It happens every day in Family Court. Two lawyers walk in. They bow to the judge like it’s church. They shake hands like it’s Christmas. Then fight.
For the mother — Ed Nusbaum, who charges $750 an hour. He says “We are only here for the best interest of the child.”
Nancy Aldrich
For the father — Nancy Aldrich, who looks like your favorite aunt but bills like a surgeon. “My client has grave concerns, your honor.”
They fight all morning. Then at lunch, they sit together and order soup and laugh about the fight like poker buddies.
“We’ll run with parental alienation against my client, right?” Nusbaum says.
“Oh, definitely,” says Aldrich. “And therapy for the kids.”
“And monitored visitation.”
“Always.”
“Jocelyn Hurwitz can be the guardian. She needs the work.”
The Guardian Ad Litem: Your Child’s Court-Appointed Assassin
GAL Jocelyn Hurwitz
Hurwitz is the guardian ad litem. The lawyer for the child. Hurwitz calls her friend, the custody evaluator, Jessica Biren Caverly. She knows her job is not to find the truth but the money.
The mother who has a pension from teaching twenty years of math? She will lose the pension in fees. The father with the high income – the real abuser – has the money. The mother will fight until her last breath for the welfare of her children. The father will pay until his wife’s last breath to punish her. The children have lived with their mother all their lives. Their father is virtually a stranger, a cruel sadistic stranger.
The father, of course, will get custody. It was planned by the attorneys in advance. This is business.
Ed Shatbaum
Hurwitz knows the evaluator will will find parental alienation and recommend flipping custody and destroying the children’s happiness. She wants more referrals.
“Supervised visitation for the mother.” The lawyers know this will lead to motions, objections, replies, letters, court dates.
The custody evaluator knows what she will find
Judge Jane Kupson Grossman
Judge Jane Grossman says in court: “It appears counsel are working together professionally to resolve these difficult matters.”
It is one of the few truthful things Judge Grossman ever said. Working together? Oh, yes – to keep the case alive. To keep the money flowing. Working together to keep the children hostage until the house is sold, the accounts are empty, and one of the parents are gone.
At the end of the day, Nusbaum says to Aldrich, “See you tomorrow.” And Aldrich says, “You bet.” And they smile. For it is not really a bet. It is a sure thing.
The Victims
They wait at home for their mother with coloring books they do not color. She never appears. They wait in the back seat of a car outside where their father will pick them up and blame them for their tears, for missing their mother. They wait in bedrooms in silence missing their mother. From a happy home, the team flipped them to a lonely home, the home of the parent who could pay more.
Slowly, one parent disappears. First from dinners. Then from weekends. Then holidays. Then from life.
Judge Grossman calls it “in the best interest of the child.” The lawyers call it “billing.” The custody evaluator calls it “parental alienation.” The guardian ad litem calls it “recommendations.”
The child calls it “Where is my father?” Or “When can I see mommy again?”
The missing parent is alive but gone. They ran out of money. They refused to break. They loved too loudly or fought too hard or could not afford ten-thousand-dollar experts to say what was true. Family court does not care who was right. It cares who can pay. It cares who can last. It cares who complies. In the end, the child learns what family court teaches: Love is conditional. Safety is money. Truth is a thing you buy. Parents are temporary. Family is fragile.
They call it family court. But what it does is something else. It makes orphans of the living.
As Fagin said to the youth he taught to steal, “It is our living.” So saith the players of family court.
