Chapter 6 - The Courtroom Confrontation
The Springfield County Family Courthouse was an imposing marble structure built in the 1970s, its long hallways echoing with the nervous footsteps of parents, attorneys, and court officers.
At 8:50 AM, Tessa walked through the metal detectors on the first floor.
She wore a dark grey tailored pantsuit borrowed from Clara, a crisp white collared shirt, and minimal makeup. Her hair was pulled back tightly, showing her clean, calm face. Alongside her walked Victoria Vance and Sarah Lin, both carrying heavy leather briefcases.
At the far end of the hallway outside Department 12, Derek Rowan was standing beside his attorney, Richard Vance. Derek was dressed in an immaculate dark blue suit, looking every bit the grieving, dignified father.
When Derek saw Tessa walking toward them flanked by Victoria Vance, his calm expression flickered for a fraction of a second.
"Victoria?" Richard Vance snapped, stepping forward with his brow furrowed in anger. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I'm representing Mrs. Rowan," Victoria said smoothly, stopping three feet from her brother. "Do you have a problem with that, Richard?"
"This is a massive conflict of interest!" Richard snarled, his face turning red. "You're my sister! You work at the same master firm entity!"
"Our equity partnerships were formally split six months ago, as you well know," Victoria replied coldly. "I represent Tessa Rowan. And I suggest you review your client's pending criminal liabilities before we step inside that courtroom."
Derek stepped forward, adjusting his tie, keeping his voice soft and persuasive. "Tess, please. Don't do this. Let's not make this uglier than it already is. I don't want to fight you. I just want Jamie safe until you get the psychiatric help you need."
Tessa looked at Derek. For four months, she had looked at this man with love, trust, and a desperate desire for approval. Now, looking at his handsome face, she felt nothing—no anger, no grief, only an absolute, chilling disgust.
"Save it for the judge, Derek," Tessa said quietly.
The oak doors of Department 12 opened, and the bailiff called out: "Matter of In re: James Rowan, Case Number 26-FC-4401. All parties step forward."
The courtroom was quiet, panelled in dark mahogany. Behind the high bench sat Judge Patricia Gomez—a sharp-eyed woman in her late fifties with silver-streaked hair and a face that looked as though it had seen every lie ever conceived by humanity.
"Take your seats," Judge Gomez instructed, looking down at the case file in front of her. "This is an emergency protective custody hearing filed by County Child Protective Services regarding minor infant James Rowan, aged four months. Present are CPS Officer Monica Ruiz, father Derek Rowan represented by Richard Vance, and mother Tessa Rowan represented by Victoria Vance and Sarah Lin."
Judge Gomez looked over her reading glasses at the attorneys. "Miss Ruiz, summarize the county's position in three minutes."
Monica Ruiz stood up. "Your Honor, on the night of August 21st, infant James Rowan was admitted to the pediatric emergency department suffering from an acute airway obstruction secondary to infant reflux. A video recovered from the home's nursery camera shows the mother, Tessa Rowan, placing industrial foam earplugs into her ears and leaving the crying infant unattended in his crib to go to sleep. Based on gross neglect and severe lapse of parental supervision, CPS requests temporary physical custody be assigned to the father, Derek Rowan, with supervised visitation for the mother."
"Mr. Vance," Judge Gomez turned to Derek's lawyer. "Does your client concur?"
Richard Vance stood up confidently. "Yes, Your Honor. My client is heartbroken by these events, but his sole priority is his son's physical safety. Mrs. Rowan has been struggling with severe postpartum depression, emotional instability, and substance-induced confusion. We request full physical custody and exclusive use of the marital home."
Judge Gomez turned her sharp gaze toward Victoria Vance. "Mrs. Vance. Your response."
Victoria stood up slowly, picking up a thick manila folder from the table.
"Your Honor," Victoria began, her voice echoing clearly through the courtroom, "we agree that gross neglect and criminal endangerment occurred on the night of August 21st. However, the perpetrator of that neglect was not Tessa Rowan. It was Derek Rowan."
Richard Vance jumped to his feet. "Objection! This is absurd grandstanding!"
"Sit down, Mr. Vance," Judge Gomez snapped sternly. "Continue, Victoria."
"On the night in question," Victoria stated, "Tessa Rowan was suffering from acute, systemic mastitis with a fever exceeding 104 degrees. At 8:47 PM, under direct medical supervision via a telehealth consultation, Dr. Aris Mehta explicitly instructed Mrs. Rowan to place the infant in a safe, flat crib, insert earplugs to mitigate sensory shock, and lie down for fifteen minutes while awaiting her husband's immediate return home."
Victoria walked over to the clerk's desk and handed up a certified evidence packet.
"In his sworn statement to the police," Victoria continued, "Derek Rowan claimed he was working late at his office until 9:15 PM, driving home immediately upon receiving his wife's urgent calls. We submit into evidence Exhibit A: itemized credit card records showing Mr. Rowan was at a VIP lounge downtown drinking high-end scotch with his public relations manager, Sarah Miller, at 8:42 PM."
Derek's jaw tightened. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing sideways at his lawyer.
"Furthermore," Victoria's voice rose with razor-sharp precision, "we submit Exhibit B: a pending transaction executed at 9:12 PM on Mr. Rowan's primary credit card to 'Prime Bot Solutions LLC' in the amount of fifteen hundred dollars—a paid automated distribution service used to illegally leak and amplify the nursery video across social media platforms, creating a manufactured public lynching of his own wife while she was unconscious in an emergency room."
May you like
Judge Gomez lowered her glasses. Her eyes fixed on Derek Rowan with a look of terrifying, absolute coldness.
"Mr. Rowan," Judge Gomez said, her voice dropping into a quiet, dangerous register. "Did you purchase services from a bot distribution network on the night your four-month-old son was rushed to the hospital?"
