ONE BIG LONG FLASHBACK!
##PAST 1992##
Tessa emerged from the spare room nearly an hour later with the empty bowl.
"He's willing to let us call the police tomorrow. But he wants to get some things from the apartment first. I think he's scared his foster father won't let him have everything."
"How did you convince him?" Duncan asked as he followed her into the kitchen.
"I just told him that if he refuses to press charges then he could do it to another child and it would be his fault."
"He let you say that to him?"
"He was a little mad at first, but he thought about it and said I was right. Then he agreed."
"How is he now?"
"Exhausted. I think everything was just too much for him. But, he knows what he has to do and he's willing to do it now. I am still worried he may try to run away."
"From us or from social services?"
"He's too tired to run tonight. But he really doesn't want to go to the orphanage." She put the bowl in the sink and started washing it.
"Tess, there's nothing we can do. Legally, he's a ward of the state. I can call our lawyer, but I'm pretty sure our only option is to let him go."
"He's a foster child, right?"
"Right."
"So he'll need foster parents. Let's just keep him."
"I doubt it's that easy, Tess."
"What would we have to do? Fill out some papers and pass an inspection. If they'd give custody to someone who would do that to him, they have to give custody to us."
"You really want to keep him here?" Duncan asked.
"I have to make it up to him. I have to prove to him that some people can be trusted. Not everyone is against him."
"We'll do what we can, then. I'll call Kevin in the morning before we take Richie to get his things that way we'll be armed and prepared for a custody battle."
"And maybe if he knows we're trying to take him home with us, he won't run away," Tessa added as she put away the clean dish.
"Or it might make him all the more anxious to get away."
"So we shouldn't do it?"
"Maybe we shouldn't tell him until we are a little surer of what we're doing."
Tessa nodded. "Alright."
They decided to go to bed themselves. They had all had a long day. Tessa went into Richie's room and shook him awake softly.
"We're going to bed," she whispered to him. "If you need us, we'll be in our room. Don't be afraid to come wake us up." He sighed and nodded, then fell right back to sleep.
"We'll just let him sleep until he wakes up," Duncan whispered leaving the door open a crack so they could hear Richie if he called.
"Good idea."
Richie was still asleep the next morning when Duncan got off the phone with their lawyer.
"What did Kevin say?" Tessa asked expectantly.
"If Richie's as close to being eighteen as I think he is...its pointless to even try."
"What?"
"We'd never get approved in time."
Tessa sighed and put down her cup of tea. "So what do we do?"
"He said the best we could do is visitation rights."
"That's it?"
"We could get approved for that in a matter of days."
"We have to be approved to go see him?"
"Because of his situation, Kevin is pretty sure they're going to be very protective of him. Restrict who he can see and where he can go. They have to be sure of who's talking to him because they will have to withhold his identity from the media."
"The media?"
"A foster child accusing their guardian of something like this is going to attract attention. All of CPS is going to be under investigation. I wouldn't be surprised if it was on the news tonight."
Tessa shook her head. "Why does the whole city have to know about all this?"
"I don't know, Tess."
"I'm going to make Richie some breakfast."
"He's not awake yet."
"Well, he'll be awake by the time breakfast is ready."
As it tuned out Richie was still sound asleep by the time Tessa had finished making waffles, bacon and hashbrowns. Duncan went to wake him up and help him get dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. Richie was stiff and sore, but insisted he was okay.
"Smells great," Richie said walking into the kitchen.
"I hope you like waffles," Tessa put a stack on the table.
"Love 'em." Duncan sat Richie at the table and helped Tessa get the rest of the food out.
"Did we miss anything?" Duncan asked, looking at the table.
"Syrup?" Richie suggested hopefully.
"We have some somewhere..." Duncan searched the pantry. "You know what? I don't think we have any. Is there something else you'd like to put on them?"
"Just butter, I guess."
"I have an idea," Tessa said getting up. "Just start with the bacon and potatoes."
She got a bowl of fresh fruit and cut up some strawberries, peaches and apples.
"Fruit?" Richie asked when Tessa returned to the table.
"Yes. Fruit and whipped cream. What do you think?"
"Sounds good to me," Duncan said.
