"Furthermore," Jessica's lawyer continues, "Mr. McCoy has displayed concerning aggressive behavior, including a highly publicized incident where he physically confronted a photographer and destroyed property in front of the minor child. This assault, combined with his high-profile status and the pressures of his professional career, creates an environment that is potentially harmful to the child's development."
She hands the judge a folder of exhibits—photos from that night outside the restaurant, screenshots of news articles about my "meltdown," even printouts of my stats from recent games to support claims about my "unstable mental state."
"We're asking for temporary supervised visitation only, with no overnight stays, and specifically, no contact between the child and Mr. McCoy's girlfriend until a full psychological evaluation can be completed."
Patricia rises when Jessica's lawyer finishes, her voice calm and measured as she outlines our response—arguing that the incident was isolated, that my relationship with Reese, who is a highly-rated kindergarten teacher, provides stability rather than chaos and that Tyler is thriving in our care. She's good, really good, but I can tell from the judge's expression that something isn't landing.
"Your Honor," Patricia concludes, "this motion is less about genuine concern for the child and more about Ms. Stone using the court to control Mr. McCoy's personal life."
The judge removes her glasses, looking directly at me. "Mr. McCoy, I'd like to hear from you directly. How do you respond to these concerns about instability in your home?"
Patricia hadn't prepared me for this. She looks slightly alarmed but nods for me to stand.
I stand on legs that feel like I’ve been in the gym squatting 300 pounds. "Thank you, Your Honor." My voice comes out steadier than I expected. "I want to start by saying that Tyler is the most important person in my life. Everything I do, every decision I make, is with his well-being in mind."
The judge nods slightly, encouraging me to continue.
"I won't stand here and say I've done everything right. I haven't. That night with the photographers—I reacted out of instinct when someone shoved a camera in my son's face afterhe was clearly scared. It wasn't the right way to handle it, but it came from a place of protection, not aggression."
I take a breath, finding my rhythm. "But the bigger issue here isn't about one incident. It's about me trying to live my life in separate compartments—being one version of myself with Tyler, another version on the ice, another with Reese. I thought that's what I had to do to meet everyone's needs."
The judge is watching me intently, and I feel a strange certainty that this moment—this complete honesty—is what the whole mess has been leading toward.
"I've realized that approach is what's actually causing instability. Tyler doesn't need a part-time dad who shows up as different versions of himself. He needs me whole—the same person at home, on the ice, everywhere. And yes, Reese is part of that wholeness."
I glance across at Jessica, whose expression has shifted from neutral to something I can’t read.
"Tyler calls her 'bonus mommy' because that's how he sees her—as someone who gives him extra love, not someone who replaces or diminishes his mother's role. Reese makes me better. As you heard, she’s a kindergarten teacher. She is absolutely incredible with Tyler. She knows how to talk to him, how to listen to him. How to help me be a better father."
The courtroom is silent when I finish. I realize I've said more than Patricia advised, but I told the whole truth. For the first time in months, I feel completely aligned with my own words.
The judge turns to Jessica's lawyer. "Counsel, I'm struggling to understand how a stable, loving relationship in Mr. McCoy's life would be detrimental to the child. Can you elaborate?"
Jessica's lawyer shifts uncomfortably. "Your Honor, our concern is primarily about the confusion of parental roles and potential developmental impacts when?—"
"Developmental impacts?" the judge interrupts. "Do you have an expert witness prepared to testify about these alleged impacts?"
"We could certainly arrange for an evaluation, Your Honor."
The judge's eyebrows rise. "So you don't have any evidence that this relationship is actually harmful to the child? Just speculation?"
I watch Jessica's face as the judge speaks. I can see her jaw tensing and releasing. She looks at her lawyer, then down at her hands folded on the table. When she looks up, she's staring at me—really looking at me. I think it’s the first time since I walked in. Her expression isn't soft, but it's...thoughtful. Like she's actually seeing me instead of the idea of me she came in with.
While her lawyer struggles to respond, Jessica leans forward and whispers something. Her lawyer looks surprised, then whispers back, though still inaudible.
Finally, her lawyer says. "Your Honor..."
The judge nods, looking slightly surprised.
“We’d like to withdraw the emergency custody request." She glances at me briefly, then away. "My client would like to try mediation first. To establish clearer boundaries and expectations for Tyler's sake."
Patricia's hand finds my arm, squeezing in disbelief. The judge studies Jessica for a moment, then nods.
"Very well, Ms. Stone. The emergency motion is withdrawn. I strongly encourage both parties to work with a family mediator to resolve these issues in the best interest of your child." She makes a notation on her papers. "Court is adjourned."
The formality dissolves as people rise, gathering papers and whispering. I stand frozen, unable to process what just happened until Patricia nudges me.
"That's a win, Logan," she says quietly. "A big one."
