愛的裁決

The call came around 3：30 p.m. on a sultry Minnesota day. The hospice social worker， Cheryl， explained the situation in a rush. She had tried 15 judges， and all were either in court or otherwise unavailable. By chance， she had reached me directly.

I had just finished a tough trial and was in my chambers surrounded by judicial detritus： legal briefs， scores of exhibits. To be honest， I almost didnt answer the phone.

All I wanted was a drink.

That， however， would be considered poor decorum for a judge， and judges lose their jobs over poor decorum. I have a wife and two children. So I tried to shake off my grumpiness and be civil to Cheryl. I asked in my calmest， most Oliver Wendell Holmes voice what I could do for her.

She said she needed a judge to perform an emergency wedding.

Believe it or not， this was not my first such request of the week. In fact， I often receive these requests， usually involving the need to get a waiver to avoid the required five-day waiting period. Sometimes I am sympathetic， as when the request is spurred by a sudden deployment to Iraq or Afghanistan.

But generally I dont like to reward those who leave matters like the arrangement of a wedding until the day they want it to happen. I was tired of the seemingly endless series of calls from people with ridiculous， impulsive requests.

But Cheryl begged； she practically yanked my bleeding heart right out of my chest. She explained that she was a hospice social worker for Thomas， 77， who had recently been discharged from the medical center hospice unit so he could die at home. He was conscious and lucid but likely to die at any moment.

His dying wish was to marry Donna， his life partner of 38 years. She was 57. They had talked about marriage over the years but had never gotten around to a wedding. They had even gone so far as to fill out the application from the downtown wedding license center.

Was this yet another case of people irresponsibly leaving things until the last minute？ Probably. But I realized in the moment it didnt matter. People do stupid， human things. I could make this one right.

By law， the couple was required to attest in person， under oath， in front of the wedding license official， that all of the statements on the application were true： that they wanted to marry each other， and that as required by Minnesota law， “we are no nearer of kin than the first cousins once removed； that… there is no legal impediment to this marriage， that neither of us has a spouse living， and that one of the applicants is a man and the other is a woman.”

The wedding license bureau had told Cheryl that no one there had the power to issue an emergency license by phone， but maybe she could try to reach a judge. There were formalities： the five-day waiting period and an appearance in person at the wedding license bureau. There was no official procedure for an emergency deathbed-wedding license.

When someone goes to the trouble of trying to contact 16 judges， theres usually an important issue at stake. But I was a sorry excuse for a judge that day， and I was in no shape to do anyone a good deed.

Also， my courthouse in downtown Minneapolis was at least 20 miles from their home， a trip that takes 30 minutes under the best circumstances， and in this case， the evening rush was already under way. Thomas was near death. The only option seemed to be a telephone wedding， yet that would violate the rule requiring the wedding to occur in the presence of the judge.

My brain said no. No！ My court clerk stood outside my door at the head of a growing line that included the detective with the search warrant and lawyers from the last case， still unwilling to go home.

But as if by rote I said： “Yes. Yes， well see if we can make it work.”

You see， my father had died of liver cancer a few years earlier. Id visited him in Chicago while he was sick， putting a mat under his hospice bed and sleeping next to him， holding his hand so I could be there in his dying moments. Everyone thought he had hours to live.

Then he rebounded， and I flew home to Minneapolis and returned to work. To my eternal regret， I was not there a week later when he died. It was because of my poor planning that he died alone.

Thinking of my father， I made a few legal inquiries， verifying that Thomas and Donna had completed a wedding license certificate， that the family supported the wedding and it was not a ruse to divert an inheritance， and that the humanitarian nature of the wedding was real and true.

It would all have to be done by phone， and it would have to be fast.

Witnessed on their end by a hospice chaplain and the bride and the bridegrooms family， who encircled Thomass bed， the couple were placed under oath. Acting in the place of the wedding license registrar， I swore them to the truth of all of the statements on their license application. Donna swore to the truth and signed the application. Thomas swore to the truth by squeezing the hospice workers finger “yes” and signed an “X.”

