🚀 go-pugleaf

	          < continued from preceding post >

   15 December 1995

   Richard paused outside the double door leading to the courtroom and
turned to his counselor.  "Now, are you sure you are up to this?"
   Horace Beasley temporized.  "I've spent the last week brushing up
on the procedures for custody hearings, and feel --"
   "A week?  You're going in on a week's preparation?"
   "Well, of course, that's all the time we've had."
   "What kind of lawyer are you?"
   "It seems that had previously centered on contract law."
   "Seems?"
   "Well, as you can appreciate, my memories are a bit hazy."
   Richard grunted in agreement, recalling the period in which the man
standing before him thought himself to be Richard Jackson.  "You'll
Pardon me for not being encouraged."
   "If you wish other counsel --"
   "-- and tell them my situation?  I'd be laughed right out of town.
No, I'm stuck with you.  So tell me, what *can* you do?"
   "I am skilled in debate, which is how I became vice-president of
D.O.G.M.A.  In fact, I was instrumental in renaming it from 'Didactic
Order' to 'Dialectic'."
   "So you're going to try to win this with just rhetoric."
   "Indeed.  In fact, our strategy is clear: we only need to disarm
your opponents attempts to discredit you.  I have already selected
some individuals who will gladly vouch for your character."
   "I see," Richard said, unconvinced.
   "I really wouldn't worry about it, sir.  It is fairly obvious that
we will win this case."
   "What makes it so obvious?"
   "Quite simple.  *You* are the protagonist.  The opposition is just
a guest character."

   At that moment, the woman so mentioned arrived with three fawning
men in tow.  She wore a colorful babushka on her head, only exposing a
few brunette curls.  A tasteful two-piece business suit was barely
visible under her long khaki overcoat.  She was attended by three
fawning men, who rushed to open the door for her.
   Lovitz stopped to regard the two men, temporarily removing her
horn-rimmed shades from the bridge of her nose.  "Nice to see you
again, Richard.  I'll keep this short and painless, for Mary's sake."
She immediately spun into the courtroom, as Richard stood agape.
   "Your girl friend really is something," said Horace with awe.
   "That wasn't Elaine," replied Richard, still staring.

				*****

   Miss Cortes mentally counted heads in her classroom and came up
with the correct number.  With a smile, she nodded, "Good afternoon,
class."
   "Good afternoon," repeated the token teacher's pets.
   "Today, we are going to continue our study on the after effects of
Roe versus Wade."  She paused when she saw one of the pets raised his
hand.  "Yes, Jonathan?"
   "Aren't you going to take attendance?"
   "I already did, Jonathan.  Why do you ask?"
   "Well, when someone cuts class, you always ask if anyone's seen
them.  But Mary's absent, and you didn't ask about *her*."
   "Mary has a valid excuse today.  Thank you for your concern."
   "Does this have something to with her Mom?" another pupil asked.
   "What do you know about that?"
   "Did she come to take her away?"
   That single question led to a whole volley of them.  "Can her Mom
do that?"  "Where did she come from?"  "Is that where Mary's gone?"
   Miss Cortes waved her hands to quiet everyone down, "Quiet down,
please.  Quiet!"  When that failed, she went to her surefire backup
plan, shouting "Is it time for a quiz?"
   Miss Cortes relaxed in the sudden silence.  "Now, to answer some of
your questions, yes, Mary is in court today.  And yes, her mother is
suing for custody."  The students began to get excited again, but
instantly grew still after she began writing on the board, staring at
the ominous "What".
   "Thank you for your attention, again, Now, I think it would be a
especially relevant today to examine the rights a mother has over her
unwanted child.  And what better way than to see our own justice
system in action?"  She walked to her closet and retrieved her coat.
"I want you all back here in five minutes."

				*****

   The attorney smiled meekly at the witness and peered at his notes.
"Now, Miss Lovitz, we heard earlier testimony that the child submitted
to a blood test at your request."
   "That is correct," she replied confidently.
   "And that these tests showed that you and she are blood relations."
Lovitz nodded.  "Now, would you please state for the record how it is
that you were absent from Mary Jackson's childhood?"
   "It's not something I'm proud of.  I was a real mess as a teenager
and had a child out of wedlock.  I knew I couldn't give her proper
care, so I put her up for adoption."

