I think the State’s Attorney might be interested in your investigation,” I said.
And he was.
:::
I thanked Erin outside the courtroom.
“I’m just sorry that you had to go through this,” she said. “When something like this happens, it hurts all kids, not just Kai.”
I broke down a little then, because as much as Mr. X tore through our lives these last few months, some amazing things have happened, too.
Like parents I’ve never met before introducing themselves to me and offering support. Like AJ on the playground. Like a lawyer with two children of her own volunteering her time and sitting with me in court, warm and confident and reassuring and squarely on my side, on Kai’s side, on the side of justice.
:::
The trial is January 16th unless he makes a deal with the State’s Attorney. I think he will. Scott thinks he won't. I guess we'll see.
I got home from court earlier than I had planned on, and decided that Mr. X had taken up too much of my energy already for one day.
And I decided that we had better things to do.
And we did.