From the Washington Blade

Md. plaintiffs say ruling was a shock

'My heart sank as soon as I heard'

by Joey DiGuglielmo

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Tuesday morning, as one might expect, was the beginning of a sad day for the 17 plaintiffs -- including eight same-sex couples and one gay man whose partner died -- who sued Maryland for not granting them marriage licenses in 2004.

Most found out via e-mail shortly after 9 a.m. They'd been notified by their attorneys over the weekend that a ruling was imminent but a few false alarms along those lines this summer kept them from getting too antsy, several said.

Patrick Wojahn, who lives with his partner, Dave Kolesar, in College Park, Md., had two messages waiting for him when he finished his morning workout -- one from their attorney, Ken Choe, another from Kolesar.

"My heart sank as soon as I heard [Choe's] voice," Wojahn says. "We're both very disappointed."

Charles Blackburn found out via e-mail and yelled to his partner, Glen Dehn in the next room of their Baltimore home. "I said, 'Hey, we lost.' We were quite devastated. After 29 years together, there's a personal sadness to hear this news."

Mikki Mozelle got a phone call from her partner, Lisa Kebreau, informing her of the ruling.

"I could tell she had been in tears," Mozelle said. "We're disappointed, but not discouraged."

She said Kebreau's initial thought was that she wouldn't be able to wear a gown she'd chosen to wear for the couple's wedding. They exchanged vows in Las Vegas four years ago but wanted to have a local wedding with family and friends in Maryland.

"Eventually we'll do that one way or the other," Mozelle said. "But obviously we were hoping we could do it sooner."

The ruling, in which the state's highest court upheld a state law saying a 1973 ban doesn't discriminate on the basis of gender, also met disappointment with the couple's 17-year-old son, Alex, who told them "That just sucks" upon hearing the news when he got home from school.

Hagerstown, Md., resident John Lestitian, whose partner committed suicide in 2003, was the most optimistic of the plaintiffs. Within minutes of reading the e-mail that they'd lost, he sent one to the other plaintiffs encouraging them to not be sidelined.

"I actually feel good about this," he said Wednesday. "Yeah, it's a little setback, a bump in the road, but come hell or high water, we're gonna get there."

The last nine months, since arguments were presented, have been a waiting game. The plaintiffs all say they went on with their lives as normal for the most part, but it was always in the back of their minds that a ruling could come at any time.

Most said their gut feeling was that they'd triumph.

"Both of us were really believing there was no way this could happen," Mozelle said. "We truly felt our argument was the strongest."

"We were stunned," Blackburn said. "We thought at the very worst, we'd get some New Jersey-type, call-it-what-you-want-type thing."

"Shocked" is the word Takia Foskey, who lives with her partner, Jo Rabb, in Baltimore with their five children, used.

"We were thinking because they took so long to rule, that was a good sign for us," she said. "We took it as a sign that they were really considering the arguments carefully." Foskey and Rabb had two children previously but are in the process of adopting three more who've lived with them for the last month.

Foskey said being officially married is a dream for symbolic reasons, but more pressing for them are the practical ramifications a ruling in their favor would have yielded.

"Now that I'm not working and I have no health insurance, this would have been really important for us and, especially for the children," Foskey said. "They're really hurting the children in the long run."

Blackburn agreed.

"Of course it would have been nice for us," he said, "but I feel most for the plaintiffs with young children. Their issues are much greater than ours."

Steve Palmer, who lives with his partner, Ryan Killough in East New Market, said he was aware legal complexities might be a problem.

"I really had no gut feeling," he said. "Since we live in a blue state, we were hoping for the best but there was a lot of legalese to the arguments. You can't just go in and say, 'Hey, this isn't fair.' There were a lot of aspects of constitutional law to it that were beyond my realm of expertise so I was always aware there could be some little thing there in the law that would keep it from going through."

The couples got involved with the case in various ways. Palmer and Killough found out Equality Maryland was looking for couples to sue at a town hall meeting in their area.

"They wanted couples of all different ages and spread out throughout the state," Palmer said. "We became sort of the token Eastern Shore couple." Alvin Williams and his partner, Nigel Simon, of Upper Marlboro, Md., were approached by Equality Maryland. Williams said he figures their 10 years together, three children and "everyday lives" made them good candidates for the case.

"We were only too happy to join," Williams said.

Mozelle admits she had some reservations when Kebreau filled out an application to be part of the case on Equality Maryland's web site.

"Lisa was pregnant with our youngest son at the time," she said. "I know there are a lot of people who have strong feelings about things like this so I didn't know at first if it was a good idea for us to be out in the media. I was cautious because I don't like taking any chances when it comes to our family."

Equality Maryland and the ACLU footed the legal bills. The couples were used, Palmer said, "for public relations-type" events and were asked to make appearances to promote the case.

Because they're spread throughout the state, the couples say they were together only a few times and didn't become especially close with each other, but felt unity in the joint cause. They said Equality Maryland treated them fairly.

"Equality Maryland and the ACLU did an absolutely amazing job," Mozelle said. "And even though we signed on to be the faces of this case, they were understanding when we couldn't be at events. We would have loved to have been at the rally [Tuesday] night but we had to be Mommy last night."

Blackburn said the ACLU did so well, the ruling was insulting.

"It was so weak," he said. "A hundred pages of piddling legal nothings. It wasn't worthy of the brilliant briefs the ACLU had done on our behalf."

All the couples interviewed post-verdict (only one couldn't be reached by the Blade) said they're looking ahead to the legislative front and haven't given up hope that eventually they'll be allowed to legally solidify their partnerships.

"We're still optimistic for the future," Wojahn said.

Blackburn and Dehn have already testified at various state-level committee meetings and plan to continue.

"It might take several years, but we're confident we will succeed on the legal front in time," Blackburn said.

"We're not going to be stopped," Williams said. "We're not going to be curtailed." He and Simon had a commitment ceremony in 2000 but had hoped to get married at their church, Covenant Baptist in Washington.

Lestitian expressed the most resolve.

"What the hell did we lose?" he said. "We're a group of people who've much in our lives, but we came together and we galvanized people and we took this to the highest court in the state -- it served as a rallying cry."

Though optimistic, Lestitian is also angry.

"It's time for us to get a little pissed off," he said. "How many times are we gonna get kicked in the head? Everyone has a tipping point and it's time for us to demand civil marriage rights. Not ask, not beg. Demand."

Mozelle, too, is hopeful.

"I told [Lisa], 'Don’t worry. You'll get to wear your pretty dress.'"