When he first came to my office, it had been years since he'd seen his daughter. After an ugly divorce, the mother took the child and lived a nomadic existence. The only time he heard from the child was an occasional telephone call.
He missed his daughter and he loved her, that was clear. So we filed a motion to try to get him reasonable visitation.
The mother responded with vitriol and made a hundred accusations against him. He was an awful father, he didn't want to see his daughter, he did terrible things--all untrue, but you know how the family court goes. It's not a rodeo unless someone makes an accusation.
The attorney for mother proposed supervised visits. Although reluctant at first, the father agreed if this was the quickest way to see his daughter.
And then the miracle: Father and daughter reconnected. She hadn't forgotten him, had missed him as much as he missed her.
And then the second miracle: Mother saw how much happier her daughter was with Daddy back in her life, and she relented.
Last week they were back in court. This time there was no acrimony, no heated looks, no shouting. In fact, father and mother talked amicably together, laughed and smiled. "It was fear that made me act like that," the mother said in the hallway. "Now I'm not afriad."
I have said it a thousand times in the hallways of the courthouse: When both of you are shouting, neither of you are listening.
In this case, the miracle was that mother and father stopped worrying about old hurts and slights and insults and looked at their daughter and realized that she needed both parents.
Now there's an agreement that the visits will continue without a supervisor, and that in a few months father and daughter can have weekends together.
I walked out of court that day with a strange feeling. No one was angry anymore. No one was miserable. No one hurting. Everyone was happy with the arrangement and, most important, a 10 year old girl now had an early Christmas gift: Both parents are now in her life.
So many times attorneys are the bringers of misery and dissention. For once in my Family Law career, I had helped--along with the other lawyer--to create harmony.
A strange feeling. One I wouldn't mind having more often.
