“So you’ve had no contact with this child for over four years, have shown no interest in her welfare, and are now suddenly concerned about her living situation?”
“Daddy, who’s that lady?” Debbie asked a little too loudly. All heads—including the judge’s—turned toward her.
“She gets to talk now, sweetie. Just sit tight. Everything will be okay,” I said through gritted teeth, unsure if I was lying to my little girl or not.
Judge Williams’s stare lingered before returning to Sarah. “Continue.”
She raised a brow and simply asked, “No contact in four years? That was the question.”
“I was unaware of the full circumstances—”
“What circumstances, specifically, are you referring to?”
Linda Trubio’s composure cracked, and a touch of righteous anger flared in her eyes. “Themoralenvironment. The . . . lifestyle choices that are being modeled for an impressionable child.”
“You mean the fact that Mr. Jamison is gay?”
“Children should be raised with traditional values—”
Sarah looked to the judge.
“Please, just answer the questions you are asked, Ms. Trubio,” Judge Williams instructed.
“Ms. Trubio, are you aware that Deborah has been thriving in Mr. Jamison’s care? That she’s healthy, happy, academically successful for her age, and well adjusted?”
“That’s not the point—”
“Then what is the point? What is your specific objection to this adoption?”
Linda straightened in her chair, her voice taking on a tone that made my skin crawl. “My objection is that no child should be raised in an environment where homosexual activity is taking place. It’s inappropriate and harmful.”
The courtroom fell silent except for the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.
Judge Williams leaned forward slightly. “Ms. Trubio, I’m going to ask you directly—do you have any evidence that Deborah has been harmed, neglected, or mistreated in any way while in Mr. Jamison’s care?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Do you have any evidence that she’s been exposed to anything inappropriate or harmful?”
“The very presence of two men and the nature of their relationship—”
“Ms. Trubio, that’s not evidence. That’s opinion.” Judge Williams’s tone had grown sharp. “Do you have any concrete evidence of harm to this child?”
“Your Honor.” Mr. Kaufman rose. “If I may, Georgia statute clearly favors a ‘best interest’ interpretation in favor of the child, not the adult. Further, many courts in this state side with heterosexual relationships over homosexual ones under this principle. We only—”
“I understand your argument, however outdated it may be,” the judge snapped.
“I believe that children need traditional role models—”
“That’s enough, Ms. Trubio.” Judge Williams turned to address both attorneys. “I’m going to recess this hearing for lunch and to consider the testimony presented. We’ll reconvene at two p.m.”
The gavel came down with a sound like thunder, and the judge rose and exited the courtroom.
As people began to file out, I remained frozen in my seat, unfeeling fingers gripping hardened wood, staring up at the empty judge’s bench.
This couldn’t be happening.
Not today.
