Welcome to Free Story Day! I have a chapbook tale to share called “Visitation Rights.” It’s a paranormal court story about a heated legal battle for a child transitioning into a ghost. The child’s father argues that his spirit should stay with him during this eerie transition, rather than remain in the realm of science. However, the judge believes he knows what’s best for the child’s welfare in his current state. There are science fiction elements to this story, as I predicted such court battles would take place long after Barack Obama left office. Originally published in 2009 by Damnation Books, it was part of their debut lineup of ebooks, when ebooks and the digital revolution were fairly new—Amazon Kindle, for example, was probably in its Second Generation. Lisa Jackson was my editor, and it sold extremely well for five years. Cinsearae Santiago created the cover. The story emerged during a time when I was writing a lot of sociological horror involving family dynamics, father-mother-child relationships, and how children can be more terrifying than adults in certain situations. Not too many authors were doing this kind of fiction back then. At least in a way that makes the idea of life after death seem totally plausible, kind of like it could just blend right in with the living and everything we deem real. At the time, I made a professional impression with it.
Anyway, without further ado…Visitation Rights (2009) by Lawrence Dagstine.
Jack Golden was magnificent, his wife Margery thought as she looked on from the front row. He was controlled, sincere, and candid, just as their lawyer had urged him to be. He was a tall, handsome figure of fifty-seven, barely even gray at the sides. He had dark brown hair and lively, intelligent green eyes like Margery, who had her own spark of confidence. She was petite, auburn-haired, and just as youthful-looking in her middle age.
Their naturally relaxed manners of speech were usually inclined to set a distance between themselves and those who existed outside the norm of modern society. Some in the courtroom found their cultured East Coast accents disquieting—after all, they were dragging this out in Jenny’s new hometown—especially when it came to these things. Still, wherever the legal battle might end up, Jack always regarded his family first and foremost and was ready to fight.
Margery, however, had felt awful on the stand. It had been a relief to discover that the lawyer had not chosen to make an issue of her visit to her daughter-in-law, Jenny Hathabee. She was as good as a wife could be to her son, who had been fatally wounded in Afghanistan. Of course, Jenny’s opening testimony was a real surprise; it almost felt like a custody battle. Cagey lady, Margery thought, wondering what other surprises the opposition had in store.
She watched now as Jenny’s lawyer slowly rose, like a bear moving in for the kill. Only this bear was rotund, his disposition stiff like the color of his suit, along with a short mustache and bulbous nose. Oh yes, and dark eyes. All lawyers had them. The odd image frightened her, but good ol’ Jack seemed to be reacting well, chin thrust out, hands on his knees.
“Mr. Golden.” The voice of the lawyer boomed in the cavernous courtroom. “What is your occupation?” He did not smile. His pose was unmistakably aggressive.
“I used to work in Washington during the Obama Administration. I was an inspector for a stem cell research facility. Just retired. Now I work part-time in a slightly similar platform, what the scientists-turned-corporatists call a nursery. The rest of my days are spent gardening, cooking, cleaning, hanging out about the house.”
“Are you enjoying your retirement?”
“I told you, I’m not that retired,” Jack said, smiling.
“All right. Since you’re familiar with stem cell research and nurseries, can you tell me why you chose that particular day to visit your daughter-in-law’s AV-36 at the camp?”
“I—I just couldn’t stand it any more. I’d looked at some pictures in an album, some frames on my mantelpiece. I missed him is all.”
“But why that particular day?”
“It was my birthday.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifty-seven.”
“What else did that day mark?”
Jack cleared his throat. “My retirement day, after twenty years.”
“Voluntary retirement?”
“No. They have this new program. Fifties are the new sixties. You hit fifty-five, you can retire.”
“In fact, it was an involuntary retirement, wasn’t it?” the lawyer pointed out.
Margery’s stomach knotted, afraid of where this would lead.
“Well, sort of,” Jack went on.
