Our bundles contained evidence of the wonderful relationship M and I had always shared - photos, letters, emails, and I even had a recent card from him for my birthday which was so loving and declared me "Best Mummy in the World" - how could they ignore this? Naturally, R would never let M send a card again - for fear of the truth coming out. I had again put in the recording of M crying down the phone saying he wanted me and only me, only days before R had alleged my son never wanted to see me again - before ceasing all contact between us. I had the former Guardian's interview with M where he said, "I don't want to have to say I don't want to see my Mummy." All of these had gone before the Family Court Judge, but I could only hope that the Appeal Court would show some compassion and humanity for us. I was sufficiently encouraged by the first Permission Hearing to believe that there was still a chance. Ron, however, thought otherwise.
That evening as we shared New Year with a family of new found friends in a small country house they had rented for the evening - drinking Prosecco, toasting another year and welcoming a more hopeful future, my father shared his own thoughts on our case with the family. He could not enter another year without thinking of M, any more than I could. He had his own special memories always at the fore, doing Sudoku together on the kitchen table of his house on the Island, cycling to the nearby lighthouse, taking him out in his kayak and letting him take the wheel of his RIB. He grieved the loss of M, almost as much as I did.
It was after midnight. We had just raised our glasses and now sat drinking coffee by the fire. He told Ron and Jennifer his own version of what had happened. He knew what Ron had told me on holiday but having had one reasonably successful hearing in the Appeal Court, he was convinced that even with Ron's prophesy, we still had a chance of reinstating contact at the very least.
Ron told Dad what he had told me. In fact he went further, adding other stories to those he had shared in Ischia. This time alluding to the son of a wealthy and titled local man. The son had allegedly raped two under-age girls and he had never been charged with either crime - because of his status and because he was - a Freemason. He extinguished our hope as he told us again that we would lose the case, regardless of how the first hearing had appeared - that I should give up now - hope to see M again in his adulthood and stop banging my head against the impenetrable wall of Freemasonry.
I ran from the room in floods of tears and went outside to sob my heart out. How could he be so cruel as to dash our hopes in this way? I did not want to hear this. I wanted to keep faith in a just result but the nagging voice in the back of my mind was getting louder - telling me he was speaking the truth - cruel as it was.
Carla followed me outside and we stood talking for a while. She was apologetic for her father's behaviour and tried to encourage me to rejoin the party. All I wanted to do now was to flee the scene and go back to the hotel. Dad and I left shortly afterwards.
Dad was furious that Ron had dashed my hopes so brutally. He put it down to one too many whiskies but I was not so much angry as completely demoralised. I knew in my heart of heart that what he was saying may well be true and regardless whether Freemasonry lay behind it, I may be in for the biggest fall yet - made worse by the fact that we had been given some real encouragement into believing that justice may be so close.
We talked well into the night. I was about to drop off the edge. Dad focused on his anger, me on my despair. Neither of us slept.
We had been invited to share a late brunch with the family next morning. I wanted to head back home but I knew Dad was right in insisting we face them. It would likely be the end of our friendship if we did not go back. Not because we had done anything wrong, but because of the embarrassment of the night before - for all of us. In the end, distraught as we both were and a little reticent, we decided to join them as planned.
Ron had clearly been given a huge talking to by his wife and daughter and he was apologetic for what he had said. I gave him a hug and told him that he had only voiced what he believed was the truth and no-one could blame him for that. He tried to retreat a little from his words of the night before, but I knew that deep down he hadn't changed his opinion one iota.
The family had taken on a chef for both the evening meal and breakfast and we were faced with a spread of Kedgeree and bacon and eggs that was sumptuous and well-needed after the night before. However, I had little appetite. There was further Prosecco for those who had the stomach, which I certainly did not. They had been beyond hospitable and conversation turned to happier topics such as publishing and poetry. Carla's Uncle shared a beautiful poem he had written and I was happy to talk about my own writing projects. The subject of the case was not discussed further but there was a strained good-humour about the occasion, as the elephant in the room was still very much present.
We set off by lunchtime and collected the dog en route. We were both exhausted. Dad was due to fly back to the Island three days later. First we had M's birthday to get through and to our total surprise Dad had been allowed a visit with M. Why R let this happen, was probably two-fold - on the one hand it could have gone against him to prevent my father, who whilst living on the Island posed no real threat to his plans, but he had clearly been advised by the Guardian that allowing the visit may be in his interests in regard to the coming Appeal.
Had he refused Dad contact with M, as well as myself at this critical time this may have made his further allegation of coaching by me look suspicious and secondly if he was going to cut my father out of M's life, he would have to come up with a reason. If he didn't have one, he would fabricate it but he would needed an opportunity to do so. Cynical as that might sound, I feared that this may be the last time my father would see M. I did not tell him as much for I wanted him to have a happy time with M. I was desperate to know how he was. Whilst Dad felt guilty for being able to see him, when I, his mother, could not, I was just glad that one of us would have some knowledge of my son at last. Dad had not seen him for over a year himself but he was nervous. Privately, he suspected, as I did, that R was setting him up for a mighty fall.
