Our divorce serial continues. Tonight, our first hearing. To read part III(a),
Finally, your court date arrives. Your attorneys filed your answer on time,
30 days after you were served, and requested the Rule Nisi which fell
almost a month later. They had requested an emergency hearing, but when
the Judge learned that the issues were almost all financial and that you
had been served about 30 days before, he decided you could wait another
30 to get some temporary relief. You spent $2,000 on that unsuccessful attempt.
But now, there is the Judge, sitting in all his glory in his black robe,
ready to dispense justice; ready to read the riot act to wicked women
just like your wife. And there she sits, with her attorney. She's
all dressed up for court, looking like a million bucks (your million bucks).
The Judge calls the calendar and receives a report from each case, both
sides, on why the case is on the calendar and how long the hearing is
expected to take. Your attorney announces an hour. Your wife's attorney
"I have 26 cases on my calendar today. I don't have three hours
to hear your case. We may have to specially set you," says the Judge.
You ask your attorney what this means. "It means the Judge will give
us a time, just for us, to come back to try the temporary hearing."
"When?," you want to know. "I don't know. We'll
have to see."
The Judge finishes the calendar and revisits the 10 or so cases with announcements
as long as yours. "Judge, your attorney insists, my client hasn't
seen his children in almost two months now." The Judge snaps back,
"I only have five hours available for hearings today and the total
time announcement on this calendar is close to 45. I can't get to
you today. Work something out with Opposing Counsel. We have a special
set date for you. It is December 4th."
December? You won't get to see your kids until Christmastime?
"Hang in there," your attorney recommends. "We'll see
this divorce through. We'll try to work out some visitation with her.
We'll get the financials straightened out. Don't forget, we'll
get everything coming to you."
You leave the court house. You feel drained. You feel empty. You call your
parents to bring them up to speed. But speed isn't what it is at all.
A slow, agonizing death would be more like it.
Michael helps our clients in all of our offices from Marietta to Savannah
to Atlanta to Gainesville to Canton to Lawrenceville.