“What is irregular, Counselor, is your client seeking a million dollars in support for children she knew were not fathered by the respondent,” the judge snapped. He turned to me, his expression softening into something resembling respect. “Mr. Chandler, what relief do you seek?”
I had rehearsed a scorched-earth speech. I had planned to demand she be jailed, to see her ruined. But as I stood there, I thought of Marcus teaching me how to play video games. I thought of Jolene crying when she scraped her knee. I thought of Wyatt falling asleep against my chest. They were innocent. They were the collateral damage of a war they didn’t start.
“Your Honor,” I said, my voice thick. “I loved those children. I still do. What my wife did is unforgivable, but the kids didn’t choose this. I am requesting that all child support obligations be terminated immediately. However, I am requesting visitation rights. I am the only father they know. Ripping me out of their lives would only hurt them more.”
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