Chapter 18
Another world
M had a call with both Dad and I on his actual birthday, as per the Court Order. I was never sure if R would stick to it. He had not done so when direct contact was taking place and may pull the rug at any time, knowing that this would could only go back before the Family Court Judge who had placed me on a Civil Restraint Order - an Order that prevents people from making further applications to the Court. These are supposed to be given to those who are vexatious litigants and make endless applications, but I had only made my application for Contact, unlike R who had made at least eight applications to date. It was further evidence that not only did he have a Judge who was completely on his side, but she was going to make it difficult, if not impossible for me to challenge anything that happened following the hearing, a fact, of which R was fully aware.
I found the call distressing as hearing M's voice only made our separation even more acutely painful in many ways, but I would not have given up the calls for anything. I guess it was bitter-sweet for both of us. We needed to hear each other's voice but we were so limited as to what we could talk about it was like walking on thin ice. One word that R did not like, could terminate our calls that day and worse still forever. We were both completely at his mercy and I sensed that whilst M was still as loving towards me as ever and did all he could to keep the call going as long as possible, as I did, we were both aware that R was scrutinising our every word and looking for ammunition to pull the last thread between us, asunder.
M still sounded like a much younger child than he really now was on the few times we could speak. He seemed to revert to the time when we were together and he always sounded wistful and over-polite. There was none of the exuberance of youth that I had seen shine from him in his earlier years. Even when he spoke of holidays he had shared with his father and his father's wife, there was a lack of enthusiasm in his voice. He seemed to report events, rather tha
n really engage with the topics. I feared he was so badly damaged and oppressed now that he would never really be a normal child again. He might look like one to those who did not really know him as I did, but he had experienced so much pain already in his little life, that he could not have failed to be deeply affected by it.
M requested that he and his Grandad take a trip to Harry Potter Land. He had already been with his father and wanted Dad to see it. Dad would have taken him anywhere he wanted, even in his eighties and despite three heart attacks, he still kept incredibly fit and was always determined. He would never let M down, so long as he had breath in his body.
The trip was scheduled for the day after M's birthday. Dad had the daunting prospect of having to face R and his wife when he went to pick him up and didn't know his way around the area either. R lived somewhat out in the sticks in an old farm house and I couldn't go with Dad to guide him. I printed directions from an online route planner and he managed with a little difficulty, to find his way.
Naturally he wanted to see M, but he still felt terrible that he would get this opportunity when I had now not seen my son for almost two years.
I could not settle to anything that day. I cleaned the house for something to pass the time, but all I wanted was news of M and I both longed for Dad to return, whilst hoping he would not be back too soon as I wanted them to have as much time together as possible.
It seemed fitting that they had gone to a fictional land of wizards and witches - the evil Dementors of Rowling's books and the many dragons to be slain. Wasn't that how our life now was? A nightmare of goblins and evil creatures who had swallowed us whole and then spat us out in pieces.
When it got to four O'clock, I became increasingly anxious. Were they lost somewhere? Was everything going smoothly or had Dad taken the opportunity to say something to M or R that might land him in trouble? I had cautioned him against doing so, but I knew he may be tempted. He was so desperate to know if M was safe, as was I but to ask the question could be seen as putting M under pressure and anything it seemed, could be twisted and used against us, especially any mention of the circumstances that had led to the case in the first place.
It was around 5.30pm when Dad walked in the door, clutching a carrier bag with the Harry Potter logo emblazoned on the front. In it was a gift from M for me - a fluffy replica of Dumbledorf's owl. Even more importantly, there was a note. I had put together a Christmas stocking for M for Dad to take and he had written a lovely thank you letter saying that I always knew exactly what he wanted. They had only been small gifts, nothing extravagant, a few CDs, a new wallet, that sort of thing, but he expressed so much gratitude and love that I was deeply moved.
I hated the fact that I would have to use this sacred note, along with his card, in evidence, but I had no choice. They were the only things I had to demonstrate his continued love for me and as such, I would have to copy and file it for the Appeal Judges. I could only hope that they would be even a fraction as affected by them, as I was.
Article 8 of the Human Rights Act refers to people's right to a private and family life. How far removed was all that had happened from this? When every letter and photo that passes between a mother and child, things which are sacred, personal and special moments, must be scrutinised by strangers if you have any hope of proving your child loves you.
I felt terrible putting into evidence the copy of the recording I had been forced to make on the advice of my former legal team, of M crying down the phone saying how much he missed and wanted me only days before my contact was stopped forever. This had seemed particularly intrusive into our lives, but was now one piece of evidence that would be invaluable if we had any hope of convincing the Appeal Court Judge's that JS was wrong.
