DCF has the reputation for losing children. In "Where Is Baby X?" a little girl vanishes in the dilapidated city of Miami while in the custody of the child welfare organization. The custodial grandmother claims DCF picked up the little girl. The overzealous investigation finds no proof to that. The child remains missing. The grandmother maintains her innocence. "Where Is Baby X?" This is the first book of the trilogy of The Little Girl in which E.C. Granmoun dramatically depicts the culture of the dysfunctional system. Read the chapter one and go to amazon and download the full book.
ONE
“Where Is Baby X?”
This is the question in the mind of everybody.
The lobby outside of
Judge Zantesken’s courtroom is packed. All the seats out there are full, and
people are standing everywhere with almost no space in between. There are two
other courtrooms there. Judge Tuntom’s is at the west end from Judge Zantesken’s,
and Judge Gonzoles’ is east of hers. All the courtrooms are also already full.
Usually it is that way on Mondays. All the judges, dependency, foster care,
delinquency, all have full schedules. So, the other side of the court is as
packed as well. Deliayan sits in the lobby across from Judge Zantesken’s
courtroom. Naiim, the social worker has just arrived. He does not see the
mother. The lobby is too packed. He enters the courtroom to file his documents
with the clerk. Then he returns and stands outside by the door since the room
is full to capacity. He notices his client sitting right across from him. He
starts to walk over to her.
Judge
Tuntom and her bailiff have just burst into the door and entered the lobby. The
judge is six feet tall. The bailiff is barely five. But, she is walking in
front of the judge as if she was a real bodyguard. She is dressed in some dark
gray security drab with some big black boots on. She is leading the way in the
middle of all these people taller than her, making way for the judge. And, as
she is opening the door into the courtroom, she repeats with an extra high
pitched voice and heavy Hispanic accent. “Everybody, stand up! Judge Tuntom is
presiding.” Some people who are looking at her laugh. Her voice resounds
throughout the lobby and into the courtroom. All attentions are sort of turning
toward her. The door closes behind her and Tuntom. They continue their ways
toward the front of the room.
The judge takes her
position on the platform. She is a tall and lean white woman in her early
fifties with a Midwest accent. She dresses in the court’s black overall, but
appears very pretty, and she is relatively nice for a judge. She always reminds
people that she is from Wyoming. According to her, that is why she is a nice
judge.
The bailiff shouts,
standing in front of the room, “May everybody repeat the oath after me please?”
She starts, “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth, so help me God.”
The room repeats after
her.
Naiim
has reached his client by now. He salutes her. “Hi Deliayan, how are you?”
“Am
okay,”she answers bluntly.
Naiim
understands that she is in no compromising mood as usual. He forces out, “I
have been trying to get in touch with you Deliayan. Where have you been?”
“I
been there.”
“You
know Deliayan, if you don’t do your services you will never get your daughter
back? Your sister told me that you still remain on the streets, and you are
doing drugs. I don’t see how you expect to get your daughter back like that.”
“My
f’ing sister! Mr. Naiim, I don’ know why the f you all take my baby anyway. I
don’t do no’ing to my baby.”
The door of Judge
Zantesken’s courtroom blows open. Her bailiff is calling for the next case.
Nobody answers. He calls louder. Nobody answers still. He becomes frustrated.
He yells, “Okay you all don’t answer? Don’t come to me later and say that I did
not call you.”
Naiim turns to Deliayan
after the bailiff had stopped talking, “It is not a matter that you did
something to your child. You are doing all the wrong things out there, and the
safety and well-being of the child is being compromised. Now, if you want your
child back you have to change your ways.”
The mother curses. “It
is my f’ing sister. She is the one who makes you all take my baby. I hate that
f’ing witch.”
Naiim pleads.
“Deliayan, don’t talk like that.”
She swears. “I don’t
give a f, Mr. Naiim.”
Zantesken’s door flies
open again. The bailiff yells, “May all parties for the case of the State of
Florida Versus Delaiyan step into the courtroom please?”
Naiim raises his hand.
He tells the mother, “Let’s go!”
She reluctantly stands
up and follows him.
