A week after my Gram died we stepped into the courthouse for sentencing. The docket was running an hour and a half behind. I sat in the jury room, witnessing waves of emotions pass through me until David called us into his office.

“I just wanted to let you know that on June first, it was decided in the legislature to allow cameras into the courtroom.”

“Okay,” I said, “but I’d rather them not film the photos of the babies.” I had planned to show pictures not only of Grace’s bruises, but also a video of Kalvin’s inert left leg ten days after the incident. They were heartbreaking, and I didn’t want them on the five o’clock news.

“Yes, we can arrange that,” David said. “I also wanted to let you know that after Aubrey read the PSR, she declined to share the statement she had prepared. She thought the PSR was going to be a glowing recommendation. It wasn’t, it recommended prison time. She got very upset, said she was going to cause a scene in the courtroom.”

I shrugged. “That would be doing us a favor.” I could not make myself care what Aubrey might say.

“She said she was going to direct this outburst at you,” Brickey said.

“Okay,” I said. And then Gram chimed in. “I hope she does. I actually hope she does. I’m not six weeks old. I don’t weigh seven pounds. I can and will fight back. Bring it.”

In the courtroom, I sat between Dan and Katherine as a bailiff once again led Aubrey in. This time she was wearing a red jump suit. She stood at the podium as the judge explained the purpose of the hearing. Then it was our turn to address the court.

I stood and walked to the podium. I thought of my Gram, and I thought of my babies, and a steel rod of strength, dignity, and pride replaced my spine. Bates stood to my left and Marsha stood to my right. I set my papers down and looked up at Judge Shaughnessey. He was leaning forward in his chair, his dark eyes focused and present on what I had to say. I began:

To The Court:

I have heard it said we are not the victims in this case. That is true, my babies were the victims. They were brand new to this world when the defendant inflicted on them bruises and broken bones. They could neither defend themselves nor tell anyone about their terror or abuse. Newborns are the most vulnerable, dependent, and innocent members of our society. They are tiny, truly helpless, and unable to articulate the cause of their pain. They were the victims. But they cannot speak for themselves, and if they could, it would be in kisses from Grace and hugs from Kalvin. That’s just how they are.

For me, the impact of the events of January 2012 are the following:

I now know that humans can act horrifically and without conscience. I know it now, not just in my head, but in my heart. Dan and I are both people who believe the best about others, and that that left us, and more sadly, our babies vulnerable to the opposite.

For that, I am heartbreakingly sorry to Kalvin and Grace. It was my job to protect them, and at times I have been shredded and crippled by guilt that I let that kind of a human being into our home. I will always be the mother of abused infants. Every species on the planet knows how to protect their young, and I failed. I know I’m a great mom, but sometimes that is still hard to say out loud because there will always be this ugly footnote. When they wake up crying, I try not to think they are having a nightmare or memory of what happened. When Kalvin stumbles, I try not to think perhaps his ankles are weak. When I hear about kids with cancer, I try not to think about the CT scans and full body x-rays Kalvin and Grace underwent at such a tender and vulnerable age, dozens of x-rays poured into tiny new baby bodies. I try not to think that their faith in the goodness of humanity was damaged by their early experiences.

After the night I learned Kalvin’s legs were broken, and the bruises on Grace were not accidents, every bit of darkness in the world, on TV, in books, suddenly felt too real. Every reference to loss, depravity, and cruelty felt exceedingly raw as if I had lost the insulation that allows caring human beings to function amid so much pain and sadness. Genocide. Holocaust. Murder. Rape. Serial international infant abuse. Infant torture. They were words before, words with horrible meanings, but words. Post- incident, they became representative of a part of this world I have been forced to accept.

I was suddenly intimately aware of how depraved some humans beings can act, and I fortified our home against this new threat with mechanized gates, cameras, alarm systems, and firearms.

Now I look at people sometimes, strangers, and I wonder if they know what I now know, or do they only understand evil the way I once understood evil. Conceptual. Theoretical. But not known.

