But never in all the time he’d spent in courtrooms across the states of Tennessee and Alabama had he ever been as nervous as he was right now.
He heard the entrance door to the restroom swing open and then the sound of loafers trudging over the worn tile. “Bo, it’s time,” a sharp voice said. “The judge has reached his decision.”
Bo squeezed the sides of the sink, and his heart began to pound in his chest. He turned to face his attorney. Burgess Cloud was a compact and trim man with curly brown hair and a pencil-thin mustache. He was widely regarded as the best domestic relations attorney in Huntsville, if not the whole state of Alabama.
“Already?” Bo asked, feeling a bit light headed. Judge Woodruff had asked the parties to hang around after the evidence had closed fifteen minutes ago, but Bo figured His Honor would have at least taken an hour to think about it.
“Yes,” Burgess said, and Bo noticed that his lawyer’s ruddy face had darkened.
“Awful fast,” Bo said. “That good or bad?”
“We’re about to find out,” Burgess said.
The Honorable Lucas Baines Woodruff made a tent with his hands and peered over the bench. Woodruff was the dean of the Madison County judiciary, having served as a circuit court judge for almost thirty years. He was a political survivor, having been elected in the late ’70s as a yellow dog Democrat and then, when it became obvious that no one could win an election in Alabama as a Democrat anymore, he switched parties on the eve of the 2006 election. In February 2015, he’d run unopposed in the Republican primary, and it was doubtful that any Democrat would be foolish enough to run against him come November. Woodruff was a balding man with two patches of white fuzz on the sides of his head. He wore bifocals to read, and now after clearing his throat, he lowered the glasses to the edge of his nose so that he could see the parties and their attorneys, all of whom were standing.
Bo sucked in a deep breath and stole a glance across the courtroom at the petitioner’s table, where attorney Candy Hoffpower stood with her hands folded behind her back, eyes locked on to the judge. Her client, Bo’s former father-in-law, stood next to her. Ezra Henderson had a full head of silver hair and a matching beard. Ezra’s skin was milk-chocolate brown and mirrored that of his daughter, Jasmine.
Jazz . . . , Bo thought, seeing a vision of his deceased wife in his mind. It was always the same image. Jazz with a confused expression, reaching out toward him with blood on her fingers, her cream-colored dress stained red from the first gunshot and then, before Bo could clasp her by the hands, her head . . .
He closed his eyes, feeling shame, bitterness, and despair engulf him.
“Mr. Haynes,” Judge Woodruff bellowed, his voice harsh and cold. Bo’s eyes snapped open. “I have considered the evidence in Mr. Henderson’s petition carefully, and I think, at least at this juncture, there is only one way that I can rule and be assured that I’m acting in the best interest of your daughter, Lila, who is fourteen years old.” He paused, frowning at Bo with creased eyebrows. “Given your criminal record, your multiple suspensions from the practice of law, the fact that you currently do not have gainful employment, and finally that you are renting a farmhouse on the edge of the county that, in light of where Lila currently attends school, would not be a suitable residence, I’m going to award full custody of Lila Michelle Haynes to her grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Ezra Henderson.”
Bo felt heat on his cheeks and face but kept his expression neutral.
“As for your son, Thomas Jackson ‘T. J.’ Haynes, who is seventeen years of age, though I would certainly recommend that he also stay with the Hendersons, it is the court’s decision to allow T. J. to decide where he wants to live.” Woodruff stood and motioned with his hand to the back of the courtroom. “T. J., will you please approach the bench?”
Bo looked over his shoulder and watched his son stride down the aisle. Even under such dire conditions, Bo couldn’t help but swell with pride as he watched his boy walk with poise and confidence toward the bench. T. J. was a junior at Huntsville High and had scholarship offers to play basketball at Vanderbilt, Middle Tennessee State, and Auburn. At six feet two and 180 pounds, he wasn’t quite as tall or thick as his father, but T. J.’s sleek build was perfect for cutting around screens as a shooting guard.
“Have you made your decision, young man?” the judge asked, his tone a hair softer.
T. J. gazed over his shoulder at Bo, who gave him a firm nod.
For a moment, father and son stared at each other, but finally T. J. peered back up at the judge. “I want to live with my grandfather,” T. J. said, his voice resigned.
“Very well,” Woodruff said, wrinkling up his mouth in what must have constituted a smile for His Honor, though it looked to Bo more like a grimace. “You may return to your seat.”
T. J. did as he was told but not before shooting his father a glance and ignoring the outstretched hand of Ezra Henderson.
“With respect to visitation,” Judge Woodruff continued, his voice turning arctic again as he took off his spectacles and held them by the frames, “I agree with the schedule proposed by Ms. Hoffpower.”
Every other weekend and holiday, Bo thought, gritting his teeth but again forcing his face to register no emotion.
“I have one final thing to say,” Woodruff said, returning to his seat and letting out a deep sigh. “It is not without a good deal of anguish that I make this ruling today. Though I am finding against Mr. Haynes for the reasons already stated, it would be unjust and unfair not to recognize Mr. Haynes’s long and distinguished career as a trial attorney in Pulaski, Tennessee, and the fact that Mr. Haynes’s ‘criminal record . . .’” He paused to make the quote symbol with the index and middle fingers of both hands. “. . . as well as his second suspension from the practice of law, both stem from a conviction for misdemeanor assault last year that arose during a confrontation with his deceased wife where he was attempting to keep her out of harm’s way.” Woodruff licked his lips and blinked his eyes. “Unfortunately, as we all know, Ms. Jasmine Haynes was murdered outside the Von Braun Center in December 2013. Since such time and up until the first of this year, the two children of the marriage, T. J. and Lila, have been living with Mr. and Mrs. Henderson with Mr. Haynes’s apparent blessing as even you, Mr. Haynes, must have thought they were better off with their grandparents during such time. When you demanded that the children be returned, Mr. and Mrs. Henderson filed their petition with this court.” Again, Judge Woodruff formed a tent with his hands. “Because of these unusual circumstances, it is this court’s ruling that today’s judgment is temporary and will be revisited in six months’ time. If Mr. Haynes has established gainful employment, obtained a suitable residence in line with the children’s school, and has had no further run-ins with the law, then the court may reconsider this order.” He paused and smacked his lips. “Does everyone understand the ruling of this court?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Burgess Cloud said.
“Yes, Judge,” Candy Hoffpower added, smiling up at the judge.
“Yes, Your Honor,” Ezra Henderson’s low growl of a voice uttered. “Thank you, sir.” Ezra peered over at Bo, and Bo wasn’t sure whether he saw triumph or rage in the older man’s gaze. He will never forgive me for Jazz’s death, Bo thought, scowling hard back at his former father-in-law. And no punishment, not even taking my kids away from me, will ever be enough.