DGA DETECTIVES & DGA BAIL BONDS 

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Adoptions:  The Fantasy & The Facts

(Names changed to protect the client's privacy)

By Dale Gustafson

“I’m almost positive my mother is Sally Fields and I think my Father is Bert Reynolds,” exclaimed Cindy, a new client in my office for her first consultation.  “I’m almost positive that I’m their love child and they had to adopt me out to keep the world from knowing about the affair.” 

I have no problem keeping a straight face during the interview – It seems that many, if not most of my adoption clients have a bit of “fantasy” in their system when it comes to guessing whom their real parents might be.  I’ve had clients who thought it was possible that there father was John Wayne, Ronald Regan, John Lennon and even Castro.  As for mothers, name any famous and beautiful actress. 

It’s part of my job to listen and not be judgmental about the client.  I’m sure that they have had this “fantasy” for a long time and it’s a harmless little dream.  But when they come to me, I have to determine weather they are ready for the truth. 

When I was new at this job, I took a case for a young woman named Tami.  She, like Cindy, thought she was related to some of our local celebrities.  Without too much trouble I was able to trace her adoption back to a prison hospital.  The mother was an inmate serving a term for burglary.  On the actual birth certificate, the mother didn’t know or wouldn’t name the father…  The mother had died in jail of lung cancer many years ago.  When I told Tami, she was devastated.  Her whole self-image took a nosedive.  In her own mind, she went from Hollywood royalty to prison trash.

Now days, I ask the client a series of questions… How would you feel if your mother was a hooker and your father was a sailor?  Is there a medical reason you need to know who and where your birth parents are?  How will this affect your relationship with your adopted parents?  And the most important question, “Why?”

We also have some privacy laws in California that protects all the parties involved.  I’ve had more than one case where I tracked down the parents and they asked to be left alone.  I can act as an intermediary, but if the person doesn’t want to be bothered, we have to respect their wishes. 

“I know I’m being silly,” says Cindy.  “I really do want to know the truth, I’d like to see what my real mother looks like and find out the reason she had to give me up for adoption.” 

Cindy handed me a check and we were in business…

Except for the money, I usually don’t like doing adoption cases.  To obtain the necessary records, you have to bend the rules to the limit.  You look at newspaper records, hospital records, insurance records and if you have a good reason, (life threatening genetically passed disease) the state might let you look at the adoption records.  Then once you have the names of the parents – you still have to track them down. 

Recently, some of the “Open Adoption” advocates in California have setup some databases where parents who want to track down the children they put up for adoption and children who are looking for their birth parents are listed.  It’s listed by birth date, sex, and city.  It’s not unusual to find a match there, but I’ve never had one pan out for a client.  How many people are born in Los Angeles on any given day?

I found a match for Cindy in the Adoption database – not unusual, I’m sure that there was more than one baby born in Santa Barbara on that day…  After a few phone calls I was sure it was more than a coincidence – same hospital and time of birth.  A few more calls and I had a name, Janet Burns, and a phone number.  It was time to ask if she was Cindy’s birth mother. 

I made the call and the phone was answered by a “personal secretary’ for Ms. Jill Claiborne.  I’m sorry, I explained, I’m a Private Detective and I’m trying to contact a Miss Janet Burns on a personal matter…  “Hold the line sir, I’m putting you through now,” interrupted the secretary. 

Ms. Claiborne is a well-known actress, two or three Academy Awards and probably one of the highest paid actresses in Hollywood today.  I figured that she had a large staff and Janet Burns was probably one of her employees.

“This is Jill Claiborne” said the celebrity voice on the other end of the phone. 

I have to admit I was dumfounded for a moment and there was a second or two of profound silence.  Finally I was able to stammer, “My apologies madam, I’m trying to reach Janet Burns.”

Again there was a profound silence, it may have been only a few seconds, but it seemed like half an hour.  This time Ms. Claiborne stammered a bit, “I’m Janet, I mean I use the name Janet Burns for some things…”

A big bell went off in my head – Could it be possible that this was Cindy’s birthmother?  How could someone like this escape the tabloids and Hollywood gossip for so many years?  Obviously discretion was to be a top priority.

