Chapter 3 - The County Office
At 8:30 AM the following morning, the waiting room of the Franklin County Children Services building on East Broad Street was gray, fluorescent-lit, and smelled of stale coffee and industrial floor cleaner.
I sat on a hard vinyl chair holding Sadie on my lap while Nora sat between me and Richard, quietly drawing pictures on the back of an old receipt with a blue crayon.
I had taken an emergency leave of absence from work. My boss, a gruff former contractor named Artie, had taken one look at my face when I called him at 7:00 AM and said, "Evelyn, take as much time as you need. Your job will be here when you get back."
At 9:00 AM, the heavy wooden door leading to the inner offices opened.
A woman in her late thirties with tired eyes, hair pulled back in a tight bun, and a lanyard reading Sarah Jenkins, Senior Caseworker stepped into the waiting room.
"Evelyn Hayes?" she called out.
I stood up, holding Sadie firmly against my hip, while Richard took Nora’s hand.
We walked into Ms. Jenkins' office. It was small, piled high with thick manila case files, with two children's drawings pinned to a bulletin board behind her desk.
"Thank you for coming in so quickly," Ms. Jenkins said, gesturing for us to sit. She looked at the two little girls, her expression softening slightly. "And these must be Nora and Sadie."
"Yes," I said.
Ms. Jenkins pulled a file folder toward her. "I received a phone call yesterday evening from a supervisor at our crisis hotline. A man named Derek Vance called, stating that his wife had passed away and that he was relinquishing physical custody of his two minor children due to an inability to provide care."
She paused, looking up at me over her reading glasses. "The supervisor noted that Mr. Vance sounded frantic, claimed he had no family support, and asked if he could drop the children off at our facility this morning."
A cold rage flared in my chest. "He told the hotline he had no family support?"
"That is what is logged in the intake report," Ms. Jenkins replied. "Imagine my surprise when I received a call at 8:00 this morning from Mr. Vance's attorney, stating that Mr. Vance had changed his mind, that his children had been 'kidnapped' by their maternal grandmother at a church, and that he wanted law enforcement dispatched to retrieve them."
Richard let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Kidnapped? He packed their bags and left them at a funeral!"
"I am aware," Ms. Jenkins said calmly, raising a hand to quiet him. "After I took the call from his attorney, I did a quick background search and reviewed the intake notes from the hotline. A father who calls a hotline on a Sunday afternoon asking how to surrender his kids to state custody does not usually have a strong case for emergency kidnapping charges."
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk. "Mrs. Hayes, what happened yesterday?"
I opened my tote bag, pulled out the blue binder, and placed it directly in the center of her desk.
"Yesterday was my daughter's funeral," I said, my voice steady and unwavering. "My son-in-law announced to fifty people that he was sending Nora and Sadie into foster care so he could start a new life with his fiancée. He packed two suitcases, brought them to the church, and tried to leave them there. I took my granddaughters home."
Ms. Jenkins looked at the blue binder. "What is this?"
"This is my daughter's voice from beyond the grave," I said. "It contains a notarized emergency guardianship document naming me as caretaker, along with evidence of severe financial exploitation, emotional abandonment, and proof that Derek Vance actively planned to abandon these children months before my daughter died."
Ms. Jenkins pulled the binder toward her. She opened it to Tab 1, reading the notarized document carefully. As her eyes scanned the pages, her professional composure hardened into something sharp and cold.
"This is notarized by an officer of the court at OSU Medical Center," Ms. Jenkins noted.
"Yes," I said. "Molly knew he would do this. She made sure I had the tools to stop him."
Ms. Jenkins flipped to Tab 2, looking over the bank statements and the life insurance change-of-beneficiary form.
She sat back in her chair, taking off her glasses, and let out a slow, heavy breath.
"Mrs. Hayes," she said softly, looking at Nora, who was quietly coloring beside her uncle. "I see a lot of terrible things in this job. But a father attempting to liquidate his wife's life insurance while trying to hand his daughters off to the county ranks among the worst."
She reached for her phone on the desk.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
May you like
"I am opening an immediate child welfare investigation into Derek Vance for emotional abuse and child abandonment," Ms. Jenkins said. "And I am filing an emergency petition with Franklin County Juvenile Court to grant you formal temporary custody by 2:00 PM today."
She looked at me with a grim smile. "Mr. Vance wants a fresh start? Let's see how much he likes explaining himself to a juvenile court judge."
