Before I Let You Go(22)

I blink at her, then I shake my head.

“No! Surely they can’t do that!”

“Actually, they can do that, and it looks like they’re going to.”

“But that’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not.”

“We have to do something. We can’t let them do this.”

“I’m so sorry, Alexis. There isn’t anything we can do. That’s just the way this is going to play out, I’m afraid.”

I’m slipping into shock. My face feels hot and my mouth is dry. I hear a frantic, rhythmic tapping I can’t identify, and then I realize it’s the sound of my feet beating against the floor. Bernie leans forward on her elbow and her gaze is sympathetic.

“The judge is going to review the social worker’s assessment, and if she’s not even going to bother to visit Annie’s home at this stage—I’d say it’s pretty certain she’s going to recommend that Annie lose her rights to the child. The judge will probably make a ruling to appoint Bill as guardian ad litem, and he and the assistant DA will make a deal with Annie. Most likely they’ll set some kind of requirement for her to complete a rehabilitation program, parenting classes, attain some minimum living standards and probably get and keep a job . . . that kind of thing. And if and when she meets those requirements, they’ll restore her parental rights and generally the DA will also drop the criminal charges.”

I don’t want to admit this to Bernie, but the reality is, if they set those particular requirements, then Annie is going to have to completely reconfigure her entire existence.

“At least there’s hope?” I say, but I sound defeated, and Bernie grimaces.

“I guess so. But you should know that in practice, once parental rights are stripped from a woman like Annie, it can be almost impossible to get them back. CPS really doesn’t make it easy on their clients, but Annie does have one advantage that almost none of my other clients in this situation have.”

“And what’s that?”

Bernie smiles sadly.

“You.”

I exhale a shaky breath and tilt my head back to stare at the ceiling. I’m trying to reconfigure my expectations for the next twelve months of my life. Instead of planning a wedding and focusing on my work, I’m going to be once again diving down a rabbit hole with Annie, this time, dragging Sam along behind me.

“So if they do offer her some kind of deal to get herself sorted out tomorrow,” I ask reluctantly, “and she fails to meet their requirements—what happens then?”

“Well, if she doesn’t satisfy the demands of the court in full, she’ll be tried for the chemical endangerment offense. Realistically, if that happens, she’s likely to get a prison term.”

My gaze snaps back to Bernie.

“Prison?” I gasp.

“They aren’t insignificant sentences, either. Let’s say the baby is born healthy, but Annie can’t satisfy the DA that she’s rehabilitated and the trial proceeds and she’s found or pleads guilty. That’s a sentence of one to ten years.”

“What?”

“And let’s say the baby isn’t healthy, but the DA decides its illness or injury is somehow related to her drug use. That’s ten to twenty years.”

“But—”

“And if—I mean, awful as it is to say . . . well, if the baby happened to die, and there was some way to link the death to her drug use? That’s up to ninety-nine years.”

“How close does the link have to be?” I whisper. I’m thinking about Annie’s high blood pressure and the baby’s restricted growth and all of the things that could still go wrong. And even I have wondered whether Annie’s health crisis is related to her drug use—so, it’s not such a long shot for her prosecutor to draw, if, God forbid, something tragic did happen.

“Just off the top of my head, one direct precedent does come to mind—a woman with a history of premature birth went into labor very early, and the child didn’t survive. She had tested positive for meth, but she had an expert witness willing to testify this had nothing to do with the stillbirth—but the woman’s request to have that specialist testify on her behalf was declined. She pled guilty in return for a reduced jail term—it was too risky to go to trial with the cards so obviously stacked against her.”

“A woman lost her baby, and the state jailed her for it?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Are you familiar with the Jane Doe chemical endangerment case of 2015, Lexie?”

“Should I be?” I stare at her blankly, but Bernie’s sigh speaks of a frustration that’s much larger than this god-awful situation with my sister.

“Every woman in America should be familiar with that case,” Bernie mutters. “A woman was imprisoned on drug charges—she’s known as Jane Doe because the juvenile court case was closed, like your sister’s case is. Jane Doe requested leave from the prison to have an abortion she had already booked before she was locked up. Just like your sister here, the DA petitioned a juvenile court to strip Jane Doe of her parental rights, and the fetus was given a guardian ad litem. Keep in mind, we’re talking about a first-trimester fetus in an unwanted pregnancy. If the law can be applied to overrule Jane Doe’s wishes, then it’s hardly surprising that it’s been applied to intervene in your sister’s case.”