Page 60 of Anatomy of Us

“Your Honor, my client maintains his concerns about the environment in which his son is being raised.”

“What concerns are those?”

Silence.

“Mr. Harrington, I just asked you a question.”

“My client…” Harrington glances at Nate, but he doesn’t look as confident as he did six months ago. “My client believes the public exposure and media scrutiny the child may face, given the mother’s occupation, is not beneficial for a child so young.”

The judge removes her glasses. Slowly. Then she looks straight at Nate.

“Mr. Henderson.”

Nate straightens his spine like posture can make a weak argument stand up.

“I have reviewed your communications with this court over the past six months,” she continues, eyes locked on him. “Three requests to modify custody. None with legal merit. None supported by evidence of neglect or danger to the minor.”

Nate opens his mouth, but the judge raises one hand and cuts him off.

“I am not finished, and I have not recognized you to speak,” she says, voice cold and flat. “An anonymous complaint was filed with the league alleging a conflict of interest. It was dismissed after a brief investigation. Two attempts to use media coverage as evidence of poor parental judgment. One attempt to challenge the stability of the home based solely on the sexual orientation of the parental figures and part of their workplace environment.”

The silence in the room turns absolute. It has weight. It presses on my chest.

“Your attorney has argued that you are concerned about your son’s media exposure, correct?” the judge asks, eyebrows lifting as she opens a brown folder in front of her. “Interestingly, this court has received substantial documentation that suggests a very different picture.”

At those words, Nate goes stiff. Harrington leans in and whispers something to him.

“During the weekends the minor has been in your custody, your current partner, Ms…” The judge pauses and checks her notes. “Brittany Lawson, has posted a total of forty-seven photographs and videos of the minor on social media. That is in the last six months alone.”

I look at Zoe. She holds still, but her hands clamp together on the table so tight her knuckles pale.

“Forty-seven posts,” the judge repeats. “In contrast, Ms. Méndez has posted exactly three photographs of her child in the same period, all in private family contexts.”

Harrington clears his throat.

“Your Honor, freedom of expression—”

“Do not interrupt me, counsel,” the judge orders without even looking at him. “My concern is not only the quantity, but the content.”

Her expression hardens as she pulls out printed photos.

“On October fourteenth, the minor appears on a recreational boat in open water. No life jacket. He is eleven months old in that photograph. The caption states, and Iquote: ‘Little Wes’s first day sailing. He loves the ocean!’ The minor is crying in the image.”

My stomach turns. Acid rises in my throat. I don’t want to imagine what that does to Zoe, sitting beside me, trying to keep her face calm while her whole body fights to break.

“On November third,” the judge continues, “the minor appears at a wild animal facility, specifically beside the fence of a large feline enclosure. This was a paid collaboration with the establishment. The minor is under one year old in that photograph.”

Zoe brings a hand to her mouth. Her breath catches. I hear it, small and sharp.

“On December twenty-first, the minor appears seated on the hood of a moving vehicle alongside Mr. Henderson’s girlfriend. The vehicle is described as traveling on a private road, presumably at low speed, but the risk is obvious. That post has over five million views.”

The judge closes the folder with a crisp smack that makes me flinch.

“I could continue, but I will not exhaust the courtroom. Mr. Henderson, you have come before this court claiming concern about your son’s media exposure. The evidence shows that it is precisely during your custodial time that the minor has been exposed in a systematic, irresponsible, and at times dangerous manner, and for commercial purposes.”

Nate goes white. Not pale. White.

“Your Honor,” his attorney says, rising, “my client had no knowledge of—”