In Tampa courtroom, missing spouse won't stop divorce
By Jessica Vander Velde, Times Staff Writer
In Print: Monday, September 28, 2009
Judge Scott Stephens handles divorce cases in which no lawyers are involved. Sometimes he sees people who have no idea where their spouse is. “I had one woman who hadn’t seen her husband in 40 years,” Stephens says. While some cases are tense, many are very happy. Each lasts about five minutes.
TAMPA — Juliana Cooper went to Judge Scott Stephens' courtroom seeking a divorce, a new last name and a fresh start. But she had no idea where her husband was. She hadn't seen him in a decade.
"I'm assuming he's still alive," she said.
People like Cooper aren't unusual in Stephens' Tampa courtroom, and this scene replays throughout Florida.
Larry Glinzman, spokesman for Community Legal Services of Mid-Florida, said the situation even has a name: disappearing spouse syndrome.
It's a phenomenon that happens around the Tampa Bay area.
"I see these people come in, and they've been separated a long time — "he went back to Jamaica" or "she went up to Alabama," said Pinellas-Pasco Circuit Judge Peter Ramsberger, who handles family law cases.
He said he makes sure the person has conducted a diligent search to find the missing spouse, as required by law, before granting a divorce.
Attorneys and judges in the bay area don't keep numbers on these cases, but say they're not unusual.
Take Tampa's Sheryl Watts.
She hasn't seen her husband in 16 years, ever since he left her just two weeks after she stood with him at the altar in a blue dress.
"And he hasn't come back looking for you in all that time?" Stephens asked her on a recent afternoon.
"I don't think so," she said, laughing.
When Hillsborough couples seek divorces without lawyers, they end up in Stephens' court. He's seen them all: doctors and factory workers, couples in their 80s and others in their 20s, people married for decades and those who realized their mistake just months after the wedding.
Each week, he hears about 16 hours' worth of cases, most of them quick and painless. The feuding, if any, usually happens earlier in mediation.
There are couples working out custody agreements, mates who'd rather just be friends and people who have no idea where their spouse is. The unknown location happens much more than Stephens had imagined.
"I had one woman who hadn't seen her husband in 40 years," he said.
On a recent Thursday, there were about a dozen of these cases.
A man insisted he tried very hard to find his wife. He put in four ads in the PennySaver announcing his intention to divorce her. No word.
A woman told the judge she looked for her husband, but she admitted she didn't really want to find him. He used to stalk her, so she hid. She hasn't seen him in five years, and that's just fine, she said.
Maria Rosa held the record for the day. She hasn't seen her husband in 23 years. Rosa, a Spanish speaker, brought her adult son to translate but found out that wasn't necessary. Judge Stephens speaks enough Spanish to get through routine divorces.
("It's fun to see their faces," he said. "They're usually surprised.")
In less than five minutes, the divorce was final, and Rosa finally got to drop her married name.
"Thank you!" she told the judge.
"Thank you!" said her son.
They got as far as the hallway outside the courtroom before they tackled each other in a ferocious hug.
• • •
Many of the people in Stephens' court are happy, which surprised the judge at first.
Sheryl Watts' divorce was a joyful celebration. She was leaving her old self behind, and she couldn't stop laughing.
"I've given my life to Christ," she told Stephens with a big grin. "And I'm closing all the doors."
Watts, now 38, married Rodney Burton in a Michigan church when she was 23. They had dated only a few months.
"My mom begged me not to get married," she said.
But she did, and 13 days later he left. She says she didn't really care.
"I didn't know what marriage was," she said. "I didn't understand the commitment."
Stephens asked her a few routine questions. His job is to determine if she truly tried to find her husband, if she is a Florida resident and if she has any kids or property with her husband. He sometimes asks other questions out of curiosity.
Did she try to find him? Yes. Is she a Florida resident? Yes.
And with a stroke of his pen, she was divorced.
"Thank you so much, Judge," she said, laughing all the way out of the courtroom. "You don't know how important this is."
The others in the courtroom laughed, too.
"Who says you can't make people happy in this job?" Stephens said.
• • •
"Let me guess," Stephens said looking at the woman standing before him. "Divorce?"
"Puh-leeze," Brandy Quinones said, nodding her head in one affirmative stroke.
She sat alone at the table as Stephens flipped through her file. He stopped.
"You haven't seen him in 17 years?" he asked. "How come you waited until now?"
Quinones, 37, thought her husband would have divorced her by now, but, one day this spring, when she was bored, she checked public records online and found out — surprise! — she was still married.
She left her husband after a year of marriage because he was violent. He was never like that when they dated for four years, she said.
"But it didn't take him long," she said. She tried to get far away from him.
The judge asked another question.
"You don't plan to ever get married again? Never ever?"
"I don't say never, but not soon," she replied.
"Well, you, ma'am, are divorced," Stephens said as he signed the order to dissolve the marriage.
"Thank you!" she said.
As she walked over to the case manager to pick up her copy, she couldn't hold in her joy any longer.
"Yayyyy!"
Times staff writer Curtis Krueger contributed to this report. Jessica Vander Velde can be reached at jvandervelde@sptimes.com or (813) 661-2443.
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