“And you felt, well, lousy. You needed a bit of comfort, a bit of remembrance. So you ran immediately to see your daughter-in-law’s AV-36?”
“Must we refer to him as AV-36?”
“Please just answer the question, Mr. Golden.”
“Well, yes.” Jack sounded confused. “Is there anything wrong with that?”
“From your point of view? Maybe not. From the point of view of an AV-36? That’s another question.” The lawyer began to pace in front of the chair, then suddenly shot Jack a query. “How did AV-36 react to your confrontation?”
Jack squirmed in his seat. “He seemed brain-dead at first, but otherwise he was glad to see me.”
“How glad?”
“Just glad.” He forced a laugh; it sounded hollow. “I brought him some clothes.”
“Where was he when you arrived?”
“In captivity.”
“And your visit interrupted this captivity?”
“Well, yes.”
“How did he express his happiness?”
“He sort of smiled.”
“Did he rush into your arms?”
“Well, no. He probably didn’t know to do that.”
“Did he say something like, ‘Gosh, I missed you,’ or did he show confusion and surprise?”
“I guess he was confused. No, wait! Maybe he was surprised.”
“Not confused?”
Jack scratched his head. “I can’t be sure.”
“In fact, for an AV-36, he was totally confused. Wasn’t he, Mr. Golden? We have it on good authority from the researchers that were present. AV-36’s transition was disrupted. He really didn’t know what was happening. You saw there was no military presence and you bullied your way in. You did not even use your real name.”
“I wanted to see him,” Jack said.
The lawyer sighed heavily. “Mr. Golden, the tragedy here is that you needed AV-36 for therapeutic reasons, to make you feel better about the things that happened to you on that day, to make you feel better about the things that happened to your son, Eric, in Afghanistan. Only AV-36 didn’t need you. He was doing just fine. He is doing fine.” A brief pause, and then, “Yes, I understand it’s hard losing an only child to war, but you intruded on this woman’s life”—with this, he gestured to Jenny—“the new one she has built and worked so hard at. AV-36 is a happy, adjusted, productive, normal… Well, you worked in stem cell research, Mr. Golden, and even now you’ve found part-time employment in a nursery or camp which fosters the same kind of thing. As much as I hate to say it, he either didn’t need, or want, your visit, did he, Mr. Golden?”
“If they let the transitioning period happen in a normal way—”
“We are dealing here with what is best for an AV-36. That is the only issue in this court, Mr. Golden.”
Jack clenched his hands into fists. “Oh, for God’s sake, stop with the scientific labels! He needed his family around him. Not Jenny shipping him off to be prodded and poked!”
As the cross-examination continued, Margery felt a sinking sensation in her heart. She knew her man. Just beneath the surface, he was at the breaking point. The opposing lawyer suddenly became ingratiating, leading Jack through a series of questions that focused on his early life; the things that he and Eric, of all things, had done together—baseball, football, hunting, fishing—the affection and interests that both father and son shared. How odd, Margery thought. She wondered where the lawyer was going with this and hoped Jack would be able to sustain himself from tears.
“It was a terrible blow to lose your only child, your cherished son?”
“Yes, it was,” Jack admitted sadly. “Many young men and women died for nothing.”
“It depressed you?”
Jack faced the bench. “Very much.”
“Then when you finally realized that stem cell research opened up doors to all sorts of other possibilities, there came the loss of your AV-36?”
“Yes. I never knew we could renew and harvest so much more through monoclonal antibodies and mitotic cells. I never knew we could reach that level.”
“This loss and these possibilities combined, bothered you, did they not?”
“Objection!” yelled the defense. “My client is clearly being psychologically baited now.”
The judge said, “Overruled. I want to hear this. Go on.”
Jack looked to Margery; she covered her eyes and sank in her seat.
