presented here in 2 installments. Link to complete story with pictures and refernces here
Comments by Brian Shilhavy
Editor, Health Impact News
Recently, a judge in Boise, Idaho allegedly ordered a mother in court to have MedicalKidnap.com take down a picture of a Child Abuse Specialist, Dr. Amy Barton, from one of our articles, because publishing her image allegedly is “not acceptable” and violates her clinic’s policies.
The clinic is St. Luke’s Children’s Hospital CARES (Child At Risk Evaluation Services) in Boise, Idaho.
Maybe Judge Courtnie Tucker is not aware that St. Luke’s Children’s Hospital CARES belongs to the National Children’s Alliance, which in 2019 will administer a total of $10,271,000.00 in federal funds under a cooperative agreement with U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention, as reporter Allie Parker will explain below.
Because if Judge Tucker is aware of this, then she should certainly understand the First Amendment of the Constitution protects Freedom of Speech and Freedom of the Press to publish and criticize any public servant, meaning anyone receiving public funds.
Child Abuse Pediatricians are not regular doctors. They are not hired by parents, but work together with Child Welfare programs all across the country looking for child abuse, and as such operate more like law enforcement than they do like doctors.
Therefore, if you are being accused of any wrong-doing by a Child Abuse Specialist doctor, you are free to publish criticisms of them, and if any judge tells you otherwise, the judge is on the wrong side of the law.
And this holds true for any other “public servant,” such as law enforcement, social workers, judges, and anyone else working for an entity receiving public funding.
We The People
by Allie Parker
Health Impact News
Civil rights are often violated by physicians and hospitals when accusing a family or individual of child physical or medical abuse. Prosecutors and even some judges are raising the bar by violating the US Constitution’s First Amendment.
It is becoming common knowledge that child abuse pediatricians and child protection services intimidate families and individuals. This intimidation has now entered the courts, which is a place where citizens are supposed to be presumed innocent until proven guilty, have the right to due process, and the right to a fair and speedy trial.
Unfortunately, a recent case in Idaho, clearly shows a Judge, Judge Courtnie Tucker and Prosecutor Shari Dodge, are violating the First Amendment rights of a mother and son. They are also going so far as to violate the First Amendment right of the press.
The US Constitution was made effective in 1789, and starts with “We the People.” According to the US Senate, this affirms that the government and the United States exist for its citizens. [1]
The First Amendment to the Constitution states: “Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”
However, in Idaho, Prosecutor Shari Dodge made complaints to Judge Courtnie Tucker about a Facebook page supporting a mother who is allegedly, falsely accused of medical child abuse, claiming the case involves a child (16 years old), and is “possibly” violating the Idaho Child Protection Act.
The Prosecutor also motioned for the interview, done by St. Luke’s Children At Risk Evaluation Services (CARES), which was posted by the family, be taken down, arguing the department doesn’t make those interviews public and is concerned about how it is being used.
St. Luke’s (CARES) boasts they are the only Idaho-based not-for-profit health system. [2]
It is also part of the National Children’s Alliance, which in 2019 will administer a total of $10,271,000.00 in federal funds under a cooperative agreement with U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention. [3]
Judge Tucker agreed with Prosecutor Dodge, and ordered the mother to take down the interview, as well as any articles covering the case, which include those published by MedicalKidnap.com, further violating not only the mother’s First Amendment rights to freedom of speech, but also MedicalKidnap’s right to freedom of press.
Not to mention, MedicalKidnap.com, and the articles it publishes, are completely out of the mother’s control.
Furthermore, according to Idaho Rules of Family Law, procedure rule 115, “all trials upon the merits shall be conducted in open court and so far as convenient in a regular courtroom.”
The rule continues with “All trials or hearings of any court held before a judge or magistrate assigned thereto, and all judgments and orders issued by such courts shall be deemed to have been done in open court, regardless of the place held.” [4]
On July 16, 2019, Judge Tucker seems to have violated rule 115 of the Idaho Supreme Court Family Law, and violated the US Constitution’s 1st Amendment rights of both the family and the press.
A crowd gathered at the courthouse in support of the family, which included Eric Parker, President of the Real 3%ers of Idaho, who raised the question to the judge asking if a State legislator, also present in support, could stay to witness the proceedings.
