by Una Tiers
I needed a sounding board. I couldn’t reach Emma. There was no reason to call Martha. David wouldn’t be interested, and I didn’t think I should call the judge.
“Timothy?”
“Hey Fiona, I haven’t seen you in a long time. Are you being chased by demons again?”
Timothy had helped me a year before when I was afraid and he got me a canister of pepper spray. We met at the Catholic Lawyers Club and have coffee now and again.
He asked me to hold and I hung up, remembering his change in personality over the pepper spray. Although I wanted help, and sympathy, I changed my mind and didn’t want people to know my predicament. And, Timothy was a known gossip.
Vaguely I remembered a class on ethics and their advice when you get a letter from the licensing division. They said to put it away for a day and do nothing. I wish I had the nerve to call and demand a copy of the court order before I had to answer them.
I prepared a letter for Dorothy Daisy about court, encouraging her to contact me immediately, and stopped at Emma’s house to drop it off.
“Fiona, I told you she wasn’t here. Why don’t you leave her alone?”
“Emma, do you know if Dorothy was served with any papers from the court?”
“About what?”
“Anything. Did she say anything about getting any papers from the court?”
“She didn’t say anything to me about it.” Emma paused. “Honestly, she sleeps more than anything. She’s hungry, she asks for hamburgers and a shot of vodka, then she takes another nap. The only thing I’m sure of is she is terrified to go home.”
“Where is she?”
“She is safe, and doesn’t want to be found.”
“Can you give her my letter and tell her I have to speak to her today, please?”
“What do they want from her?” She pleaded.
“It may have to do with someone calling the city about her, ya think?” I answered sweetly.
As Emma started to open the envelope, I gave her the evil eye.
“That’s for Dorothy not for you Emma.”
“I know that.”
“Please see that she gets my letter. I really need to talk to her.” I would bet money Emma opened the envelope as soon as the door was closed.
“Hello, Judge?” I asked desperately while trying to sound innocent.
“Counsel.”
“I have troubles.”
“I can’t help you.” Click.
So much for my friend. Wait until he asks for a ride.
My follow up calls to Emma were unanswered and not returned.
On Wednesday, I decided to be proactive. I went to Emma’s. She wasn’t home or was sitting on the floor in the dark to avoid me.
I guessed Martha lived on the other side of Dorothy. Her house was dark. Not that I wanted to talk to her.
Somehow I didn’t think Dorothy would be stashed too far away. I walked down two houses, and rang the bell.
“I’d like to talk to Dorothy Daisy.” I smiled as warmly as a lawyer can smile, trying to project trustworthiness.
“She, she’s sleeping. I’d guess you’re from the department on aging. I don’t want to get in t-t-t trouble. She’s only been here today. Just today.” The man was clearly upset.
This was my fault.
“No, I’m not from the city, I’m her attorney. Fiona Gavelle.”
He hesitated, and I dug out a business card. “I need to talk to her to be able to help.” If I talked any softer we would reach a come hither stage.
While he debated, a little beagle, tail wagging casually but steadily, peeked out the door. I swear the dog sniffed the air and approved my entry without barking. The man glanced at the dog and stepped back. I followed him up the stairs. Dorothy wasn’t there.
“She, she was just here.” He stuttered.
“Five minutes ago, I took her a glass of vod-milk. Milk, I took her a glass of milk.”
We checked other rooms but there was no sign of her. I called her name.
“Dorothy, it’s me, Fiona.” But there was no answer.
“I don’t want trouble,” the man said.” I just wanted to help her. She is afraid.”
“I know, thanks.” I left another card for him to pass to Dorothy, just in case.
I walked over to Dorothy’s house around the back. It looked like the daisies were just watered. A few withered buds were on the ledge of the planter.
Her house had an enclosed back porch with a lock on the door. One of the four window panes was broken and there was a little glass on the steps. I called out to her, saw the kitchen curtain twitch and Dorothy came to the door. As she opened the house door, more glass tinkled to the ground.
“Oh Fiona am I ever glad to see you.”
“What is going on?” I tried to open the porch door, but it was latched and she didn’t move to open it or invite me inside.
We talked through the glass, intact and broken.
“Well this woman from the city came and she said you were robbing me and that was just after I delivered the death certificates to you. She said wills are free for seniors but didn’t understand about probate court. I know you are on my side.
Then she came back she said I could get a free checkup and that because of insurance I had to go in an ambulance. That was a few days later I think.”
“Do you remember signing anything?
“They gave me pills at the hospital. I lost a few days.”
“Did anyone serve you with papers from court?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think so, there was a girl, she asked a lot of questions.”
“Was this at the hospital or at the nursing home?” Dorothy was scaring me.
“Fiona, I’m sorry. I remember a girl; she asked questions that were none of her business. I don’t know where I was when she talked to me. I do remember that she was pigeon toed and talked to me like I was in the fifth grade.” She laughed and stopped abruptly.
“Did she leave you any papers?”
