Take My Hand(59)

I could see from the look on Mace’s face that he was ashamed of what the girls were saying. He had signed those papers, and he would never live that down.

India picked up a tiny sailboat from the desk in front of her.

“India,” I whispered.

“It’s okay,” the senator answered. “She can have that one. If you like it, it’s yours.”

India made a noise and tucked the boat under her fingers.

“Mr. Williams, are you ready to testify under oath tomorrow?”

“Under what?”

“With your hand on the Bible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you, Mrs. Williams?”

“That’s why I got on that steel bird and come up here, ain’t it.”

The senator explained how the hearing would go, how many people would be in the room. “Nurse Townsend, you’ve done an excellent job with these girls,” he added in a raised voice. “I’m going to try to do the right thing by them tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Senator. I believe you will,” I said and I meant it. There was an earnestness to him. I studied the pictures on the wall as we walked out, hoping to catch a glimpse of John F. Kennedy. I paused before a framed handwritten letter. I didn’t have time to read it, but I saw that it was signed Jack in curly script.

“His brother was the president,” I told the girls as we walked down the hall.

“He not president no more?”

“No, he was killed.”

Erica whispered, “By who?”

“A crazy person.”

Erica looked stricken, and I instantly regretted telling her that.

When we got back to the hotel, the girls watched television on the bed in my room, their eyes fixed on the screen. I sat beside them, thinking I’d let them hang out until dinnertime. I wanted to give Mrs. Williams some time to be alone and enjoy the trip.

India pointed at the television and laughed. They sat very close to each other, their arms touching. At least they have each other, I thought. Thank God for that.





THIRTY-ONE





He’d warned us there would be a lot of media, but photographers rushed us when we arrived at the Capitol, and as much as Lou tried, they were hard to hold back. The senator had sent two more aides, but the young men didn’t look like they could protect a lampshade. Mace did a better job holding his hand out in front of the girls so we could make it through the crowd. I wrapped an arm around India, shielding her. Erica wore a blank face, even when the flashbulbs went off in her eyes, but once we were inside the building she started to cry. Mrs. Williams called out to her granddaughter. “Come here, baby.”

The aides led us through a rotunda with soaring ceilings. We could barely see where we were walking because we were so busy looking up. Finally, we reached a room that resembled an amphitheater. Paneling scored the walls, and the ceiling dovetailed in period molding. There were a lot of white people in that room. It felt strange to be the lone brown faces in the place. They seated Mrs. Williams and Mace next to Lou at a long table. The girls and I sat together, six rows behind them. In the back of the room, bright lights shone from hooded tripods. Everyone was talking at the same time. Men in suits mingled, walking in and out of the room. I couldn’t tell who was a senator and who wasn’t. Finally, Senator Kennedy saw us. He gave a nod to the girls before calling the room to order.

“Today’s hearing is on the issue of sterilizations occurring in federal clinics across the country. This is an important issue because some of these sterilizations are of minor children, and this subcommittee hopes to get to the bottom of the process and procedure by which these surgeries are occurring.”

He began by calling government officials from the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, who were all seated at various points at a second long table. The secretary. The assistant secretary. And so on. Finally, it was Lou’s turn.

“Now we will hear from Mr. Louis Feldman, an attorney representing the family of India and Erica Williams in Montgomery, Alabama. His testimony before this subcommittee will help to shed light on the kinds of things happening at the local level in regards to our federal clinics. Mr. Feldman?”

Lou leaned into the microphone and it squeaked. “My name is . . .”

I quietly hoped the Williamses weren’t thinking the same thing I was thinking—Lou looked terrified.

“My name is Louis Feldman. I am a lawyer for Feldman Law Firm in Montgomery, Alabama. I am here today with Mr. Mace Williams and Mrs. Patricia Williams. I represent India and Erica Williams. On June—”

“Excuse me for interrupting,” said the Senator. “Could you please tell us the ages of the children?”

“The children are eleven and thirteen years old, Senator.”

“Thank you. You may proceed.”

“On June 16, 1973, two nurses from the Montgomery Family Planning Clinic visited the home of India and Erica Williams. The nurses informed Mrs. Patricia Williams, their grandmother and legal guardian, and Mr. Mace Williams, their father, that the girls were being taken for shots. The Williamses were under the impression that the children would be given Depo-Provera, the same shot they had been given for months. Mrs. Williams and her son, Mr. Williams, do not read or write. They each put their mark on a document that they later learned was an authorization for tubal ligation. The nurses transported the Williams girls to the hospital, where the children were surgically sterilized. The children were sent home two days later.”