Despite DNA, Dad's Paternity
Denied
This article is from
TIME Magazine

For nearly two years, James Rhoades,
a university librarian in Tallahassee (Florida), has been fighting
to establish in law what science and fact already have shown beyond
any doubt: He is the biological father of the boy dubbed J.A.R. He's
got DNA tests to prove it, and videos and loads of pictures of him
with the boy. In the photos too are the boy's mother, J.N.R., whom
Rhoades met while taking an online graduate course. She was — and
still is — married to another man, who was stationed at a Pensacola
Air Force base during their affair in 2005. And that's the problem.
Last week, in a decision that
underscores the tense relationship between science and law, a
divided Kentucky Supreme Court told Rhoades that he could not press
his paternity claim, no matter what evidence of fatherhood he might
have, because J.N.R. was, and remains, a married woman. When it
comes to defining fatherhood in the Bluegrass State, where Ricketts
and her husband now live, the marital "I do" mean a lot more than
DNA.
The 4-3 decision splintered the
court, which issued five separate opinions. The majority was itself
divided evenly among two camps, one that said Rhoades might have
prevailed had he been able to show the J.N.R.'s "marital
relationship had ceased at least 10 months" prior to the boy's
birth, and another that said no "stranger to the marriage" can ever
attack the legitimacy of a child's birth. "As long as marriage is on
the books, it must mean something," wrote Justice Bill Cunningham in
one of two concurring opinions. "... We are in need of a bold
declaration that the marriage circle, even one with an errant
partner, will be invaded at one's own legal risk." He added: "While
the legal status of marriage in this early 21st century appears to
be on life support, it is not dead."
The decision has left Rhoades
devastated. "What I wanted was not just to see my son but to
participate in his life," Rhoades told TIME. "He is my son and I
love him." Kentucky's ruling is firmly grounded in the history of
the law, however. In fact, the so-called marital presumption has
barred attacks on the legitimacy of children for centuries. Courts
have forever held that allegations of fatherhood by third parties
can only disrupt the family, confuse or embarrass the child, and
unsettle the social order.
But unlike the past, such allegations
these days are often backed by science, introducing certainty where
none before existed. As of a result, the prohibition on third-party
challenges to paternity has begun to weaken. By 2000, at least 33
states had adopted rules that allowed challenges by fathers with
genetic proof of their paternity, usually restricting such efforts
to the first two years of a child's life. The advent of DNA testing
has tread a similarly disruptive course in other areas of law,
including criminal cases where exonerations once thought impossible
are becoming routine. A few states have even begun allowing
ex-husbands to present DNA evidence that they were duped by cheating
spouses to avoid child support obligations.
For Rhoades, the changes are coming
too slow, however. Unable to present proof of his paternity, he
won't be able to seek custody or visitation rights. As a result,
he'll be a stranger to his son until such a time as the boy's legal
parents decide to tell him, if ever. "My son is going to find out
the truth eventually," he said. "Is he going to find out when he is
13, 14 that everybody in his life has lied to him?"
Justice Lisabeth Hughes Abramson
raised just that point in a fiercely worded dissent attacking the
majority's notion that the boy will be better off not knowing the
truth about his parentage. "Our world is full of inconvenient
truths. We accomplish nothing for families, the broader community
and our justice system when we deny those truths." she wrote.
Rhoades said he plans to appeal to
the U.S. Supreme Court on constitutional grounds. But he faces long
odds there, given that the high court has already ruled once, in
1989, on the same issue, upholding California's explicit bar against
paternity challenges like his. That decision too was divided and
contentious. The biological father in that case did not get to see
his daughter till she had turned 21. "Well, obviously I am not going
to give up and say, 'Oh well I lost,'" Rhoades says. "I believe I
have a fundamental right to be in my son's life." The trouble is:
nature's law isn't the law of the land.