A bailiff immediately prevented him from recording, and took away his phone.
The judge ordered everyone out of the court room, and those suspected of recording were taken behind closed doors and made to erase any videos.
See:
Idaho Judge in 16-Year-Old Medical Kidnap Case Orders Video and Picture of Doctor Removed from MedicalKidnap.com as Cell Phones of Supporters are Confiscated
to be continued tomorrow
Pick up a copy of all my works here: By Peter Weiss
based upon a true story
You know, they put it all on me. CPS! I have a few wonderful words for them. Not!
You would think they would listen to what the judge said. You would think that they would hasten visits with my children so that we could be together sometimes, regularly, while they were away. You would think that they would want this, you would think that they would want the truth somewhere somehow.
But they were not interested in any of that. They were not interested in my having visitation with my kids. They were not interested in what the truth was. They had, from their standpoint, two very adoptable kids, and with all my heart and soul I believe that they were planning to cut me entirely out of the picture so that they could adopt out my kids and make a fortune on them.
Later I would go on to read all about the problems with CPS. I would go on to begin to study all the cases where they did to others exactly what they did to me. In fact, while I was going through what I was going through and stuck in what I was stuck in, I was crying every day and paying a fortune to a lawyer who in effect could not really do very much for me. So I couldn’t really see what was going on. As the proverb goes, I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
About the best thing the lawyer actually did do for me was stop me from being so much of a lunatic mother that I lost my kids permanently. In the end, his greatest function was tempering me, was convincing me that if I didn’t play the game the way they wanted me to play the game I would lose my children forever.
He told me a story about how on the thirty-first of the month, a CPS worker went to a home to see a child who was in their system but had never been removed from the home. This meant that CPS had their eye on the child. In terms of what I know now, this meant that they were biding their time and waiting until the mother screwed up in such a way that they could effect a kidnapping.
So they get to the house and the kid isn’t there. They go through the house, two CPS workers, two people who were supposed to be on the side of the parent, especially this parent who was never accused of anything, who had never done anything, whose only issue was that she was a poor single mother. They go through every bit of the house as if they own it. The house is clean and well-kept. The only thing they find that they object to is that there’s not enough food, and there’s no milk in the refrigerator. They make a big deal of telling the mother this, and the mother, very innocently, tells them that she gave the last of her money to the kids who went out to buy milk.
So they plop their butts down on the sofa and wait for the kid to return. In the meantime they lambaste the mother, who was smoking a cigarette, for having money for cigarettes but not enough money for milk.
“But I sent the kids out.”
“That’s another thing, why would you send them out alone?”
“Jesus, the boy is fourteen years old. It’s not as if he’s a baby.”
Long story short, the boy, on an IEP for being ADHD, got distracted. Bought himself a nice new pen for school and forgot all about the milk. Right then, when they got home they took them away for — neglect.
The story was meant to tell me that CPS held all the cards and I should quietly, properly, appropriately, do what they said I had to do until we could get into court and prove our case.
Pick up a copy of all my published works here: By Peter Weiss
But the webs weren’t really too complicated. Things, whether we want to believe it or not, have a way of working themselves out.
And so they did.
Bill’s wife, his newlywed, took several trips up to Cleveland during the month of June. They had decided, somewhat reluctantly on her part but not because of Bill’s influence, to move up to around where her parents lived. Bill was okay with this because he was not enamored of the idea of going back to New York. And he still had a couple of months left on his probation even though that was pretty much in the past. Thanks to Bailey, who was really interested in getting with Lucy, the gorgeous hostess over on the West side, and who was also into the numbers game that Robert collected for (which is what Robert had been busted for and what led to his meeting Bill), the police had been leaving Bill alone, no longer followed him at all and pretty much maintained a hands-off policy about him.
Bea was ever herself, but she was more distant from Bill since they’d had that fight even though she had her moments when, feeling frisky, she might try to initiate something. Bill quickly reminded her that he was married now and maybe when he got around to her age things would be different. For right now, though, he was staying faithful.
