Part I: Parting

Part II: Conditional Love

Part III: The Reckoning

Part IV: The Third Event

Chapter 3: Responsibility

  Abbie had long since shaved her head since the day her daughter had been born and today, she sat shackled with short chains and cuffs into the chair in a dusty orange jumper facing the tight lipped prim social worker on the other side of the narrow table. The yellow note pad in front of the social worker reflected the one sliver of sunlight in the room and blinded Abbie. She leaned to one side, squinting at the social worker making her look more menacing than she intended.
  The social worker placed a tape recorder on the table and pressed the red record button.
  As the tape clicked by, she straightened her tan blouse and then spoke up with dignity. “Ms. Marshal, do you acknowledge that this conversation is being recorded?”
  “Yes.” Abbie wondered why she was consenting to this interview. She had grown weary of them. Someone wanted to write a book on her case. Someone wanted to try and over turn the judge’s decision. Someone wanted to see if women who had public defenders on highly publicized cases got the proper representation. It was never ending cycle of being used for someone else’s whims. Sometimes she could deny them, but today the warden himself had brought her down when she protested. He had her shackled as a precautionary measure.
  “Are you also aware that anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. If you wish, you may have me stop at any time and we will resume with an attorney of the state or of your choice.”
  “Am I being charged with new crimes? I don’t think I’ve been able to do anything wrong from within the insanity of my cell.” Abbie raised an eyebrow hoping to lighten the mood in the room.
  The social worker pushed the question again, ignoring Abbie’s humor. “Ms. Marshal do you understand…”
  Abbie interrupted the seemingly cold professional before her. “Yes. You don’t have to repeat it.”
  “Very well,” continued the social worker and she pulled out a thin file. “Are you aware of the disappearance of your ex-husband, Mark Raycraft?”
  Abbie turned as serious as the social worker.
  “No I didn’t know.”
  The baby. Where is the baby? She hid her panic. She’s not a baby anymore. She reminded herself almost regrettably. The only concrete memories of the little girl she had were of those first few weeks as a newborn.
  “We’re also unable to find his wife.” She opened the file folder and glanced down the information inside. “Olivia Raycraft.”
  “What is the problem? Debtors? Bother Mark’s parents.” Frustrated with the situation and not really understanding the reason why she was here if the problem was about Mark.
  “I’m afraid this has more to do with your daughter, Jessica Audrie. Yesterday, police investigating the matter found her abandoned in Mr. Raycraft’s car on county road eight. Neither Mr. Raycraft or his wife can be located.” Abbie swallowed hard and the social worker continued. “You are the girl’s guardian, as specified by Mark Raycraft’s personal documents. He made it quite clear if anything was to have happened to himself and Olivia that you were to be consulted with regards to Jessica’s well being. Regardless of your conviction.” There was a hint of judgment in her voice. 
  “I’ve not heard anything from Mark or Livvie. I just got her first school photo yesterday in the mail. I got a copy of her first report card. She’s very much her father’s child. If anything was wrong, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” The photo reminded her of how long she had been here. Her little girl was going to school now. Abbie forced the sob in her throat down.
  Abbie had lost track of chronological time, and the pain of fully understanding how long she was here felt like millions of little pins in every inch of her body. She was missing out on her daughter.
  “I see.” The social worker was unconvinced. “Do you know of any family that could take her in?”
  “Mark’s parents.” It wasn’t a hard choice. Without question, they’d take her in.
  “They were our first choice, but they refused.” Abbie almost dropped her jaw. She had never imagined that Mark’s family would not be able to take his child in.
  “I know that this isn’t ideal, but I have a cousin in Oregon.” Abbie offered again.
  The social worker read off a sheet she had been given sliding her finger down finding the relation. “She’s not a choice. Besides being out of state, her own children apparently are in Oregon Foster care. There’s a note here that her boyfriend may have set her on fire.” Abbie laughed at the ‘oh my dear God’ expression on the social worker’s face and looked around the empty room.
  “I knew she would get into trouble with that guy.” Abbie thought for a moment, half spent in hoping her sister was all right, and then she looked directly at the social worker. “How about my brother in Maine. He’s been in a coma for seven years, but his fiancée will be more than happy to come out here and take care of her.”