“Thank you, Your Honor.” The lawyer cleared his throat. “And your job after twenty years? After witnessing such scientific breakthroughs firsthand? Come, Mr. Golden. No wonder then that you were depressed, that you exhibited odd behavior. Also, you have been known occasionally to lose your temper.”
Jack was rattled now. “Sometimes. But I never—”
“All the pressures of life suddenly coming together can wreak havoc on a man’s psyche.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jack cried, his voice rising, his body taut. He looked over at Margery again; she gripped herself from standing and interjecting.
“I’m talking about—” The big lawyer paused, his gaze first roaming the room, first to the judge, then to his client, Jenny, then to Margery, and finally back to Jack. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Golden. But your suicidal tendencies have to be faced.”
Margery felt an invisible hand grab at her insides and squeeze. She nudged her attorney on the elbow to do something.
The defending lawyer stood up. “Objection, Your Honor! I reject this line of questioning,” she said. “This is outrageous and debased speculation.”
The judge thought for a long hard second, then waved two fingers and said, “Sit down.” He nodded at Jenny’s lawyer. “Go on. This better be relevant.”
Jack rose out of his chair, then fell back, looking bewildered, exhausted, and defeated. “My what?!”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” the opposition said, shaking his balding head as if the revelation were equally painful to him. He turned and looked toward Margery. “The state of Mr. Golden’s mental health, as will be shown, was reported by Mrs. Golden herself in a meeting with a nursery counselor only a few months ago.”
“Did this meeting happen because of the AV-36?” the judge asked, still trying to find relevance.
“I can discontinue this line and pick it up again with the counselor. But I assure you it cannot be swept under the rug.”
The judge looked at Jack with an expression that seemed like sympathy. He shook his head, then turned and looked across the courtroom at Margery. His eyes were sad and questioning. His disappointment seemed to drill through her; she wished she could disappear.
Margery turned toward Jenny. “How could you?” she asked in tears. “You were like a daughter to us. We treated you as family. We put a roof over your head while you were married to Eric. Why?” Jenny quickly turned away, keeping silent.
“Um… May I request a short recess, Your Honor?” the defense asked.
The judge nodded, raised his gavel, and brought it down. He looked behind him at the clock. “Go and have some lunch, people. Be back at two.” Those present rose as he left the courtroom.
For a moment, no one moved. Margery rushed forward to her husband. Feelings of sorrow cluttered her mind, along with much to answer for. But she couldn’t find the composure to speak.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” she eventually said, embracing him as he stepped down.
He looked down at her with moist eyes and a frown. “You really think I would have chosen the easy way out? You really think seeing him like that would have affected me where I would have just…just ended it?” There was a moment of silence, then: “I miss him, Margery. I miss him dearly. He’s the only thing our poor Eric left behind. Transitioning doesn’t last a lifetime, you know. All I want is what’s fair before it’s too late. I just want visitation rights.”
*
When the hearing reconvened, Jenny Hathabee rose and approached the stand. It was her second time recalled. Her lawyer followed. Despite the wickedness beneath all that makeup, Jenny looked more radiant than Margery had ever seen her. Her face had filled out and her skin glowed with health. Clear-eyed, neat in her starched blouse and dress ensemble, she looked the picture of confidence and contentment—a far cry from months before, when depression and despair filled her life. It had left her like a hollow shell. Now those around her could acknowledge the fact that the emptiness was gone. She had never appeared as strong as she did at this moment.
Notwithstanding the dispute, Margery felt admiration for her. She had come a long way. From them. Perhaps from Jenny’s point of view she and Jack were pariahs, reminders of sadder days, an unwanted, unnecessary, and negative influence on an AV-36 already lacking in substance.
Jenny’s lawyer gently led her through the questioning. Earlier, he had driven home a few key points to his arguments. It remained to put the frosting on the cake. “And your previous husband, Eric Golden, who is a major factor in all this, was, to say the least, unsatisfactory?” he asked.
The question made Jack shrink back in his seat.