He and Mary had finished up as a couple. They loved each other, and it was not only clear to them but it was also clear to everyone else who watched them in their interplay. Nevertheless, Mary now had a simple stay-to-herself policy, and Bill did not make any advances toward her because he was afraid she might accept them and he would go with her. Sometimes, fear’s a good thing.
Lily and Brooklyn never scored on their bet. They had made that bet on who would be the first to get with Bill, but Arlene, ever a loyal friend, had tipped Bill off about it. Forewarned, he was able to play it as it went, accept their flirting, even cop a few feels, but nothing more. Brooklyn had kissed him once, a long tongue kiss, and he couldn’t say that it tasted bad. In fact, it reminded him of a girl from when he was about fifteen who had a really sweet tongue. In another time and another place he would have continued kissing, not only there but everywhere, all over her, everywhere.
Lily came in one day not wearing any panties. That was her final attempt at getting him to go with her. In retrospect, Bill thought, it was a valiant attempt, and again, in another time and another place it would’ve gotten her everywhere. But, alas, the dorky, chubby, crewcut-sporting, black-plastic glasses wearing kid who was clumsy and awkward and spatially retarded, existed no more. Oh, he was still spatially retarded for sure, even if he didn’t know it yet. At this point in time before he would be diagnosed, he just thought himself extremely clumsy and very lacking in eye-hand coordination.
That gawky, dorky kid had grown into a young man who was skinny and extremely adept at the job he did. So, to others, if he thought about it, he was perceived as somewhat cool and he was surely in a power position.
That day that Lily wore no panties, he was sitting out on his milk cases, like he usually did. Lily came out and stood by him, actually opposite him, and put one foot up on Bea’s lettuce cases. Bill could see just about all the way up there. Bill got the distinct impression that Lily wanted him to see all the way up there. Bill had no problem looking up there, and as he sat smoking a cigarette, he thought about the pleasures that he might find up there if he were so inclined.
Pick up a copy of all my works here: By Peter Weiss
The thing is they know better. The thing is they know exactly what they are doing and why, and some of it — not all – is coordinated. All of it is calculated and planned. They know what they’re doing and they know it’s bad for America.
Talking about the Despicable Democrats. Talking about the fact, and it is a fact, that they continually say they are doing what the American people want when about the best they can reasonably say is they are perhaps doing what some of their supporters want.
So, in fact, when they tell us, those Despicable Democrats do, that what they are doing is what the American people want, at the very best it’s a calculation. They are betting that the mainstream media, Pravda USA, will echo what they say and repeat it in almost an endless loop over and over such that the people listening will believe it as fact. They are purposefully manipulating, or at the very least attempting to manipulate, “the American people.”
Gee, I thought they were supposed to represent us. I thought they were elected to carry out our wishes. I thought their function was to come together as a legislative body, solicit what the populace wants and needs and then work to accomplish that.
I didn’t think it was their job to tell us what they want us to want and then attempt to manipulate us into believing it is what we want.
Silly me!
So a few facts. The first is a very simple one: there is a difference between facts and opinions, or, as taught in freshman composition class, there is a difference between observation and inference. It is one of the first lessons taught in basic rhetoric.
A fact is something empirical, something known or proved to be true. An example would be that 65,844,954 people, according to CNN, voted for Hillary, and 62,979,879 people voted for Trump. Even if these numbers aren’t exactly correct, they are verifiable and so could be accepted as fact.
What’s not a fact is the CNN headline that comes up first in a Google search of “how many people voted for Hillary” which is “It’s official: Clinton swamps Trump in popular vote — CNN politics.” She did beat him in popular vote. That’s a fact. Did she “swamp” him? That’s an opinion. An opinion is a view or judgment not necessarily based upon facts or knowledge.
The most famous line of this is “it depends upon what the definition of is is,” spoken by — you guessed it — a Democrat.
So when we come down to it, lots of things are in play. In regard to the voting, you can’t say that everyone who voted for either candidate actually supported that candidate. Maybe someone voted for one of the candidates simply because they couldn’t stand the other one. Or vice versa. And on and on it goes.
We’ve come into an age of linguistic breakdown, where hyperbole rules and where opinion is passed on as fact simply because someone says it, the mainstream media repeats it, Pravda USA, telling us it is so and desperately attempting to coerce us, to manipulate us into believing what they want us to believe.