“I don’t think so, she wanted to know about my money. I told her I didn’t have a clue about money. When I wanted to leave, they took my purse away from me. And my cell phone. So if I had papers, they have them too. Martha came to get me.”
“Martha came to get you or Emma’s cousin came to get you?”
A long ring from what I guessed was the front door, interrupted us. Dorothy turned as white as her hair. She pushed past me and sprinted down the steps, jumped over the garden hose and headed toward the alley.
Walking around to the front of the house I was met by two young angry unhappy people, one man (child) and a woman. Their age appeared to be late teens. Their suits were cheap and their briefcases matched. Immediately, I ruled out door to door bible salespeople.
“What are you doing here?” One of them demanded flaring his nostrils like Mr. Ed.
“Looking for someone,” I answered. “What about you?”
“We have charge of this property, you are trespassing.” The boy child spoke.
“You own the house?”
“No, we are in charge and will have to ask you to leave,” the woman chimed in.
For a second, the lis pendens flashed into my memory. Somehow I guessed this pair was at the root of that issue. I still needed to look it up. Thinking about the broken glass on the door, I left. I don’t mind being accused of kidnapping, but I draw the line at breaking and entering.
Driving up and down a few streets, I didn’t see Dorothy. At this point I decided that I was in so deep I may as well drive the get away car.
Cruising past her place one more time, I thought I saw the curtains twitch on the third floor but everything about me was shaking. Maybe trusting my gut feelings got me into this mess.
Chapter Fourteen
On Friday, I appeared in court alone. My poor heart was beating so loud, I expected to be shushed by the sheriff.
In the mornings, the court rooms are packed with fifteen to thirty cases heard between ten AM and noo
n. But the afternoons are quiet. Generally, only one matter, like a trial is scheduled. I’m not sure which is harder, a full house or an empty one.
After Judge Wizard walked in, the clerk called the Matter of Dorothy Daisy. So I knew this wasn’t a probate case since she was alive. Why didn’t I consider guardianship? It was not an area of law I knew.
The two people from the house, unhappy boy and girl were there. As soon as I stepped up, they started to attack.
“Judge,” boy lawyer whined while he flailed his arms so wide, I had to step back. “We demand a closed courtroom and insist that this, this person be escorted out by the sheriff.”
He was of course referring to me. “Good afternoon Judge Wizard, I’m Fiona Gavelle, you sent me a letter asking that I appear with Dorothy Daisy. Unfortunately, Miss Daisy is not here.”
“All right, welcome Ms. Gavelle, can we get the names of the other two attorneys for the record?”
The court reporter clicked away wearing an expressionless face.
Boy lawyer was Bob from the Office of the Department of Senior services. Girl lawyer was, no kidding, Bobbi, from the same office.
As Bob started to spew again, the Judge shot him a look that stopped him.
“Ms. Gavelle, counsel from the department of aging have raised allegations about the welfare of one Miss Dorothy Daisy.” Her voice was calm and sincere. I almost relaxed, except, I was in court where relaxing can be hazardous.
I nodded remembering to speak less when I didn’t know what I was doing.
“Your client is not here?”
“No judge.” I answered admiring my own control in minimalism.
“Counsel for the Department of Aging, do you have service of process?”
“Judge, this is an emergency, Dorothy Daisy is at risk and we must protect her.”
“So, no?” The judge asked with one eyebrow lifted.
“Judge I left my office for this emergency and I will file the summons within the five days as required.”
“So you are claiming you have a service of process?”
“If I can have a few minutes, judge, I need time to go over this. We have an emergency petition for examination, to complete the doctor report. We delivered a courtesy copy.”
The judge was very polite and did not interrupt verbally. “We’re not that far along, I am asking about service of process and it seems that if you had it, you would have it filed with the clerk of the court as it is required. Or you would produce it. My clerk notes that it was not filed with the twelfth floor either.”
Bob and Bobbi were quiet.
“Did the court appoint a guardian ad litem?” When no one answered the judge, she added. “My file is incomplete since this action was filed just a week ago and was assigned to Judge Curie’s calendar and he is away this afternoon. The originals are probably still in the microfiche department.”
I winced hearing Judge Curie’s name, but now I knew he hung up on me because the case was on his calendar. Really would it have been so hard for him to explain a little?
“Yes and the guardian ad litem…” Bob started to ramble.
“Stop, who was appointed?” The judge asked.
“Well I don’t have the name.”
“Was the guardian ad litem given notice of this court date?” The judge asked calmly.
“Yes absolutely judge.” Bob put his other foot in his mouth.
“This is a person whose name you do not know?” The judge was starting to smile or grimace.
A light bulb went on for me. Without service of summons or subpoena or notice, the court didn’t have jurisdiction over Dorothy. It was like a criminal getting off because of a technical error. Of course this was a civil court. And the little weasels were claiming they told someone about the hearing whose name they could not give. I hate these kind of folk.
The judge was losing patience. This I think was good for us.
Bob tried another attack. “Judge this attorney may have kidnapped her own client, and she should not be allowed to address the court.”