   Richard leaned over to Horace and whispered.  "I wish you had told
me Mary was adopted."
   "What?" Horace replied.  "When?"
   "Over in France.  When you knew."
   "We were busy.  I guess I never got around to it."

   "... And so, thanks to him, I managed to put myself through school
and to put my life back together."
   "And now you are ready to take care of your daughter?"
   "Yes, I am."
   "And do you believe this is the best thing for her?"
   "Yes, I do."
   "And how do you arrive at this conclusion?"
   "Mary is very unhappy where she is."
   "Please go on."
   "I have had several telephone conversations with her.  She feels
neglected, since her father often goes out, leaving her home alone."

   "Your Honor," Horace rose to object.  "This is hearsay."
   The black woman at the bench nodded.  "It most certainly is."
   "Your Honor, at this time, I am only establishing the basis for
this lawsuit.  My client's motives are directly derived from her
perspectives on the affair."
   "Very well, then; overruled.  Just remember that, if your case is
building upon it."
   "Yes, your Honor."

   "Was that really necessary?" Richard whispered harshly.
   "Oh, yes.  It throws off his rhythm -- a useful forensic trick."
   "What's so good about it?"
   "Any argument involves a series of points to be stated and proved.
By interrupting his chain of thought on procedural grounds, there's
always a good chance that some point will be omitted.  The less he
proves, the less we have to rebut."
   Richard shrugged.  "As long as you know what you're doing."

   "Please go on, Miss Lovitz.  You were describing the telephone
calls you had with your daughter."
   "Right.  She told me that she felt distant from her father, almost
disowned."
   "Did she express any other feelings that you wish to relate?"
   "Yes.  She fears him."
   "What is so unusual about this fear?"
   "She believes that in abandoning her, he has turned more cold and
ruthless, and that he could kill her if she got in his way."

   "Objection!" Horace bellowed, as a murmur arose in the courtroom.
   The judge banged her gavel.  "Objection noted and overruled.  But
the witness is advised to restrain her remarks."

   "Miss Lovitz, do *you* believe that Mr. Jackson has been neglecting
his daughter of late?"
   "Yes, I do."
   "And do you believe that Mary is in mortal fear of her father."
   "I do."
   "No further questions, your Honor."

   Horace stood slowly and thoughtfully, then focused on the witness.
"Miss Lovitz, I congratulate you on your success in overcoming your
childhood difficulties.  You seem to be a very successful career
woman."
   "Thank you," Lovitz nodded graciously.
   "What is it that you do?"
   "I host a call-in talk radio show."
   "That must keep you busy."
   "Only when I'm at the station.  When I'm not on the air, I can keep
my own time."
   Horace paused.  "What is the focus of your program?"
   "Marriage counseling."
   "I didn't realize you were a licensed counselor."
   "Oh, I'm not, and I don't claim to be."
   "Then how are qualified to give advice on such a subject?"
   "Counselor, I have encountered many dysfunctional relationships in
the course of my life.  I've got a lifetime of experience from which I
can give an excellent opinion as a layperson."  She smiled confidently.
   "Well, surely your own past isn't enough."
   "Indeed," she agreed.  "I do try to keep current."
   "Which must surely take time outside of your scheduled broadcast!"
   "Naturally."
   "How much time?"
   Lovitz chuckled.  "I'll have to think about that one. ... I'd say
that it varies anywhere from twenty to forty hours a week.  In other
words, counselor, I have more than enough time for my child.  Besides,
I wouldn't be opposed to including her in my work."