“At first I was reasonably happy,” the woman of twenty-eight said. “At first we even lived in Connecticut with his parents, because we were still on the waiting list for a home on base. Then he went off to Afghanistan, the war became fierce, and the military rarely let him home. After that, there came AV-36.”
“I understand. But when the military did let him home, how did he act?”
“He was distant. He was different.”
“Did you contemplate divorce?”
She lowered her eyes and clasped her hands across the expanse of the bench. “It was on my mind to run away. Yes.”
“Was the experience frightening?”
“Very.”
“With respect to your former in-laws, how did they treat you during the marriage to their son?”
“We never had real words. They were never unkind, mind you. They acknowledged me as their daughter.”
“And are they sincere when they say they love AV-36 now?”
“I believe so.”
“Is it true that after your husband’s death, they were supportive?”
“Yes. I suppose so.”
“And when you learned about the importance of transitioning facilities, both morally and ethically, how did your father-in-law react?”
“He did not approve of them.”
“And he made these views known to you, yes?”
“Emphatically. Often angrily.” She stopped for a second. Then, facing Jack, she went on, “Of all people, I thought he would have understood.”
The lawyer paused. Turning, he looked at the Goldens. “Would you tell the court, Ms. Hathabee, in your own words, exactly why you feel that it would be better if Mr. and Mrs. Golden stayed away from your AV-36?”
“Where does he come off saying that it’s her AV-36?” he whispered to Margery.
“Shush!” his wife pinched him.
The judge tilted his head toward Jenny for her reply, then looked over at Margery; she reached out and took Jack’s hand. It was cold and clammy.
“AV-36 is a happy, well-adjusted manifestation. He has a new life awaiting him in every respect. All that stands in the way is the transitioning process and the constant interference of Jack Golden. Thanks to the good people at the camp, he has a new form. One which he loves and, as I’ve said to this court in previous days, another on the way. I know my former in-laws think me cruel and heartless for taking this action, but I have to make decisions that are best for my AV-36. The past for him is a dim memory, as is the case with much of his kind. Why should he be disrupted? Why should he be treated differently than the rest? It is not necessary for him to visit with Margery and Jack. In fact, with all this emotional debris and refusal to let go, it will undoubtedly be bad for him—”
“What makes you say that?” the lawyer interrupted.
“His reaction to Jack’s visit to the camp was upsetting,” Jenny answered. “It upset the others like him. It was an unneeded intrusion on a perfectly good harvest.”
“This must have aggravated you.”
“Yes, well so.”
“And how did this affect you?”
“Badly. I began having migraines and terrible thoughts. I woke up with nightmares almost every night thereafter. I felt haunted by something. Like I was surrounded by negative energy. Like—”
“Like something was molesting your conscience and the environment in which you resided?” the lawyer asked.
“I can only assume it was because of that.”
“Some researchers call that kind of invasive energy an entity.” Then the lawyer said, “Do you believe in the supernatural, Ms. Hathabee?”
Jenny vested a short laugh. “This is the twenty-first century,” she said.
He pushed some more. “Did this whole ordeal leave you with any regrets, any second thoughts about your decision on visitation?”
“None.”
“Regardless of contemplating divorce, did you still love Eric?”
“Yes. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”
The lawyer nodded and looked up at the judge. “No further questions, Your Honor.”
He doesn’t have to go much further, Margery thought, watching him closely. She looked up at the judge, then back at her husband. Jack’s eyes were burning with intensity. Then the defense attorney moved forward, long-legged, lean and spare, indicating a singleness of purpose that almost made Margery wince with fear for Jenny’s sake.
The female lawyer, brown-haired and bright-eyed, started abruptly. There were no introductions or preliminaries on this day. “If you had not stayed married to Eric, Ms. Hathabee, would you have allowed your former in-laws to have access to AV-36?”
“I object, Your Honor,” the opposition said, rising. “That question is completely hypothetical.”
