Life in the family court

‘I’m going to mute you both now,’ Judge Thain told two warring parents when they refused to stop talking over her. The mother and father of a three-year-old girl were attending a hearing at East London Family Court – but only remotely, on their mobile phones. That was not because of any access problems but, in the light of their behaviour at a previous hearing, to ensure the safety of court staff.

Thain listened patiently but not passively, intervening politely but firmly when they moved off the point or questioned her authority. Neither parent was legally represented and, apart from the judge and court staff, I was the only person in the courtroom.

As part of a pilot project, I am allowed to report the proceedings provided I do not identify the parties. When the mother asked why I should be allowed to cover what would previously have been a private hearing, the judge explained that family courts had been criticised because nobody could see how they worked.

From what I could gather, the father now wanted to build a relationship with his daughter. Arrangements had been made for them to meet at a child contact centre. In these ‘safe spaces’, estranged parents need never see each other: children can be dropped off with supervisors who keep an eye on them while they spend time with the non-resident parent.

What had happened since the last hearing in May? The father had met his daughter four times, he told the judge, but there had been difficulties. He had taken a picture of her but the mother had complained. He had brought his daughter a doll but she was not allowed to take it home. He had wanted to introduce her to his son, but that was not allowed. How could he establish a relationship with his daughter if she could not meet his family?

‘I was told not to come into the contact centre because he had brought his son,’ the mother explained. ‘I don’t trust him not to post the pictures on social media.’ Parents had been known to conceal tracking devices in a toy to find out where a child was living.

And how safe would the three-year-old be? The father had failed to provide evidence that he had stopped taking drugs – or a doctor’s certificate about his mental health.

It was understandable that the little girl appeared anxious when left at the contact centre, the judge explained. That happened when children went to school for the first time and her father was not yet a familiar figure. But she deserved to have both parents as part of her life. Contact centre arrangements would continue and the judge would review them in three months.

Given the parents’ mutual animosity, it was little surprise that they continued arguing in court. It was at this point that the court clerk was ordered to mute the courtroom video monitor. That was not a perfect solution because the father kept talking and the mother was unable to hear the court’s ruling. But family judges are nothing if not pragmatic.

A similar approach was taken at another hearing I watched. Judge Atkinson, the senior family judge for east London, was hearing a public law case about a child who had been placed in the care of the local authority. This child was now 17, which meant his care order had less than a year to run.

He had been deprived of his liberty for his own protection. A local gang was said to have been grooming him and he had previously been arrested for drug dealing, robbery and attempted murder. But now he was living at home with his parents and the local authority wanted to have the care order discharged. The parents did too.

Cafcass, the independent body that advises family courts on the interests of children, thought this was a bad idea. The boy’s parents were doing what they could with their 17-year-old but they needed help. ‘Who would they contact if he is arrested again,’ a solicitor for the child’s guardian asked. ‘Having a named social worker is a help to them.’

And Atkinson agreed. ‘He’s not in education, despite his parents’ best efforts,’ she said in an extempore judgment. ‘If I discharge the order, there’s a real risk he’ll be beyond the parents’ control again.’ The judge explained her reasoning to the mother, who was unrepresented and had poor English.

Nobody could be confident that this young man – who had failed to engage with his social worker and was not in court – had now put his criminal past behind him. But, like Thain, Atkinson had listened patiently to the arguments and acted in what was clearly the child’s best interests. And, in her court, the lawyers knew when to stop talking.

joshua@rozenberg.net