I looked at Jackson, wondering what the hell he was thinking, why he was so insistent on his rights. He was clean now, wasn’t he?
“Why won’t you take the test?” I asked.
“That’s how it starts,” he said. “You go one mile with them, then they want two, then suddenly they’re into all of your business and telling you what to do and threatening legal trouble if you don’t go along with every last little thing they want. I’m not going to be bullied by the DHS.”
“I’m sorry that you think of it in those terms, Mr. Jackson,” she said. “I will say this. From what I’ve seen today so far, I have no reason to believe that Noah is being abused. He seems to be loved very much, and he’s fortunate to live in a nice apartment where he is obviously well cared for. My only concern at this point is the drug test. If you both passed the test, I might very well have come to the conclusion that the allegations made against you were untrue. Yet you are refusing, which throws up a big red flag.”