Chapter 3: Here Come da Judge

I was glad that I’d brought a couple of interview outfits. Chastity told me I looked ‘dope’ in my gray pinstripe suit, white button-down shirt, and red and gray-striped tie. She chose to dress up and wore a navy blue, almost business, suit. With her red hair braided around the top of her head, she appeared mature and vulnerable at the same time. She was stunning, and when we met in the lobby, Sam nodded his approval.

My first look at Cavanaugh came when he strutted into the courtroom. He was retired but had decked out in his dress blues. They no longer fit very well. Cavanaugh’s piping and shoulder boards were Quartermaster Corps buff, and he wore miniatures instead of ribbons. There wasn’t a combat or active theater award among them. Silver oak leafs; he had retired a lieutenant colonel, a wonder considering his lack of serious decorations.

Accompanying Cavanaugh was a slick-looking man dressed in a black leather suit and with his hair gathered into a man-bun. I thought leather suits were only kinky stuff, but I later Googled it and found a surprising variety of ‘dress-up’ leather.

When he saw us, Cavanaugh sauntered over to where we were seated with a sardonic grin and made as if he would stand over Chastity to dominate her. I was totally pissed off, so I stood and let fly, “Mister Cavanaugh, ‘been-there’ and ‘done-that’ fruit salad might impress civilians, but every soldier in my command earned real decorations.”

His face bloomed red, and he drew back a fist. I continued, “I’m not here on active duty and neither are you. You disgrace that uniform by trying to use it to influence a decision you have no legitimate claim to. So, let’s be clear, you touch my daughter, and uniform or no uniform, I’ll kick your dog robbing, rear echelon ass from here to Sunday!”

Judge Reynolds had just entered the courtroom. She looked at the bailiff, then turned to me and the jackass and commanded, “My chambers! All of you! You too, young lady.” She marched, and escorted by the bailiff, we followed.

Once inside, she pointed to comfortable leather chairs and a small paisley print covered sofa. “Sit!” she directed.

Cavanaugh and his shyster took the two chairs closest to the judge, leaving Chastity and me on the sofa and Sam in the remaining easy chair.

Judge Reynolds sat behind her huge mahogany desk and glared. “I could hold you both in contempt of court for your actions, but we’re going to settle this here and now, in chambers, and off the record. Then we’ll finish in court and on the record.”

“First. I will tolerate no violence or threats in my courtroom. Is that clear?!”

She looked at me, and I answered, “Clear, Your Honor, and I apologize.”

She looked at Cavanaugh, and he glared at her. His attorney reached over and prodded him. “Clear!” he snarled.

The judge looked at Chastity, forced a smile on her face, and asked softly, “Chastity, right? What do you want from this proceeding?”

“Judge, Your Honor,” Chastity stood and stated in a firm, clear voice, “my name is Chastity Anne Caen, and I want to go home with my daddy, Captain Virgil Danville Caen. AND I never, ever want to see or hear from that man again.” She pointed at Cavanaugh, then sat and snuggled up to me.

The judge’s smile broadened, and I could see her fighting a chuckle. “I see. And who coached you on what to say?”

Chastity blushed and glanced over at Sam. “Mister Sam did, but not what to say, only how to say it. It’s really what I want. Plus, my daddy said I had to tell you the truth about everything.”

The judge nodded and acknowledged Sam with a tilt of her head before turning to Cavanaugh

“And Mr. Cavanaugh,” she asked, “what do you want?”

“She’s my kin, my blood,” Cavanaugh snarled again, spittle flying. “She belongs with me and not that rapist, that spoiler that never once contacted her in thirteen years.”

Chastity stood and yelled at her grandfather, “Because you never let Momma tell him I existed. You kept her prisoner and wouldn’t let her contact him to tell him she was pregnant. She loved him, you horrible old man!” She turned to the Judge and meekly apologized, “Sorry, Your Honor, but he’s mean and upsets me.”

The judge looked hard and asked, “Did he ever molest you? Beat you? Hurt you?”

“Not rape, but his hands are real grabby,” Chastity replied and indicated her small breasts, “He beat me some and used his belt a lot ... I know he molested my aunt. One time I saw him when he tried to molest Momma, but she kneed him in the balls – uh, I mean privates – and told him to back off. She had black eyes for two weeks after that.”

She faltered, looked scared, reached for my hand, and then told us, “Right before she got sick, he told Momma that he was saving my cherry until I turned fourteen. Then he was gonna decide if he would auction it off or take it himself.”

She squeezed my hand hard and began to weep. “Momma told him he’d better kill her first, because if he ever again raised a hand to me or showed me his pecker, she’d find a way to make him eat his tallywhacker in little pieces.” She snorted and looked at Cavanaugh, “I’ve seen it, you know. Wouldn’t take but a couple of little bites. Poof!”

Cavanaugh surged out of his chair, but his attorney managed to restrain him, and he sat back down.

Judge Reynolds looked sad and asked, “Did you ever deserve to be hit, maybe spanked by your grandfather?”

“No, I don’t really think so. Momma swatted me sometimes, but him,” she pointed, “at least not that hard or that often, I don’t think,” Chastity replied. “And Momma didn’t deserve to be locked in the laundry room with nothing to eat for a week. Not even when she threatened his tallywhacker. I think that might be what made her weak, so she died when she got the virus. Only reason she made it out to get to the hospital was because he was afraid of catching that virus from her. We had to scrub the basement for days.”

Sam stood and spoke, “Your Honor, this morning I received and sent over documents that you may not have had a chance to review.” He handed her and the shyster a folder each and continued, “GenTrace’s DNA testing shows that my client, Captain Caen, is indeed the father of Chastity Anne Caen. Further, they also conclude that there is no chance of Mister Cavanaugh being her grandfather, nor being related in any meaningful way.”

