Charlotte's Web

Patrick Henry Flynn

Her name is "Charlotte." In the house she has always lived for her six years, she sits on a couch with her paternal grandmother who is reading aloud to her. Out of earshot of her professional, thirty-something working mother, "Ruth," Charlotte whispers in her grandmother's ear, "How's DA-DA? Is he alright?"

DA-DA is Charlotte's father. "Al" is a thirty-something professional, who married Ruth almost a decade ago. But as the result of two interventions-by the Department of Social Services (DSS) and the "no contact" provision of a domestic (Chapter 209A) restraining order-Charlotte, her sister, and her older brother have not seen, or talked, with DA-DA for almost six months.

"Not seeing your kids makes you numb," Al says. "I'm treated by the courts and DSS like I'm dead. Like I don't exist anymore."

It takes two to tango and two to parent, and they had a marital tiff. Harsh words were exchanged, and Ruth went to a doctor's office. On account of the acrimony at home, she complained to a licensed practical nurse, she couldn't sleep, and had heart palpitations, and her kids were "afraid and crying." A mandated reporter of suspected abuse and neglect, the nurse filed a 51A complaint against Al. She stated to a DSS intake operator that while there had been no physical harm, Ruth-and consequently, her children-had been emotionally abused, and therefore were victims of battered woman's' syndrome.

These elaborate, factually meaningless, stereotyped buzz words fit DSS's domestic violence protocol, which equates an accusation of domestic abuse with child abuse.

Moreover, this same assumption (spouse abuse is child abuse) recently passed the Massachusetts House of Representatives (House Bill No. 4951). And if the Senate votes in favor of the same bill, judges will be required to order parents accused of domestic abuse-and therefore child abuse-to see their kids only at supervised visitation centers, where they will have to pay $30 to $50 an hour for the privilege.

Learning about the DSS complaint, Ruth telephoned the doctor's office and asked that it be withdrawn. She was told that could not happen, and on Sunday, lying in bed with Al, she told him about the complaint; and the next day Ruth called him at work, informing him a DSS caseworker was coming in an hour, and that he had to be there.

Feeling his family was threatened, Al raced home from his office, told the case worker he did not want her "to take our children away," showed her the door, and made a flippant remark that business must be good because she was driving a late-model luxury car.

That was the beginning of Al's downfall and his "divorce" from his children. It took three months, and a Probate and Family Court judge's order to force DSS to produce a report. Because of DSS's cloak of confidentiality, the judge-but not Al-was allowed to see the accusations against him. The report was not written by the on-site caseworker; it was entirely hearsay. Yet Al was denied all visitation. And after vindictively sinking Al's ship in the divorce court, and ensuring that his kids would be victim's of a life without father, the DSS closed Al's case file.

A lawyer, meanwhile, advised Ruth that to collect child support (which Al had always paid on time and in full), she could file for a court order or for a divorce. And Ruth contacted a "crisis center," where, according to Al, advocates coached her. "Her whole speech," he says, "turned into litigation language."

In District Court, Ruth applied for a domestic restraining order. With her free crisis center lawyer, and without Al being present to contest her accusations, and no fear of perjury because there is an apparent "epidemic" of domestic violence, Ruth alleged that she was "in fear for my and my children's lives," and that Al "threatened to kill us," and that "he tried to strangle me."

The crisis center also provided a buzz word hearsay letter to the divorce court, stating that Charlotte, and her brother and sister, had been "traumatized" by their dad, and Al was taken into protective custody-solely on the basis of the unopposed allegations. Once he submitted to a psychological evaluation and found to be non-violent, Al was released to live with his parents and go back to work.

The restraining order was vacated-as the result of a case law decision that recognizes that restraining orders are routinely used to gain child custody-and the matter was transferred to the Probate and Family Court. Ruth's lawyer immediately applied for another restraining order. But this time, Al and his lawyer were in court seeking visitation with Charlotte and the two other children. This time they were prepared for a fair, contested hearing-for Al's day in court.

"Your honor," Al's lawyer said to a senior justice of the Salem Family Court, "we would like to move for a hearing on the evidence of these victim-defined allegations of emotional domestic abuse."

Apparently relying on Supreme Court case law and court administrative directives, which allow someone to be kicked out of their home, their name to be registered for life in an employment-crippling, statewide criminal "history" data bank, and not to be allowed contact with their children-without due process of being able to defend their property, reputation, and relationship with their children by means of an evidentiary hearing, the presiding judge replied, "Motion denied."

"Your honor," Al's attorney followed up, "may we be allowed to move to cross-examine the plaintiff with respect to her allegations to obtain an abuse prevention order?"

"Denied," the judge shot back. "And there will continue to be no contact by the husband and no visitation with the children."

"That judge pummeled me," Al said. "He didn't give me the time of day."

But Ruth's lawyer did. As Ruth turned left at the bottom of the steps at the Salem courthouse, Al went out and turned right. "We got him!" Ruth's attorney clucked. "Got him!"

The new restraining order prohibited Al from coming within a hundred feet of Ruth. Al was charged with a criminal violation-not of a law, but of a judge's order, which the District Attorney's office wisely dropped-but not until Al's reputation and his criminal history were sullied for life.

Ten minutes with a DSS caseworker whose nose got out of joint, and four minutes with an overwrought judge-and if Al and Ruth want to go to marriage counseling to heal their wounds, or go into mediation to resolve their differences, one of them will go directly to jail for having contact with the other.

"Once the State got involved with my family," Al said, "it blew apart the whole trust of the marriage. Me against her, that's what it is now."

And Charlotte is still asking, where is my DA-DA?

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