Theses crimes were so ugly because the victims, Kalvin and Grace, were infants. Breaking baby bones is so abhorrent as to be almost beyond comprehension. And the way the defendant has acted since, I have no words for. The defendant has never, and I believe will never, take responsibility for the pain she has caused. I do sometimes wonder how I would feel if the defendant simply said, I’m sorry, there’s something wrong with me, I need help. But that is not the case here. It’s the lies upon lies, and lack of accountability that leave in me no doubt she’ll injure some other vulnerable population again. And that upsets me greatly, the fact that unsuspecting souls have her in their future. But there is nothing I can do about that.

There is so much I cannot control, so much I do not know and do not understand. This is what I do know: I know violence against children will always touch an intensely raw and visceral place within me. I know I will always identify with parents of abused kids. And, I know the capacity for good and for evil exists in human beings. That has been so hard to accept because I also believe fully in the divine benevolent light within each of us.

But the acceptance of darkness is also, ironically, where I find hope and round the corner of this experience. That is, knowing and accepting each person’s capacity for evil, has actually highlighted how often human beings choose light. That’s a good thing.

In the days after I discovered the defendant broke my baby’s legs, I wanted “justice.” Justice has since become an enigmatic word to me. Because though we long for justice on a vital, universal, and human level as some validation of a collective conscience, no amount of justice can imprint a personal conscience where one does not exist.

Instead, justice here is darkness locked inside itself. Justice is the strange manipulative game played in lieu of the genuine caring relationship to fellow human beings that give most lives meaning. Removing bars won’t free that kind of darkness. What the bars do is protect the rest of us from people who live without conscience — an invisible ailment too bizarre to comprehend. I realize now most people function with the basic assumption that conscience and morality are universal among human beings, like breathing; and that assumption leaves each of us as unaware and unsuspecting and innocent as Kalvin and Grace.

I believe the defendant fits the description of a narcissistic sociopath. I believe she is extremely manipulative. I believe the pattern of abuse indicates her actions were more than an accident, more than a lack of impulse control, and more than anger. The pattern indicates serial infant abuse perpetrated by an intra-species predator. And therefore, I believe she will hurt again. If I’m allowed to ask anything, I ask the court that the defendant be prohibited from being alone with any children under the age of twelve during her probationary period, not just in a capacity of employment.

That would be justice for Kalvin and Grace, to keep other babies from being hurt.

I said Kalvin and Grace cannot speak for themselves, but their injuries can. This is what it looks like: this is Grace.

The courtroom computer couldn’t read my files. I continued unfazed.

The second was a video of Kalvin ten days after we discovered the abuse. It would break anyone’s heart.

Please, if you can, please don’t let her be alone with kids, any kids. Don’t give her the opportunity. Because four infants, twelve broken baby bones is enough damage for one individual to inflict.

It was suggested we bring Kalvin and Grace, but we didn’t want to expose them to what is in this courtroom. Kalvin and Grace are now playful, fun loving, unique, and open-hearted little toddlers. Grace kisses everything in sight, the dog, the cat, me, her daddy, her lovies, the phone, the floor. She is a kissing machine. She’ll be playing by herself and suddenly stand, walk to where we are, give us a perfect baby kiss, tilt her head to her shoulder, say, “Hi!”, then go back to what she was doing. It’s as if her joy at being alive is uncontainable and occasionally needs release. Kalvin is the sweetest and most earnest soul in a little boy’s body. And he is all boy. He bounces off walls and chairs and loves to be outside. His entire being shakes with excitement around horses, trees, tractors and trucks. And he is in such constant motion, we laugh about the need for a baby fit bit. To receive a hug from Kalvin is to have the universe melt into and expand your heart.

I am overwhelmed with sadness and fear when I think we could have lost them.

I know how lucky we are, our babies are alive, and healthy, and happy. My heart literally breaks each and every time I hear of parents who are not as lucky as we were. I never thought I’d be grateful to someone for not killing or permanently injuring my kids, but I am. I am desperately grateful.