Cavanaugh leaped to his feet, shouting, “I object! You can’t have used my DNA.”

His attorney stood and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, “Your Honor, my client has offered no DNA. I question the validity and even the legality of this document.”

Reynolds raised a questioning eyebrow as she looked at Sam.

“Oh, it’s real, voluntary, and legal,” Sam declared. “When I went to pick up Ms. Caen, I was accompanied by two off-duty officers. Mister Cavanaugh was very upset, and when he pushed Chastity out the door, he spit on her. Sergeant Sean Ryan took a sample from her face to use as evidence should Chastity wish to press charges for battery. It was a large goober, so I asked him to split it and drop one sample at GenTrace. You can see the chain-of-custody among the documentation.”

“Ms. Caen, are there any other children or teens living with your grandfather, ah ... rather with Mister Cavanaugh?” inquired Judge Reynolds.

“My Aunt Rachel is almost eighteen and my cousin Becky who is almost six,” Chastity told her. “He was always molesting Aunt Rachel. That’s why Mom believed him when he said he’d come after me.”

Judge Reynolds looked at me hard, then took Chastity aside and quietly asked, “Given your mother’s age when you were conceived, I have to ask. Has Captain Caen molested you or touched you inappropriately?”

“No, Your Honor,” Chastity’s answer was quick and definite. “Dad’s a real gentleman. Momma used to show me his picture and told me lots about him; said he was a hero, not like him!” She pointed at Cavanaugh. “Believe me; I know the difference – just like with Mister Sam. And you know what, she was right. First day, Dad even called me out for not wearing a bra. Put me on the phone with some other teens for advice. But he’s not preachy, and I do love him.”

After a few more questions, the judge returned, looked at me, and asked, “Captain Virgil Danville Caen, you are named as parent and guardian in Sarah Cavanaugh’s will. Are you willing and able to take responsibility for guiding, protecting, and supporting your daughter, Chastity Anne Caen?”

I looked into Chastity’s beautiful green eyes and back to Judge Reynolds to respond, “Yes, Your Honor, I am.” Then I added, “If I had known about her before now, I’d have come for her and her mother one heck of a lot sooner. Chastity is a lot like her mother, and I love her, too!”

Judge Reynolds stood and addressed us all, “I have reached a decision, several actually. Shortly, we will return to my courtroom, and I will formalize most of them.”

She looked at Cavanaugh and told him, “After law school and passing the bar, I spent six years in the Army’s Judge Advocate General Corps. I am confident that my JAG comrades would all agree with Captain Caen’s opinion that you attempted to use your uniform to unduly influence this court. You have to know it is disgraceful and inappropriate to wear your uniform in a civil hearing.”

Judge Reynolds took a deep breath and sighed. “Now, when we return, I will affirm Captain Caen’s parental rights in regard to the young miss. He will have sole legal and physical custody. Further I am issuing an order of protection prohibiting Mister Cavanaugh from having any contact with either Captain Caen or his daughter, Chastity Caen.”

She looked directly at Cavanaugh and his attorney. “You, Mister Cavanaugh, may not be within a thousand feet of either of them!”

“I will order a police escort for the young lady so that she can collect all of her belongings.” She looked again at Cavanaugh and told him, “and I’m issuing a search warrant so that the escort may search the premises for any evidence that would support or disprove Miss Caen’s statements. If there are any juveniles present, they are to be interviewed relating to child abuse.”

“Mr. Cavanaugh, you and your attorney will remain here in custody and away from those premises until both activities are concluded. If the police find what I suspect they will, further legal action regarding you will leave my court for a different type of venue.” Her voice was low, calm, but ominous when she stated, “Earlier, Captain Caen made a promise that I mistakenly took as a threat. Should you violate this protection order directly or by proxy, I will personally buy him a pair of steel-toed boots so he can honor his promise.”

As the bailiff led Cavanaugh and his attorney back to the courtroom, Chastity, walked over to Judge Reynolds and quietly asked, “Am I allowed to hug a Judge?”

“Well, you have to ask first,” the judge replied. “In this case, I think a big hug is needed by us both.”

When she gathered the young teen into her arms, Chastity whispered, “Aunt Rachel and Becky don’t have any money and won’t have a decent place to go. Can you help?”

“I don’t have a magic wand, Miss Caen,” Reynolds whispered back. “Do you have a suggestion?”

“Matter of fact I do,” responded the now animated teen. I saw her look at me, and her emerald green eyes had the same mischievous sparkle as her mother’s.

‘Now what?’ I wondered.

Chastity turned back to Judge Reynolds and declared aloud, “Our basement had a pool table, and I think this is sorta like shootin’ eight-ball. You aim one ball at another or maybe the side and somehow the right ball goes into the pocket. Soooo, why not appoint Mr. Sam as temporary guardian for Rachel and Becky. My daddy can ask Aunt Rachel to marry him, and Mr. Sam can approve when she says ‘yes’. Then you marry them, and Daddy adopts Becky, and presto, my fake grandfather has no claim to either of them.”

Three adult jaws were hanging open.

“Your daughter has something there,” Reynolds said thinking aloud. “Cavanaugh won’t want to claim paternity to Rebecca, because at a minimum that would be pleading guilty to statutory rape of a minor.” She looked at me and said, “Ordinarily, I’d have no part of it, but with all the virus and quarantine and travel bans, the sooner we can get this resolved and your family safely settled the better for all.”

She turned to my attorney, “Samuel Rosen! You’ve been quiet as a mouse and grinning like a Cheshire cat, are you joining this conspiracy – oops, this rescue?”