"I'll try it," Richie decided. He ended up eating one waffle with apples, one with peaches, one with strawberries and two with all three.
"You like it?" Duncan laughed as Richie emptied the whipped cream can onto his sixth waffle.
"Sorry," Richie blushed. "I eat when I'm nervous."
"Then maybe we should call it quits. So you don't throw up on us."
"Alright." Richie put his fork down.
They all pitched in to clean up the dishes. Then sat down in the living room to discuss what they were going to do.
"What's your foster father's name?" Duncan asked.
"Jonathan Cooper."
"I want to be between you two and Cooper at all times, do you understand?" Richie nodded. "You don't have to worry about anything, Rich. He'll have to go through me if he wants to get to you." Richie nodded again. "Do you know what you want to get from your room?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Tessa, I want you to go back with him to his room and help him get what he wants. Make it as fast as you can."
"We will."
"After that we're going straight to the police station. Are we agreed?"
"Yes." Tessa put her hand on Richie's knee. "Everything will be okay, now."
. . . . . .
Duncan knocked on the door to Jonathan's apartment. Tessa was holding onto Richie's hand while he hid a bit behind Duncan. Jonathan opened the door.
"Can I help..." he caught site of Richie. "You found him! Oh, I was so worried!" He reached out and tried to grab Richie's hand. "What happened to you?"
"I'm sure you were." Duncan blocked Jonathan's hand.
"Of course I was. I woke up and he was gone. He didn't tell me he was going anywhere. Are you okay, kiddo?"
"Drop the act, Cooper," Duncan snarled. "We know what you've been doing to him."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You know what happened to him, because you did it."
"Is that what he told you?" Jonathan asked reaching for Richie again. "You know what I've told you about lying, Richie. He's my foster son and I'm afraid he's a bit of a pathological liar."
"I don't think he is. I suggest you let us in before the whole building gets involved."
"I think you should give me the kid and get out of here before I call the cops for harassment."
"Funny, we were on our way there," Tessa spoke up. "We have a domestic complaint to file. Apparently our friend is being abused."
"Richie get in this house right now," Jonathan ordered. Richie inhaled sharply and tightened his grip on Tessa's hand. "I said get in here." Richie shook his head. "You little shit." He made a grab for the teen and Duncan grabbed his arm, twisting it.
"Get inside." Jonathan stepped back and let them in. "Richie, go with Tessa and get your things, while Cooper and I have a talk."
Richie took Tessa down the hallway and into his room. Tessa wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but bunk beds, a TV, VCR and stereo wasn't it.
"What did you want to get?" she asked letting go of Richie's hand.
"Just a few things." He went to the dresser and opened the bottom left drawer. Inside was a box. "What's in there?"
"Just some stuff. Pictures, things like that."
"Alright, let's get a bag and pack your things."
Richie nodded and grabbed a back pack off the desk chair. He packed it with a few T-shirts and a couple pairs of underwear and socks. "Okay, I'm ready."
"What about all this?" Tessa asked looking in his closet. "Don't you want these clothes?"
"That stuff isn't mine. Can we just go?"
"What do you mean it's not yours? They're your size."
"No. Just...let's get this over with."
Tessa offered her hand and he took it before they went back into the living room.
Duncan had Jonathan cornered by the TV and was speaking softly to him. Richie and Tessa stood behind the couch watching.
"You can't prove anything," Jonathan said.
"I saw you," Duncan told him.
"When?"
"Just today. You were going to bring him in here and beat the hell out of him, weren't you?"
"Of course not."
"That's what I saw. Tessa?"
"That's what I saw," she agreed. "You were going to hurt him."
"Richie, go to your room," Jonathan told him. "I think the grown ups need to talk."
Richie looked at Duncan, who gave him the go ahead, then went back into his room. Jonathan seemed pretty sure of himself. Maybe this wasn't going to work. But Duncan and Tessa seemed pretty sure of themselves, too. Maybe it would. He had to admit, no matter how much he hated the orphanage, he hated this room more.
At first glance it seemed like the perfect teenager's room. He had his own TV and VCR and nice big stereo, not that they were plugged in. A large tape and record collection, not that he liked any of the bands. He had nice beds, tons of books and comics...not that he was a big reader or comic fan.
