Part of the reason that it was difficult to deal with was that it was embarrassing. It made me angry for several reasons. It is my understanding that Judges would have to be reviewed if what happened to me had happened in 2018, but it was 1978. Anything goes was the motto of the era. People looked the other way. Women learned to accept certain things. My father warned me not to let any man open a door that I could open myself. He was not talking about car doors and such, but business doors; he was warning me of men who would take advantage of a woman. He was such a prude and he could not bring himself to say the words, but we understood each other.
I was assigned to do two home studies- one of the mother and one of a relative for a preschool child. The homes were polar opposites. In one home he had no supervision and was actually sent to go across a four-lane road while I was there, but I stopped that from happening. The other had planned good supervision and was adamant that he get a good education. At that time, we did not use cameras to take pictures of homes to present to court. I was the witness to both and although I had been through two other hearings at this point, I was still a novice. You learn to be a good witness by going through the fire. In my later career after there was an appeal of one of my cases, our state office used my testimony in that case to give an example of how to be a good witness. By that time, I been through the fire more times than once. This hearing before this judge, I went through fire.
I found out that since this was not a DSS case, I would have no attorney to represent me. I was on my own. I found this out just minutes before the hearing. I had been told the day before he would be there. He said that afternoon he did not have to represent me and said, “Catch you later,” and walked off down the hall like this was no big deal. To me it was a nightmare, and I was getting ready to walk into it.
But I am a smart woman and good at thinking on my feet. Everyone else had testified when I was called to the stand. The Judge, I noticed was eying me like I was a prey, but maybe that was just my overwhelming feeling of wanting to run out the door and out of the building. I was sworn in and was relieved I remembered which my right hand was, (I have dyslexia and lefts and rights do not really exist in my world- part of a foreign language I had to learn. I later solved that problem by wearing two rings on my right hand.) I also remembered my name always a good thing. I had decided to leave my middle name out of documents and in court for my career. I would be called either “Todd” or “Mary Todd” by everyone during those years. I answered both attorneys’ questions; I thought I did a good job and I was beginning to relax. It would soon be over. I was incorrect.
In those days the Family court Judge’s bench was like a pulpit in some churches. It was raised up and in the corner. The Judge stood up. Where the other attorneys only tried to bring out points that would help their individual clients, he dissected my home studies. He asked me how much time I spent in each home. He was condescending and sneered at me as he asked questions and at times seem to leer at me, but I thought that was wrong. By the time a woman is 26 years old, she knows when she is being leered at by a man. It is an uncomfortable feeling if it is unwelcomed. I was feeling very uncomfortable. Still, he could not be doing that. This barrage continued for about 40 minutes. It was now after 5 PM. He at some point got very close to me while I was on the stand. His behavior was throwing me off listening to the questions (Something I would never do again.) All the while that toothpick was rolling around in his mouth. He stepped back, and looked at the two attorneys and said, “I am taking this under advisement and will give an order the next week. Miss Todd, I will see you in my chambers NOW.” He then walked out the door of the court room. I was stunned and thinking what I had done so very wrong. The two attorneys exchanged looks and one looked at me smirking.
I followed him to his chambers. The Judge was standing inside the office and closed the door behind me. He reached up and brushed my hair back from my face. He then said, “I know you are very upset.” I wanted to say, “You are the reason I am upset,” but I held my tongue. He said, “You have lovely hair. (my hair was nearly to waist.) I think you need a drink. (my heart was racing; I needed to escape.) Why don’t you join me down at my hotel? We can have a drink together,” Then he smiled and said, “and I will make my decision about this case later tonight.” I really wanted to slap him hard, but he was a judge. (I would learn from a co-worker much later that had been a good choice that he could have sent me to jail up to one year.) He smiled again. He thought he had me. I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer of please help here. I took a deep breath and looked him in his eyes and said as sweetly as I could muster, “No, thank you sir,” and turned to open the door. I thought for a moment he was going to hold the door shut. He didn’t but as I opened the door he said, “You will regret that you did this.” I just kept walking in my four-inch heels down the stairs and out the building. I was stunned as I walked the two blocks to my car.