  The social worker bowed her head. “I believe, I was told, she committed herself to a convent, and subsequently has taken a vow of silence. She hasn’t spoken since they…I suppose you weren’t told.”
  “Did they finally pull the plug on him?”
  “I am sorry.”
  “Don’t be.” Abbie seemed distracted for a moment. “She’s six isn’t she?” recalling the note that had accompanied the school photo.
  “Pardon me?”
  Abbie shook her head. “So I know you’re not here to tell me my family is screwed up. What do you want?”
  “The state is making a request that you relinquish your parental rights so that we might find a placement for Jessica.” With a flourish, the social worker produced a simple one-page document that asked for Abbie’s signature at the bottom.
  “Mark isn’t dead as far as we know. He may just come back.” Abbie was suddenly caught up with the idea that she had to give up her daughter. The idea of a ‘right’ seemed almost foreign to her at this date, but if the girl was still hers in some way, then Abbie didn’t want to give what little she commanded in any way at all.
  She wished her hands weren’t tied down she shove the legal paper down the social worker’s throat. It taunted Abbie making her feel more inadequate than she already was.
  Damn, the warden was smart to tie me up this time. Admitted Abbie to herself.
  “She cannot stay where she is. It’s only a temporary solution.” Insisted the social worker.
  “You expect me to comply and just give her to someone that I’ve never met? Mark and I had an understanding. I could see her whenever I wanted to or needed to. No questions asked. Up until now I didn’t need to. I may not be the most idealistic parent, but so help me, I like knowing I can see and find out about my kid.” My kid. That was such a foreign concept, much less foreign phrase to Abbie. But she meant it. And for the first time in a year, she knew that she did have something worth fighting for. Above all else, Abbie liked the sound of it. My kid.
  “Well, you can choose from a few profiles that we’ve selected. If you’re willing to, we can look over these possible placements, and if you don’t like any of these families, we can pull another set until you’re satisfied.”
  “Isn’t there another way she could be placed?”
  “If she was about ten years older, there are more options for her. But unless she becomes a danger to herself or others, she gets treated like every other child in the system.”
  Abbie shuddered at the thought of her daughter processed in a ‘system’. 
  “Have you tried any of Livvie’s family? They might not be too thrilled, but they’d take care of her. I don’t remember their family name.”
  “Nobody from Olivia’s side of the family is able or willing.”
  Abbie shook her head, knowing what a hard place that her daughter was in. Abruptly, Abbie realized that there was a problem.
  “How is she? What has she said about what’s happened to her?”
  The social worker looked confused. “If this is about Jessica, she’s only six, by state law, she’s not entitled to any opinion other than what you allow her or that of the state.”
  “So she’s not said anything?”
  “That’s not a concern of the state. If she has an emotional need, it will be met with the proper counseling.”
Abbie grew irate with the trained responses in the social worker’s repertoire. “Until you get your head out of the sand and realize that the children in your case load are not papers, I’m not going to sign anything regarding her. When you ask her what she wants, and I find out, I will make my choice then.” 
  “I hardly think you can be an effective parent from the confines of death row. What will Jessica have to look forward to knowing her mother is locked away in some prison cell?”
  Abbie stared the social worker down. “Ask someone in my block what they dreamed about the night before. I can tell you it won’t be about walking out the door free. It was about their kids. Until the day I walk down the hall beyond the orange door and never come back, I’m still her parent. I’ll do whatever I can. Until then, I strongly suggest that you find a place for my daughter and when she knows what she wants, I’ll do my best to give it to her.”
  “You do realize I can take you to court and have a judge show that you are incapable of making any decisions about your daughter.” Countered the social worker.
  “I have parental rights; you said so at the beginning of the tape. When she says that she wants to live with some other family, I’ll be willing to sign. Whatever she wants, she’ll live with. I’ll only sign then. When I know she’s happy with what she wants.” Abbie matched her insistence to the social worker’s.
  “Well I think I’m through here. Thank you for your time Ms. Marshal.”
  Abbie knew she had won this round. It would be an uphill battle the rest of the way, but she was willing to go the distance for her daughter. For Jessie.
  “My pleasure.” Replied Abbie.

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