I had first played it to the Guardian as evidence of our close loving relationship, in addition to the wealth of letters and photos that I had already shown him that clearly demonstrated this and which he had so casually cast an eye over before, pushing them aside.
The Guardian, malevolently had played it to M, cruelly and needlessly and I believe, to deliberately damage my relationship with my son who had quite understandably seen this as betrayal. He would no doubt have been shamed by it and humiliated and I could not fathom how those who were supposed to have the best interests of the child at heart, could act in such a brutal fashion towards those they were supposed to protect.
Giles had been biased in R's favour from the start and had already had lengthy discussions with the former Social Worker. His timing in playing this to M had been hugely manipulative and coincided with all sorts of emotional tactics that were being employed by the other side to turn M against me.
The school were another source of prejudice. In preventing M from going to the Athletics event where he had been selected to represent his year they had further added to the growing sense that M must now feel and that R was so carefully feeding him, that Mummy was behind many of the bad things that were happening to him. How could he think otherwise when what was told to him was selective and always from a skewed point of view and I was given no opportunity to set the record straight or explain in any way? The fact that M had asked his form teacher if his mother could collect him and bring him home was in an email from the Headmaster and another piece of evidence on which I intended to now rely. The fact that both the call and the Athletics debacle had taken place only days before my contact was stopped must surely show the Court that it had been R's wish, not M's to end our time together. These events were in such stark contrast to what was being presented as M's true wishes and feelings. The school now were firmly backing R and even the CP Officer who had seemed so kind on the day we had visited the school, had altered her version of what she had witnessed when speaking to Giles. These were things on which the other side would rely most strongly to counteract my arguments. The fact that the school took such an unprecedented stance in their treatment of me, did indeed prove that Radix Malorum est Cupiditas - money has always been at the root of evil.
I wondered if anyone had considered the fact that I could have remained in Florida and kept my freedom, had I not returned to the Island to fight for M. I had come back knowing I faced an almost certain prison sentence on return. Did this not demonstrate to anyone that I would do anything to be near my son - even if it meant temporarily losing my freedom?
Looking back, I believe now that I would have been better to have self-litigated in the Family Court, even then. Not because I had any belief that I could do a better job than a properly trained lawyer, but quite simply because I could speak from the heart, knowing my case inside out on every detail and had the freedom to tell it any way I liked, not that it was always pertinent to do so. I do believe that you must have a lawyer when facing a Criminal Trial and I don't regret for one moment that I had been fortunate enough, thanks to my father, to have the wonderful expertise of our excellent Human Right's QC, Philip. For whilst he put up a brave fight and still lost at the trial, had he not won our Appeal against Conviction and had it quashed, I may never have been able to teach anyone again, child or adult and the stain on my character would have had far reaching consequences, even now. The fact that my initial conviction was still being used against me, was another gross injustice but paled into insignificance next to what we had since faced.
My solicitor's choice of barrister at that time for the Family Proceedings was someone I did not take to from the moment I met her. She treated me as if I was completely in the wrong and urged me to do penance for trying to protect my son from child abuse. I remembered the cold chill I had felt when she took over the case and went into a side room at the court to "discuss" matters with the other parties' lawyers. I had followed her in but was quickly asked to leave - I had made the cynical comment - "okay - wait until I'm outside before money changes hands." At the time I had being trying in some ridiculous fashion to cover my pain with humour, but perhaps I had hit the nail on the head. I am quite sure far more happens as a result of palm-greasing and backhanders th
an anyone realises.
I have a friend who is in the medical profession and has told me, off the record, that Court Experts who don't toe the party line are often threatened with losing their jobs or worse still being accused of child molestation or some other such crime that will destroy their career forever. I found this hard to believe at the time she said it, but if I think about how many of the so called professionals were first in favour of M and I staying together and firmly in our corner, had then done a complete volte face and supported R gaining custody, I now have to think that this may well be the case.
The corruption within Foster Care and Forced Adoption without parental consent - something that only happens in Britain, out of the European countries, I might add, is a practise that Christopher has long spoken out against but when one looks at how much money passes through the Adoption and Fostering Agencies and the pressure on Social Workers to feed the process, is it any wonder that so many children are taken and often those who are the best-adjusted and well-parented. Those children are easier to place and far more attractive to prospective carers and adoptive parents.
Once my father left after New Year, I felt a sense of extreme loneliness and isolation once more. I was still relatively new in the area and had had little opportunity or inclination to socialise and dating was not something I could even contemplate. I had nothing to offer anyone accept my pain.
The hearing would take place only six weeks after Dad went home, so I would not have long to wait before he would come back to attend this with me and give evidence if called to do so. Six weeks is not a lengthy period in the great scheme of things, but it felt interminable for so much depended on what would happen and we were coming to the end of legal remedies left open to us.
Mummy's Still Here Page 21