The next day I told my supervisor what had happened. I was ashamed. She looked at me and asked, “Well, did you do it?” I was shocked and said, “Of course, I did not do it.” The order arrived the next week. It said basically that the child stayed with the mother and that I was ordered to write this Judge a letter every month and it was to be filed in court every month by the 7th. It was to be at least two pages long detailing everything I had did on the case. This was not to address the family’s issues but only what I did. If the letter was not filed in court by the 7th there was to be a bench warrant issued for my arrest to serve 30 days in jail. I was to do it for six months. He got every one of those letters. In fact, the last one, I took the afternoon off and drove to his county to deliver to the court house specifically to him and I left a note advising him that this was the end of the six months.
Soon after that I went to training, and all these caseworkers from across the state came up to me saying, “You are the one that Judge____ propositioned.” I said yes and had no idea how they knew. I was told some similar stories about this judge from others in counties he had been the visiting judge. The story actually followed me for a few years.
There was one lingering affect that lasted a few years. There was an underlying fear with every judge at first but then only with those judges I was not used being before in court. All those other judges were gentlemen (I do not know if there was a woman judge at that time), and their behavior allowed me to dispel that fear.
At the time and even now, it was not that he propositioned me that upset me. It was the late 70s and many women were used to offers that were inappropriate. It was two things that upset me. The first one was the order. He was very wrong in making it such that I could do jail time if the letter was not completed on the date in question. I thought then and I still think it was very inappropriate. It felt like revenge to me. He asked, and I said, “No,” and that should have been the end of it. The second thing was his revenge did put that child at risk. The mother was incapable of parenting. The third thing was upsetting was that when I went to training how did this get out. I had never met any of these women. I did not tell anyone at the time including my family of my experience except my supervisor who seemed to expect that I would sleep with a man I did not know to win a case. I don’t know who she told. Fourth, she seemed to be accusing me when she asked me if I had slept with him. A few weeks later after this incident she came into my shared office. When she saw no one there, she said to me, “You remind me of my daughter Mary, and I don’t like her either.” She told me once to treat the parents and children I worked with as pieces of furniture. My response was if I ever get to that point I hoped I had the sense to walk away from this job. I felt very sorry for her daughter Mary.
It would be years before I encountered that Judge again, and this time it was not me but a young attorney who was his victim. It was a termination of parental rights(TPR) case. Neither parent was present. Both Parents had did nothing to work towards getting their child back except when they were in prison. I am on the witness stand, and I am asked by our attorney did I discuss the treatment plan with the clients. I stated that I had. I added that in talking to one parent I had said, “You need to stop shoplifting for two reasons. The first one it is illegal and separates you from your children. The second reason is that you are not very good at it because you keep getting caught. You need to find a job.” The judge laughed. At this point the young attorney stood up and asked that I be ordered not to say anything after the complaint was filed with the court. The Judge ordered it. This young attorney would ask me about his client doing parenting classes and I said, “I can’t answer that question because it is after the Complaint was filed.” After I did that a few times, the young attorney said, “Your honor will you make her answer my questions.” The Judge smiled, “You asked for all of this to be excluded. I suggest that you know what you are going to lose before you ask for it.” That young attorney never made that mistake again. The TPR was granted.
Fast forward a few more years, I noted that this Judge was hearing another of my cases. I heard he was retiring and I had hoped to miss him. At 4:45 PM on the afternoon before the hearing our attorney called me to her office. She closed the door. “Mary, I am here to warn you. The rumor is going around that Judge___ wants to put one DSS worker in jail before he retires. I have heard some are laying bets on which one of you are going to jail. (I think she said that to drive that point home.) I have reviewed all my files, and you are most at risk of going to jail. If you are sent to jail, I will do my best to get you out of jail the next morning, but you may have to stay for a while. “
“Why is my case most at risk?”
“It is policy. He hates DSS policy. Your case is totally policy. If you say the word policy, you will go to jail. Do you understand me.”
I slumped for I knew it was policy case. It was not law, but DSS required that health and fire inspections be completed before the child could go home to the grandmother. I was waiting on other agencies to schedule both of those. It could be another month. Frankly I would be glad if the judge would send the child home because the grandmother had raised this child since an infant.
Our attorney stressed again as I was leaving the office not to use the word policy.
