J. Walking

And then, after ordering the second glass of wine, we turn our attention to the past. To J. and his antics. To the girls and how they've recovered. To comparing notes, to asking questions, to ferreting out the mysterious details that had evaded us.

Sandy tells me she needs to tell me two things. I brace myself. For a moment I think there is more to be worried about. Something else I had not known that will come roaring into my life to haunt me from his grave. Some new problem when I can least deal with one more plate in the air.

She wants to thank me.

Huh?

When I was having the most trouble with J. and he continued to make trouble in my life even though I'd left him in the dust and even as I became happily involved with Scott, I had heard from a judge who was his acquaintence, if not his friend. We'd all been out to dinner a time or two. The judge and his wife had been lovely.  A little older, a little wiser, and very, very amusing.

The judge had called me to ask if I'd been in touch with J. and mentioned that J. was in some kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that comes across a judge's desk in his chambers.  He was not looking for J. but more so giving me fair warning. He told me to not involve myself in J.'s problems. They were too big and I was too nice a woman to let someone like him take me down. He told me some of the problems, beginning with crazy, out of control drinking habits and ending with some other equally troubling developments in his life. He told me to protect myself, to keep my distance, to alert the police if I must. 

He sounded fatherly. He told me to go off and be happy, and not to marry a perfect stranger. Because to him, J.'s charades were so consuming and complete, he considered him a stranger to me.

At that time, I struggled ethically.  Abby had made her escape and gone to live with Sandy.  Moira was still in J.'s care even as they squatted at his mother's house. I had emailed her at the time.

I remember telling her that I was coming to her with no hidden agenda, no horse in the race, nothing to gain. That I had information about J. that I thought as Moira's mother she should know. That I hoped if the shoe were on the other foot, someone would step up, be brave, cross the DMZ and help me, mother to mother, as part of the priviledge of membership.

She had not committed to anything at the time. I had not expected her to share a plan with me. She had no reason to trust me. For all she knew, J. and I had had a tif, I got mad and contacted her, and as soon as the tif were over, I'd share her plan with him and foil the whole thing. 

But what she tells me tonight is this:  That she knew that she had only one shot at getting full custody of Moira. She had to paper the file and strike when the iron was hottest. And she had put my email in her lawyer's hands and waited...but not long. Within a matter of weeks, Moira had left with all her things while J. slept and the family was out.  No looking back. J. signed the papers without argument, in the face of overwhelming evidence against him as a custodial parent.