Ken Davis’s cellphone rang. He hoped it was ex-wife Nell and son Andy, age 6, in Chicago. No calls answered, no word from her, for months.
A nervous voice: “Mr. Davis? Nell’s in the hospital. She won’t send you Andy. He’s with the grandparents.”
“Who—” Click.
A bitter pill. Nell was required to allow contact and keep Ken fully informed.
He called the grandmother: “Beverly, where are Nell and Andrew?”
“I don’t know. I never see them anymore.” Click.
Ken drove to Chicago. He got custody of Andy. The grandmother and Nell sued Nell’s therapist, alleging breach of duty.
A nervous voice: “Mr. Davis? Nell’s in the hospital. She won’t send you Andy. He’s with the grandparents.”
“Who—” Click.
A bitter pill. Nell was required to allow contact and keep Ken fully informed.
He called the grandmother: “Beverly, where are Nell and Andrew?”
“I don’t know. I never see them anymore.” Click.
Ken drove to Chicago. He got custody of Andy. The grandmother and Nell sued Nell’s therapist, alleging breach of duty.