“I understand.” She reconsidered. “I’ll put it another way then. Ms. Hathabee, you did not have any objection to living with your former in-laws or their support—psychological, financial, whatever—during the brief period following your widowhood. Am I correct?”
“Well, I was no longer an army wife. I had to leave the base. I had no choice.”
“Did you detest it? Were those extra few months so terrible?”
“I did not feel comfortable being dependent on them again. But I did get back on my feet and start a new life for myself.”
“Did you think that they were a bad influence once the AV-36 revealed itself?”
“I wasn’t overjoyed.”
“Why?”
Jenny hesitated, her eyes searching the courtroom. “They couldn’t offer a positive atmosphere for him in this new state.”
“Are you blaming them for the hauntings?”
“The bad energy? In a way, I suppose. You have to understand. Even though Eric and I were distant at times, and the marriage quite rocky, we took vows. If we had divorced, mentally, it still would have been ‘til death do us part. For me, at least. There were always hauntings, but not really in the paranormal sense of the word. Eric’s father just possessed him, instead of the other way around.”
“Possession unwarranted and through influence, an influence you perceived as negative. Is that what you mean?”
“In some ways, yes.”
“In what ways?”
“They were together a lot.”
“Meaning you were left out. That seems very vague, Ms. Hathabee.”
Jenny’s lawyer stood up. “I object, Your Honor. Now she’s badgering my client.”
“I’m almost inclined to agree,” the judge said. “Go on, but gently, please. This is not a murder trial.”
The defense turned back to Jenny. “So you felt that your father-in-law was a bad influence on your AV-36. Perhaps there is vindictiveness lying just beneath the surface, Ms. Hathabee.” She paused. “What do you think?”
“No, I don’t,” Jenny said calmly. “You’re making it sound like I’m deliberately hurting my in-laws. That’s just not the case.”
The attorney was relentless. “So if it had not been for Eric Golden, you might never ever have prohibited your former in-laws from seeing the AV-36?”
“Maybe not.”
“But the spirit didn’t want to be reminded of its own life, what had happened to it, as if it somehow diminished him. It wanted to move on in the most comfortable way possible, surrounded by loved ones. It didn’t want to be brainwashed or tagged. It didn’t want to be harvested or converted. Transformation was the last thing on its mind. Or at least what was left of it. Isn’t that right, Ms. Hathabee?”
“This line of questioning is ridiculous, Your Honor,” the bulbous-nosed lawyer said as he rose to his feet once again.
“I’m simply trying to show, Your Honor, that none of the motivations for barring my clients from visiting their son’s ghost have anything to do with the welfare of the soul per se,” the defense explained, “that an adult woman’s concerns have clearly interfered with what is a perfectly natural, helpful, and enhancing way of moving on to the afterlife uninhibited. It is both moral and ethical, and I see no reason for an objection to that line of questioning.”
“In cases of spectral phenomena, that does not mean the right to automatically grant visitation rights,” the judge interjected. “There are new laws in this day and age. There are reasons for these camps. One minute you’re letting ghosts roam freely around living rooms and graveyards, the next, religious fanatics are hiding in church basements. Or protestors are blocking the White House lawn in droves.”
On the witness stand, Jenny looked wilted, and for a brief moment Margery was afraid her attorney had pushed a little too far. She glanced at Jack, who merely shook his head.
“It’s way out of control, honey,” he whispered. “We should have just said our goodbyes. Besides, there’ll always be the memories.”
“Poor Jenny,” Margery said. “Poor Eric.”
The judge banged the gavel. He was visibly angry and the creases in his forehead stood out. “You may step down, Ms. Hathabee.”
Shaken, Jenny walked back to her seat.
The judge, calming, looked down at all of them. “It would seem that the presentation of both sides of this case is missing a very important element.” In the long pause that followed, Margery felt her stomach drop. “You will see to it that Eric Golden’s ghost is present in this courtroom tomorrow at nine.”