   Horace deflated.  Turning away, he looked back at Richard, who only
returned an expressionless gaze.  Mary sat in the next row back, with
a expectant look twinged with a touch of sadness.
   "Do you have any more questions for this witness?" prompted a voice
from the bench.
   "Oh.  Yes, your Honor.  I apologize for the delay.  Miss Lovitz,
how many callers do you get on your radio show?"
   "Oh, I don't know.  At least a half dozen every hour."
   "And are all your callers married?"
   "No.  I do get the occasional teenager calling in."
   "Oh?"
   "They often want to know how to get a little more out of their
relationships."
   "And so you work to bring them together?"
   "Yes, I do."
   "So, have you ever given advice for a parent-child relationship?"
   Lovitz smiled.  "No.  I never got a call for that."
   "But surely you can relate to that from your own experience?"
   "Hardly.  My parents and I were never close."
   "Did you give Mary any advice on the subject?"
   Lovitz's smile faded.  "If you mean, did I encourage her to make
right with her Dad, of course I did!"
   "And did you try to help her?"
   "Yes!"
   "With the same diligence as your radio listeners?"
   "Well, that isn't the same thing."
   "Not the same at all, is it?  You're not helping them reconcile,
you're breaking them apart!"  Horace marched victoriously back to his
seat.  "No further questions."

   Lovitz stared at Horace's back, her lips curled, her eyes narrow.
Without a word, she arose and returned to her seat.  Once there, she
continued to watch him with seething anger.
   "What was that all about?" Richard whispered as he watched the
woman pass by.
   "I've just scored our first major victory," Horace gloated.
   "All you did is make her mad!"
   "Always a good thing.  This battle is psychological as well as
logical.  After all, Pathos is a major factor in Rhetoric."
   "It better be.  All you proved was that she's filing a case."
   "Not only that.  It's implied that she must have a real reason for
filing it!"
   "Gee, thanks.  Whose side are *you* on?"
   "Don't you see?  I've disarmed her!  Her case was partly based on
the claim that you have been neglecting your daughter.  If that were
true, however, then one would expect she would use her abilities to
resolve the situation.  She'll have to demonstrate that reconciliation
is impossible; else, her own ethos is undermined."
   "In other words, you've doubled the stakes."
   "Precisely."
   "Remind me not to talk to you about Authors," Richard muttered as
he fished through his wallet.  He retrieved a small slip of paper and
stood up.  "You man the fort."
   "Calling in the marines?"
   "Close.  This phone number is actually for a convenience store.
But if that lady's got a hidden agenda, I want to know what it is."
With that, he made his way out, glancing at the number of kids sitting
in the back of the courtroom.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
one mock-salute him,  He tried to ignore it, telling himself that they
really should be in school.

   Mary tried to tell herself Miss Cortes wouldn't actually bring the
entire History class, but there they were, nearly filling two rows in
the back of the courtroom.  But it wasn't just her class; the editor
of the school paper scribbled in a notepad, the guidance counselor
literally shone with excitement, and Carmen had come with her friends,
wearing her Handmedown outfit.  Mary blushed self-consciously and
looked away.
   She almost didn't notice that she had been called to the stand, and
when she did, she rose nervously.  Daddy wasn't occupying his assigned
seat, and Ichii was probably still at work.  Mary sighed and crossed
the courtroom, knowing she was the center of attention and not liking
it one bit.
   Nor did she like the counselor for the petitioner, or whatever he
called himself -- he treated her like she was a little kid.  She tried
to answer the questions as best as she could, but some were downright
embarrassing, such as "Do you love your Daddy?"  Mary wanted to answer
in the affirmative, but knew that whatever she said would probably be
repeated throughout the school for the next week.
   "We get along all right, I guess."
   "And do you think your Daddy loves you?"
   Mary rolled her eyes.  "He's taken care of me my whole life."  As
she said this, she noted that her father had returned sometime during
the beginning of her testimony.
   "How did he show you?  Did he give you lots of nice presents?"

   Mary turned to the judge.  "Do I have to put up with this?"
   "Sustained.  The witness will not be patronized."
   The chastened attorney nodded.  "What sorts of things did he give
you as you were growing up?"
   "Let's see, there were the cap pistols, water pistols, and BB gun.
He said I'd get my own nine-millimeter when I was old enough."
   "Your father gave you nothing but *guns*?"
   "Of course not.  I've also got a walkie-talkie and one of those
kids' electronics kit things."
   "No dresses?"
   "He said I looked fine just the way I was."
   "No dolls?"
   "Oh, please!  I outgrew playing with dolls years ago!"
   "But surely you noticed something a little unusual."
   Mary shrugged.  "Sure.  I noticed that he wasn't throwing money at
me and walking away."