Overall and without doubt, what’s going on in the Democratic-led House of Representatives is dangerous to America. Inquiry is good. Honest inquiry is even better. Honest inquiry would look at all aspects of what really happened. Honest inquiry coupled with doing the business America really needs done, like fixing our immigration policies and what’s happening at the border, like enforcing our laws, like dealing with the homeless and the poor and needy American citizens, like working on the National Debt — you know what the real business is — would be best.
But alas, man is by nature selfish and greedy and clearly the Despicable Dems care more for power and personal wealth than for the good of the American people or for America itself.
Pick up a copy of Bill Wynn: The Second Hundred and all my works here:
By Peter Weiss
They did figure it out. It was easy to figure out. They were both young and frisky and educated, and actually it wasn’t much of a difficult problem. A hard one, yes, but of course that was part of the fun of it all.
In fact, they found multiple solutions to the same fun problem. They found creative ways to effect exactly what they wanted to effect but with Bill being able to say, in his own way, that he wasn’t cheating.
To her credit, Arlene was not pushy. She did not pressure him to go out with her, to go home with her, to be with her. She led him to understand that her mother was really quite okay and that as far as things were going in her life, so long as her mother was okay and the prognosis was good, she was in decent shape.
But there did come a time when they were sitting opposite each other in a diner and Arlene let slip something about the true nature of her real feelings.
They had finished the night shift and gotten out relatively early. Bill’s wife was hanging out with Tim and her friends, and since it was summer and they weren’t going to school, after all she was graduated now, she mentioned that they might be out late. So Bill and Arlene met at the diner where they usually met if they weren’t going to her house. She had a Sundae. He ate hot Apple pie in vanilla sauce.
At first they didn’t talk much, but then they started to talk about what they were going to do after they finished in the diner.
“I’d like to, well you know what I’d like to do,” Arlene said.
“I can guess.”
“No, I don’t think you can guess.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you haven’t got a clue as to how I actually feel.”
“So maybe you ought to tell me how you actually feel,” Bill said.
“You mean you really don’t know?”
“I’m not so sure what I know. I’m not so sure I even know what I don’t know.”
“Well then you’re pretty stupid.”
“Arlene, don’t be so cryptic. If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
“I wish you’d never gotten married. I wish I’d met you before I did, under other circumstances maybe.”
“Ah, geez,” Bill said.
“Yeah, ah geez.”
They had a long period of silence before Arlene, who was clearly holding back tears, looked at Bill and said, “Fuck it. Let’s go to my house.”
They did.
They sat in her living room and popped Quaaludes, something they did pretty frequently when they were together, then they smoked a joint, then they drank white wine. Arlene kept several bottles of white wine appropriately chilled in her refrigerator for Bill and her to drink.
She kicked off her shoes. She sat facing him with her legs tucked under her. She slowly began unbuttoning her blouse.
Bill knew he should have gone home at that moment, but he also knew he wasn’t going home. He watched her undress, watched her sit in just her bra and panties before him. He watched her begin to sensually rub her hands along the inside of her thighs. He watched her reach to him and begin to take off his shirt.
“Tell me you really care about me,” Arlene said.
“I really care about you,” Bill said. “And if I weren’t married I’d…” He stopped himself there.
“You’d what?”
Bill reached out for Arlene and pulled her into his arms. Interestingly, he wasn’t thinking about her and he wasn’t thinking about his wife. He was thinking about Mary, the woman he really loved, or, at the very least, the woman he thought he really loved.
Oh, the webs we weave.
Pick up a copy of Bill Wynn: The Second Hundred and all my works here:
By Peter Weiss
based upon a true story
Neglect my foot!
All my life I’ve done nothing but love and cherish my kids. I made all the sensible and reasonable decisions about vaccinations and preventive medical care. They went to the doctor and dentist regularly for checkups and any and every time they were sick. My kids never knew hunger, being left alone, not being cared for. They weren’t raised by a TV. I was never drunk or on drugs. I didn’t yell at them and certainly never hit them. They had toys and clothes, and my boy, who accidentally got hit in the eye with baseball bouncing off the bounce-back screen, was in Boy Scouts and Little League. The Scout Masters knew me. The Little League coaches knew me.