“No,” Jenny cried. “I will not have that!”
“Sir, I hate the idea of putting my beloved, but deceased, child through this,” Margery said.
“He’s only dead seven months,” Jack agreed.
The judge did not respond.
“You know, the man is right,” the Goldens’ attorney said to both sides. “Nobody wanted it this way. Now it’s our only chance.”
“But it’s wrong,” Margery said, her eyes welling up. “He’s barely recognizable.”
“It’s also his soul at stake.”
“Can they refuse to bring him?” Jack asked.
“No. Not while he’s in the custody of that facility. Not while he’s tagged.”
The whole courtroom seemed upset.
Finally Jenny’s lawyer, who was just as concerned, stood up and sucked in a deep breath. “Tomorrow at nine, Your Honor.”
*
The next morning, the courthouse was quiet, all but closed down, mortally wounded by the previous day’s events. It surprised Jack to see it this empty, except for the clerk and the stenographer.
“I won’t say that I’m not scared,” Jack admitted.
“I’m petrified,” Margery swallowed. “You think in this state he’ll know me?”
“You’re his mother. Nobody forgets their mother.” They took their seats, and soon Jenny arrived with her lawyer. The two of them had probably had breakfast together, Jack thought with disgust. Conspiring to manipulate our lives. What did it matter to them?
Despite all his valiant efforts to hold back the gloom, depressing thoughts still consumed him. This thing with AV-36—Eric being called to court—had jolted him. Why was all this happening? Time was when you could go to sleep and get up in the morning and society would be the same as it was back in 2010. A man went to work and provided for his family. A mother watched over the house and helped with her share during a struggling economy. Parents stood lovingly, proudly by their sons and daughters who served in the military. Back then there were no such things as hauntings or the spirits of the dead wandering the earth. At least not outside the movies or comic books. There were no such connections between stem cell research and the paranormal. There was no such thing as life after death in modified forms. Even outside religious circles, the soul was a questionable invention. Had times changed that much? Was this really the future? Where were the honor and dignity in mothers and fathers having to sit in court and secure the right to visit their own offspring and say farewell? Jack was sorry he had turned down the open coffin at the funeral now. Anything was better than having to go through this.
He tried to remember why he had put those shells in the shotgun the day Margery had found him in the study. He could barely remember doing it, just as he had barely remembered the time he placed the razor blade and bottle of scotch along the side of the bathtub. Was he consciously seeking to check out of life, put an end to the frustration and pain and join his son in this wisp-like form? Never! Could he have done something so cowardly and unworthy? Of course not; impossible was a better word. It must have been some of that negative energy like they mentioned in court. Yeah, that was it. Bad energy.
Margery gripped his hand. They heard movement behind them and turned. A smoke-like figure with grayish-blue crystals surrounding it materialized at the door. It slowly moved in, looking like the former embodiment of a man, but now something else. The ethereal image of Eric. Jack felt his heart leap to his throat as their son hovered up the aisle. Everybody hurried to their places, frightened. The ghost stood at the head of the courtroom, busy exploring the high ceilings.
“He didn’t see me,” Margery whispered.
“Of course he can’t,” Jack said with some trepidation. “But he will.”
The clock read fifteen minutes after nine. There was no sign of the judge’s arrival. No one said a word. Margery cleared her throat and the ghost looked toward where they were sitting. Jack lifted his hand and waved. Eric waved back and smiled. Jack noticed a metal bracelet around his wrist. It was made out of a strange metal and read AV-36. Jack whispered to Margery, “Honey, focus!”
“M…Mom?” the ghost said.
“Hello, dear,” Margery cried, her eyes quickly filling with tears.
“See. He recognized you. Nothing to cry about.” Jack did all he could to blink away his own tears. “He just needed a bit of instruction.”
