“Attorney Black, do you have concrete evidence of the mental decline you allege? Medical evaluations, documented reports—anything beyond anecdotal testimonies.”
Harvey Black hesitated for the first time.
“Your Honor, we have the testimonies of neighbors that—”
“Do you have sworn declarations from those neighbors, verifiable names and contacts? Are we in the process of, or are they testimonies your client related to you secondhand?”
“Your Honor, it is common in these cases that—”
“Answer the question, counsel. Do you have verifiable declarations or not?”
“Not at this moment, Your Honor, but we can obtain them if given time.”
The judge closed the folder in front of him with a dry thud. He leaned back in his chair, looking alternately at Faith and me. Then he spoke in a voice that left no room for interpretation.
“I have reviewed all the documentation presented. The psychological evaluation of Mrs. Dolores Thompson shows complete mental capacity. The social worker’s report confirms that she lives independently without problems. Her financial records demonstrate that she manages her affairs responsibly. I see no concrete evidence to justify guardianship—not even temporary.”
Faith paled. Grant gripped the edge of the table.
“What I do see,” the judge continued, “is a seventy-year-old woman who made intelligent decisions to protect her assets from what she perceived as a threat. Whether that perception is correct or not, the fact is that she had every legal right to sell her property, move wherever she wanted, and manage her money as she saw fit. She did not need anyone’s permission.”
The judge looked directly at Faith.
“Ms. Thompson, I understand you may be concerned about your mother, but concern is not a legal basis for removing the autonomy of a competent person. Your mother has demonstrated she is in full command of her faculties. This petition for guardianship is denied.”
The bang of the gavel resonated in the room like a final thunderclap.
“Case closed. You may withdraw.”
I walked out of that courtroom with my head held high. Faith and Grant remained in their seats, motionless, like statues observing a world that had crumbled around them.
I didn’t turn to look at them. I had nothing more to say.
On the street, Dr. Miller shook my hand with a genuine smile.
“You did perfectly, Mrs. Thompson. It couldn’t have gone better.”
“Thank you, doctor, for everything.”
