Now we are really getting down to the business of my divorce. My attorney assures me that for the most part, everything will go in my favor. I have a stellar career with a good company, and have the ability to care for my child, directly and with the assistance of the nanny I have hired. There are some obstacles that will have to be overcome – most notably, that the State of Texas, like most other states, is reluctant to take custody away from the mother regardless of her mental, emotional, physical, or financial status. Barring evidence of actual abuse or neglect, the old attitude that a child needs a mother worse than a father still prevails in family courts. However, given the enormous amount of publicity devoted to the case of Andrea Yates, who drowned her five children in a bathtub – a case right here in my own back yard – I am pretty certain that the courts will rule in my favor, at least temporarily.
I will seek sole custody, and at the same time attempt to dissolve any financial obligations that existed in the union with my estranged wife. The stock market has not been kind for several years, and while my financial situation is not perfect, I don’t believe the divorce will make it too difficult to continue with my career and maintain my position in the workplace and society. These, however, are merely secondary considerations. The one most important thing to me now is that I have to do what is best for my child, and I know in my heart that being raised in the volatile environment provided by Lucille would not be best for him – and that’s putting it mildly.
Having never been in court for anything other than a traffic violation, I am somewhat inexperienced with the legal process. I have, however, been on the periphery of several large lawsuits waged against my employer, Microsoft, so I do have a general understanding of civil law matters. And indeed, in a typical divorce case, my limited experiences would probably have prepared me adequately for the legal proceedings. Alas, this case is anything but typical, which I will soon find out the hard way.
It is frequently stated that if you want to see what your girlfriend/wife will look like in later years, you should look at her mother. While at one time in my life, this bit of wisdom was borne more of juvenile fantasies about older women, my dealings with Lucille and her mother have brought a whole realm of new meanings. How many times will I wish that I had looked at Lucille’s mother, not so much at her physical characteristics, but rather at her personality and behavior? How many times have I wished I had paid more attention to that initial “bad-vibes” feeling I got in that woman’s presence, in those long-ago days when Lucille and I were teenagers? I’ve already lost count of the times, and have learned the hard way that the apple – no matter how rotten – doesn’t fall far from the diseased tree.
How does one go about describing the mother-in-law from hell? In case I haven’t already done her justice earlier in this narrative, I will try again. To put it as concisely as possible, I would say that she is a redneck who has been married four times that I know of, and has turned that wonderful institution into her primary method of making a living. While the term “trailer trash” comes readily to mind, it is worthy of note that since trailers – and even trash – serve some useful function in the grand scheme of things, it would be profoundly unfair to apply the label to this woman. It’s true that Lucille’s mother did, on more than one occasion, try to “save” the relationship between Lucille and me. In retrospect, that only reinforces my contention that the woman is not only trashy, but evil. In any case, with a coach of this high caliber, a criminal such as Lucille, who has no problem with lying under oath, can be a formidable opponent in court.
All Lucille needs is a lawyer whose intelligence, sensibilities, and integrity mirror her own, and I’ll be damned if she hasn’t found one in an individual whom I shall heretofore refer to as “Lazlo.” Lazlo is the name that the late gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson used for his drug-dealing lawyer (real name Oscar Zeta Acosta) in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and other writings. As you continue to read, perhaps you will understand why I’ve chosen this moniker.
I guess that looking at the big picture over the long term, Lucille probably did me a favor in selecting this guy. In the short term, however, he is the worst nightmare I can imagine.
Of course, I have to pay for his services. Not to stereotype lawyers, but this old guy has got to be one of the cheesiest and most dishonest people on the planet. His constant lying and delaying tactics, especially his repeated postponing of hearings, is beginning to get on my last exposed nerve. This is bothersome at most, but what really deepens my resentment of him is that early in this process, he realizes that his client has no chance whatsoever of getting anything good from the divorce, and he still puts in as much billable time on the case as he can possibly get away with. The judge has already limited Lucille’s financial “support” to three months, and that was only to provide her with sufficient time to get a job. It is obvious, even to her attorney, that the custody decision will not be favorable to Lucille, but this fact does not bother this guy at all. He knows that I will have to pay him – win or lose – since the court has already ordered me to do so. If it weren’t bad enough that the guy is an incompetent liar, and generally worthless as a lawyer, he actually flaunts these qualities in the courtroom. He has done nothing for Lucille except pad his bills and submit them to me for payment. Then again, he has made the process even more miserable for me, if that is possible, and from Lucille’s perspective, that might actually be what she wants, anyway.
The closest thing I have to revenge for his actions, my single small token of sticking it to him, is that I will diligently submit 1099 forms to the IRS for every cent I pay him, so that he at least has to pay taxes on his ill-gotten gains. However, it would not surprise me if he has some way around that. If I discover at some time in the future that this is the case, I will get no small degree of pleasure from pursuing that avenue against him. If it turns out that he files his tax returns more honestly than he deals with his clients, I guess I could always report him to the state bar, although the state bar is composed of other lawyers who may well be as incompetent or dishonest as he is. As you can probably tell, I have a very low regard for members of the legal profession in general, my own attorneys excepted, of course.
The judge for the 311th court seems very fair. However, his associate judge, the one who seems to be conducting all of our hearings, seems to be a man-hater. I am certainly uncomfortable in her courtroom or chambers. I find myself wondering if she got her law degree by sending in cereal box tops, but that notion is dispelled by her attitude, which would seem to belie the possibility that her diet contains any fiber whatsoever. I came into this thinking that I had a slam-dunk case, and that within a couple months, I’d be free and ready to move on with my life. I had no idea that those couple of months would stretch out into two years of what can be conservatively described as a living hell.
One of many things I had not counted on was Lucille’s accusations against the children’s nanny. Lucille had made the ridiculous claim that the nanny had stolen money from her, and she’d filed a report with police in Bellaire. Although in the country legally, our nanny, who had been taking care of Lucille’s son Damien since he was two, was not able to legally work in the States. As if fighting with Lucille’s incompetent divorce attorney isn’t enough, I end up hiring an immigration attorney to work on the nanny’s situation.
I also am not prepared for Lucille’s bankruptcy filing. I am in Boston working on a project when my attorney contacts me and tells me I must return to Houston for the hearing. When Lucille filed for bankruptcy she listed all of my assets in the filing, which causes a two-fold problem: one, it stays legal hearings on the divorce until the bankruptcy is resolved; and two, it threatens to put my assets up for distribution at the discretion of the bankruptcy court. I return from Boston immediately, prepare my paperwork, and make it to the hearing the following morning. However, the hearing is postponed due to the fact that Lucille’s mother apparently has a near-death illness. It will not be allowed to proceed until a future date is set.
As I said, this is just the beginning of two years of hell.