“I understand the need for discretion,” I said.  “Would you like to set a time and place for a meeting.”

I could hardly finish the sentence when an obviously excited and emotional woman on the other end cut in, “Yes, yes, can we meet right now?  Where are you?  I’ll take the rest of the day off – I’m on my way…

The excitement was infectious and I quickly figured a place where we could meet…  A small restaurant where Cindy worked as a waitress. 

I was the first to arrive at the restaurant, and was seated in the section where Cindy was working.  I purposely didn’t tell Cindy about the progress on the case.  I figured if everything went well, we could have a little reunion on the spot.  If I felt things were a bit sour, I don’t tell mother or daughter…

“Any progress yet?” asked Cindy as she stood ready to take my order. 

“Actually yes,” I said, “I’ve been able to confirm that Sally Fields is not your mother, but I haven’t ruled out Burt Reynolds as your father.” 

Cindy laughed, “I told you I was being silly – What would you like for lunch?”

“Actually I’m waiting for someone,” I explained.  “Can you keep a secret.”

“Sure,” Cindy replied with a whisper.  “Someone famous with a deep, dark secret and they are coming her to confer with their private detective for advice – right?”

I could see Cindy was joking so I thought this might be a good way to test the waters…  “That’s right,” I said.  “I’m having lunch with Jill Claiborne.”

Cindy laughed out loud, “I’ll get you some coffee.”  Cindy turned and headed for the kitchen, shaking her head and giggling as she waked away.

The Coffee Shop where Cindy works is nothing special.  Built in the 1950’s, it has a loyal following with the senior citizens in Burbank; cheep coffee and unlimited refills.  A counter for quick service, and about twenty-five or thirty tables and booths.  It also has a back room that can handle a small group.  The local Kiwanis Club meets there on Tuesday afternoons. 

Cindy had no sooner gone to the kitchen when a large white limo came to a stop at the curb adjacent to the entrance.  The rear door opened and a tall woman bounded out.  Dressed in blue jeans and an oversized tee shirt silk-screened with “Malibu Chili Cook off.”  On her face she was wearing some very large dark glasses.  Her hair was pulled back to a ponytail and she wore a baseball cap that said “Universal Studios Tour” across it…   Despite the attempt at a disguise and the fact that she was wearing absolutely no makeup, her beauty shone through it all.  It was obvious that this was someone special.

She stopped for a moment after entering the restaurant, lifting her glasses a bit to look around the room.  I raised my hand and signaled her over.  It was actually a bit comical, the way she almost ran across the room to my table.  As she sat down in front of me, she took off her glasses and was so excited that she couldn’t get a whole sentence out.  She just kind of sat there and vibrated…

I took her hands in mine and reassured her that everything was fine.  She managed to catch her breath and smiled. 

“I was sixteen years old, almost seventeen.” Explained Jill.  “I had finished my first hit movie and was getting offers from everyone for the next.  What no one knew was that I had an affair with an older married actor.  When he found out I was pregnant, he dumped me and demanded I get an abortion or he would ruin my career.  Back in those days, he was one of the big names that had the power…  I was afraid and I told him that I would have the abortion.  But secretly, I knew I couldn’t kill my baby.  I told everyone that I was going to take a vacation in Europe, but actually I went to my Aunt’s home in Santa Barbara.  I had my baby and placed her up for adoption.  It was the hardest thing I ever had to do.  My Aunt had a good friend who was a lawyer who found a good family and set up the private adoption.  But there were complications and the baby almost died.  The father had infected me with a venereal disease.  It almost killed the baby and made me sterile.  They told me that when the baby was born that she might be blind and deaf.  After the birth, they told me she was fine, but no one would let me hold her or even see her.  I was never really sure if she was really OK, or if everyone had just lied to me to make me feel better.  A few years after the adoption, my Aunt died suddenly, and I never knew the name of the lawyer.  The way the adoption was done and the safeguards we took to conceal my identity also prevented us from finding my daughter.  Please tell me my daughter is OK…”

There was a definite family resemblance.  The shape of her face, skin color and eyes were identical.  The most interesting thing was the way she lowered and bent her body toward you when she was talking and wanted you to know it was important.  Physical mannerisms are usually learned, but this must have been genetic.  They looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.

