Free The Cradle Robbers by Ayelet Waldman Page B

of her case, that the child “Noah Anthony Lodge” was not under the care of the agency, and that all further correspondence from her would be returned unopened.
    “I wrote back to tell them they had the name wrong, that it’s Lorgeree, not Lodge. I’ve asked friends on the outside to call the telephone number the foster family gave me, but nobody has gotten through. The same with the number for the Lambs of the Lord. Noah has just vanished. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve gone crazy, if this was all some horrible psychotic episode. If it wasn’t for the fact that I can’t fit into my clothes, it’s almost like I never gave birth to him at all.”
    There was no response I could give that would possibly make her feel better. I felt my heart reach out to this young mother, whose circumstances were so dramatically different from my own, but whose love for her baby was precisely the same. I was suddenly so deeply ashamed of my previous thoughts that her child would be better off in other arms. Who was I to say such a thing?
    After a few moments Sandra said, “I should probably tell you what I’m in for.”
    “Only if you want to.”
    It was a heroin deal. Sandra had introduced a new friend of hers to her dealer, and the two men had cooked up a scheme to take advantage of the L.A.–Kabul heroin distribution network that had gotten so vigorous since the U.S. invasion. Sandra’s new friend, however, turned out to be a confidential informant, working for the cops. For some reason the prosecutors decided to take pity on her and prosecute her in state court rather than federal. Or maybe the feds just wanted to throw the county D.A. a bone. Sandra pled guilty and was sentenced to five years, and was lucky to get it. If she’d been prosecuted in federal court she would have gone to jail for two or three times as long.
    One of the things you learn as a public defender is that the line between those who end up in jail and those of us whose lives are untouched by this kind of trouble can be very thin. Sometimes it’s a matter of evildoers getting caught, but more often than not it’s a question of the fortunes of people’s lives, the accidents of fate and birth. Had my parents both died when I was young, as Sandra’s had, might Ihave ended up a heroin addict, caught up in a drug deal, in jail on conspiracy charges? Anything is possible. I was so lucky in my life, and she was so unlucky. My babies were home safe in my beautiful, ramshackle house. Sandra had no idea where hers was. I decided at that moment that I was going to help this young woman, not because of Chiki and his cousin, not because Al and I had little else to do right then, but because I owed it to whatever it was in the world that had allowed me such good fortune and cursed her with such unhappiness.
    Right before I left, Sandra said, “If the Lambs of the Lord try to have my parental rights terminated, do you think I could have Noah’s birth father come forward and demand custody?”
    I had been waiting for Sandra to mention the father and was relieved that I didn’t need to bring it up myself. I flipped my notebook to an empty page. “I’m not a family law attorney, but I am absolutely certain that the baby’s father is entitled to custody of the child. Unless, of course, there’s a reason that he would be denied custody on his own.”
    “Tweezer’s a junkie.”
    “Is he still using?”
    She shrugged. “Probably. I mean, when I’mwith him he can stay clean, more or less. But not on his own.”
    “I’m not sure, then, that it would help your case to have him come forward.” She frowned. “Do you want me to get in touch with him?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not yet. I hear from him sometimes. Or people tell me where he is. We lost our apartment in Eagle Rock after I got arrested, so he’s been staying with friends. If I need to find him I’ll be able to.” Sandra pushed her chair back across the tiles with a decisive squeak