And I am grateful to understand, to really know how often most human beings make the choice for beauty and connection and good over darkness.

I am also grateful to the people who work in the justice system everyday. They witness and engage that darkness to protect the rest of us. To see this side of humanity day in and day out, I know there is a cost to that I cannot understand, but to which I am so grateful.

Darkness reached into our lives and into our home and hurt our babies. I will always be more sensitive, raw and exposed to human pain and suffering than before this experience. And I’m okay with that. In fact, for that I’m also grateful.

Thank you for the opportunity to speak.

Each time I looked up, Judge Shaughnessy was leaning forward, listening not just to what I was saying, but what I meant to convey. His presence in the moment felt like something we shared that allowed him to see beyond the words to the experience of a fellow human being, to our experience. He saw me, as Gram had seen me. He understood.

Then it was Dan’s turn to speak. He spoke with anger and righteous indignation. He often turned to Aubrey, and her lawyer, and her family during his talk, daring them to make eye contact. They never did. They looked away.

Thank you your honor for the chance to address the court. It is daunting to follow Sarah’s powerful words and heart-felt emotions. The defendant bruised Grace and broke Kalvin’s bones. And while this experience has bruised us, as you can glean, we are far from broken.

I will limit my portion of our victim statement to a few simple “asks”…

Foremost we ask everyone to realize how grateful we are to the Summit County judicial system that is populated with many well-intentioned folks. It is humbling to realize that what the rest of us deal with every day, seems trivial by comparison.

We ask that you understand we are disappointed there was not a trial because there are people in this room who still harbor doubts as to who hurt our babies. Some people in this room still believe the defendant is incapable of willingly hurting babies, not just ours, but allegedly sixteen-day old twins in Belgium. A trial would have been a painful reminder of the horror the defendant has inflicted on multiple infants, but at the end of the day, having the truth emerge would have made that pain worthwhile.

We ask that you and everyone in this courtroom realize that there was no rush to judgment. My wife, our nanny and I were initially considered and treated as suspects, which as you can imagine, in legal parlance, felt like double jeopardy when we were dealing with anger and the regret of knowing that we let someone be in a position to hurt our babies. But justice requires due process and there were admittedly four adults who were alone with those babies;

Three of whom were not in Belgium when infant twins were injured
Three of whom did not lawyer-up because as someone once quipped, you don’t need a lawyer to tell the truth and
Three of whom immediately acquiesced to video-taped interrogations,
Three of whom took and passed lie-detector tests
Three of whom initially had one simple concern: Are the babies okay?
It is Ms. Anderson’s lack of remorse that leads us to stand here before you, your honor. Because without repentance, the specter looms that the defendant may hurt other babies. To hear her attorney describe to the media that this plea bargain is a mechanism for the defendant to simply “put this all behind her” is an affront. This was not a case of drinking and driving. This was not a momentary lapse in judgment.

As such, we ask that her unwillingness, or perhaps a pathological inability, to truly take responsibility be taken into consideration as you ponder sentencing. We realize the court is in somewhat of a quandary should it determine a harsh sentence is appropriate because the defendant can withdraw her plea, which could result in her being set free, pending trial. Still facing child abuse charges and extradition to Belgium, the defendant could be a flight risk were it not for the constant electronic monitoring required under the plea agreement.

We further realize that if her plea is withdrawn there is that slim possibility a jury may be confounded by the facts and she could be acquitted, without a felony conviction that we hope will protect others from being hurt by the defendant in the future. We ask you to understand that that possibility, and that possibility alone, the risk of sending this person back into the world without a warning label for others, is the only reason we support the plea bargain.

As witnessed by the harm inflicted on Grace and Kalvin and the alleged events in Belgium, we believe the defendant has all the earmarks of a serial infant abuser. We can’t ask the defendant to say she is sorry. We can’t ask her to promise to never hurt infants again. But we can ask you to consider her profound lack of accountability in your determination. To do otherwise, would indeed be a “bargain” for the defendant and we ask, indeed we plea, that the court does everything possible to keep Ms Anderson from ever hurting babies again.

