The judge waited for the attorney to finish arranging his papers.
He seemed less certain than he had been at the beginning.
His opening speech had been confident.
He had talked about family as though the word alone could settle the case.
Now he was looking at three binders.
I watched him turn toward Arthur and Evelyn.
They whispered briefly.
My father shook his head.
My mother kept her eyes on the table.
Their attorney stood again.
"Your Honor, given the nature of the documents introduced today, we would request additional time to examine the records."
Judge Wynn looked at him.
"Which records specifically?"
"The police report, the insurance documentation, and the associated estate materials."
I understood what he wanted.
He had come prepared to argue that my parents deserved the inheritance.
He had not come prepared to explain the history behind their disappearance from my life.
The judge looked at me.
"Mr. Marsh, do you object to the request?"
I stood.
"No, Your Honor. I have no objection to a proper review of the documents."
The attorney looked surprised.
I continued.
"But I would ask that the court preserve the materials already submitted and consider the adoption records alongside the plaintiffs' claims."
Judge Wynn nodded.
"That is understood."
I sat down.
My father leaned toward his attorney.
I couldn't hear what he said.
But I noticed that he no longer looked toward me.
The judge reviewed the documents again.
She asked about the dates on the insurance policy.
I confirmed that the policy had been obtained eighteen months before I was abandoned.
She asked about the payment.
I confirmed the amount shown in the records.
Sixty-two thousand dollars.
She asked whether the plaintiffs disputed receiving it.
Their attorney said they needed additional time to examine the documentation.
The judge accepted that the matter required proper consideration.
I didn't feel victorious.
Not yet.
I had spent too many years learning that a person could be hurt long before anyone officially acknowledged it.
A courtroom decision would not change the February afternoon in Dayton.
It would not put me back on the wooden bench with a parent waiting nearby.
But it could prevent the people who left me from taking what Elijah had given me.
That mattered.
Judge Wynn asked whether either side had additional materials.
The attorney said he had none at that moment.
I had one more set of supporting estate records available.
I explained that the estate attorney had provided them to establish the distribution under Elijah's will.
The judge reviewed the relevant pages.
The beneficiary designation was clear.
My name appeared where it belonged.
Matthew Marsh.
I remembered the first time I had seen that name on the estate paperwork.
I had been sitting in the attorney's office, still struggling to accept that Elijah was gone.
The number had seemed unreal.
Three million eight hundred thousand dollars.
But the name had made me cry.
He had chosen me.
Not because I had demanded anything.
Not because I was connected to him by money.
Because I was his son.
The judge placed the will beside the adoption decree.
I watched her compare the documents.
Then she looked toward the plaintiffs' table.
"Do you have evidence that the decedent intended to leave the estate to anyone other than the named beneficiary?"
Their attorney paused.
"Not at this time, Your Honor."
"Do you have evidence challenging the validity of the adoption?"
He looked down.
"No formal evidence at this time."
The judge made another note.
I returned my eyes to the table.
My hands were steady.
I had expected to feel more anger.
Instead, I felt tired.
The kind of tiredness that came after carrying something for too long.
My mother finally looked toward me.
I didn't turn away.
For a moment, I wondered whether she wanted to say something.
She didn't.
The judge announced that she would allow the requested review and determine the next procedural steps.
Nobody objected.
The bailiff gathered the documents.
I helped arrange my binders.
The first one still contained the police report.
The second contained the policy.
The third contained Elijah's adoption decree.
I closed each one carefully.
I had not come to court to make my parents suffer.
I had come to protect the man who had given me a life.
And I was not going to let his kindness become an opportunity for them to profit from what they had done.
Click here to continue reading: PART 14: Outside the Courtroom, My Brother Asked Whether I Really Thought Our Parents Had Planned Everything Before That Afternoon
The Little Boy Who Believed His Parents Would Return, Even After Everyone Else Had Stopped Waiting
Part 13 of 24