So what the hell?
A whole month went by. CPS never contacted me about visitation. I called them more than twenty times and could prove it with my phone records. But at that first real hearing they just outright lied. They said they called me repeatedly to accomplish visitation but I never answered my phone. My lawyer stated that this was not true, that in fact CPS never contacted me to set up the visitation. He asked the court to request the phone records, but the judge declined to do this. When my lawyer went to show him my phone records, he refused to see them, said they weren’t necessary.
In effect, overall, CPS argued that I was a disinterested, angry and embittered mother, that I took no actions to find out how my children were, how they were doing or to even arrange to see them.
When my lawyer objected, when he attempted to present testimonials from our doctors, from our friends and my children’s friends’ parents, etc., the judge waived him off and said that there would be time for all that eventually.
My lawyer was too nice, I thought. I thought he should have taken all the paperwork we had collected and dumped it on his desk. I thought he should have asked CPS to present one single shred of evidence.
But when we discussed it later, my lawyer told me that would have been a gross mistake. He said they had evidence. They had the school reports, which we had not yet discovered were edited so as to not include what my son had told all the school personnel, each one individually, which was exactly how it happened. The reports also didn’t include my son’s friend’s statement which of course verified what my son said.
They also had the doctor’s report. Eventually my lawyer would look into this doctor and find that in all the time he worked for CPS—he didn’t work for them but was contracted by them—he had never once diagnosed something they didn’t want him to. In 100% of the initial examinations when they brought a child they’d taken to him, like with my son, he never once found anything other than abuse. Then, in 100% of these cases, when the child was in CPS care, he never once found anything other than that an accident had occurred or that the child was being excellently taken care of.
The doctor’s financial records would show he made more than 90% of his income from CPS.
The judge ordered my kids to stay in CPS custody, told CPS that at the next hearing, which would not be for another 6 weeks, he’d better see that I had been having regular visitations with my children. Then he told me through my lawyer that we’d be able to discuss how we wanted to proceed after he’d seen the reports and recommendations from CPS.
And that was it. Another six weeks before we could even discuss what would happen to my children.
Pick up a copy of Bill Wynn: The Second Hundred and all my works here:
By Peter Weiss
Arlene never said so. She came close a couple of times. She almost cried several times. What had started with her crying to Bill about her mother being sick ended with them being friends, then friends with benefits, then friends with one of them in love with the other and still wanting intimacy.
This was made clear mid-June when Bill and Arlene found themselves at Arlene’s apartment after work.
It was a hot summer night. They had been very busy at work and Bill had been planning to go straight home until he’d called home and his wife told him that Tim was having a hard time and she was going over to his house and would probably sleep there.
For his part, Bill had empathy for Tim, real feelings for him. Tim was a sad-sack, a choreographer whose career was stuck with him being an adjunct-faculty choreographer with no real prospects for going to New York and working there, which is what he wanted, what everyone in the dance world wanted to do. He had no friends other than Bill’s wife and her small group of friends, did not have a lover, was a loner and a brooding sort.
No one could know yet, but Tim would hang himself from a tree in Bryant Park some fourteen years later while they were all living and working in New York. The police would find Tim hanging from a tree and his family would come and take the body and send it home and that would be the end of Tim, another in a string of gays that Bill would know, even if tangentially, and have to say good-bye to.
They showered together. In part that was because they had done it like this before sometimes, many times actually. Bill would wash her back and let his hands slip down to down there in the back. He would play down there and she would help him by assuming the position and not saying anything to discourage him.
He couldn’t help but get aroused. He was young and as virile as almost all young me his age were.
Playing and fooling around, he couldn’t help but help her enjoy herself with his fingers and his rubbing himself on her, and he couldn’t help the explosion that came from him, all over her in the front down there as he rubbed himself on her.
No apologies. No I’m sorries. From either side no mea culpas. She kissed him right after his explosion and laughed happily.
“Least you did it yourself,” she said there in the shower.
“You did it to me,” Bill said, “except you didn’t do it. It was your body did it to me. I couldn’t help myself.”
