Chapter 5 - The Courthouse Siege
The Galveston County Courthouse was a towering, modern structure of limestone and tinted glass, standing like a sentinel against the humid Gulf breeze.
On Monday morning, the lobby was packed with lawyers, bailiffs, and families waiting for their lives to be decided behind closed doors. I stood near the elevators, my hand clutched tightly in Aunt Helena’s. She was wearing her best navy dress, her silver hair pinned back neatly, looking every bit the respectable, stable guardian we needed her to be.
"Savannah," a voice boomed across the lobby.
I turned around, my body going instantly cold.
Greg was walking toward us. He was wearing a stiff, new button-down shirt that looked uncomfortable on his broad shoulders, his boots polished but still scuffed at the toes. Behind him walked a slick-looking lawyer in a grey suit, carrying a sleek leather briefcase.
"Aunt Helena," Greg said, his voice dripping with a false, polite respect that made my skin crawl. "Savannah. I’m glad you’re here. We can settle this before we go in front of the judge. You don't want to make a scene."
"There is nothing to settle, Gregory," Aunt Helena said, her voice steady and cold. "The children are safe with me. They are staying with me."
"They're my kids, Helena!" Greg snapped, his polite veneer cracking for a second to reveal the aggressive, controlling man underneath. "Lily and Noah are my flesh and blood. And the others... I’ve been their father for five years. You think some judge is going to take a man’s family away because his wife had a nervous breakdown? I work forty hours a week. I provide for them."
"You provide peanut butter and empty promises, Greg," I said, stepping in front of my aunt. "You knew what she was doing to us. You helped her do it."
Greg’s lawyer, a man named Arthur Vance, stepped forward, his expression smug. "Young lady, I suggest you watch what you say. We have character references from your stepfather’s employer, his church pastor, and three neighbors, all testifying to his exemplary character. Your 'recordings' of your mother are inadmissible against my client. You have no legal standing here."
"Actually, Mr. Vance, she does," Evelyn Vance’s voice cut through the lobby. Our social worker walked up, accompanied by a young man wearing a sharp suit and carrying a laptop. "This is Assistant District Attorney Marcus Reed. He’s here on behalf of the state."
Greg’s lawyer frowned. "The state has no business in a temporary custody modification unless there is active criminal investigation against my client."
"There is an active investigation, Mr. Vance," Marcus Reed said, opening his folder. "As of eight o'clock this morning, the District Attorney’s office has filed formal charges against Gregory Vance for child endangerment, accessory to child abuse, and conspiracy to commit labor trafficking of a minor."
Greg gasped, his face turning a dark, angry red. "Trafficking? Are you crazy? She’s my stepdaughter! She was doing chores!"
"Threatening to place a minor in foster care to force her to perform unpaid, full-time childcare while you and your wife vacationed in Louisiana does not fall under 'chores,' Mr. Vance," Reed said, pulling out a tablet and pressing play on the August_14_Cabinet file.
The audio of Greg’s phone call played, loud and clear, echoing off the high limestone walls of the courthouse lobby. Several passersby stopped to listen, their faces turning toward Greg with expressions of shock and disgust.
Greg’s lawyer stared at the tablet, his confident expression instantly vanishing. He looked at Greg, then back at the assistant DA.
"We... we need a moment to consult," Vance stammered, grabbing Greg by the arm and dragging him toward a quiet corner of the lobby.
"We go into Judge Sterling’s chambers in ten minutes," Evelyn Vance said to me, her hand resting on my shoulder. "Savannah, you’re going to have to speak to the judge. Can you do that?"
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I looked at Aunt Helena, who smiled, her eyes filled with an absolute, unwavering belief in me. I looked down at my hands, which were no longer shaking.
"I can do it," I said. "I’ve been taking care of everyone else for six years. It’s time to take care of myself."
