Throughout the 27 years that I practiced law and served as a judge, I handled cases involving children. I observed, in working with those cases, that most parents, teachers, health care professionals and others involved with children have little knowledge of the law concerning youngsters or their relationships with them. I decided to write a book for non-lawyers, covering 38 areas in which the law affects children. It includes, among other topics, adoptions, custody, health care, divorce, termination of parental rights, education, work, wills, criminal offenses and personal injury. I hope “Children and the Law in Texas, what Parents Should Know,” will be helpful.

I wrote the entire manuscript, which I eventually cut to about 100,000 words, by hand. Dick, bless his generous soul, typed it. And as I made changes, he typed it again. And again. Many times. When it was finally finished, he suggested that, if I planned to write more books, I should learn to type. I did, and I did. You can find it online at Amazon.com

My second book, “Fun in Europe, A Travel Guide For Grownups!” was a pure pleasure to write. It gave me the opportunity, as I wrote about them, to re-visit in memory many of my favorite places. As of now, Dick and I have made around thirty trips to Europe, and we always want to go back for more.

Each time I return to Paris, I reclaim some brief, separate life, slipping easily into familiar surroundings, rushing to reaffirm memories. Monet and Rodin? Still there. Rene Viviani Square, with its bubbling fountain and birds singing? Unchanged. And lovers still stroll the Seine, hand in hand. Each time I must leave, it is like a little death. I light a candle at Notre Dame and breathe a prayer.

Why Europe? Because it’s such fun. You can see more world-class plays in a week in London than in a year at home. You can dance at a wedding in a Greek village and savor the world’s best ice cream in Rome. You can go for a sleigh ride in a Swiss village at Christmas.

Why Europe? Because its beauty takes your breath away. Gaze in silent wonder at the majesty of the Alps. Watch the Venetian lagoon turn golden at sunset as you glide in a gondola. Drink in the endless kaleidoscope of aqua, green and purple from high above the sea on the Isle of Capri. From a boat on the Seine, marvel at the magnificent spectacle of Paris, “The City of Light,” as it blazes alive at night.

Why Europe? Because, in many instances, our roots are there. Our history is interwoven with theirs. Many of our ancestors called it home. Our language, customs and government originated there, and our philosophy grew from its heart. Understanding Europe helps us to understand ourselves.

Europe has given me cherished memories. I’ll always remember the day Dick and I raced our donkeys up a hill in Lindos, laughing all the way. And how my breath caught in my throat with my first glimpse of the Matterhorn. And how I fell silent, in awe as I first climbed the path to the Acropolis of Athens.

Europe has given me friendships with people from other countries, who brought me insights that have enriched my life. Watching and listening as those from other cultures go about their daily lives, hearing their myths, learning what they hold sacred, and seeing their children play have helped me to understand my own people and myself.

Europe has given me a dream. Always the dream is to return once more, to hug the friends I’ve made over the years, to walk familiar streets, to drink in the beauty of places my heart knows well and to explore still further, discovering even more reasons to visit Europe again. For when I do, it’s as if I have come home.

These are the experiences and feelings I share in “Fun in Europe.” I hope you’ll accept my invitation to read the book and enjoy. There is no charge. Just click here.

WHILE I CARE ENOUGH TO CRY

A CHILD NAMED ANNA

My third book, WHILE I CARE ENOUGH TO CRY, started with Anna. Five-year-old Anna failed to pick up her toys one day as she was playing in the garage, and her stepmother, Diane, stumbled over a doll. She slapped Anna. When the little girl screamed and tried to run away, Diane picked her up and slammed her head into the concrete floor.

Children’s Protective Service filed a law suit to remove Anna from her father’s home and take permanent custody of her. The judge gave the agency temporary custody and appointed me Anna’s guardian for the duration of the case. When the little girl was able to leave the hospital, the agency placed her in a foster home, and the caseworker went with me to see her there.

At first, Anna clutched her foster mother’s skirt and hid behind her. A beautiful child with black hair and soft brown eyes, she risked a few careful peeks at me.

I knelt and spoke to her quietly, “Hello, Anna. I heard that somebody hurt you, and I’m so sorry. I want to help you, if you’ll let me. That’s what I do. I’m a lawyer. I want to make sure that nothing bad happens to you ever again. Do you think we could be friends?”

I opened my arms, and after a few moments, Anna inched toward me, dragging one leg. She reached out with one arm to return my hug. The other arm hung at her side. The doctors said the damage from her injuries would be permanent. With my arms around her, I swore to myself I’d find a way to make her smile again.