“Counsel Gavelle, did your client say that she was served with process?”
“She said she has no papers from the court.” This was true. I appreciated not being asked if I was a kidnapper.
“Judge,” Bobby the boy lawyer complained, this attorney does not have an appearance, she is not allowed to address the court.”
“The court asked Ms. Gavelle to be here today. You made a serious allegation against Ms. Gavelle and so far I don’t see any proof. Second, you do not have service of process. Third the guardian ad litem is not in court. So while I am always concerned about a senior that may need help, I do not see that you have followed the rules counsel.”
“Judge we need to protect this woman, we need to get her to a doctor for her own good.”
The judge looked to me so I jumped at the opportunity.
“Judge last week my client was mysteriously taken by ambulance to a hospital under what sound like false pretenses.”
“We had nothing to do with that.” Girl lawyer screamed while examining her shoes.
“Maybe it’s a coincidence.” I suggested, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice by opening my eyes wide.
“Judge, we didn’t do that, we weren’t involved.” One of the twins claimed.
It sounded as if they were.
The judge wasn’t terribly concerned although I felt like we were in downtown Moscow waiting for the KGB.
“Do you know if your client is living at her home on, Asbury Street Ms. Gavelle?”
“I don’t know where my client is judge. I believe she is hiding because someone put her in the hospital and then a nursing home for no reason. She is afraid, and I believe someone took advantage of her.”
The judge peered over her Benjamin Franklin glasses at the Department of Aging lawyers with disdain.
In turn they asked for a continuance.
The judge growled her response. “You asked for an emergency hearing, now you want to continue something where the court does not have jurisdiction?” The judge shook her head in disbelief.
“Just a few minutes, so that I can call my supervisor?” Bob pleaded with the judge.
The judge spoke deliberately with a glance to the court reporter. “Here is my ruling, and you won’t need a court order. There is no proof of service of process so I am without jurisdiction to proceed. The mysterious guardian ad litem is not here although you claim you gave that person adequate notice of the hearing. As such I have no opportunity to hear from the guardian ad litem as to the position of Miss Dorothy Daisy. Next, an attorney who you claim represents Miss Daisy advises the court that Miss Daisy is not aware of the guardianship matter. If she is not aware of the matter she cannot state an opinion. We don’t appoint guardians without the proper procedures in place.” She stood and started to leave.
“Judge, excuse me, can I get a copy of the complaint?” I asked out of desperation.
The judge stopped and looked over her shoulder. “I will ask the Department on Aging, to kindly provide Attorney Gavelle with your petition.” With that she left the room, slamming the door to the secret judge hallways behind the court rooms.
The two lawyers fumed at me and stormed out.
The clerk said she could not copy the court file for me and left the room.
The court reporter handed me her card and said she would work up an estimate for the transcript if that would help me.
The hallway was empty as I headed for the elevators to go up to the law library to learn about adult guardianships. As I waited for the elevator, the court clerk walked over, wordlessly and handed me a telephone number on a scrap of paper.
“Maybe you could call and ask someone to fax it to you per the court direction.”
Before I could thank her, she disappeared.
My precious cell phone allowed me to make the call on the spot. I asked for the secretary to Bob and Bobbi and give her my request and fax number. No cover sheet, I mentione
d. Maybe she would do it before the twins made it back to the office. It was just across the street, but they were slow.
The law library in the Daley Center is nothing short of magnificent. It takes up the entire 29th floor of the Daley Center with floor to ceiling windows on all four sides. There are tables along the windows, facing east, overlooking Lake Michigan, reserved for attorneys.
I pulled a few encyclopedias about guardianship and started reading.
About the time my brain overheated, a familiar face, without a name walked over. This happens more than I like. A year back I handled a famous probate case and everyone wanted to be my friend. At first I basked in the attention, then it reached a point where it disgusted me. I started to walk around looking at the floor or taking an imaginary, but important cell phone call to avoid the attention.
The person, to my dismay sat down, peeking at my materials.
“Guardianship of the Rich and Famous Fiona?” He cackled until another library patron gave him the evil eye.
He had on a really nice suit and immaculate white shirt with a power tie.
Slipping him my card, I whispered to him. “New Office.” He in turn gave me his card. What a great trick.
Andrew Due, my new best friend, turned the books I was looking at to the spine, and told me I could check the books out if I had the circulating copies. I thanked him and started to the stacks. He followed me and helped find the volumes that could be checked out. He also waited while I applied for a library card. Since he was so helpful, I felt I should be nice to him. I offered him a rain check for a cup of coffee.
“Nah, let’s go for beer.” He suggested.
This of course was a better idea. He was not pretentious, and that is good in a friend.
“Another time, Andrew, right now I have to figure out guardianship.” Anyway it was only a little after three PM.
“The cases are a pain when the rat faces from the Department on Aging are involved. They accuse private lawyers of all kinds of things that are lies. They don’t bother to follow the rules as we are required, and the judges don’t call them on it.”