Just then, Cindy showed up with my coffee and another menu. 

“Oh my god!” she uttered, “You are having lunch with Jill Claiborne”

Jill chuckled and wiped her eyes with a napkin, “I must look a fright,” said Jill.

“Oh no, no you don’t,” whispered an excited Cindy.  “You look absolutely beautiful, I’m sorry I got all gushy -- we don’t get many celebrities in here.  The last famous person we had was that guy who does the toilet paper commercials, the one where he says don’t squeeze the Charmin, all the old ladies were going crazy…”

Cindy’s charm had brought a smile to Jill’s face and they started a conversation like two old friends.  What they were saying to each other was not important, but it was obvious that a natural bond existed – I had never seen anything like it before…

“Cindy, Cindy, Cindy,” I said in a progressively louder voice.  They stopped talking, turned and looked at me with a bit of an incredulous look.  Their heads were both cocked slightly to the right and their chins were tucked slightly under. 

“Cindy,” I continued, “do you think we could use the back room, we don’t want anyone to eavesdrop on some of the information I need to give Ms. Claiborne.

Their conversation resumed at the point where it was interrupted.  Topics changed faster than I could follow as the three of us walked to the back room.  They exchanged views on everything from fashion to lost pets by the time we were seated in the back. 

Cindy poured Jill and I a fresh cup of coffee, set down the pot and had her pad ready to take our order. 

“Cindy,” I said, “Why don’t you sit down with us, I think Ms. Claiborne might need the emotional support when I give her some news.”

Cindy didn’t need to be asked twice.  She plopped her butt down in the chair next to Jill and they clasped hands. 

“Oh God,” mumbled Jill.  Tears were willing up in her eyes, “It’s bad news isn’t it…

“No, no, no, your daughter is more than just OK,” I said.  “She is a beautiful and intelligent young lady who has earned a scholarship and is working her way through college.”

Cindy was still clueless.  Right now she was concerned for her new friend and was busy consoling her. 

“Cindy, Cindy, Cindy,” again I had to get progressively louder to get her attention. 

“What,” Cindy said sharply.  She gave that cocked head look again like I was interrupting.

“I just wanted you to know that I also found your mother and that she’s a very famous actress who wants to meet you very much…” At that point I paused to see how long it would take for them to figure it all out…

The room became dead silent.  The two looked at each other for about three seconds.  They were still holding each other hands when the both let out a high pitched squeal and started bouncing up and down in their chairs.

A short postscript to this story…

        If you are a “Hollywood Insider” you probably know who the star and her daughter are…  Keep it to yourself; the tabloids have never picked up the story.  Jill was raised by her Aunt and never knew her own parents.  Since the reunion, Jill has basically adopted Cindy’s parents as her own.  At social functions, Jill introduces Cindy as her sister.  The two remain inseparable and best friends.

Cindy was not far off the mark when she guessed Burt Reynolds as her Father.  Her actual father was a TV and Motion Picture Actor in the 1970’s and early 80’s.  Now days he is lucky to land an infomercial.  It seems that Jill is a powerful figure in the business and has let it be known that she would never darken the door of any production company or studio that had anything to do with Mr. X.

Cindy has obtained her Bachelor’s Degree in Business and passed the state test for Certified Public Accountant.  She has become an excellent money manager and investment counselor.  Not only does she manage Jill’s assets, but also many of Hollywood’s up and coming celebrities. 

Cindy kept her job at the coffee shop and her own little apartment until she finished college even though Jill wanted to pay her way.  “What would the old-timers do without me,” says Cindy. 

Cindy and Jill bought the coffee shop.  Cindy claims it’s the only investment she has ever made that has never turned a profit.  It’s not unusual to see Cindy and Jill pouring the famous bottomless cup of coffee for the old folks and taking orders.  The local joke among the retirees is that one of the waitresses is a dead ringer for Jill Claiborne.