When a Child Says No

The news that Kimberly Mays received at nine years old was the stuff of childhood nightmares. Her father, Robert Mays, an Englewood, Florida, roofing salesman, sat her down and told her that he was not her biological father. Nor was his late wife, Barbara Mays, her mother. Instead, she was the blood daughter of a Langhorne, Pennsylvania, couple, Ernest and Regina Twigg. In 1988 the Twiggs' daughter Arlena had died of a heart defect. Blood tests led to the discovery that the two girls had been switched at birth in a small rural Florida hospital. The Twiggs were now determined to make their biological daughter part of their life.

In the five years since then, Mays and the Twiggs have been battling for Kimberly's affections. In a settlement in 1989, the Twiggs agreed not to seek custody, in exchange for visitation rights. But Mays put a halt to them after only five visits, saying they were causing too much emotional turmoil. The Twiggs resumed their fight for custody, but lost in state court. Undaunted, they are now suing for visitation rights.

Fourteen years old now, Kimberly is determined to rid herself of the Twiggs forever. She has got her own attorney, who has filed to terminate the Twiggs' rights as her natural parents. Like Gregory K., the 12-year-old boy who successfully sued to be separated from his parents, she wants to "divorce" hers. She is represented by George Russ, Gregory K.'s lawyer. "She has lived in fear for five years of being taken from her father in the name of her so- called biological parents," argues Russ. "The problem is we've defined parenthood in terms of biology. That's a myth. Once a child is nurtured and cared for, you've got a family."

In June, Kimberly found a court that agreed. If a minor in Florida can choose abortion, ruled circuit court judge Stephen Dakan, "then surely a minor child has the right to assert a constitutional privilege to resist an attempt to remove her from the only home she has known . . . and declare her the child of strangers." In August, he will decide on visitation rights for the Twiggs. If all goes as planned, the legal maneuvering will be over by the time Kimberly starts the ninth grade. Says Kimberly: "I want my life back -- the way it was before the Twiggs got involved."

The Twiggs have moved down to Florida to be near Kimberly. Regina wrote an open poem to her: "Precious baby in our arms, we never shared your baby charms; denied the right to love us then, perhaps you'll love us someday when." "Parents are frequently hurt by their kids," says John Blakely, the Twiggs' attorney, "but it's not their job to back down."