At 14, Kim Is Determined To Win Happy Ending -- Switched By Hospital At Birth, Florida Girl Wants `Divorce' From Biological Family

ENGLEWOOD, Fla. - A child thrust into a grown-up battle, Kim Mays tries to be strong.

She strides into court with a straight spine and firm chin. She frets over how the stress affects her father's health. And she steels her voice as she rehearses the words she wants to say to her biological mother, Regina Twigg.

"Leave me alone, lady. Get out of my life. I don't need you right now, and I probably never will."

But in Kim's quiet moments, the anger gives way to regret.

Just last week, she was watching a rerun of the television miniseries about the baby swap that sent her and another child home with each other's parents. In the final scene, the actress portraying Kim walks off hand-in-hand with the two families feuding over her.

Such a sweet ending. So untrue.

"I was sad when the movie ended," Kim says. "I was thinking, `Gosh, I wish that could have been.' "

As she recalls the moment, Kim's eyes fill with tears. At age 14, Kim's life hasn't had a happy ending for years.

Her life is not one she, or anyone, would have chosen. Switched at birth, torn between two families, bounced for five years between psychologists and lawyers and television screens, Kim has grown resigned but also angry - so angry that she wants a "divorce" from the people who gave her birth.

Kim thinks her biological parents, Ernest and Regina Twigg, should never have tried to take her from the only home she knows. After satisfying themselves that Kim was happy and well, she says, they should have gone away.

When they didn't, Kim sued the Twiggs, asking a judge to terminate their parental rights. At a trial next week, the judge will decide whether to grant Kim's request or to force her to visit with the Twiggs.

In an interview, Kim spoke at length about her anger toward her biological family, particularly Mrs. Twigg.

(Someone answering the Twiggs' phone this week said "no comment" and hung up. The Twiggs' lawyer, John Blakely, could not be reached for comment.)

In the interview, Kim showed herself to be a young woman torn in two.

She says she hates Mrs. Twigg, but she has shown compassion toward her. She speaks like a lawyer about depositions but still goes to sleep at night with a stuffed animal she calls "My Piggy." And while her troubles brought her a $6 million legal settlement from the hospital and a sort of fame, she would trade it all for the day when she wakes up without fearing that strangers will take her away.

For all the complexities of her case, Kim has a simple wish.

"I want my life back."

She also says, "Regina said something in one of her depositions that when she looked at me, that she could see in my eyes, `Oh mother, oh mother."' Gross! . . . Regina isn't my mom!"

Kim Mays, legal crusader and quote machine. It wasn't so long ago she was just a little girl.

The year was 1988, and Kim was 9. A television reporter walked up to the pool where Kim was splashing around with her best friend, Lisa. "Hi," he said. "Are you Kimberly Mays?"

Not long after that, Bob Mays sat her down. "Kim," he said, "I've got something to tell you." Kim recalls fearing the worst: Her dad had job trouble, or a teacher had called from school about her grades. She couldn't have imagined what she was about to hear.

Kim and another girl had been switched at birth in 1978 at Hardee Memorial Hospital in Wauchula. The swap came to light a decade later, when genetic tests showed the child raised by Ernest and Regina Twigg really belonged to Bob and Barbara Mays. Arlena Twigg died of a heart defect, and the Twiggs came looking for the daughter they had lost: Kim.

Bob Mays, too, had lost a child. But he had no time to grieve; he had to comfort Kim. She remembers crawling into his lap, looking into his familiar blue eyes and asking, "Are they going to take me away?"

Bob told her he would never allow that, and Kim felt better.

Still, as the months passed, Kim got used to the idea of having another family, assured by her father's words and the Twiggs' pledge not to seek custody.

One warm day in 1990, 11-year-old Kim went to a miniature golf course, where she met the seven Twigg children and later their parents.

Kim says she enjoyed being with the kids, but felt awkward around Mrs. Twigg and her husband.At one point, Kim says, Mrs. Twigg asked, "May I call you Arlena?" Horrified, Kim replied, "No! I'm Kim!"

Kim's grades started slipping and she began moping around the house. At the time, Mays didn't know why Kim was having problems, but he had his suspicions. In the fall of 1990, after five visits, he cut off visitation.

Before long, the Twiggs and Mayses had become enemies. Mays refused to let the Twiggs visit; the Twiggs laid the legal groundwork to force Kim into their home.

As the legal fight dragged into its fifth year, Kim decided she had waited long enough. Inspired by Gregory K., a Florida boy who divorced his biological mother, Kim sought a lawyer to represent her in a similar suit against the Twiggs.

She didn't have to look far. George Russ, a children's rights lawyer and Gregory K.'s adoptive father, agreed to represent her.

When the swap first came to light, the kids at school teased her, calling her "Twiggy." In recent years, she has missed out on school dances, volleyball games, slumber parties.

"I can't," she tells her friends when they invite her along. "I have to go to court."

"I've lost a lot of friends because of Regina," she says. "If she loved me, she wouldn't be doing this to me."

Her trial doesn't begin until Monday, but Kim is no stranger to the legal system. She sees it as a place of cruelty, and opportunity.

It was in a deposition room that Kim stared down Regina Twigg, who has accused Bob Mays of being a criminal who helped orchestrate the baby swap.

It was in a courtroom that Kim listened as the Twiggs' lawyer, John Blakely, told a judge that Kimberly Mays was dead and that the girl sitting there that day was truly Arlena Twigg.

Kim wept as she heard their words. But next week, Kim hopes to strike back.

"I can't wait to see Regina's face when that judge says, `Kimberly Mays has terminated their rights,' " she says, her voice booming a little.

"I hate Regina for doing this to me; I really do. And I just want her out of my life."

What if the judge orders her to live with the Twiggs? "I would not do it," she says. "I'd chain myself up to the desk, and I would sit on strike, and I'd say, `No way!' "

And what if the case drags on in appeals and her life remains in limbo until her childhood is gone?

"I'd take a boat out to the Bermuda Triangle and get lost."