I called the group home where the child was placed. I told them what was going down and that the child would probably go home tomorrow. I also asked would they meet the grandmother close by and they agreed. I had to think always five steps ahead. They also agreed to giving the grandmother their phone number if she got lost.
Doomsday arrived. I dressed to the nines. If I was going to go to jail, I was going in style. As I walked out of my home that morning, I hoped I would be back that evening. At the courthouse, our attorney again said, “Do not use the word policy.” She did not tell me that every question she asked me would be a policy question.
I noted as I sat down at the Plaintiff’s table that several attorneys not involved with the case were sitting in the back rows of the court house. I also noted several co-workers; the rumor had spread. I smiled and hoped I did not slip up and say the word policy. We had a new court house by then and the Judge had a big raised bench and the witness box was seated next to this bench.
I took the stand, and the first question, the attorney asked me was a policy question. I explained that all was in place except fire and health. She asked me why I needed those. There was a part of me that wanted to stick my tongue out at her, but I refrained.
I said, “She is on well water and we need to have the well checked and the house needs lead paint test done by the health department. Fire inspection is to determine if the proper fire extinguishers are present, an escape route posted, and smoke detectors placed in appropriate places like near bed rooms, kitchen, and near fireplaces. I avoided the evil word “policy” with her and the other three attorneys. Then this Judge also tried to trip me up by pushing why we had to have these. I smiled because I knew I could confound him, “Sir, lead paint is a real problem with children his age (under five years old and lead paint can lead to anemia and learning issues) and I do not want to risk that he be exposed to lead paint. I know she has the right extinguishers and smoke detectors, but I cannot test the well water or for lead paint.”
He was frowning but dismissed me from the stand and as I am walking back to my seat, he says, “You better be glad that you did not say the word policy because I hate that word. I would have had you arrested for contempt of court. You are not out of the woods yet. You are ordered to return this child to the grandmother physically within two hours, or you will be arrested for contempt of court and will spend time in jail.”
I grabbed the grandmother coming out of the courtroom. She was a very nice woman. I liked her. I said come to my office. Before I could leave the lobby, several of those coworkers told me, “Good Job,” but I was in a rush to get things in place. As we walked the block to my office, I talked to the grandmother about going to meet the group home staff, and she agreed to do so. I went back and made the arrangements and asked the group home to call me when it was done.
About an hour and a half later, the attorney came to see me and said, “Why are you here? He has drawn up the bench warrant for your arrest and plans to have it served on you in 30 minutes.”
“Don’t worry. All is under control.” My phone rang. It was the group home. I thanked them. I turned to our attorney, “The child is with his grandmother.”
Our attorney said, “I will call the Judge.” We both were smiling.
I was tired. I decided to take the rest of the day off. I was told later that he had been upset that I had not given him a chance to put one DSS worker in jail. He had been quite testy in the afternoon hearings. He had figured I was his best chance to send a worker to jail. I was not sorry I outfoxed him.
For the most part Judges are good honorable people. The bad ones are rare. I learned early on that in that Courthouse and especially in that courtroom that The Judge always rules. Be disrespectful and you will be treated with contempt. I dressed respectful, behaved respectful, and always asked permission if I wanted to say something more than I was asked< “You Honor, could I give a fuller answer?” They often saved me when I was being badgered. I told one recently that he was my second favorite judge that my first favorite had saved me from two different attorneys when I was on the stand. He knew both the attorneys and smiled, “Well, I understand why you consider him your favorite judge.” He really was a close second.
The Case Worker Takes the Stand
A set time had been given;
I arrived early and waited.
We all did.
Family Court-you were on time.
The wait was impossible.
The nerves build up.
It is why in those early years
I dressed to the nines,
My armor.
Half dreading, half wanting,
The call of the case of the hour,
The Judge tells the plaintiff
That it is time to start their case.
I took notes; it kept me busy
Waiting to be called,
The last witness was draining.
Our attorney stood up and said,
“We call the case worker to the stand.”
I closed my eyes and said a brief prayer
“Use me as an instrument of your work.”
I walked to the witness box
Inside shaking as jelly in a rocking chair, but
Knowing the first request would calm me.
I stood with my hand on the Bible
The Bailiff asked me to swear the truth.
I said, “I do.”
The case worker has taken the stand.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
April 4, 2018