"It" included an utter absence of sleep and innumerable other child-rearing stresses. Does Rylee want to be burped, or held, or...what? Should I feed her now? Why does she always get up right at 3 a.m.? Stacy had done all the research, but there's no substitute for firsthand experience.
The new mom was quick to solicit counsel from the old hand across the street. If Stephanie was away at Living Word Christian Center in Brooklyn Park, Stacy would anxiously watch for the house lights to flip on so she could call for advice.
David Kern
courtesy of Stacy Mooney
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But there were challenges coming that even Stephanie couldn't solve.
STACY FRANTICALLY KNOCKED on Tuott's door May 17, 2007, a spring day warm enough to go barefoot.
Stacy had gotten a call that morning from Heather, the birth mother's sister. Heather wanted to meet at the park to see Rylee Ann. "Come at four, and bring a stroller," Heather had told her. They could make an extended family day out of it.
Stacy had bathed Rylee Ann, toweled her dry, and begun her afternoon feeding when the phone rang at 3:30 p.m.
It was Giles. The lawyer was calling, he said, to make sure that Stacy was on her way to give Rylee Ann back to the birth mother—for good. Crystal had decided to remove her from the Mooneys' home, and if Stacy didn't have that baby to the park in 30 minutes, they could have her arrested and charged with kidnapping.
"That can't be right," Stacy said. "This can't be happening."
Orr had visited the courthouse and after looking at the paperwork became convinced the adoption had been handled improperly. She wanted to reclaim the child and start a new process fresh with another family. Giles was insistent: Stacy would go to jail if she didn't return Rylee Ann.
Tuott didn't even take the time to put on shoes. "I'm not letting you do this alone," she said.
They strapped Rylee into her car seat and drove the five miles to Orono Park, Stacy in shock, Stephanie's head spinning.
Stacy unbuckled Rylee Ann. Held her close one last time. When the birth mother's sister took the baby, Stacy asked, "Why are you doing this?" There was no answer as the two women loaded the infant into the car.
Tuott, whose mother had adopted three children, told Stacy to get legal counsel. "I remember saying, 'This totally does not sound legal. Are you sure you're supposed to be giving this baby up right now? You should call someone.'"
Stacy was frozen, unable to speak. Don't you see? she thought. We already did.
THE MOONEYS' EXPERIENCE is behind the first ever adoption malpractice suit filed in Minnesota, and Patrick Burns, their new attorney, is pursuing the claim against Giles.
Michelle McDonald, an adoption attorney employed by Burns as an expert witness, found that Giles made "mistakes and careless errors" that numbered "too many to list" in a five-page report.
Among the snafus: offering to pay for the birth mother's medical appointments is actually illegal. Also, parental consent forms—the kind Giles prepared for the birth father—may not be signed until after the baby is born. Some of the forms that were completed were improper, the lawsuit alleges, but most of the paperwork just never showed up at all.
"He did nothing," Burns says of Giles. "These adoption statutes are procedural, mechanical. The law is very unforgiving if you don't follow the procedures. And as far as we can tell, he didn't follow any of them."
Despite his background in family law, it's unclear whether Giles has ever handled an adoption. No evidence exists that he has, but because the records are generally sealed in adoption cases, it cannot be ruled out. Through his attorney, Giles has refused multiple requests for an interview. A response brief filed with the court by Giles's attorney denies the majority of the allegations.
No local precedent exists for this case, but judgments against attorneys for bungled adoptions have reached into the millions in other states. The largest award, from Rhode Island, was $3.8 million.
Ty Mooney isn't thinking about money, though. It frustrates and confuses him that he never received an apology from Giles—indeed, never met the man in person. "He could walk into this house right now and I wouldn't know who he is," Ty says.
Rylee has been permanently adopted into a new family, but Ty still sometimes wakes up at 3 a.m. That's when Rylee always cried to be fed. In that dark hour, he thinks back to that first promise he made to his daughter. Softly, almost inaudibly, he says, I failed. But I should have had the chance to fail on my own. He made me fail.
