Where Her Voice Is Taken

Chapter 4: The Weight of the System

The air outside the courthouse was thick and stagnant, filled with the smell of car exhaust and too many overheated bodies. Leigh tugged at the hem of her sweater, her fingers trembling as she stood at the base of the courthouse steps. Sîl was beside her, his jaw set, his broad shoulders stiff with barely contained rage. Elowen lingered behind them, her presence a grounding force as Leigh forced herself to take the first step.

Inside the courthouse, the world seemed colder. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, their harsh white glow casting unnatural shadows on the linoleum floor. The receptionist barely looked up as Leigh signed the visitor log, her pen shaking in her grip.

“This is how it starts,” Elowen said quietly, her silver braid swinging as she turned to Leigh. “The system is designed to make you feel small. But you’re not small, Leigh. Don’t let them make you believe that.”

Leigh nodded, her throat dry. Beside her, Sîl exhaled slowly, his nostrils flaring as he tried to steady his breathing. He hadn’t spoken much since Nîpisîy’s removal, his words replaced by clenched fists and strained silences. Leigh knew he was trying to be strong for her, for Skylar, but the weight of his anger was palpable.

Marcel Rowen, the lawyer Sîl had found, was waiting for them near the elevators. He was a wiry man with a sharp gaze and a voice that carried more conviction than his lean frame suggested. He greeted them with a firm handshake and led them upstairs to his office, his dark suit perfectly pressed.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Marcel said as he settled behind his desk. “I’ve reviewed the case files you sent over, and I’m going to be honest with you—it’s going to be a long, uphill battle. CPS doesn’t like to admit when they’re wrong, and judges rarely question their decisions.”

Leigh felt her stomach sink, her fingers clutching her sweater tightly. “But Nîpisîy was happy,” she said, her voice trembling. “She was safe. How can they justify taking her away?”

Marcel sighed, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not about whether she was happy or safe,” he said. “It’s about perception. Seren Draycott and Caldor Fenn claimed neglect, and that’s all it takes. The system operates on assumptions and stereotypes, especially when it comes to Indigenous families.”

Sîl’s fists clenched, his knuckles white. “They’re lying,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “They don’t care about Nîpisîy. They just want to tear her away from us.”

Marcel nodded grimly. “I believe you,” he said. “But belief isn’t enough. We need evidence—proof that Nîpisîy’s removal was unjustified. Without it, we don’t stand a chance.”

Leigh swallowed hard, her mind racing. “What kind of proof?” she asked. “What do we need?”

Marcel leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk. “Witness statements from neighbors, teachers, anyone who can attest to the care you’ve provided for Nîpisîy. Documentation—medical records, photographs, anything that shows she’s been well cared for. And we’ll need to file motions to request her caseworker’s reports and challenge their claims.”

Elowen placed a hand on Leigh’s shoulder, her grip steady. “We’ll get what you need,” she said firmly. “We’ll do whatever it takes.”

Back at home, Skylar sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, her sketchpad open in front of her. The pencil in her hand moved quickly, sketching the silhouette of a woman with her arms outstretched, reaching for something just out of sight. Skylar’s heart ached as she drew, the image of her baby sister’s cries still fresh in her mind.

Leigh knocked gently on the door before stepping inside, her expression soft but weary. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said. “Can I talk to you?”

Skylar nodded, setting her pencil down. Leigh sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “It’s going to be a long fight, Sky,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I promise you, we’re going to do everything we can to bring Nîpisîy home.”

Skylar hesitated, her hazel eyes fixed on her mother’s face. “Do you think she knows we’re fighting for her?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leigh’s heart broke at the question, tears pooling in her eyes. She reached out, pulling Skylar into a tight embrace. “I know she does,” Leigh said softly. “She knows how much we love her. And love is stronger than anything they can throw at us.”