The door leading to the judge’s chambers opened. “All rise,” the clerk said, and they stood up. The judge breezed through the door, lips pursed, unsmiling, and tight-faced like the day before. Jack looked for signs of sympathy; he got no such vibes. Matter of fact, the judge seemed terrified by Eric. Eric, on the other hand, was busily absorbed in assessing this phenomenon of a room and the mysteriously black-robed man who sat high above him in it.
“Will counsel for both parties approach the bench?” the judge said after the ritual of his entrance. Both lawyers rose and stepped forward. Jack strained to hear what they were so fervently whispering about. Eventually, the two lawyers returned to their seats.
“It’s the best deal we could work out,” the Goldens’ attorney said. “The judge will talk with the apparition alone in his chambers. He’ll seek what’s best.”
The judge looked up from his papers. “This trial has been based on one party’s yearning to hold on while the other has wanted to let go,” he began. “It’s been about trying to stay in touch with something far beyond the scope of the living, to either pay tribute or say final goodbyes, and to do what is merely in the best interest of the deceased. Today we will come to a decision.” There was hesitation in his voice. “There will be no court reporter present and no lawyers. Just the ghost and myself.” He paused and looked at Eric. “AV-36,” he said gently.
Everyone in the courtroom looked at the spirit who, surprised to hear his tag called, looked down at his bracelet then up at the bench. When he started hovering, the judge turned to everyone in the courtroom. “Court is adjourned for one hour,” he said, standing up. The ghost gravitated toward the door of his chambers.
Jack felt something give way inside of him. An image, like a developing Polaroid picture, began to appear in his mind. The judge and Eric moving inexorably away from him, levitating, space and time disintegrating. In the image, he could see his own trembling hands, reaching, trying to stop the movement of Eric and the judge. Then they disappeared and he heard the sound of the door closing. The image dissolved.
In the end, all the legal research, all the petitions, all the printed words meant less than this court had realized. The answers could only be found in that most vulnerable place of all, the human heart and soul.
“What is it, Jack?” Margery asked. There was no hiding anything from her.
“It’s no good,” he said. “Either way.”
“You mean the transitioning?”
“Eric will leave this form at some point or another.”
She nodded. He knew what he must do.
An hour had passed. No word from the judge’s chambers.
Jack was watching Jenny. He felt so insignificant in the baroque vastness, not at all the formidable figure he once was. He moved toward her now and struggled to smile.
“I’ll only be a minute, Jenny,” he said, leaning toward her. “I don’t like this business of Eric being in there with him.”
Jenny turned a cheek. “I know that, Jack,” she said gently. “I’m not too crazy about it myself.”
Jack shook his head. “I tell you, Jenny, I never wanted this. I swear it! You were a good wife to my boy, and an even greater daughter.”
Jenny looked up. “Really, Jack?”
“Yes, absolutely. I know you’ll treat my son’s ghost just fine, you know just what’s right for him. He needs to move on.” He inhaled a deep breath. “So what I’m saying is that it’s your say all the way. We’re the outsiders now. We’ve had enough time to say our farewells and make our peace. And if you don’t want us around—it doesn’t matter why—you’ve earned that right as far as we’re concerned. Only what’s best for Eric’s soul counts here, and we’re not going to barge in. Let science handle it. It’s just no good any other way. No good at all.”
“I—I don’t know what to say,” Jenny stammered.
“You don’t have to say anything. We’re just not going to interfere in your life any more. What we want”—he took in some deep breaths—“is not to give Eric’s soul a minute’s worth of pain. Let the professionals go on handling his transition. We’re going to ask our lawyer to withdraw our petition, to stop this whole rotten business.”
Meanwhile, another hour had gone by. Still no word from the judge’s chambers.
“I appreciate that,” Jenny said. “Oh, and don’t think I am oblivious to the pain of it for you and Margery.”
“So that’s it, I guess,” Jack said, bending over and hugging her. Before turning away, he added, “Take care of yourself, you hear?”
