Impressions From Purgatory

Up front, I'm going to warn you that this post definitely falls under 'tragedy'. There's no happy ending and I don't learn much of anything at the end. This post is very much like my day to day life right now. "Keep your head down, eyes straight ahead, and keep moving."


***


I've been consigned to purgatory. Monday I got up early and headed out to the Macomb County Circuit Court building. The court is in downtown Mt. Clemens Michigan. Even though Mt. Clemens is only ten minutes away, I'd never been there. My professional opinion is that it's pretty cool.


The Ex and I were having our initial motions heard. Her, to have me labeled as a deadbeat piece of crap. Me, to keep her from taking the kids away from me again. Our motions were deferred from the trial judge to a Friend of the Court referee.

If I was a judge who had spent 20 to 30 years studying the law and a significant amount of time, effort and money to win an election, I wouldn't want to deal with this petty bullshit either.

Our situation reminds me of two kids fighting in the backseat of a car on a long trip.

"He touched me!"

"She touched me first!"


"Shut up!"


"You shut up!"

"Both of you shut up before I stop the car."

It was all so small and petty. If there was any trust left between us, or if one of us (her) could have acted like an adult instead of a 15 year old child, we could have skipped this whole ordeal and saved ourselves about $3,000.


But no, it was not to be. That's what happens when two people stop communicating entirely.

I had no way of knowing how this would turn out. The Ex was asking that I be found in contempt of court. Worst case, I could have been thrown in jail. What I was asking for was almost silly in comparison. "Um, could you bring back the photo albums you took please?" Yeah, that was worth $3,000. During the proceedings my attorney and my wife's attorney would leave together to negotiate a settlement on our various complaints. I can just imagine them talking about how childish we were both being and how it was going to pay for their new boats next summer.

But none of this is what I wanted to talk about. I want to talk about purgatory - the sixth floor of the circuit court building.


The sixth floor houses the Friend of the Court offices. The Friend of the Court handles all child support disputes, hearings and motions that need to be heard by referees, various depositions, child custody hearings and anything else related to 'Family Law'.


Family law is a euphemism for 'divorce'. Sure, they do adoptions once in a while, or maybe a guardianship, but the real fact of the matter is that the field is filled with divorce lawyers. I'd love to find one lawyer who specializes in 'Family Law' that doesn't make his or her money from divorce. And I mean all their money.

The sixth floor waiting room is packed with frustrated, despondent people being ministered to by the 'counselors of the damned'. For half of the condemned this is probably one of the ten worst days of their lives. For the rest it is "their job". Yes, you need to be a special person indeed to see this room and think "Damn, now this is what I want to do for a living! Where do I sign up?" Divorce lawyers are a special breed. You've got to have skin like Kevlar reinforced leather to get into this game. It is most certainly not for the sensitive or faint of heart.

The walls are a drab, textureless grey. The furniture is grey, the carpet is grey, the ceiling is grey. The only thing breaking the monotony are the blond birch doors and trim. Even the woodwork is drab. Straight edges and hard corners with no ornamentation. The decor fits the setting perfectly. It is fitting stage dressing for the drama going on. In this room there are only losers and bigger losers. All concepts of justice have been replaced by "minimizing losses".


There are two waiting areas. The first, more crowded, area is the waiting room for the various courtrooms where motions and various other court functions are performed. Each individual courtroom has a bench, a court reporter, seating for about six people and a lot of microphones. Paranoia is justified here, because everyone is out to get you.


The other waiting room is for the Friend of the Court cashier. All manner of people were here pleading their various reasons for being short on their monthly child support payments. Everyone had a story and not a single one was about to put shoes on little Tommy. None of the people waiting for court appointments were desperate enough to wait here. The people visiting the cashier were the 'Dalits' (Hindu untouchables). These people were looked at as the lowest of the low. Everyone assumed these people were deadbeats, even though many were probably there because of circumstances well outside of their control.

As I sat in my designated waiting area, I couldn't help but overhear various conversations. All were marked by frustration and disappointment. It was a room of failure. Sure, there were people who 'deserved' what was coming to them, but everyone was culpable to some degree. In the end they all lost. No one got what they wanted, most lost at least part of what they valued most, and all walked away with the bill. The conversations varied. I heard lawyers trying to explain to obstinate clients that compromise was in their best interest. I heard soon to be ex-husbands and wives fighting the same fights they'd probably been having for the last ten years. I heard lawyers exchanging pleasantries and planning their next trips 'Up North'.


In Michigan, everyone vacations 'Up North'. Up North isn't clearly defined, but for most people it means anything north of Saginaw. Up North Michigan is absolutely beautiful. Whether you are in Petosky, Gaylord, Mackinaw, Traverse City or the Upper Peninsula, it's all considered 'Up North' and you can't really go wrong. Woods, lakes, rivers, golf, skiing, boating, camping - whatever you want to do, it's all Up North. Most everyone has a family cottage and everyone puts up with Southeast Michigan just so they can spend their weekends Up North. If you've never vacationed in Michigan, I highly recommend it.


It was a very, very depressing day. In the end, my lawyer did a good job, protected my interests and reached a deal I could live with. It was about the best possible outcome I could have hoped for.


Monday I was lucky enough to limit my time in purgatory to four hours, but I have the nagging suspicion this place will soon become a very important part of my life.


And that is most certainly not a good thing.


Peace.