Follow Up to "A Subpoena"

I should have written weeks ago an update to my post titled A Subpeona about a forced appearance in court on an ancient child support case against my daughter's father who is more than $15,000 and at least 15 years in arrears.

Here's a synopsis:

I sat in a stuffy courtroom with dozens of people charged with various crimes - blech! - and other parents who, like me, had received a subpeona to appear in court because their childrens' fathers were in arrears on child support.

After sitting through hours of criminal cases, the court finally moved to child support cases. Several deadbeat dads, thousands of dollars in arrears, stood before the judge whining and making excuses.

When our case was finally called after 6 p.m. (My subpeona ordered me to appear at 1 p.m.), the prosecutor pulled me into the hallway, told me my daughter's father had agreed to plead guilty to the felony and pay up or go to jail.

Received since then: $374.40.

I understand there's a new jail in Texas County and wonder how many of my state tax dollars were used to build it.

Bet it's more than $374.40.

The first pay check

I'm proud of my son.

Here's a photo of him in his McDonald's uniform shirt with his first pay check.

He put most of his earnings in his savings account. Smart kid.

From Damon

A Subpoena

I just received a subpoena to appear for a preliminary hearing in a criminal case against Tiffany’s father, who I divorced 26 years ago. He’s been charged with Class D felony nonpayment of child support.

I laughed out loud when I read the subpoena.

It’s been nearly 15 years since I received child support from Tiffany’s dad. The last I heard about it, in fact, was 10 years ago when Tiffany was graduating from high school and I got a letter telling me her dad was no longer obligated to pay support. I wrote a scathing letter back to Missouri’s Child Support Enforcement office thanking them for their prompt attention to his cut off date, especially when he had only sporadically paid child support – when forced to do so – while his daughter was growing up. He was $15,780 in arrears, way more than the $5,000 required for felony charges to be filed, yet nothing was done at the time.

I take that back. The last I heard about child support was six or seven years ago when I had a phone call asking if I wanted to continue attempting to collect. I asked the woman on the phone what she would do if someone owed her nearly $16,000. Du-uh!

Then, and now, I felt greedy for expecting Tiffany’s dad to pay up.

Though Tiffany and I did live in government-subsidized housing for a while, I always had a job and we were never on welfare – not once. And I managed to put myself through college, thanks to my wonderful husband, Mike; student loans; and scholarships. Mike and I earn a decent living.

I shake off that feeling, though, when I think about the years I was in school – when Tiffany spent more time with babysitters than family – and afterward when I was earning an entry-level salary and paying off student loans. Those were tough years.

The feeling of greediness also goes away when I also think about how Tiffany’s dad deliberately found ways to avoid paying child support – leaving jobs when the state started garnishing his wages, moving out of state for a while, finding jobs where he was paid cash, and mooching off his friends and family.

I also think that every dollar squeezed out of his sorry ass, might, just maybe, make Tiffany’s dad think about the things his daughter did without because he didn’t care enough about her to send a few bucks.

More important, with every dollar, dime, nickel and penny, I hope he thinks about the times he didn’t call, send a birthday card or spend a weekend with her. Or you name the dozens, if not hundreds, of times he should and could have been in touch with his daughter but wasn’t.

The thing is, Tiffany’s dad doesn’t owe ME anything. He owes his daughter.

Even if every cent of child support he owes is collected, what he owes Tiffany, unfortunately, can never be repaid.

Multi-taksing

I'm trying to post comments on a friend's Facebook wall and chat while writing in this blog. My brain, computer and Internet provider - supposedly high-speed - don't like this.

I must learn patience ... or get a new computer and/or ISP.

The First Cut is the Deepest

I'm proud of my son. He tried out for his high school basketball team today. Yes, he was one of the first cut, but at least he tried.

He'll try out for baseball later this year (unlikely he'll make that team) and track. His chances in track are good. He's fast, fast, fast!