When he sat back down, Margery kissed him. “It’s all right, darling,” she said. “Who knows, this might work out in everybody’s favor after all.”
Finally, the chamber doors opened. The voice of the clerk boomed, “Court is now in session!”
“I have reached my decision in this case,” the judge said, avoiding the faces of those in the courtroom. The ghost was not with him. Jack noticed Margery glance at him, but he remained rigid, eyes focused straight ahead. He shrugged his shoulders; he also sensed something wrong.
“As you are all well aware,” the judge began, “the law in this country is not explicit on the point being argued in this courtroom. Yes, morals and ethics must be considered. The issue here is clearly the best interests of the ghost who, when he was a card-carrying member of the living, went under the name Eric Golden.” He paused. “We had a nice lengthy chat in my chambers. Now, it is difficult to assess the state of anyone’s mind and spirit in the brief space of an hour, or two, or even three. Certainly, it is doubly difficult in the case of the dead.” He raised his head and looked toward Jack. He flashed him a broad smile.
Jack recognized those blue eyes and that smirk anywhere.
“But since I am charged with such judgment, I have concluded that this particular ghost is well-adjusted, bright, cheerful, and has much more to look forward to in the next life. He is obviously loved and cherished by his mother and father, as I’m sure is the case with his former wife. The inclination of the case law is to leave well enough alone.”
Jack leaned forward now. He was about to say something when Margery put a finger on his lips and he quieted.
“The question then is, does this well-adjusted, happy ghost need the visits of any family to enhance the quality of his afterlife? It seems to me that in all human endeavors there is not exactly an overabundance of love, genuine and unselfish, honest and caring. When you find it, you should never deprive it of its natural outlet. The dead, in my opinion, need as much of it as they can get. Put aside your grievances. All of you.” He banged the gavel. “This case is closed.”
Jenny’s lawyer now stood up. “That was a very moving verdict, Your Honor. But if I may be so bold, where is the AV-36?”
“Where he belongs,” the judge said. “Free. After our discussion, I let him out the window. It was his choice and his alone. I did not coerce him whatsoever.”
The entire court was shocked; murmurs of disbelief followed.
“Well, that’s that,” Jack said, getting up. “No point in staying.” Margery rose with him as the judge continued to speak. They moved down the aisle, ignoring Jenny’s upturned face. Nor did they pause for one last look at the judge, although Jack could feel his eyes watching them.
“Don’t feel so bad, Jack. Wasn’t really your fault. He did his best,” Margery said as they walked hand in hand out the courtroom.
“Seems he forgot who the victim was.”
“Say what you want. I still think we won the case.”
“Perhaps we did.” He brooded for a moment, pausing in the stairwell. “How can he judge what’s best for a ghost?”
“That’s his job,” Margery responded. “And it was an enlightening speech. I’ll give him that. Turned out he had a lot more feeling than I thought.”
“Hmm, seems he had a little bit more than that.” He paused for a moment. “They took awfully long in those chambers. I want to know why.”
Across the lobby, the couple saw Jenny and her lawyer watching them from above in confusion and slight disgust. The judge, all changed now, headed for the courthouse exit. Jack and Margery took a step forward, hesitant. The judge stopped moving the moment he saw Margery. Through a mist of tears, she moved toward him, equally hesitant. They went to meet one another, middle-aged woman and middle-aged man. When they embraced, Margery was certain it was not only a contact of bodies, but of spirits as well, and what passed between them was beyond words. Then they parted. Jack moved in and the three exchanged brief glances. What they shared needed no articulation. Not any more. The ordeal was finally over.
“Mom, Dad…” the judge said, smirking again.
“We’ve missed you, Eric. We’ve missed you something awful.”
“I’ve missed you, too. And I’m coming home.”
Jack extended a hand and the judge took it. Underneath his cuff there was a bracelet made out of a strange metal. It read AV-36.
THE END
Lawrence Dagstine: Author 
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