Naiim and Delaiyan
enter the packed courtroom. They take standing positions in front of Judge
Zantesken. Both the DCF Attorney and the mother’s Lawyers are present. The
judge looks into the file and asks, “What is this case in for today?”
The DCF attorney, Miss
Ramon responds quickly, “We’re here for TPR hearing Judge. This mother has not
done her services. We are going to terminate her rights.”
The mother’s public
defender, Miss Cleaver intervenes, “Judge, we cannot terminate her parental
rights like that. She.”
“Okay, what do we have
here Miss Ramon?” The Judge interrupts the mother’s attorney.
“Judge, we have had
this case for a year now. This mother has not been working on her services. She
has not done anything at all, Judge, to try to bring this case toward
reunification. Therefore we must move on for Termination of Parental Rights.”
“Mr. Naiim, what have
you done for this mother?” The judge asks, turning to the social worker.
“Judge, we have gone
through that before. We have done everything for this mother. But she has done
nothing herself to try to bring her child home. In fact, according to her
sister, she has given herself completely to drugs and prostitution, and she is
living on the street.”
“Have you referred this
mother for drug counseling, Mr. Naiim?”
The social worker
responds contemptuously. “Judge, this woman has been here for a long time. We
have tried everything with her. The copies of all the referrals, parenting,
drugs, prostitution, all are in the file in front of you Judge.”
The Judge turns to the
mother, “Ma’am, you don’t like your child? Why you don’t do your services?”
“It’s, it’s my sister,
Your Honor. I, I don’t do nothing to my baby. I love my baby.”
Judge Zantesken cuts
her. “Ma’am, you are doing drugs and prostitution out there and abandoning your
child, and you’re saying you love your child?”
“I don’t do no’ing,
Your Honor. I swear I don’t do no’ing.”
The defense attorney
intercedes, “Judge, this mother expresses a desire to see her child.”
“No, this mother is not
going to see her child, Judge. We are going for TPR.” The Prosecutor, Miss
Ramon intervenes.
Judge Zantesken turns
some pages. She takes a good look into the file. She says, “I think I am siding
with you Miss Ramon. This mother does not deserve to see her child. Schedule
this case for TPR at the next hearing.”
The prosecutor leans
toward Naiim and tells him, “I think this mother is pregnant.”
“I did not notice
that,” the social worker admits. He turns to the direction of Deliayan. Then he
turns back to the DCF Attorney and says to her, “I did not notice it before.
But, now you have said it, I see it all over her face.”
“We are going for this
child as well.” Ramon informs him. And, she turns to Judge Zantesken, “Judge, I
am going to ask for this mother to tell the court under oath if she is
pregnant.”
The Judge is taken by
surprise as well. At first sight, most people would not notice the pregnancy.
Although the woman is standing in front of her, the judge still would not think
of her as pregnant. She takes a good look at the mother again and tells her,
“Ma’am, the Department thinks you are pregnant. Could you tell the court, under
oath, whether you are pregnant or not?”
The defense attorney,
Miss Cleaver jumps in. “Judge, I think this is a matter of privacy. I don’t
think the Department can treat the mother like that.”
Judge Zantesken appears
displeased and impatient. She tells Miss Cleaver. “This mother is in the
process of TPR. It is mandatory for us to know if she is pregnant.” She turns
to the mother, “Ma’am, you are ordered to undergo a pregnancy test. Be sure to
bring it at the next hearing.” She turns to the social worker, “Mr. Naiim, make
sure this mother has her pregnancy test before the next court date. The court
is adjourned!”
Naiim and the mother
walk outside together. They are standing out on the balcony looking at the
other side of the establishment where the other courtrooms are located. The
building has two levels. All the courtrooms are on the second floor. The
offices of the judges and some administrative rooms are up there too. The first
floor is where the major administrative activities are held. The clerk’s room,
the records’ room, the lawyers’ quarter, the juvenile delinquency area,
everything is there. People are moving back and forth, crisscrossing each other
trying to obtain services in this quagmire. Up on the second floor, the life is
much sedentary, at least for those who could find a space to sit. Still,
whether you are standing or sitting, you just have to wait for your case to be
called.
