“I would like to speak with Eli alone, if that is alright.”
Diane nodded before I could answer.
A minute later, a court aide walked Eli into the room.
He looked at me first, checking for reassurance, just as he had done every hour for the past three weeks.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I told him. “Just answer her questions honestly.”
He nodded once and sat down.
Beverly leaned forward and asked him about school, food, and whether he felt safe with me.
Eli answered in a whisper that I could barely hear while his thumb rubbed the ribbon in tight circles.
When the aide took him back outside, the room felt heavier than before.
Beverly stood, thanked me with genuine kindness, and left.
Diane waited until the door clicked shut.
“Carter, there is something we need to discuss.”
“What is it?”
“The state’s attorney is going to ask you a personal question. He will ask about your background and why you are doing this.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“He can ask whatever he wants.”
“Carter, listen to me. I have read your file twice. There are gaps that the state’s attorney will notice. If there is something you have not told me, now is the time.”
I stared at a water stain on the ceiling and tried to breathe.
“I have carried this for 20 years, Diane. I have never even told my closest friends. I don’t know whether I can say it in a room full of strangers.”
“You may have to. The judge may need to hear it more than anyone.”
Before I could answer, the bailiff’s voice rang through the door, calling our case.
At the end of the hallway, the courtroom doors swung open.
Daniel, the state’s attorney, rose from his table with the calm posture of a man who had done this hundreds of times.
He did not glance at me as he arranged his charts on the podium.
“Your Honor, I want to begin by acknowledging that Carter’s intentions appear genuine,” he said. “However, good intentions alone cannot raise five children under the age of seven.”
“His residence is a converted workshop space that has not yet received final approval for foster placement. He has no spouse, no co-guardian, no current medical plan capable of covering five dependents, and, with respect, no parenting experience.”
The judge watched me over the rims of his glasses.
I felt every eye in the room settle on my borrowed tie.
“The state has three vetted foster homes prepared to receive these children by Friday,” Daniel continued. “Their separation is regrettable, but the state must prioritize stability.”
Diane leaned toward me.
“Stay calm,” she whispered. “Answer only what he asks.”
I took the stand.
My hands felt too large for the wooden rail.
“Carter, you work as a carpenter, correct?” Daniel asked.
“Yes, sir. I have worked at the same shop for 11 years.”
“And you converted part of that property into bedrooms for five children?”
“I built bunk beds along the north wall. I insulated the rooms, completed the safety work, and arranged for inspections. I also contacted a pediatrician before this hearing.”
“That is commendable. However, you have no wife, no partner, and no living parents listed in your file. Why would a young man in his prime willingly take on this kind of responsibility and debt?”
“Because they need someone.”
“Many children need someone, Carter. You did not petition for any other children. You petitioned for these five. Why?”
I looked past him.
Eli sat in the back row with the youngest child on his lap.
One of his small hands rested against his sister’s back to keep her steady.
“Because they’re siblings,” I said.
“Many siblings are separated every year in this state,” Daniel replied. “That fact alone is not a sufficient legal argument.”
“It should be.”
He almost smiled.
“Carter, there are unexplained gaps in your background between the ages of nine and 17. The court should understand those years before it places five children in your care.”
The room became so quiet that I could feel the silence in my ribs.
I looked down at my hands.
“I would rather not discuss that, sir.”
“I’m sure you would rather not,” Daniel said gently. “However, this court is being asked to place five human beings in your care. The court is entitled to understand who you are.”
“Objection,” Diane said. “The question is overly broad and invades my client’s privacy.”
The judge held up one hand.
