A couple of armed guards swung open the set of double doors to the courtroom, and we disappeared inside. If the brouhaha on the street had sounded like a hurricane in motion, the inside had the intensity of swarming bees. The room was paneled in golden oak, and the gallery at the rear was furnished with matching benches that held over two hundred spectators.
Every available space was filled with family members, scientists, and members of the press with real clout and, hopefully, better manners than those of the terrible horde outside.
Our lawyers and those representing the biological parents had gathered in small groups around the bar. The lawyers’ tables were situated in the middle of the room. Up front was the judge’s bench, and it was vacant.
Our lawyer, Jeffrey Kussof, had told us that Colorado courts almost always rule in the “best interest of the child.” I was holding on to that statement as tightly as I clasped Kit’s hand when the door from the judge’s chambers opened.
What I saw next kind of took my breath away. I suspect that it did the same thing to everybody else in Courtroom 19.
Eyes front, wings folded, the six children filed into the room wearing their tailored suits and starched little smocks. They were eye-poppers, for sure. Dazzlers.
First came the four-year-old twins, Peter and Wendy. They were dark-haired, of Chinese descent, their snowy wing feathers glinting with dark blue tips.
Max’s little brother, Matthew, an unruly towhead of nine, came next.
He was followed by the two handsome older boys, Icarus and Ozymandias.
And bringing up the rear was the lovely firstborn herself.
Maximum.
The crowd, as they say on the sports pages, went wild.
A COUPLE OF PACES behind the six children strode Judge James Randolph Dwyer, a large, fit man of seventy-three. He had a face like a crumpled paper bag, wispy white hair, and a no-nonsense set to his jaw.
There was a loud whooshing sound as everyone in the courtroom sat down.
While the bailiff called the court to order and then read from the docket, I was keenly aware of the people across the aisle from us. They were the biological parents, and they had assembled a formidable legal team of attorneys headed by Catherine Fitzgibbons, a former prosecutor known for her aggressive parry-and-thrust style and impressive winning record. I suppose it didn’t hurt their case that she was married and pregnant with her fourth child.
“Your Honor,” said Jeffrey Kussof, our lawyer, “I am quite certain this case will stretch the heartstrings of all concerned. There are no bad people here.
“The real conflict is about what is in the best interest of the children. We will prove that their best interests clearly lie with Dr. O’Neill and Mr. Brennan.
“I’d like to quote Marianne O. Battani, judge of Wayne County Circuit Court, Detroit . In 1986 she said of a test-tube baby case, ‘We really have no definition of mother in our law books. Mother was believed to have been so basic that no definition was deemed necessary.’ Your Honor, all that has changed. Today, in our complex and sometimes confusing world, a child can have as many as three mothers. The one who conceived the child, the one who bore the child, and the one who raised him.
“Agent Brennan and Dr. O’Neill have been surrogate parents under extreme fire. They actually put their lives on the line for these children. I’ll repeat that—they put their lives at risk.
“They never thought of anything but the children’s safety. Dr. O’Neill lost her animal hospital and her home in the process. To take blows and bullets for others shows love as fierce as any natural maternity or paternity.
“That said, this case isn’t about my clients or about the respondents. It’s about the children and the Colorado law that mandates children be united with their families. There is a new kind of family here, a family that came together through terrible adversity. And this powerful, loving family, for the good of the children, must be kept together. To separate Kit, Frannie, Max, Ic, Oz, Matthew, Wendy, and Peter would be an injustice to everyone involved. It would be exceedingly cruel.”
I wanted to hug Jeffrey Kussof, and he did look mildly pleased with himself as he sat down. “It’s a start,” he whispered.
But Catherine Fitzgibbons was already on her feet.
“I’M HERE TODAY to represent the rights of six American citizens—Max, Matthew, Oz, Icarus, Wendy, and Peter,” said attorney Fitzgibbons, “as well as their true parents.”
“Why am I always the last one?” little Peter suddenly spoke up from his seat in the second row. Everybody in the room laughed at the unexpected interruption from the small boy.
“No offense meant,” Catherine Fitzgibbons said, but she had turned the brightest red. Her face seemed to float like a balloon above the tailored navy blue field of her maternity dress. “Okay then—Peter, et al, I’m here to represent all of you,” she said, and smiled benevolently.