That night, there with Arlene, Bill set the definition of cheating. It became not entering the doorway, not going into her house. Of course he was already in her apartment and whether or not he should have been there was a different issue.
So after the shower they sat on her sofa. They popped Quaaludes and smoked a joint. She poured cold white wine and they talked. She was wrapped in a summer-cotton bathrobe. He wore underwear she had bought him because the last time he didn’t have any clean skivvies after their shower. She gave him her feet and he massaged them, played with them, started getting frisky with them.
Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
She let the robe slip away to reveal her nakedness underneath it and she sat so he could not help but see her.
Seeing the bulge in his skivvies, she asked “What are we gonna do about this?”
Bill finished his wine and refilled his glass and hers. “We’ll figure it out,” he said.
Pick up a copy of Bill Wynn: The Second Hundred and all my works here:
By Peter Weiss
So let me get this right. According to the farce of the hearing that was held in the Congress Wednesday, it’s your thoughts that make you guilty and not the actions you take.
Okay. That’s what the Democrats would have you believe.
I worked as a teacher for more than thirty years. I worked as a cook and chef for about twenty-five years. I’m a male. I’m retired. I’ve been married most of my life.
I can honestly say that there’ve been at least 100 women I looked at and thought to myself that I would like to get them. Some of them I undressed in my mind, some of them I had detailed fantasies about. Not one of them did I get with, not one of them did I approach, not one of them did I discuss any of my thoughts or fantasies with.
So am I guilty of adultery?
Next case. There were at least 100 times in my teaching career that I wanted to take a student who was disrupting my class and throw them out the window. Am I guilty of assault? If I’d done that they would have fallen to their death. Am I guilty of murder?
And that’s just in regard to students.
There are at least 100 other times when I knew that my boss was wrong, didn’t know what s/he was talking about, was lying to me, was lying to the whole staff, had a political motive for what s/he was doing, and/or was just plain outright being stupid. Does thinking these things make me guilty of insubordination?
Next case.
In the kitchens there were a good twenty times when I wanted to stab the chefs with my knife. I pictured in my brain not slitting their throats but just sticking them, cutting them a little bit, telling them they were assholes. Does that make me guilty of assault with a deadly weapon? Should I have been fired even though I never expressed my views outwardly to them? Because I told the cook next to me that I’d like to kill “him,” does that make me guilty? When one of the chefs came every night to the sauces that I made and put just the slightest pinch of salt in them, not in any way enough to effect the flavor of the sauces at all, and I told the cook next to me that I’d like to shove the sauce down his throat, did that make me guilty of assault with a deadly sauce? Insubordination? Anything?
Got the point?
So as we look at what’s happening on TV led by our Trump-Derangement-Syndrome-crazed Democrats, the party with the most outstandingly evident failure record in our nation’s history, remember, they would have you believe that political correctness police (PCP) is not enough, that Thought Police is even better. According to them, it’s not what you do, it’s what you think.
Pick up a copy of Bill Wynn: The Second Hundred and all my works here:
By Peter Weiss
Bill got married. He got married on Memorial Day weekend and he took two days off. They didn’t have a honeymoon or anything like that. He went back to work on the Tuesday after the holiday. He worked the Saturday night, got married on Sunday and had one day off after the wedding.
His and Mary’s last time at the Upper Room was bittersweet. It was happy and sad and wild and tender all at once. Mary cried a lot. But she offered Bill everything she had to offer and Bill loved her, told her he loved her, told her he would always love her. And that was true.
When he came back to work, that Tuesday, he was no different except he actually did not fool around with anyone. Sometimes it was hard to restrain himself, but restrain himself he did. He and Lorraine did not see each other outside of work anymore. He and Mary worked side by side and did not touch. If they accidentally bumped each other, they excused themselves. In some ways it was uncomfortable. In some ways it was awkward. In some ways it was just plain funny.
Bill no longer dressed in front of the ladies. Bea and Mary changed inside the ladies room. Bill did so inside the men’s room. He was quiet and subdued and went straight home every night.
Bill did not stop drinking and he did not stop drugging. He happily told the story of the judge who married him and his wife, the same judge that had presided over his pre-trial hearing. Judge Pearson. He’d wanted to throw the case out of court upon hearing it. He told Bill it was one of the worst cases he’d ever seen, so ridiculous it didn’t have any place in the courtroom.
