The Jury in our Bedroom

Edward has been reviewing our stance in anticipation of the jury trial. He declares our position, especially in response to our in-law’s attorney’s stance, in the middle of the small stretch of space in our bedroom, gesturing like lawyers do when they want to amplify their already loud accusations. He fumed, reminding me that what they have done to our family is highly unconstitutional, and the worst part is that the state let them do it. I know his anger is at ‘the system’, but I let him practice on me. Ed will, in the same breath that he declares that our opponents have no right to a jury trial because they never had a stance, threaten to sue the state if the past 14 months of living with the state’s unlawful decision to grant custody to Alice’s parents aren’t compensated for. He rehearsed his position, looking at me as though I sat among the jury, booming voice echoing through the house to everyone’s curiosity. He went into the living room, pacing to cool off, and I overheard him explain why he was shouting to the curious eavesdroppers. Meanwhile I spoke to the lump huddled under the blankets beside me. “Alice, someday, we’re going to be in the news.”

“That’s okay, I expected it. Just enjoying my days of obscurity while I can.”

After Edward made the announcement, Bailey responded to his declaration:
“Who wants to be on national TV?”

And was met with a chorus of,



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