The next time I returned to court, I arrived early.
I carried the three binders.
I checked the courtroom number.
Then I walked inside.
The room was familiar now.
The tables.
The chairs.
The judge's bench.
The clerk's desk.
I placed my materials in front of me.
The clerk was arranging papers.
Her pen moved across a notepad.
That small scratching sound brought back the first hearing.
I remembered standing when Judge Wynn asked whether I was waiting for an attorney.
I remembered my mother's smile.
I remembered Wyatt laughing quietly.
I remembered telling the judge I would represent myself.
I had been nervous that morning.
I wasn't nervous in quite the same way now.
I knew where the documents were.
I knew the dates.
I knew the legal position I was asking the court to consider.
I sat down and waited.
A few minutes later, Arthur and Evelyn entered.
My mother wore another carefully chosen outfit.
My father carried a folder.
Wyatt followed them.
Their attorney walked beside them.
They sat at the plaintiffs' table.
Nobody greeted me.
I didn't expect them to.
My father placed his folder on the table.
My mother adjusted her sleeves.
Wyatt glanced toward me.
For a second, he looked as though he might say something.
Then he turned away.
I opened my briefcase.
The first binder was on top.
I checked the label.
Police report.
The second.
Insurance records.
The third.
Adoption and estate documents.
Everything was where it belonged.
Judge Wynn entered.
The bailiff called everyone to stand.
We rose.
The judge took her seat.
She reviewed the file before looking toward the parties.
"Good morning."
Both attorneys acknowledged her.
I stood.
"Good morning, Your Honor."
She asked whether the parties were prepared to continue.
I answered yes.
Their attorney answered yes as well.
The judge began with the outstanding issues.
She referred to the documents previously submitted.
She asked whether the plaintiffs had completed their review.
Their attorney said they had reviewed the materials.
He also indicated that they maintained their position regarding the inheritance.
I listened.
I didn't interrupt.
Judge Wynn looked toward me.
"Mr. Marsh, are you prepared to respond?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
I stood.
I opened the third binder first.
The adoption decree was exactly where I had placed it.
I handed the relevant pages to the bailiff.
Then I opened the estate section.
I wanted the court to have both documents together.
The judge reviewed them.
My parents watched.
I could feel their attention from across the room.
I didn't look at them.
I looked at the judge.
The law was not going to change because my father was uncomfortable.
The adoption decree did not become less valid because my mother wanted the money.
And Elijah's will did not become less meaningful because Arthur and Evelyn had appeared after his death.
I returned to my table.
Judge Wynn made a note.
The attorney for my parents prepared to speak.
I closed the binder.
For a moment, I thought about the old chess set.
I remembered Elijah telling me that sometimes the best move was to wait.
Not because waiting solved everything.
Because rushing could make you lose sight of what mattered.
I had learned that lesson long before I became a lawyer.
Now I was using it.
My father leaned toward his attorney.
My mother stared at the judge.
Wyatt sat very still.
The courtroom was quiet.
I looked at the three binders.
Twenty-two years earlier, I had waited on a wooden bench because my mother told me to.
This time, I was sitting in a courtroom because I had chosen to be there.
And I was prepared to finish what I had started.
Click here to continue reading: PART 21: The Judge Asked Me One Question About the Three Binders, and I Realized the Truth No Longer Needed Me to Defend It
The Little Boy Who Believed His Parents Would Return, Even After Everyone Else Had Stopped Waiting
Part 20 of 24
