Case files were kept in a small room, behind bulletproof glass. At least one staff member sat behind the glass during business hours; a second person was on hand to pull the files from the stacks - the walls of sliding bookcases containing all of the cases reviewed by the El Cajon courthouse.
Lee was well-known by the two women currently staffing the file room. Doris and Julia were kindhearted women who took particular interest in the cases pertaining to juveniles, and knew most of the social workers and lawyers assigned to these by name. Per courthouse procedure, Lee presented her photo ID card, but even as Doris accepted it through the partition in the glass window, Julia was already on her feet and heading for the stacks. “Kerry called maybe an hour ago and let us know you’d be coming,” Doris said as she took a quick glance at Lee’s card. “That girl deserves a raise, Lee!” “Believe me, I know it,” Lee smiled as she returned her ID to her wallet. “I’ll make sure to put in a good word from you on her next evaluation.” “For me, too!” Julia said as she handed Doris the slim pressboard file. “Duly noted,” Lee laughed as Doris came through the locked door separating the file room from the waiting area. “You want a reading room, right?” Doris asked, keys in hand. “Yes, please, that would be great.”
Case files could not leave the file room, even with one of the caseworkers assigned to the case. The court had two locked reading rooms that faced the file room; a person could not enter the room without one of the staff members opening the door, nor could they leave the room without being spotted. Doris let Lee into one of the reading rooms, which held just a desk and a chair; Doris laid the file on the desk and left Lee to her reading.
Lee set her bag on the ground and her coffee on the desk. From her bag, she pulled an unopened black notebook and a pencil bag holding pens, highlighters, and sticky flags in a variety of colors. Once her supplies were arranged to her liking, she took a sip of coffee and opened Jazz’s file. It wasn’t much - just a police report, a copy of an interview with a schoolteacher, and the duty social worker’s notes. The file would thicken as Jazz’s assigned social worker and lawyer added their own reports and copies of case hearings.
The courts kept perfectly serviceable case files that social workers and lawyers could access during business hours, but because Lee often worked well into the evening and on weekends, she preferred to create her own. For each case she was assigned, she created an electronic and a paper file, and maintained a journal; she kept a clean notebook in her bag at all times, specifically for this purpose. Now, she turned to the third page of the freshly opened notebook and wrote across the top in her tidy capitals, “Case File: Notes”.
She read through the police report first. She wrote down relevant names (with contact information, if it was available), dates and times, locations - all color-coded. She would later add this information to her case file. The report was stark facts and easy to get through, but the duty social worker left copious notes - on her first meeting with Jazz and her mother (grim), on her impressions of Jazz’s wellness and health (poor), and on her interview with the teacher who had notified Child Protective Services.
This teacher, a Ms. Jamison, had noticed Jazz was quieter and withdrawn the past month or so. Unusual, since Jazz was bright, outgoing, and well-spoken, a standout fifth grader. She kept a watchful eye on Jazz but noticed nothing else unusual for a couple of weeks. Then, the Wednesday before the holiday break, Ms. Jamison happened to follow Jazz to the restroom during lunch period, and watched as Jazz vomited the lunch she’d brought in a little brown bag and eaten in its entirety by shoving two fingers with such force into the back of her throat that Ms. Jamison felt herself choking.
As Jazz bent over the sink spewing her lunch, T-shirt rising above her waistband, Ms. Jamison noticed large welts and bruises criss-crossing her exposed lower back. The wounds, and the horror on Jazz’s face when she realized she was being watched spurred Ms. Jamison to pull her from the bathroom to the school counselor’s office.
Following a quick examination and a quiet interview with Jazz and Ms. Jamison, Lara Hobbs, the duty social worker sent from CPS, found more than enough evidence to visit Jazz’s home in El Cajon that afternoon - a one-bedroom apartment littered with overfilled ashtrays and empty beer cans, a rusty futon with a thin mattress pad in the living area serving as Jazz’s bed. Lara wrote that, while the apartment was in complete disarray, the tiny kitchen’s refrigerator was at least stocked with bread, deli meat, and milk. The futon was liable to collapse under a healthy adult’s weight, but the mattress pad and the bedsheet covering it were scrupulously clean (Jazz’s mother later explained that she washed the sheet and Jazz’s clothing in the bathroom tub once a week).
Jazz’s mother, Desire Ward, was frail and apologetic. She opened the door for Lara, and when Lara walked into the apartment, accompanied by two police officers (Jazz was left in the patrol car), Desire sank onto the rusty futon “with a look of resignation and not a word to say”. When questioned about the wounds on Jazz’s back, Desire explained that Jazz had been “disciplined” by her father for dropping a coffee mug earlier that week. The bruising, however, looked over a week old to Lara’s eyes, a putrid yellow and started to fade. Desire claimed not to know how Jazz had acquired the bruises.
Jazz’s father was not at home. Desire did not know where he was.
For Jazz’s safety, Lara decided to remove her from her home. She was taken to Polinsky, where one of the on-site pediatricians gave Jazz a more thorough medical exam and supported Lara’s decision to remove the child from her parents. Lara filed her report, and on the following Thursday, based on Lara’s recommendation to the county, Lee was assigned as Jazz’s lawyer.
Lee closed the case file and her eyes, and breathed deeply for a few seconds. She knew Lara; they had been assigned to several of the same cases over the past couple of years, and she completely trusted the social worker’s judgment. Lara would not have specifically requested Lee if she were not aware that the year ahead would be long and brutal, for everyone involved with the case but especially the child. Lara knew that Jazz had suffered, and would continue suffering from, abuse in her home; she knew, too, that Lee would do everything in her power to find this girl a better situation.
When she felt a sense of calm, she opened her eyes and removed her tablet from her bag. Kerry had already responded with a meeting set up with Jazz for Saturday, 9am.
Subject: Re: Jazz Ward
From: Lena Song (lsong@nmg.org)
To: Kerry Tate (ktate@nmg.org)
K,
Please get the physician’s report of Jazz’s exam. Dr. Ariel Sutter. Exam was last Friday, at Polinsky. I’d like to see her report before I visit Jazz.
I’ll review my other cases next week.
Thanks,
L
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