I performed this ceremony holding the phone， sitting at my mess of a desk， as the detective waited impatiently for his search warrant just outside my door.

“Do you， Thomas， take Donna to be your lawful wedded wife？”

The chaplain said， “He squeezed her finger ‘yes. ”

“Do you， Donna， take Thomas to be your lawful wedded husband？”

“Yes.”

“Do you promise to love and care for each other， in good times and bad， in sickness and health， for better or worse， for as long as you both shall live？”

“Yes.”

With their families looking on， I pronounced Thomas and Donna husband and wife. Invoking the power vested in me by the laws of Minnesota， I told them that after 38 years together they could now kiss each other， for the first time， as a married couple.

I was told they did.

And later that evening， Thomas died.

Shortly thereafter， I issued my court order， complete with procedural history and legal analysis， directing the licensing bureau to accept and file the wedding license and issue a certificate of marriage.

I have written thousands of orders in my many years as a judge. This was my best.

電話是在明尼蘇達州一個悶熱的下午大概三點半的時候打來的。安養(yǎng)院的社工謝麗爾急匆匆地解釋著情況。她已經(jīng)給十五位法官打過電話了，他們不是在出庭就是抽不出時間。抱著試試看的想法，她直接撥通了我的電話。

我剛處理完一樁棘手的案子，現(xiàn)在正在辦公室里被一堆瑣碎的司法文件雜物包圍著：大量的法律案情摘要和物證。說實話，我本沒打算接電話。

我想做的只是喝上一杯。

然而，那么做會讓人覺得這法官欠缺禮數(shù)，而法官有時會因為不禮貌而丟掉工作。我還有老婆和兩個孩子要養(yǎng)。于是，我努力控制自己的壞脾氣，客氣地回應(yīng)謝麗爾。我用自己最平靜、最奧利弗·溫德爾·霍姆斯式的口吻問她我可以為她做些什么。

她說她需要一位法官為一場緊急的婚禮主持證婚。

信不信由你，這可不是這周來的第一個這樣的請求。事實上，我經(jīng)常收到這樣的請求，通常涉及豁免原來需要的五天等待期。有時候，如果收到的是那些被突然部署去伊拉克或阿富汗的人的緊急請求，我還會同情他們一下。

但一般來說，我不會讓那些人如愿，他們把像婚禮這樣的事情放到差不多婚禮正日才來作安排。我對那些帶著荒唐、沖動的請求的人所打來的看起來無休無止的電話十分反感。

但是謝麗爾央求著，簡直把我的軟心腸都給掏出來了。她解釋說，她是安養(yǎng)院里配給77歲老人托馬斯的社工，托馬斯最近被醫(yī)療中心的安養(yǎng)院部安排出院，希望在家中離世。他現(xiàn)在意識清醒，頭腦還清晰，但他隨時都可能死去。

他臨終的愿望是能和38年的生活伴侶唐娜結(jié)婚。唐娜已經(jīng)57歲了。多年來，他們一直打算結(jié)婚但一直沒有抽出時間來舉行婚禮。他們甚至都已經(jīng)走到在市中心的婚姻注冊處填寫申請這一步了。

這又是一個不負責(zé)任地把事情留到生命的最后一刻才干的個案嗎？或許如此。但我此刻意識到這已無關(guān)緊要了。人就是會做些凡人蠢事。我可以把這事做對。

根據(jù)法律，結(jié)婚雙方需親自在婚姻注冊官員面前宣誓，表明他們所提交的申請上的聲明真實無誤：他們愿意和對方結(jié)婚，另外根據(jù)明尼蘇達州的法律，表明“我們在血緣上疏于隔一代的表親關(guān)系，我們的結(jié)合沒有法律上的阻礙，我們都沒有在生的配偶，并且為一男一女的結(jié)合?！?/p>

