One might get used to the new format at Slate over time, but the initial impression is not favourable. It is probably fortunate that time was short today anyway; it suits the questions.
L2: Then: Sow. Now: Reap.
L3: Two words. Word 1: Buh. Word 2: Bye.
L4: Missing the following is a bit much, even for the Prudecutor: "I can't fathom sending my kids to live with people who won’t even spend their time and money being more involved in our children’s lives." LW4's defending barrister must be rather white in the wig. Any counsel of discernment would never let such a witness take the stand.
L1: The short answer is that this is why God in Her wisdom created Reconstructive Surgery.
What the Prudecutor is doing blathering on about genes, which have nothing to do with the case, I don't know - one could not even call it so much of a Rattling Good Yarn as the opening for the Prosecution when that provider of pure historical bilge water, Miss Amelia Nettleship, sued the Daily Beacon for libel. There will be much debate about whether LW1 needs to find some way to forgive her mother or not, and I have an examplar for her to consider when she finds herself torn between the Scylla of loving forgiveness and the Charybdis of further separation. LW1 should consider and perhaps follow the example of Marigold Featherstone.
It so happened that Marigold was away from the Featherstone abode in Knightsbridge when Sir Guthrie, after being savaged by the Court of Appeal for reckless comments when passing sentence in a case in which the conviction was reversed, sought consolation in inebriation at the Sheridan Club. Upon leaving the Sheridan, he chanced upon the Bexley Heath Thespians, led by his old clark Henry from #3 Equity Court. Invited to accompany the Thespians for a bit of a bop and lured to accept by the attraction's of Henry's new typist, Dot Clapton, Guthrie shuffled about the floor for a bit, called Dot Debby, and maundered on about the Appeal Judges.
The next day, Guthrie met the newly elected Claude Erskine Brown and guest at the Sheridan. In order to cheer himself up still further and deflect attention away from the Court of Appeal, he told a tale full of Amourous Intrigue of how many young women - girls, even, prefer the slightly older male as a partner - in every sense of the word, relating how he struck lucky afterwards - in every possible way. Unfortunately, this conversation was earwigged by one Toby Harringay, a habitue of the bridge club frequented by not only Marigold but also She Who Must Be Obeyed, to whom the old earwig related the entire tale before he could recall the name of the lascivious judge involved.
Of course, She wasted no time in relating the treacherous tale to the mortified Marigold, who confronted the groveling Guthrie over breakfast, telling him that Little Miss Whatsit was perfectly welcome to his attentions, such as they were. Did that mean she forgave him? Well, she could hardly do that when he went blabbing about it at the Sheridan Club. Guthrie then thought that Marigold would leave him. But a big No to that also. That would make it far too easy for him.
Marigold, that Thinker Outside the Box, decided that she would stay at home and not forgive him.
Moral: "But, Marigold - I appeal to you!" "I'm sorry, Guthrie; you've lost your appeal."