   Richard's mouth formed a brief smile as he scribbled furiously on
the back of envelope.  "Got a plan?" Horace whispered next to him.
   "Huh?" Richard grunted, only looking up at Mary to transcribe her
next answer.
   "I see you writing.  Got an idea for a rebuttal?"
   "What?  No.  This is for *me*."

   "Flying lessons!" the counselor exclaimed.  "I'm impressed!"
   "Yeah, he knows somebody at the flying club.  I got my pilot's
license when I was sixteen!" Mary said proudly.
   "Very good!  So, when did you decide to become a superguy?"
   Mary blinked.  "What?"
   "What made you decide to become a superguy?"
   Richard tapped Horace on the shoulder.  "Stop this.  Now."
   "Um, because they were hiring?" Mary proposed.
   Horace rose.  "Your Honor, as much as we all would like to know
about every detail in the life of Nevada's own superguy, however brief
her career may have been, may we get to the issue at hand?"
   "Your Honor, I believe that the child's, er, the witness's reasons
will provide significant insight on the relationship between her and
her father."
   "All right.  Overruled.  But make it quick."

   "Yes, your Honor.  Miss Jackson, a moment ago you said that you
chose to become a superguy because Super Seven was hiring.  Is that
correct?"
   "Yeah."
   "Did your Dad support your decision?"
   "Yeah.  He said it would be good experience."
   "Good experience.  Why didn't he send you to the Adjusted League's
Academy?"
   Mary stiffened.  "I dunno."
   "Surely that would give you good experience?"
   "I guess so."
   "But instead, you went to Japan, to compete for a job against a
whole slew of experienced superguys.  Why?"
   Mary trembled.  "I don't know!"
   "Let me suggest an answer then.  Your father told you to, didn't
he?  He spent fifteen years molding you into his image and then chose
a career for you!  Isn't that right?"
   "No!  No!"
   "Then why did you go to Japan?" the counselor nearly shouted.
   Mary looked over to her father to find a cold stony stare.  When he
caught her gaze, he shook his head grimly.  "I don't know," she said
quietly.
   The attorney allowed a bit of silence, then spoke quietly himself.
"And why aren't you trying to be a superhero now?"
   "I don't want to."
   The attorney turned and looked at Richard calmly.  "Thank you."  He
returned to his table and sat down.  "Your witness."

   Horace sat and thought, an enigmatic smile on his face.  "A highly
intriguing ploy," he commented.
   "Respondent may cross-examine," the bench prompted.
   "Thank you, your Honor.  I defer cross-examination, and reserve the
right to recall this witness."
   "That is your prerogative.  Petitioner may call his next witness."
   "Petitioner rests, your Honor."
   "Very good.  There will be a short recess before the response."

   Scarcely had the judge's gavel pounded when Richard nearly pounced
on Horace.  "You're gonna let that slide?  Call her back!  Call her
back!"
   "What for?  There's nothing to be gained."
   "Didn't you see what he just did?"
   Horace raised an eyebrow.  "What about it?"
   "He made it look like I forced her to go to Japan!"
   "Yes, he did."
   "And you're letting him get away with it?"
   "Yes, I am."
   "But she *wanted* to go!  She was looking forward to it!"
   "I know that."
   "Don't you think the judge should know that?"
   "I think it's best that she doesn't."
   "Some help you are."
   "Yes, it is a setback, but it's one I am willing to accept.  We are
losing a battle in hopes of winning the war."
   "All it would take is a simple question: 'Did she want to go?'"
   "Indeed, that is a simple question; it is the answer that I was not
ready for.  Merely showing her interest would prove that something
changed her mind -- therein lies our downfall.  Would *you* like her
to say exactly why it is she no longer wants to be a heroine?"
   Richard nodded gravely.  "No, I would not."
   "That was a most impressive gambit.  By implying a falsity which
was trivially disproved, he nearly nailed the coffin on our entire
case.  I should like to play chess with him sometime."
   "You make it all sound like a game."
   "Oh, it is!  Law is only occasionally deals in truth or falsity.
It's about winning and losing.  All the rectitude in the world won't
help you if you're on the losing side of a case.  But have no fear;
we have a secret weapon.  The Author is on our side."
   "You are not helping."

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