There’s this place around the corner from you, seemingly insignificant but home to a house of horrors. It’s a place where the same therapists, doctors, and teachers who are legally required to report suspected child abuse are not allowed to rescue a child before more abuse occurs. Where truth is obsolete and right and wrong don’t matter.
It’s called family court. And I’ve been trapped there for four years now.
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Before I ever set foot in a family courtroom, my now-ex-husband had already been convicted of sexually abusing a minor. He was already a lifelong stage III sex offender. It was determined that for the safety of society as a whole, his photo, address and vehicle description must be released publicly for the rest of his life for all to see. None of this outweighed his “parental rights.” He was granted access to my children on the assumption that while he had sexually abused one child, he did not necessarily pose a danger to all children. It was easier to judge him for his crime than to keep him away from my kids afterwards. His condemnation happened quietly. Behind closed doors. Just months after he was charged with child molestation. But the family court battle? Years. thousands of documents. Hours upon hours of testimony. tens of thousands of dollars. Our lives torn apart. privacy destroyed. Although the Maryland State Police had identified me as so positively and presently in danger that they gave me a completely unrestricted concealed-carrying license. Meanwhile, I’m ordered by the court to meet with the convicted offender for dinner every Friday night so he can see “his” children.
It’s almost impossible to tell which players are the good guys and which are the bad guys. The same judge who smiles sympathetically at me is the same person who keeps arguing that “these children deserve to have a relationship with their father.” The lawyers are taking every penny I’ve ever had and some are encouraging me to deal with the perpetrator. I get a list of what to wear in court because the size of my earrings might speak louder than my ex-husband’s crimes. I was told I was too traumatized to make appropriate decisions for my own children. That it cannot be up to me to decide what approach to her father is appropriate.
People ask me how we’re doing and I say words like “fine” and “okay”. Because at best you just don’t believe what I’m about to tell you, and at worst I’ll be punished in court for telling the truth.
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There is no guide to follow, no map on how to escape these dark woods. Every day I sink deeper and deeper into the quicksand, my body and mind aching more and more under the weight of each step, not even knowing if I’m walking towards anything. Can my daughters and I do it?
My story is not extraordinary, as much as you may want to believe it. I’m not some mythical creature that exists thousands of miles away. I am your neighbor. Your sister. Her colleague. I’m the mom who hands out the orange slices at the soccer game. I’m your daughter’s Girl Scout leader, the person who volunteers next to you at church. I am everyone and nobody at the same time. There are tens of thousands of stories like mine, but no one wants to look at them.
I hope things can change. There are advocacy groups like Child Justice in Silver Spring that are taking on some of these cases and fighting for changes in the law. Several family court reform bills will be considered in Maryland this year. In fact, SB 17/HB 561 on the subject of “custody – cases of child abuse or domestic violence – further training for judges” has just been introduced. I testified before the Senate this month and will testify at Thursday’s House hearing.
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Legal education sounds like a simple question: relevant training endorsed by people in the child abuse and domestic violence fields and updated every two years. It is not unreasonable that judges, who have the power to determine what happens to children and protective parents in cases of violence, should be educated on what trauma looks like, the process of reporting sexual abuse, and the dynamics of domestic abuse violence and child abuse. How can they be entrusted with the enormous task of protecting children in custody cases without being trained on the subject? There’s too much at stake here. Nobody hires a nanny without experience with children or takes a child to the doctor without medical training.
I’m half free from my ex-husband right now, but not because family court saved me. He has been caught molesting more children and is awaiting sentencing after pleading guilty. It is difficult for him to demand access to me and my children from prison. But I don’t know how long this breathing space will last. And I’m angry that it took the physical and psychological harm of other innocent children to get us here. Beautiful little souls destroyed, their lives changed. And I think of the thousands of parents who have been ordered to hand their children over to proven abusers time and time again, and who have been ordered to co-parent those who later harm or even kill their own children. Although my ex-husband is still legally the father of my children and has parental rights, and his name is still on my babies’ birth certificates, I keep reminding myself that I’m one of the lucky ones.
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