Theo
Sarah found us on a wooden bench in the courthouse hallway, Debbie’s head resting against my shoulder while she quietly hummed something that might have been fromMoana . . .or might have been her own composition about dragon princesses saving libraries. I’d barely touched the sandwich my attorney had insisted we buy from the cafeteria, my stomach too twisted with anxiety to handle food.
“It’s time,” Sarah said gently, her expression carefully neutral in that way lawyers perfected when they didn’t want to give anything away.
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and helped Debbie to her feet. Her serious shoes clicked against the marble floor as we made our way back to the courtroom, the sound echoing off the high ceilings like tiny hammers against my already frayed nerves.
“Daddy, your hand is doing the shaky thing again,” Debbie whispered as we approached the heavy wooden doors.
“Sorry, Button. I guess I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous. You’re the best daddy in the whole world. The judge will see that. She has to.”
Her confidence should have been comforting.
Instead, it made my chest tighten with the weight of everything that could go wrong.
Inside the courtroom, Linda Trubio and her attorney were seated in the front row of the gallery, both wearing expressions of grim determination. Linda’s eyes followed us as we took our seats at the petitioner’s table. I felt oddly exposed under her scrutiny, like she was cataloging every flaw that might support her convictions.
“All rise,” the bailiff announced, and the familiar ritual began again.
Judge Williams entered with the same measured steps as before, but something in her bearing had changed. The warm authority she’d shown during Debbie’s testimony had been replaced by something more formal, more distant. She settled behind the bench and shuffled through papers while the courtroom held its collective breath.
“Please be seated,” she said finally, her voice carrying easily through the space.
My heart hammered against my ribs as she reviewed her notes, each second stretching into an eternity. Beside me, Debbie sat perfectly still, her small hands folded in her lap like she was trying to be the best-behaved child in the history of courtrooms.
“This Court has considered all testimony and evidence presented today,” Judge Williams began, her tone carefully measured. “This is a matter that touches on fundamental questions of family, stability, and the best interests of a minor child.”
She paused, looking directly at Linda.
“Ms. Trubio, I want you to know that this Court sympathizes with your views and concerns. I am always focused, first and foremost, on the well-being of every child who comes before this bench. Nothing—absolutely nothing—is more important than that.”
My stomach dropped.
This was it.
This was where she explained why Linda was right, why traditional families were better, why I wasn’t enough.
Then Judge Williams turned to me, and her expression grew stern.
“Mr. Jamison, I must tell you that I am disturbed by just learning of your relationship and the fact that another man has been influencing your household without the Court’s knowledge during these proceedings. I am equally disturbed that Children’s Services failed to report such a relationship to this Court. This is a grave oversight, one I will address directly with the State following these proceedings.”
I felt like some Samurai had just plunged his blade through my stomach.
Blood rushed in my ears so loudly I almost missed what came next.
“However,” Judge Williams continued, and that single word made me gasp for air, “this Court is tasked with examining evidence and the law, not assumptions, religious beliefs, or prejudices.”
She straightened in her chair, her voice growing stronger.
“The evidence before this Court shows a child who is thriving academically, emotionally, and socially. The evidence shows a father who has provided stability, love, and devoted care for four years as her legal, court-supervised guardian. The evidence shows a home where a little girl feels safe, valued, and cherished.”
My vision blurred as tears I’d been fighting all day finally broke free.
“Ms. Trubio,” Judge Williams addressed Linda directly, “while I understand your concerns, your complete lack of involvement in this child’s life for over four years, your failure to provideanysupport—financial or otherwise—and your inability to present any evidence of actual harm makes your objections as close to irrelevant as this Court can fathom.”
Linda’s face flushed, but she remained silent.
