It may be of little significance (today) to Miss Brown the purpose why she was there, and why she had to be there.
She knows, of course, that it was a very serious matter to speak of- one which made it necessary for her to be inside the Court rather than to be outside it as once upon a time it often used to be.
And even though the seriousness of the matter had been explained to her several times over the course of a few weeks, and even though on this particular day in the autumn of 2015, the neatly dressed lady in the Court had read the paper and explained it to her, to Miss Brown, the information (not to mention the details) were all a babble of words.
It wasn't only because the Court proceedings were complicated.
It wasn't only because there were so many people in the room and the Court was so crowded and noisy and busy with individuals and their family members.
And neither was it only because she didn't know what the heck was going on and how she'd ended up here.
To Miss Brown, the focus of the day at this Court was just one- and one only.
She was there to see her little girl.
She was there to see her little girl who had moved out from the family home over a year ago, and whom circumstances had not permitted for them to meet. Personal visits hadn't worked, family mediation hadn't worked, and even all her earlier attempts to gain admission into hospital had failed.
THIS- this event today- was an opportunity- because this event where her daughter, her family members, and herself were compelled to appear, no excuses allowed.
Never mind that she turned up clad in the blouse-and-shorts outfit of the hospital where she had been admitted for observation a few weeks prior.
Never mind that she had to be granted special permission by The Honorable who let her stand where she was and not have to come to the dock.
In between the time when the Honorable spoke her name aloud and read out what was necessary (with the help of the interpreter), she looked over at her little girl continuously, hoping that her motherly gaze would be strong enough to will the middle-aged lady to come across and reunite, or if not, even a glance of encouragement, or recognition, would do.
Miss Brown was heavily disappointed.
The girl didn't come over to hold her hand, didn't look across at her, didn't even turn her head towards her mother's direction. No words, no recognition, no acknowledgement, nothing whatsoever.
Fifty years of being mother and daughter reduced to a status not even worth a tilt of the head.
And yet Miss Brown would have accepted anything- Anything- even if it were a barrage of curse words filled with anger, hatred and bitterness flung out at her from the mouth of her daughter.
Even that (perverse) bit of comfort was denied.
Still, it didn't mean that Miss Brown remained completely unaware of what *else* was going on. She knew she was here for a very serious business. She knew that the statement which the interpreter had translated to her held consequences far beyond the norm.
Because whatever The Honorable said resulted in her being tightly escorted by two female uniformed officers to an office downstairs where she sat between them, nervous as s***, until a gentleman came out from a room behind, brought her to a table somewhere, and carefully (yet gently) explained to her in Mandarin that because of her age, because there was no flight risk, and because of other considerations that they had taken note of, she was permitted to be responsible for her own self.
Never mind that she turned up clad in the blouse-and-shorts outfit of the hospital where she had been admitted for observation a few weeks prior.
Never mind that she had to be granted special permission by The Honorable who let her stand where she was and not have to come to the dock.
In between the time when the Honorable spoke her name aloud and read out what was necessary (with the help of the interpreter), she looked over at her little girl continuously, hoping that her motherly gaze would be strong enough to will the middle-aged lady to come across and reunite, or if not, even a glance of encouragement, or recognition, would do.
Miss Brown was heavily disappointed.
The girl didn't come over to hold her hand, didn't look across at her, didn't even turn her head towards her mother's direction. No words, no recognition, no acknowledgement, nothing whatsoever.
Fifty years of being mother and daughter reduced to a status not even worth a tilt of the head.
And yet Miss Brown would have accepted anything- Anything- even if it were a barrage of curse words filled with anger, hatred and bitterness flung out at her from the mouth of her daughter.
Even that (perverse) bit of comfort was denied.
Still, it didn't mean that Miss Brown remained completely unaware of what *else* was going on. She knew she was here for a very serious business. She knew that the statement which the interpreter had translated to her held consequences far beyond the norm.
Because whatever The Honorable said resulted in her being tightly escorted by two female uniformed officers to an office downstairs where she sat between them, nervous as s***, until a gentleman came out from a room behind, brought her to a table somewhere, and carefully (yet gently) explained to her in Mandarin that because of her age, because there was no flight risk, and because of other considerations that they had taken note of, she was permitted to be responsible for her own self.