“I sincerely doubt it,” Icarus, who has been blind since birth, piped up. “You don’t know us. As blind as I am, even I can see that.”
Once again, the room was moved to laughter and small talk, quieting only after Judge Dwyer’s repeated gavel banging and threats to clear the room. The kids finally settled down somewhat. They were all quick with a quip, though, probably because each of the six had a genius IQ. They tested off the charts—Stanford-Binet, WPPSI-R, WISC-III.
In her opening remarks, Fitzgibbons went on to laud Kit and me for what she called our “heroic rescue” as a way of acknowledging our help in the past and putting it completely to rest. Then she began to make her critical points against us. Each was like a knife driven into my heart and Kit’s and, I was quite certain, the children’s.
“Your Honor, Dr. O’Neill and Mr. Brennan, for all their altruism on the part of these children, have no legitimate claim in this courtroom,” she pronounced. “None.
“They are unmarried. They’ve known each other and the children for only a matter of months. Furthermore, and this hardly can be said strongly enough, the children’s parents have done nothing whatsoever to forfeit their parental rights. On the contrary, we will show cause to irrevocably declare them the lawful, legitimate, and exclusive parents of their children once and for all.”
When Fitzgibbons had finished her opening remarks, Jeffrey Kussof stood up immediately and called Kit. I watched with pride, and love, as he took the stand.
Jeffrey cited Kit’s law degree from NYU and his twelve years as an FBI agent. And he gently elicited the personal tragedy that was like a dark hole at the center of Kit’s life. Four years ago, while he was working on a case, his wife and two small boys had left for a Nantucket vacation without Kit. Their small airplane went down, and there were no survivors.
Kit testified calmly yet passionately, and with a spark of humor and the wit that defines his personality. I thought anyone seeing him for the first time would be entirely convinced that not just was he a brave man but he had been, and would be again, an unimpeachably good father.
Then, for two unrelenting hours, Catherine Fitzgibbons expertly filleted Kit’s career—and just about every moment of his private life.
“KIT ISN’T YOUR given name, is it?” she asked.
“No, actually it’s Thomas. Thomas Brennan. Kit is a nickname. Frannie and the kids call me Kit. It’s a long story.”
“Mr. Brennan, you’ve been with the FBI for twelve years?”
“That’s right.”
“Have you ever heard of Fox Mulder?”
Kit snorted and shook his head. He knew where this was going already. “That’s very cute.”
“Please instruct the witness to answer, Your Honor,” said Fitzgibbons.
“Mr. Brennan, please respond to the question.”
“Fox Mulder is a fictitious character on a television series,” said Kit.
“Do you have an opinion of this fictitious character?”
“Yeah. He’s a frickin’ nutjob.”
The spectators laughed. So did I. And the children twittered with delight. They adored Kit.
“Have you any idea, Mr. Brennan, why your colleagues at the FBI call you ‘Mulder’?” asked Fitzgibbons.
“Objection, Your Honor. Argumentative. Move to strike,” shouted Jeffrey Kussof.
Fitzgibbons bowed her head as if to show she was contrite. She wasn’t, of course.
“I retract the question. Mr. Brennan, do you consider yourself a workaholic?”
“Maybe. At times. I’m definitely committed to my work. I even like it sometimes.”
“And would you describe yourself as a stable person?”
“Yes, I certainly would.”
“But you’ve been medicated for depression.”
Fitzgibbons turned her back on Kit when she said this. It was good to see that even she could feel some shame.
“Yes. I was depressed, damned depressed when I lost my entire family,” Kit said, his voice rising sharply.
Catherine Fitzgibbons turned round to face him. She held her stomach in profile to Judge Dwyer.
“I see. So you understand, then, how the respondents must feel about losing their children.”
Kit didn’t speak. Across from me, the twins sent up frightened, high-pitched screeches in protest of this attack on Kit.
“Agent Brennan, shall I repeat the question?”
“You heartless—,” he said in a whisper.
“Permission to treat the witness as hostile, Your Honor,” said Fitzgibbons.
“Mr. Brennan, please answer the question,” said the judge.
“Yes. Yes, I understand how it feels to lose a child,” Kit finally answered.