We truly appreciate the opportunity to address the court.

And then it was over. Dan and I sat back down and the judge asked to see counsel in chambers. When Brickey returned, he said, “The judge heard you when you said you didn’t want her to be around kids. Bates is back there talking to Clayton. We’d like her to be banned from being with any kids under the age of fourteen. I guess some of her family wants her to babysit, so Aubrey is pushing back.”

“If it was up to us, which I know it isn’t,” I said, “I would hold out on that. Fuck it, let’s go to trial, lets take her to trial.” Brickey smiled and left to speak with another lawyer.

Eventually, Judge Shaughnessy returned. “Pursuant to 11(i) I am not permitted to be involved in plea negotiations in any form,” he began. “The purpose of my meeting with counsel was simply to alert them to a concern that I had. We did not otherwise discuss the potential resolution of that issue. Counsel then took a break and I understand Mr. Simms you had an opportunity to meet with your client and that you have come to….”

Simms interrupted, “An additional condition. We would submit to the court an additional condition of probation which would be no unsupervised contact with non-relative, outside second cousin children under the age of fourteen.”

“Okay,” Judge Shaughnessy responded. “Absent an additional requirement that Ms. Anderson not have unsupervised contact with children under the age of fourteen who are not relatives either second cousins or closer, I’m not prepared to accept the 11(i) plea. And with that additional requirement I am willing to accept the 11(i) plea.” Judge Shaughnessy paused and seemed to collect his thoughts.

“Let me say that I’m willing to accept that plea because frankly I think it is the best protection, and provides the greatest protection, to the public. I think it provides a greater level of protection frankly than if we had gone to trial and sentenced her. So that is the reason that I’m willing to accept it. Ms. Anderson, I’m…I’m…um…” Judge Shaughnessey was picking his words carefully. “I’m pretty shocked at your unwillingness to accept any responsibility in this case. And I have to tell you that were it not for my conclusion that this agreement provides better protection to the public, I wouldn’t take this. And were it not for the additional requirement that has been agreed to that you have no unsupervised contact with non-relative children I would not be prepared to accept this plea. And…”

I was hanging on Judge Shaughnessy’s every word when a representative of the Adult Board Of Pardon and Parole interrupted him.

“Your honor, the terms of her probation as described are nearly impossible to monitor or enforce. And I’m wondering why therapy isn’t required before allowing her to be around even her relative’s children?”

“AP&P despises her too,” I whispered to Dan.

“He’s right, those stipulations should have been the plea agreement,” Dan said. But the Shaughnessy’s hands were tied.

He continued, “Ms. Anderson, I’m not prepared to accept the terms of the 11(i) plea exactly as they were negotiated by your counsel and because I’m only willing to accept those 11(i) terms with the added requirement about no unsupervised contact with non-relative children under the age of fourteen, I need to give you an opportunity to withdraw the guilty plea that you just entered if you wish to do that and allow you to proceed to trial. Do you wish to withdraw your guilty plea that you’ve entered in this case?”

“No,” Aubrey answered in a strange baby voice that was equally eerie and disturbing. I glanced at Marsha. Her face showed the same shock and disgust, as if looking at a complete monster. Judge Shaughnessy proceeded to read off the conditions of the plea pursuant to the 11(i) agreement: Aubrey would be released from jail on time served of 360 days; she’d receive three years probation, two years court probation; she’d wear an ankle monitor and couldn’t be alone with kids.

“What about, I mean, what if someone has to go to the bathroom?” Simms asked. “Aubrey would then…technically…”

Judge Shaughnessy looked baffled, then turned to Aubrey.