Everyone agreed upon the facts. Anna’s mother, a cocaine addict, gave up custody of her daughter when she and Anna's father divorced. Afterward, she disappeared from Anna’s life.

Her father remarried, and her new stepmother, Diane, made it plain from the start that she considered Anna a nuisance and a strain on their marriage. Before he went to work on the day she hurt Anna, Diane argued with her husband about having to watch his daughter.

After she smashed Anna’s head against the concrete, the little girl didn’t move or speak, and Diane was frightened. She called Anna’s father, who phoned 911.

Diane quickly pleaded guilty to injury to a child, and under the terms of a plea bargain, received only five years probation. It seemed little more than a warning ticket.

Anna’s father came to my office to talk. He was a tall, good-looking man, who greeted me with a firm handshake and a warm smile. It disappeared when I asked why he was still living with the woman who brutalized his daughter. He mumbled that his wife was sorry for what she'd done.

I asked, “If Anna comes back to live with you and your wife, how will you protect her?”

He frowned and said, “Diane won't do anything to Anna again. She’s young herself, after all, and anyone can make a mistake.”

I asked if he and his wife had sought counseling.

“We don’t need any counseling,” he said, folding his arms across his chest, “And I wish everyone could just see this for once from my wife’s point of view. It’s tough being a stepmother, and she’s doing her best to adjust. She learned from this, and she’ll be fine with Anna now.”

I said, “Aren’t you at all concerned about Anna being alone with your wife while you're at work?”

He said, “I don’t need this,” and stalked out of my office.

Children’s Protective Service refused his request that they dismiss their case and return Anna to him. As Anna’s guardian, my role was to look at the circumstances surrounding her, decide what would be in her best interest, and ask the jury to make that decision.

Anna’s mother resurfaced and also asked for custody of her little girl. Her voice trembled as we talked. She said she’d never been able to stand up to Anna’s father. He’d always told her what to do. She had no job, she lived with friends, and when I asked whether she was still using drugs, she murmured, “No,” but she didn't look at me.

Children’s Protective Service wanted permanent custody, but the chances were slim at that time that the agency could provide many options for a child with Anna’s special needs. She would probably live in a foster home, or more likely several foster homes, until she was eighteen. I looked for relatives who might be willing to take Anna. I found none.

Anna’s father strode into court, presenting a stable, confident picture. As soon as the jurors were seated, he flashed his winning smile at them. A couple of them smiled back. Anna’s mother slumped at the counsel table and seldom looked up.

As I rose to address the jury in my opening statement, I thought about the trust in Anna’s eyes when she looked at me and realized that moments like this were the reason I became a lawyer.

For as long as I could remember, I dreamed of being an attorney. My childhood idol was my maternal grandfather, Solomon Jackson Caudle, a trial lawyer. He died when I was three. But I grew up with Mom’s tales of courtroom miracles he performed for the underdogs and the wrongfully accused.

In my mind, Superman had nothing on my grandfather, and I wanted to be just like him. Though never so naïve or arrogant that I believed I could save the world, I was determined to make life better for my young clients, one child at a time. I was grateful for the chance to fight for Anna. I could find no happy answer for her, but at least, maybe I could help to keep her safe.

The doctor testified in graphic detail about the injuries Anna suffered when her head was slammed into the concrete. He told the jury the prognosis was grim for her to regain use of her leg and arm, and he described the physical pain the child had endured.

The psychologist who had begun working with Anna described a different kind of pain. He said, “This little girl is ashamed for people to see her, because she can’t move the way she did before. She says she’s ugly now.” The psychologist went on to say, “Anna believes that she’s been bad and deserves what her stepmother did to her.”

Anna’s foster mother took the stand and said, “Anna sometimes cries at night for her mama. She’s a miserable, scared little thing, but sweet as she can be. I try, but she needs more help than I can give her.”

Tears welled in the eyes of several jurors, as they stared at Anna’s face in the picture the foster mother showed them.

The caseworker told the jury, “When Anna’s mother came to visit her, I’m not sure Anna even recognized her. She wouldn’t go to her.”

I asked the caseworker, “What about her father? Did she want to be with him?”

The caseworker shook her head and said, “When I asked Anna if she wanted to see her daddy, she began to cry. She tried to crawl under a table in my office.”

Anna’s father testified. “Everything’s fine now, and I’ll take good care of Anna if you send her back to me. She’s my child. She belongs at home with me.”

I said, “When we spoke at my office, you told me you wouldn’t go to counseling. Have you changed your mind?”

