I asked the secretary to print the entire court order and took it straight to the courthouse. The petitioner’s name was my older sister, Denise. I hadn’t spoken to Denise in nine years, not since our mother’s funeral, and she had never met Landon. I asked the clerk how she could possibly be listed as a relative of my grandson. She pulled up the original filing and pointed to the relationship section. Denise hadn’t claimed to be related to Landon. She had claimed to be my legal representative. The emergency guardianship said I’d been hospitalized, unable to care for Landon, and that she had stepped in temporarily.
I knew every word was false. I had never been hospitalized, and Landon had never spent a night away from me without my knowing where he was. Then I saw the affidavit attached to the petition. It had my name, my address, and a statement saying I had voluntarily asked Denise to take over because I was “no longer capable.” The signature wasn’t mine. But the strangest part was the date. It was signed three weeks before the court granted the guardianship — on the exact day Landon’s mother called me crying and asked me to keep him permanently. I called her immediately. She didn’t answer. Her phone had been disconnected.
Then the school called again while I was still at the courthouse. They said Denise had returned for Landon and had shown them another document. I asked them to keep him there until I arrived. When I got to the school, Landon ran straight into my arms and whispered, “Grandma, she said Mommy told her you weren’t really my grandma.” I showed him the photograph I kept in my wallet of his mother holding him as a baby. He looked at it and said, “That’s the picture she showed me too.” I asked where she got it. He pointed toward Denise’s car. On the passenger seat was a folder with my name on it — and underneath my name was a birth certificate for Landon that listed a different woman as his mother.
