“It’s okay, buddy,” I told him. “Just answer her questions truthfully.”

He nodded once and took a seat.

Beverly leaned closer and asked him about school, meals, and whether he felt safe around me.

Eli responded in a whisper I could hardly hear while his thumb rubbed the ribbon in small circles.

When the aide led him back outside, the room somehow felt heavier than before.

Beverly stood, thanked me with sincere kindness, and walked out.

Diane waited until the door clicked closed.

“Carter, there is something we have to discuss.”

“What is it?”

“The state’s attorney is going to ask you something personal. He will ask about your history and why you are doing this.”

I felt my jaw clench.

“He can ask anything he wants.”

“Carter, listen to me. I have reviewed your file twice. There are gaps that the state’s attorney will recognize. If there is anything you have not told me, now is the moment.”

I stared at a water mark on the ceiling and struggled to breathe.

“I have carried this for 20 years, Diane. I have never even told my best friends. I don’t know if I can say it in a room filled with strangers.”

“You may need to. The judge might need to hear it more than anybody.”

Before I could respond, the bailiff’s voice echoed through the door, calling our case.

At the far end of the hallway, the courtroom doors opened wide.

Daniel, the state’s attorney, stood from his table with the composed posture of a man who had done this hundreds of times.

He never looked at me as he organized his charts on the podium.

“Your Honor, I want to start by acknowledging that Carter’s intentions seem genuine,” he said. “However, good intentions alone cannot raise five children under the age of seven.”

“His residence is a converted workshop area that has not yet received final approval for foster placement. He has no spouse, no co-guardian, no existing medical plan capable of covering five dependents, and, respectfully, no parenting experience.”

The judge studied me above the rims of his glasses.

I could feel every eye in the courtroom land on my borrowed tie.

“The state has three approved foster homes ready to receive these children by Friday,” Daniel continued. “Their separation is unfortunate, but the state must prioritize stability.”

Diane leaned closer to me.

“Stay calm,” she murmured. “Answer only what he asks.”

I stepped onto the stand.

My hands seemed too large against the wooden rail.

“Carter, you are employed as a carpenter, correct?” Daniel asked.

“Yes, sir. I have worked at the same shop for 11 years.”

“And you transformed part of that property into bedrooms for five children?”

“I built bunk beds against the north wall. I insulated the rooms, finished the safety work, and arranged for inspections. I also contacted a pediatrician before this hearing.”

“That is admirable. However, you have no wife, no partner, and no living parents named in your file. Why would a young man in his prime voluntarily take on this level of responsibility and debt?”

“Because they need somebody.”

“Many children need somebody, Carter. You did not petition for other children. You petitioned for these five. Why?”

I looked beyond him.

Eli sat in the rear row with the youngest child resting on his lap.

One of his tiny hands rested against his sister’s back to hold her steady.

“Because they’re siblings,” I answered.

“Many siblings are separated each year in this state,” Daniel replied. “That fact alone is not an adequate legal argument.”

“It should be.”

He nearly smiled.

“Carter, there are unexplained periods in your background between the ages of nine and 17. The court should understand those years before it entrusts five children to your care.”

The room grew so silent that I could almost feel the quiet inside my ribs.

I lowered my eyes toward my hands.

“I would prefer not to discuss that, sir.”

“I’m sure you would prefer not to,” Daniel said softly. “However, this court is being asked to place five human beings under your care. The court is entitled to understand who you are.”

“Objection,” Diane said. “The question is excessively broad and violates my client’s privacy.”

The judge raised one hand.

“I’ll permit a narrower form of the question.”

Daniel turned toward me again.

“Carter, why these children? Why now? Why are you prepared to spend every dollar you have, and perhaps every dollar you will ever earn, on five strangers?”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

I watched Eli whisper something to the smaller children.

His lips formed the same gentle, comforting shape that a mother might use, and my throat tightened.

“Please answer the question,” Daniel said.

“I…”

“Carter.”

The judge leaned closer.

When he lowered his hand, the harder edge of the room seemed to soften along with it.

“Daniel, sit down for a moment,” the judge said softly.

Daniel blinked, then walked back to his seat.

The judge looked straight at me, not at my file.

“Son,” he said, “I have served on this bench for 28 years. I would like to hear the true reason in your own words. Take your time.”

I clutched the edge of the witness stand until my knuckles hurt.

Then, I made myself speak.

“Twenty years ago,” I started.

The words caught somewhere deep within me, in a place I could not reach.