The room was a prison. A nicely decorated prison.
Richie heard a knock at the front door. No one ever knocked on their door. Amy had a key and no one else ever bothered them. Someone opened the door and Richie could hear stifled voices. His curiosity egging him on, he went out to investigate. He snuck down the hall and peered around the corner. What were the police doing here? Didn't Duncan say they were going to go to the station?
"Who called?" Duncan was asking an officer.
"All tips are kept anonymous, sir. All we can tell you is we got a call that someone was worried about a minor in this residence. A possible domestic problem."
Duncan nodded. "Here's your domestic problem." He pointed at Jonathan. "The minor is spying on us in the hallway."
The half of Richie's face that wasn't bruised turned a bright red as he stepped around the corner. The officers looked between Richie and Jonathan and back. Richie shifted uncomfortably and studied the toe of his sneakers. Jonathan started insisting that everyone was lying.
"I never laid a hand on that boy! He ran away last night and these people brought him back looking like this and throwing around accusations. I didn't do a damn thing to that kid!"
One of the officers approached Richie and bent so he was eye to eye with him. "Did he have anything to do with your bruises?" Richie looked up and slowly nodded. The officer turned around. "This boy says different."
"He's a liar."
"I'm afraid we're going to have to take you downtown," the second officer said reaching for the handcuffs at the back of his belt. "Just for some questioning."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Sir, please turn around."
"You have no proof of anything!"
"Sir, please turn around."
"I want you out of my home! You have no business here!"
"Sir, I will not ask you again," the officer warned. "Please turn around." Jonathan still refused and when the officer reached for him he slapped the hand away.
"I'm not going anywhere! Get out of here! How I deal with that boy is my own business!"
The second officer left Richie's side and was quickly replaced by Tessa and Duncan. Tessa put her arm gently around Richie's shoulders. The teen flinched at the pressure on his bruises, but allowed the comforting arm to stay. It took the two officers a few more ties to get Jonathan under control and in restraint. One officer took him down to the waiting squad car and the other retuned to Richie.
"What's your name, son?" he asked, taking out a small note pad.
"Richie Ryan."
"Richard your real first name?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Is there a way we can get in contact with your mother or another family member?"
Richie shook his head. "Richie's a foster child," Duncan spoke up. "That man is not his father."
"Are you his social workers?"
"No."
"What's your social worker name, Richie?"
"Connie Mankin..."
The officer took hold of the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. "I need to get a call in to CPS. Ms. Connie Mankin needs to report to the station to pick up a charge." The radio crackled a static response. "Richie, I need you to come with me now." He reached out and took Richie gently by the arm.
"You're going to put him in a car with that man?" Tessa was appalled.
"No, ma'am. All domestic complaint are answered by two patrols. Mr. Cooper will not be within reach of Richie."
"Can't we just take him?"
"I'm afraid not, ma'am. Richie here is officially a ward of the state. I cannot release him to anyone but a foster parent or social worker. But I will need you to come by the station to get your statements. And if you'd like to file a complaint you may do so at that time."
"We'll come right now," Duncan said. "He needs to be an adult to file charges, so I'll do it for him."
"What's your relation to him?"
"I'm his friend and he works for me."
"Okay. If you want to come now you can follow us, but I have to take Richie with me."
Duncan and Tessa followed Richie out to the waiting squad car.
"Do I have to sit in back?" Richie asked softly.
"Its not protocol, but you can sit up front with me. Just don't touch the computer, okay?" Richie nodded and allowed the officer to open the door for him and close it after he got in.
"We're right behind you," Duncan told Richie through the glass.
Once at the station, Richie was taken into an office to get pictures taken of his bruises. While he was gone, Duncan and Tessa made their statements and began the steps to pressing charges against Jonathan.
When Richie was dressed again, an officer sat him on a waiting bench and went to make him some hot chocolate.
"Well, if it isn't little Dickie Ryan."
"Aw, man." Richie slumped in his seat.
"What'd you do this time, kid?"
"Leave me alone, Powell," Richie mumbled hiding his face.
"What's wrong with you? Aren't you going to correct me? Make a fat joke or anything?"
