The rooster started to make another sound, something that didn’t sound birdlike at all.
FORTY-THREE
On November 3, the judge sent word that he was ready to deliver his verdict. On the way to the courthouse, I explained the possible outcomes to Mace and Mrs. Williams. “Today the judge is going to make a ruling that could end all sterilizations at federally funded clinics. He might order this temporarily until the clinics prove they are compliant with regulations regarding informed consent. Or he could dismiss the case altogether. We just don’t know.”
“Dismiss?” Mrs. Williams said from the back seat.
“Well, you know what we’re really trying to do, Mrs. Williams. We talked about it. We got to make sure that what happened to Erica and India never happens to anybody else. Nobody should be pressured to get their tubes tied. Nobody.”
“Ain’t that the God’s honest truth.”
“Hopefully, the judge will tell the government that what happened was illegal and that they need to fix the problem.”
Mace had been quiet the entire ride. A terrible kind of quiet. “How many has it happened to?” he finally asked.
“In the past few years, thousands of poor women have been sterilized around the country.”
“The devil is busy,” Mrs. Williams murmured.
“Well, nothing that judge say today can change what happened,” Mace said.
“No, it can’t,” I said carefully. “But it can give what they went through some purpose. If the judge rules in our favor, it will be because of your bravery, your testimony before Congress, your willingness to let the girls stand for what was right.”
“Mace, son, that’s why we went to Washington. Remember we talked about it? And that nice Kennedy man listened to us. He wrote it down. He told the other white men what they needed to hear.”
Mace didn’t say anything. I was glad we had decided not to bring the girls. They were at school, and the three of us had agreed this was the right decision. If the verdict turned out bad, we did not want them to see that.
We arrived to a sea of television cameras. Police cordoned off the area around the courthouse. Lou had sent an escort to meet us, but as we made our way through the crowd a journalist recognized the Williamses.
“What do you hope is the outcome today, Mrs. Williams?”
“The out what?”
“What do you hope the judge will say?”
“Naturally, we just hoping he do what’s right. What happened to my grandbabies was a sin against God and the whole world know it.”
“Come on.” I ushered them inside.
Mrs. Williams followed the escort up the stairs, ahead of me and Mace. “Y’all walking too slow,” she called back to us.
Mace took my elbow. I dreaded going into that courtroom. I did not know if I could look the girls in the face again if things didn’t go our way. When we shared with them the verdict was coming, India had just stared and Erica had asked, “Do everybody know it’s today?”
The escort handed us off to a woman in a brown and white suit at the courtroom door. “Civil Townsend? Mr. and Mrs. Williams?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll take your coats and show you to your seats.”
Court was set to begin at 9:30 a.m., but the room was already full. I noticed the nurses first. All of them in uniform. A tall Black woman in a baby blue version of their uniforms and identical cap sat at the end of the row. It was my first time seeing the new director, Mrs. Parr. When she saw me, she waved. Looking at her warm, open face, I regretted never going in to meet with her. Alicia waved, too, and some of the others nodded. I hadn’t expected to see them all there, and it felt odd not sitting with them. We had started this journey together, and although I had only worked at the clinic for a few months, I was one of them.
The Williamses and I sat in a reserved row right behind Lou’s table. Mace took my hand, and I saw Mrs. Williams glance down out of the corner of her eye.
“Hey,” he whispered. “After this over with, no matter what happen, I want you to know you done good.”
Mace flashed the same playful grin he had shown me the first time I met him. The kind that made you think for a second that he was just fooling with you. Daddy was right: Mace was real. A grown man, a father, a son. I had no right to play around in his life. I pulled my hand away gently, carelessly, as if by accident.
The door at the back of the courtroom opened, and we all turned to watch the lawyers enter. Lou was wearing a stiff new suit, and it swallowed him in a sea of pinstripes. His face was freshly shaven, hair clipped short; he was the picture of a church deacon. He walked straight to his table and set his briefcase on it. I’d heard his closing argument the night before. It was good. But neither of us was sure if it was good enough.
The bailiff closed the doors to the courtroom. I scanned the room. I spied the Ralseys, but there was no sign of Ty.
The bailiff announced, “All rise for the Honorable Eric Blount.”
The judge entered briskly.
“You may be seated.”
“This is the Middle District Court of the State of Alabama, in the case of Civil Action Number twenty-three dash two five six one. The case of Erica and India Williams, et al., plaintiffs versus Caspar Weinberger et al.”
I wiped at the moisture on the back of my neck.
Mr. Weinberger sat next to his lawyers. Then there was Mr. Arnett. Behind them, a group of what could only be Washington government types, strangers I didn’t recognize. The bigwigs in Montgomery had turned out for this verdict, too. George Wallace leaned forward in his wheelchair near the back of the room, Mayor Robinson in the seat beside him. From our community, I spotted Johnnie Carr. Rufus Lewis. Fred Gray. I even spotted Sister LaTarsha sitting next to two other sisters.
The judge began to read without much introductory pomp and circumstance. “I hereby order that the plaintiffs India and Erica Williams may prosecute their claims as a class representative under Rule 23 B-2 of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure on behalf of all poor persons subject to involuntary sterilization under programs that receive funds administered by the Public Health Service or the Social and Rehabilitation Service of the United States Department of Health, Education, and Welfare.”
Mrs. Williams turned nervously to me. I nodded to indicate this was good.
“The family planning sections of the Public Service Act and of the Social Security Act do not authorize the provisions of federal funds for the sterilization of any person who has been judicially declared mentally incompetent or is in fact legally incompetent under the applicable state laws to give informed and binding consent to the performance of such an operation due to age or mental capacity.”
He cleared his throat.
“I order that the defendants, their successors, subordinates, agents, and employees are permanently enjoined from providing funds under the aforesaid family planning sections for the sterilization of any person who has been judicially declared mentally incompetent or is in fact legally incompetent under the applicable state laws. The Sterilization Restrictions issued by the United States Department of Health, Education, and Welfare are arbitrary and unreasonable in that they authorize the provision of federal funds without requiring that the person be advised at the outset that the consent to such an operation have no bearing upon other benefits provided to the person by the federal government, and without further requiring that such advice appear prominently at the top of the consent document mentioned in those regulations.”