“Ms. Anderson,” he said, “I want to be clear. I don’t want you to be unsupervised by another person in the presence of someone that is under the age of fourteen, unless the person under the age of fourteen is someone who is a member of your family. If someone in your family chooses to allow someone under the age of fourteen to be in your presence without another adult present, I can’t really control that. But if it’s not somebody who is a member of the family, you should not be in their presence. I think the point of it is pretty clear. And I think the spirit and the intent—I hope— is crystal clear. And that’s what I’m going to be looking for in terms of how it is applied.”

I was disappointed Aubrey would be allowed to be alone with kids whatsoever, but her family had been warned. Our greatest concern was to protect unsuspecting people, which the plea accomplished, for now.

“What about a restraining order?” Marsha whispered to me.

I watched her approach Bates and David, and I watched them wave her off. Then it was over, and Judge Shaughnessy dismissed the courtroom. The media was waiting in the lobby, Dan and I refused comment as we were once again ushered into the jury room.

“It’s over baby, it’s over,” I said, and hugged my husband.

“It’s over,” he repeated and hugged me back. “She’s a convicted felon. That will follow her for a long time.”

Our friends stayed until the media left and I was overwhelmed with gratitude to have been surrounded and supported by so much love. After they left, I was distractedly flipping through the PSR when I came upon it.

“Holy shit, there’s another family!” I said.

“What?” Dan was shocked.

I read to him from the PSR. “The defendant worked in West Virginia for M.C. [the mother] from March 2010 through September 2010 where she cared for newborn twins. The mom reported the defendant had “become short” with her and also “acted rough with the newborns.” The mom addressed the issue with the defendant and she started crying, acting “over emotional” and then disclosed to the mom previously unreported medical issues she had.

The mother reported the second incident occurred in September of 2010 and ultimately ended Aubrey’s employment. The defendant had “become agitated and yelling” at the mother. The argument gotten so heated the defendant was yelling obscenities, calling the mother a “fucking bitch” and came at her in a threatening manner. The mother stated she was afraid the defendant was going to assault her during the altercation and ultimately called the police who had to remove the defendant from the residence, thus ending her employment.

M.C. reported the defendant would become upset with her when she would get involved caring for the children, saying the defendant had also been “rough” with the babies when changing them or bathing them and she asked her to more gentle with them. She said the defendant would get upset or angry with her when she would correct her or try to help. The mother said sometimes the babies would cry harder than normal, and she would go to check on them and the defendant would send her away. She said in one instance one of the babies “kissed” the defendant’s cheek and the defendant was disgusted, wiping her face and said something to the effect of, “Don’t put your disgusting saliva on my skin.”

The mother concluded by stating they hired the defendant, “in good faith” and trusted her with their babies. She said her behavior was “Abusive and her actions caused a great deal of grief as well as fear for myself and my children.””

“Holy shit,” I said again.

Dan was stunned. “I cannot believe they never told us about this.”

“Really, you can’t believe that?”

Dan was mad. “You can’t believe they never told us?”

“There’s another family? Why are we just learning this now? “We could have won that case. We could have won. That’s why they didn’t want Shaughnessy to see a PSR, it would have highlighted just how easily they punted.”

I called my dad. I knew he wanted the fight. He was like me and like Gram T. He wanted to fight for what was right. But all he would say was, “I wonder if another prosecutor would have taken it to trial?”

“Another prosecutor, who, like John?” John was a friend who had prosecuted drug dealers and crooked cops alike.

“Yeah, do you think there’s any way John would have pled this?” I pushed away every thought that we’d inadvertently punted instead of going for the goal line. I shook my head. No, of course not, but my dad couldn’t see that response.

“Hopefully the conviction will help with the Belgian case,” was all I could say. From the beginning, we’d felt some people just wanted this case to go away. And now it was gone. Check.

I was tired then. Shocked and tired and so beyond disappointed. But it was done. When the additional knowledge of the West Virginia family nibbled at the edges of my relief it was over, I returned to what the judge had confirmed: “The plea was the best and greatest protection for the public.”

“Let’s go home and snug some babies.”

We walked to the car holding hands.