"I'm not in the mood," he pouted.
"You sick?" Richie shook his head. The Powell realized what had happened. Richie was the child abuse case the precinct was buzzing about. "Lemme see...Dickie." He reached down and turned Richie's face to the light. "Holy hell, kid. You look like crap. That big guy in booking did that to you?" Richie nodded. "What'd he use, a baseball bat?"
"That's just his hand."
"Well, I've had to throw you around enough to know that you don't bruise that easy. You need someone on your side, you call me. You got it, Dickie?"
"It's Richie," he protested with a shy smile. Who would have thought Powell gave a carp about him, much less liked him.
"Sure it is." He ruffled Richie's hair, much like Duncan had done a few times, then walked away.
The rest of the day went by quickly. Duncan and Tessa stood by his side as he gave his statements to the officer and all three signed some very official looking forms. Then Connie showed up, fussed over his bruises apologizing.
"Oh you poor little thing," she cooed at him. "You must feel so awful. It looks so painful."
"Get your hands off me!" Richie snapped, pushing her away.
"Richie!" Duncan scolded. "What's the matter with you?"
"She knows!" the bruised teen insisted. "She knows! I told her!"
"Richie, do you know what you're saying?" Duncan asked, kneeling in front of the boy's chair so they were eye level.
"She knew, Mac!"
The officer looked at Richie. "Do you understand what kind of accusations you're making here, son?" He nodded.
"Richie, this isn't going to keep you from going back to the orphanage," Duncan told him. "Think about what you're saying."
"I'm telling the truth, Mac!" he insisted. "She said I deserved whatever I got! I swear I'm not lying!"
"I believe him," Tessa spoke up. "If Richie says he told her, then he told her." She put a protective hand on Richie's shoulder. "And it's one more reason for him to come home with us."
"You'd do that?" Richie asked excitedly. "You'd let me go home with you?"
"Of course."
"They'd give you $250 a week for me. And I don't cost that much. And I can help around the house and the store. I don't cook so well, but I can do dishes and dust and vacuum and laundry...I even do toilets. You won't regret this..."
"Slow down, partner," Duncan interrupted. "We want to take you home with us. But you can't count on that. There's not enough time."
"But...but Tessa just said that..."
"I know what she said. We didn't mean to get your hopes up, Rich. We've already talked to our lawyer and there's no way we could get custody."
"There's not?" Richie's voice sounded like it belonged to a six year old, not an almost eighteen year old.
"We want to, Rich. We just can't."
"Yeah, I get it." The cynical teen was back.
"Don't be like that, Rich.."
"You don't have to stick around, you know. They'll just send someone to get me."
"Don't you want us to keep you company?" Tessa asked.
"There are plenty of people around."
"Well, you do need some adults to back you up about your social worker," the officer said. "If you want to officially file a complaint."
Connie, who had been doing her best to become invisible spoke up. "Am I going to jail."
"Yes," Richie said at the same time to officer said: "Possibly. I do need to get your personal information and advise you not to leave town."
It took another hour to process the second complaint. While they were waiting for it to be written, Duncan and Tessa tried their best to make amends with Richie. But the teen stood his ground and refused to look at, much less speak with, them.
A second social worker arrived shortly after. In stark contrast to Connie's nice suite and bun, this one was wearing overalls and a ponytail. She introduced herself as Tamara before taking the seat next to Richie. She filled out his release papers, asking him a few questions to fill in what she didn't know.
"Are you ready to go home?" she asked as she stood up.
"Yeah, 'home'," Richie scoffed.
"Don't forget your bag," Tessa reminded him, handing it over.
"You give us a call when you're feeling better," Duncan added, taking out a business card.
Richie clutched his bag firmly to his chest and looked away.
"I'll be sure he gets it," Tamara smiled at him as she took the card. "Teenagers are moody creatures, don't take this personally." She took Richie gently by the arm and led him out of the precinct.
They got in her government issue white sedan and went straight to the orphanage. He was ushered to the orphanage infirmary where he was immediately inspected, cleaned up, fed, drugged and put to bed. Richie's last thoughts before he drifted off into sleep was a wish that he could go home with Duncan and Tessa... if they'd ever forgive him horrible behavior.