婚姻登記處告訴謝麗爾，他們那里沒有人有通過電話頒布緊急許可證的權(quán)力，不過她可以找一位法官試試。一般正式的手續(xù)是：需經(jīng)過為期五天的等待期，并且本人親自到婚姻登記處辦理?，F(xiàn)在還沒有辦理緊急臨終結(jié)婚證的官方程序。

當(dāng)一個人不厭其煩聯(lián)系十六位法官的時候，通常有十萬火急的事。但是我那天無心判案，而且也不打算為誰做好事。

另外，我所在的法院在明尼阿波利斯的市區(qū)，離他們家至少二十英里，交通狀況最好時也要花上三十分鐘才能到他那，而且現(xiàn)在也已經(jīng)到了下班高峰。托馬斯已經(jīng)快不行了。唯一的選擇看來就只有電話婚禮了，不過這就違背了法官應(yīng)當(dāng)在婚禮現(xiàn)場的規(guī)定。

我的想法是不！不行！我的法庭書記員站在我的辦公室門外，其后排了一隊人，人數(shù)越來越多，其中包括拿著搜查令的探員和上一個案子的律師，他們還不愿意回去。

但是好像是背熟了似的，我說道：“好的，好的，我們會盡量嘗試，看能不能成功?！?/p>

你知道吧，我父親幾年前死于肝癌。在他生病期間，我去過芝加哥探望他。我把一個墊子放在他安養(yǎng)院的床下，挨著他睡，握著他的手，這樣在他生命的最后時刻我就可以陪在他身邊。每個人都認為他也就只剩幾個小時的生命了。

后來他恢復(fù)過來了，我就飛回到我位于明尼阿波利斯的家繼續(xù)工作。讓我抱憾終生的是，一個星期后，他過世了，我卻沒在他身邊。是我的破安排讓他一個人孤獨地離開了。

想著我的父親，我做了一些法律咨詢，證實了托馬斯和唐娜已經(jīng)獲得了結(jié)婚許可證，并且他們的家人支持他們結(jié)合，這并不是一個企圖轉(zhuǎn)移財產(chǎn)的陰謀，而是一場真正、真實的具有人道主義性質(zhì)的婚禮。

這個婚禮只能通過電話來完成了，而且要盡快。

安養(yǎng)院的牧師、新娘以及新郎的家人圍繞在托馬斯的床邊，在他們的見證下，這對新人進行宣誓。在有婚姻注冊員在場的情況下，我讓他們發(fā)誓，表明他們結(jié)婚申請上的所有聲明都屬實。唐娜發(fā)誓一切屬實并在申請上簽了名。托馬斯通過緊握安養(yǎng)院工作人員的手表達誓言屬實并簽了一個“X”。

我拿著話筒，坐在亂糟糟的辦公桌旁執(zhí)行這個儀式，讓探員在門外不耐煩地等他的搜查令。

“托馬斯先生，你愿意娶唐娜女士為你的合法妻子嗎？”

牧師說，“他抓緊她的手指表示‘愿意?！?/p>

“唐娜女士，你愿意托馬斯先生成為你的合法丈夫嗎？”

“愿意?！?/p>

“你們是否愿意承諾，在你們的有生之年，不論快樂還是悲傷，生病還是健康，不論生活是好是壞，你們都彼此相愛相親？”

“我們愿意?！?/p>

在他們家人的見證下，我宣布了托馬斯和唐娜結(jié)為夫妻。運用明尼蘇達州法律賦予我的權(quán)利，我告訴他們，彼此在一起38年后，他們可以第一次以夫妻的名義親吻對方。

他們告訴我，他們這樣做了。

那天深夜，托馬斯去世了。

此后不久，我頒布了包含程序記錄和法律分析的法庭命令，要求婚姻登記處接受并存檔他們的結(jié)婚許可證，并向他們頒發(fā)結(jié)婚證書。

在我多年的法官生涯中，我簽署了數(shù)以千計的文件。這一個是最好的。