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n a calm, mournful voice. “Over the past two weeks, I think I’ve come to know these two well. Bunny Calhoun is willful and arrogant. She has little self-awareness, little understanding of the depths of her problems. But she does have a job, and she does run a household. She can function quite adequately if she puts her mind to it. Martha is basically a nice girl—a bit of a homebody, too lacking in confidence—but a good girl at heart. Her problem is that she’s under her mother’s sway—far, far too much under her mother’s sway. She needs to become her own person, to develop her own values quite apart from her mother’s. That’s a serious problem, but something I felt I could deal with. Indeed, I spent hours working with both mother and daughter. We all worked hard. Bunny was difficult, but I thought progress was being made. Yesterday I even told Martha that I’d recommend that she go back with her mother.” Mrs. O’Brien paused and looked fleetingly down at me. “And then I came to court today and heard about last night. I was shocked at what happened, shocked that Martha would get involved, shocked that she hadn’t told me.” Each time she repeated the word, the warm air in the courtroom took on an electric charge.
Mrs. O’Brien stopped to catch her breath. In talking, she’d unconsciously sidled over toward me, and now she was only inches away. With the exertion of the speech, her coldness had disappeared, and I detected a faint, warm fragrance coming off her, something not unpleasant, something close to the smell of a baby.
“What’s discouraging, your honor,” she went on, “is that I think I see a pattern in this family that’s being repeated elsewhere. It’s new and very worrisome. The Calhouns have problems, but they aren’t like some families. They aren’t like some families with a long history of crime and poverty and trouble. There are families I know—you do, too, Judge Horner—that you just look at and get discouraged. They simply don’t have the ability to set themselves right, and you know there’s nothing you can do to help. But the Calhouns are different. They’re reasonably intelligent, they aren’t poor. They have the ability to be an almost normal family. But they choose not to. I see this going around now, and I get very worried. It’s something I never saw three or four years ago. People are choosing the wrong things. They’ve got the ability, they’ve got the opportunity, and they just choose bad over good.”
Judge Horner nodded thoughtfully. “The whole country’s getting that problem,” he said.
“A social worker can only do so much,” said Mrs. O’Brien. “You see where the trouble is, you diagnose it, you make suggestions, but you can’t force people to make the right choices. In our system, people are basically on their own. And that’s what we’ve got here, your honor. A mother who makes the wrong choices.”
“So what do you recommend?” said the judge.
Mrs. O’Brien shrugged. “I think the county simply has to get more involved.”
“All right,” said the judge.
Reverend Vaughn suddenly stood up. “Can I say something,” your honor,” he asked.
“Of course.”
I turned to look at the minister. Tall and assured, he seemed to provide a kind of balance to the judge. But behind him, the courtroom stretched back in row after empty row. He looked very alone.
“I must say, I’m a little bit mystified,” Reverend Vaughn began. “I won’t say there’s been a misunderstanding, but there certainly seems to have been a … a loss of context here.”
“Family matters are context,” said Mr. Moon. “That’s what it’s all about.” He looked around with bright eyes shining from his dark face.
“I realize that Martha’s family has had some problems,” the minister continued, “but she’s smart and mature. From everything I hear, she’s a fine student and, aside from this one incident, I don’t think she’s ever been in trouble before.
“Three incidents,” said Mr. Moon.
“Three?”
“The boy and the two police reports.”
“Well, I’m not sure how much credence to put—”
“Do you have any reason to doubt the accuracy of the police reports?”
“Only from what Martha has told me.”
“So you’re taking her word over an officer’s, Father? Or, excuse me, Reverend. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a Catholic.”
Reverend Vaughn turned to the judge. “Your honor, Mr. Moon keeps interrupting me. Couldn’t I have a chance to say what I want without getting interrupted?”
“I’m sorry, your honor,” said Mr. Moon. “I’ll be quiet. It’s just that I hear these things, and I feel compelled to speak up for our police department.”
“Go on,” said the judge.
“Well, I’ve never been involved in one of these proceedings before, so I’m not quite certain what standards you apply,” Reverend Vaughn said. “But I listened to this long recitation of incidents involving Martha’s brother and her mother’s boyfriends, and I started to wonder whether Martha is being punished for problems that her family had, not for anything that she did herself.”
“Oh, I can’t stay quiet for that,” said Mr. Moon.
“Your honor—”
“Officer Wesnofske spent twenty minutes detailing, detailing, what the girl had done,” Mr. Moon said in a loud voice.
“Your honor.” Reverend Vaughn was looking for help.
“The information about the family is relevant in these proceedings,” Judge Horner said. “It helps me get the overall picture for my decision.”