Judge Pearson not only told these things to Bill and his lawyer. He scolded the DA, told him he should be ashamed of himself for bringing such a case, told him he hoped some time he would feel the same type of pressure they were putting on a kid who was more than likely completely innocent.
But Judge Pearson was a practical man. He told Bill that as much as he wanted to throw the case out of court he knew if he did so right outside the door the police would re-arrest Bill and file a felony against him, Rioting 1. If they did that, his bail would skyrocket and he’d be facing time in the State Penn. So he remanded the case over for trial.
The judge ended up being about a half hour late to the wedding. Bill’s father-in-law-to-be was all on his case about it, so much so that Bill wanted to just run the hell out. Several times he asked Bill if he were sure he’d arranged for the judge and the judge knew where to come. Bill wanted to say that he wasn’t an idiot, but he held to himself.
The judge finally did get there. He apologized profusely. Turned out it was his son’s high school graduation and he had to run out early because it was going on and on. He smiled, said he saw his kid get his diploma and then ran out.
Bill would always remember Judge Pearson. He was a decent man, a fair man, a man of principal and integrity. For his trial he’d gotten hang-’em-high Shul, the most conservative judge Columbus had.
The only one he saw outside of work after being married was Arlene. They met somewhat regularly but almost always out now, at a café or a diner. Arlene and he would talk, friends, about her mother, about married life, about life in general. Sometimes Bill got the feeling that Arlene was in love with him.
Pick up a copy of Bill Wynn: The Second Hundred and all my works here:
By Peter Weiss
based upon a true story
I was stupid. The hearing came and there was a meeting with the lawyers right before. It was all hurried because the court was full, even at nine AM. I discovered, first thing, that if I didn’t have a lawyer, I would have had to wait all day for my case to be heard and that even meant waiting while they broke for lunch.
To say it was horrible would be such an understatement—no one can imagine.
After the meeting, my lawyer told me they had statements from the school, from my son’s teacher, the nurse and the principal. They were not there in person, of course. If they were my lawyer might have gotten a chance to question them.
They also had statements from the doctor. I would learn later that CPS took my son to one of their doctors, one they used all the time and who, by everything my lawyer would be able to find out, was one who never went against what CPS wanted, who reported every initial-visit injury as physical abuse and every subsequent visit while a child was in CPS care as either accidental or nothing at all.
I know. You don’t think this is true. You think such things don’t happen. Well they happen all the time. Everywhere. In just about every state. In just about every CPS jurisdiction. Some are much worse than others.
So I asked my lawyer if my kids were coming home after the hearing. That’s when he told me they didn’t need proof, they didn’t need just about anything. The statements did not need to be verified, not at this hearing, and in fact at this hearing we wouldn’t even have a chance to do that.
My lawyer said he would be able to make a statement. He would be able to tell the court that I had a clean record, had never been in any kind of trouble, didn’t even have an outstanding parking ticket. He would be able to tell the judge that the school had never had issue with me, had never ever even had a thought about my child being abused at home.
What my lawyer didn’t know, and what we wouldn’t find out until much later, far into the trial, was that the school report being presented was edited. My child had, in fact, told everyone exactly what happened. He told the nurse, he told his teacher and he told first the assistant principal and then the principal.
But somehow, his telling all those people, and his friend telling them too, was omitted from the paperwork CPS presented. Then, quite propitiously for them, no one was there to personally testify. Apparently that was not required, even better, not permitted at the first hearing.
And so it happened. It happened so quickly if I had blinked I would have missed it. What I did see was the judge yawn about ten times, and it seemed, but I couldn’t swear to it, as if he were actually dosing off. (He would actually fall asleep during the trial.)
He banged down the gavel. The kids were remanded to CPS custody and the next hearing was scheduled for more than a month away. CPS was told to arrange visitation for me, but they didn’t and when the second hearing came around they lied and said I wasn’t interested in seeing my kids.
Preponderance of evidence—that was the legal standard. They would argue in due time that even if what I was saying was true, I was still guilty of neglect because my child got hurt.