Naiim and Delaiyan are
looking. He is talking to her. Although it is already eleven o’clock, the
balcony is still full of people everywhere. It is a really busy Monday. Most
people out there are smokers. They cannot smoke in the courtrooms or the
lobbies. Deliayan feels an urge for a smoke. And most of all, she wants to get
away from Naiim. He has been talking to her about things that she really does
not want to hear. She does not want to hear about making some last efforts to
avoid the TPR, and she does not want to hear about the pregnancy test.
She clarifies for him.
“Mr. Naiim, y’all take my baby away; I ain’t done nothin to her. My sister is
talking a whole bunch of s, and you all believe her. Am just gone a fight you
all on this.”
A jumbo American 747
Airliner flies overhead. This is one of the many that have flown over since
they have stood there. The juvenile facility is near the Miami International
Airport and right under the path of the East Runway. About every minute a plane
takes off. Naiim and his client have had to keep quiet often to allow one
airplane to fly over, only for another one to take off again. Naiim is looking
at the mother and thinking, she is no different than when he had first met her
about twelve months earlier. She is still young and ignorant. She is about to
lose custody of her child forever, and she is talking about fighting the system
that she does not even understand. Again, he thinks. How could she know any
better? She is twenty-two; born and raised in the slums; it is a wonder that
she has even had just only one child so far. Most of the girls have two or
three.
The social worker
understands that much. Delaiyan started life with a very strict single mother
up in Chicago. A couple of years ago, the mother died of cancer. That’s when she came down to Miami to join
some relatives in the Over-Town area. Down in Miami, she got a taste of the
freestyle life under the sun and got hooked up with the wrong crowd. She
started dating a young petty criminal, a pimp that introduced her into smoking
marijuana and dancing in the nude clubs. He moved her around throughout Miami,
from Over-Town, to Florida City, and all the way to the Broward borders. She
made money. He used her money; he beat her up; and he promised to kill her if
she ever left him. When she finally got away from him, she entered the world of
her baby’s father, a career criminal. She immediately became pregnant. He
introduced her into the world of crack cocaine.
Naiim could not discern
anything different about her. She is still that hard-head ignorant young black
mother who is only one year older from when he came in contact with her. She is
still tall, incoherent, and dressed in a seducing manner with much of her light
skinned body showing. She thinks that she is street-smart and she could get
away with things. But Naiim is thinking. She has lost to the system just like
most other young poor black individuals. She is going to lose this child, and
she is going to lose her other child in her stomach. He takes a good look at
her again. He is imagining how she was really pretty before she fell under the
spell of the crack cocaine. And again, he cannot decide if she is really
pregnant or not. His mind might have played tricks on him in the courtroom when
he agreed with the attorney that she was pregnant. Yet again, he thinks. I am a
man; they are women; they must know their things.
He feels now, he would
really want to give her a last chance, to save her. He would want her to
change, to do what the court says, and to do the right thing to raise her
children well. He had never been in good term with her ever since he started
her case. He has always considered her as an ignorant and wasted street-smart
drug addict who is blaming all others for her own created monster while trying
to get away with things. But today, standing there with her, considering that
she is about to lose her children to a system that would not serve them any
better, his heart is pushing him to be extra nice as a black man and to do some
last efforts to help his kind.
He tells her,
“Delaiyan, you know, I never tell you that, but you know your daughter is as
pretty as you are with her milky skin and tender face.”
She replies. “Everybody
say’in so.”
Naiim wants to remain
nice. “I would really like to see you two back together, and the little one you
are carrying too.”
She fumes. “I di’aint
say I was pregnant.”
Naiim pokes. “The
pregnancy test would tell everything Delaiyan!”
“I don care; I ain’t
want to take no test,” she defies. She is thinking, this f’ing Haitian thinks
he knows everything. She has mistaken the Nigerian for Haitian.
Naiim is also thinking.
That’s it. I cannot help her if she does not want to be helped. He tells her,
“Okay Delaiyan, I’ll see you on the 13th. Remember! It is a Friday!”
She walks away sucking
her teeth.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LWANVYO
By E.C. GRANMOUN
Other books:
The Social Worker
The Chaos Of Child Welfare: Revelation By X-DCF Social Worker
Bully: A Novel
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