He said, “I don’t need it. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
I asked, “Will your wife go to counseling?”

He said, “You’ll have to ask her.”

That proved difficult, since she was nowhere to be seen during the trial. All attempts to subpoena her had failed.

I asked, “What would you do if Anna couldn’t live with you again as long as you live with your wife?”

He said, “I love Diane, and I won’t abandon her. She isn’t going to do anything to Anna again. Everything will be okay.”

Anna’s mother wept often during the trial. When she took the stand to ask for custody of her daughter, I asked how she would take care of Anna.
She said, “I’ll get a job, find a place to live. I’ll work something out.” Even she didn’t look as if she believed it.

I asked what plan she had for childcare while she was working. She had none. I asked how long it had been since she visited Anna, and she told me a year. I asked how long it had been since she used drugs, and she couldn’t remember, but said it had been, “a long time ago.”

In my closing argument, I told the jury I thought Anna’s mother had no way to take care of her. How could she give Anna a home? How could she provide food and clothing and medical care, even if they believed she was no longer using cocaine? Looking into the eyes of one after another of the jurors, I said if they returned Anna to her father and the monster he married, I hoped they’d never be able to sleep at night. She had no relatives to take her, and I asked the jury to place Anna in the permanent custody of Children’s Protective Service. I couldn’t find a better alternative.

When the jury retired to deliberate, I wondered what they would decide. Most of us firmly believe that children should be with their parents. Foster homes are hardly a perfect answer. Research indicates that children do better in their own homes, but only if they are safe there and have loving parents. Parents have the right to custody of their own children, unless they fail to meet the standards for their care that society requires. Would the facts in this case convince the jury to take Anna away from both of her parents?

Anna’s father was a police officer. While most officers I have known are brave and dedicated professionals, who risk their lives daily because they want to serve others, they are human beings. Not all of them are loving, protective parents. Jurors find it hard to believe an officer would ever lie or place another, especially a child, in danger. Would they believe him when he said Anna would be safe with him and his wife? I thought he probably believed that was true, but such deliberate blindness to reality created a situation where abuse was likely to occur again.

Many of the jurors had probably never before seen blatant child abuse. If you aren’t familiar with such cases, it’s hard to accept what the evidence shows. It’s difficult to believe that those who deliberately hurt children, or look away while others do, often seem like ordinary people. They may even appear likeable.

The truth is that their children aren’t a top priority for some parents. The horrific reality is not all parents want their children. Not all parents love their children. And some parents harm, even kill, their own children.

I once assumed all moms and dads were as nurturing as my own, whose love shone on me like sunshine. Their example remains my moral compass. They gave me memories of eating homemade ice cream on Sundays after church, playing Old Maid around the kitchen table and making presents for one another at Christmas. We barely had enough money to get by, but I could always count on Mom and Dad for encouragement, comfort and unconditional love. I was one of the lucky ones. The wrenching contrast between Anna’s childhood and what I knew childhood could be heightened my awareness of her tragedy.

After only an hour’s deliberation, Anna’s jury filed back into the courtroom. Some of the jurors glared at Anna’s father, and several had puffy, red eyes. The terrible injuries to this little girl had affected them in the same profound way they’d touched me. They gave custody of Anna to Children’s Protective Service.

I went home that night and cried. I cried because Anna’s mother chose drugs over her child, because Anna’s father didn't love her enough to protect her, and because Anna, who had suffered such pain, deserved so much better.
I cried, because I could produce no happy ending for Anna. She was left with an uncertain future and the prospect of foster homes until she was eighteen. I had no answer that would remove the broken, hurt look from Anna’s face.

Between sobs, I said to my husband, “I have to do something. If people only understood the reality of how often and in how many ways adults hurt children, surely that would be one step toward stopping it!”

“Then tell them,” he said, “Write a book. Do it, while you care enough to cry.”

I still do, and this is the book I wrote.  To read it, click here.
 

THE MOSTLY TRUE TALE OF TRICKLING FALLS, TEXAS

For 27 years, my husband and I had a cabin on a small lake in the Piney Woods of East Texas. We loved the cabin, the area, and, most of all the people of East Texas. My fourth book, THE MOSTLY TRUE TALE OF TRICKLING FALLS, TEXAS. grew from the warm, happy days we spent at our cabin.

Just because you can't find Trickling Falls, Texas on a map. don't be fooled into thinking the town doesn't exist, or that there are no real Fallsers, or that they didn't do the things, most of them anyhow, that I wrote about in this book

Step into the world of Trickling Falls and meet the Fallsers, which you can do by clicking here