“A Nightmare That Won’t End”: Dealing with False Allegations

June 20, 2013July 13, 2023Moderator 5 Comments

A person who obtains a fraudulent restraining order or otherwise abuses the system to bring you down with false allegations does so because you didn’t bend to his or her will like you were supposed to do.

To contest the restraining order (or whatever other state process was abused) is to once more defy the will of your accuser.

No surprise then that such an accuser will up the stakes on you. Defy subsequent allegations, and your accuser will escalate them further. This is especially the case when your accuser is female. It’s not for nothing that the (mis)quotation, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” has become immortal. (And it’s not only men who have to fear this wrath; women can be at least as vehemently and doggedly brutal to other women.)

It’s rare for a false accuser to relent.

This is partly due to psychology and partly due to how easily the processes we’re talking about are abused. Restraining order issuance, for example, pretty much follows a revolving-door policy: plaintiffs are in and out in minutes.

Once a foothold is attained, and the paperwork starts mounting in the plaintiff’s favor, she’s committed and feels ten feet tall, and the snowball begins rolling downhill on its way to becoming an avalanche.

One success (that first rubber-stamped round of allegations) assures that a repeat performance will be that much easier. And it is. Both police officers and judges have been “educated” to react paternally to allegations leveled by women, and the worse those allegations are, the more hastily they’re swallowed. Initial allegations once validated by a judge’s signature, moreover, make future allegations that much more credible and future judges’ eyes that much narrower.

Each added strand strengthens and sustains the web of lies and makes it that much more lethal a snare.

Any number of men and women have written to this blog reporting that they never had a run-in with the law in their lives, and now, in the span of a few months, they’ve been transmogrified into Attila the Hun.

And no one gazing down the tunnel from the far end—whether an employer, a neighbor, or a judge—can perceive that it originates with some calculated lies scrawled on a bureaucratic form: “Hey, can I borrow your pen for a sec? I’ll give it right back.”

Lies like these, upon multiplying like cancer cells and having as they do the full force of public policy behind them, can take over lives.

And, relentlessly chewing, chewing, chewing like the parasitic agents they are, destroy them.

Processes that are supposed to defend people from abuse provide liars with the perfect media to make their wildest vengeance fantasies come true.

Ordure in the Court: On False Restraining Orders and What It Means to Get One

June 19, 2013July 13, 2023Moderator 3 Comments

I’ve recently tried to debunk some of the myths that surround the administration of restraining orders. This post is about what it’s like to actually be the recipient of one, particularly a fraudulent one.

Among the uninitiated, there’s a belief that there’s some kind of prelude to the moment a constable shows up at your door. There isn’t. Restraining orders are as foreseeable as a shovel to the back of the head.

Constables, incidentally, are nice guys. Like process servers, they’re quick to assert that they’re just the messengers—and they are, of course: they otherwise have nothing to do with anything.

The motive forces behind the issuance of a restraining order are two people: the plaintiff (the person who drops by the courthouse to allege that you’re a fiend) and the judge who interviews him or her for a few minutes before validating his or her allegations with a signature.

Application for a restraining order is a fast-food process designed so that a plaintiff legitimately in need of urgent relief from a stressful situation can obtain that relief quickly and easily. The humor of this is only appreciated by recipients of fraudulent restraining orders petitioned by plaintiffs who are willful manipulators of a system primed to take them at their word.

Restraining orders are issued ex parte: a judge never sees or knows a thing about the person s/he approves a restraining order against. What this means in practical terms is that whatever a plaintiff alleges against you, no matter how damningly untrue, is all a judge has to go on. In other words, you’re guilty until proven innocent. And there’s really no ceiling on what a plaintiff can allege: battery, sexual violations, stalking, theft—you name it. (Plaintiffs who can’t squeeze all of their allegations into the blanks on the restraining order form are allowed to use a separate piece of paper.)

The plaintiff doesn’t have to actually prove anything. The burden is entirely upon you to discredit whatever the plaintiff alleges, and what s/he alleges is only limited by his or her ethics if s/he has any. Otherwise what s/he alleges is only limited by his or her imagination and malice.

Consider what your worst enemy might relish having permanently stamped on your public record. At the moment a restraining order is applied for against you, it’s a fair bet its plaintiff is your worst enemy.

Judges, who should know better than anyone the lengths people will go to to injure one another, have been instructed to react mechanically in the presence of certain criteria like claims of threat or danger. They don’t know the plaintiff. They don’t know the defendant. They’re often just responding to cues without letting much deliberation interfere. They don’t have to worry about professional censure, because this is established practice.

So. A plaintiff waltzes into a courthouse, takes a number and fills out a form, waits to see a judge, makes his or her plea, and more than likely leaves the courthouse feeling validated by the judge’s approval of his or her restraining order, regardless of whether the allegations on that order bear any correspondence to the truth. S/he’s feeling high and righteous (and possibly wickedly gratified).

The defendant is greeted the next day by an officer—at his or her home and possibly in front of friends, family, and/or neighbors—and served with an order from the court that may accuse him or her of violence, stalking, or other perversions and that warns him or her in no uncertain terms that s/he’ll be arrested for any perceived violations of that order. (S/he may alternatively be forcibly removed from that home on the same basis with nothing but the clothes on his or her back and denied access to children, pets, property, money, and transportation—for a year, a number of years, or indefinitely.)

It’s estimated, based on statistics extrapolated from government studies, that one in five recipients of restraining orders is pretty much the person his or her accuser has represented him or her to be, has pretty much done what s/he’s been accused of doing, and that whatever that is is bad enough that s/he shouldn’t be much surprised by a knock on the door from a person in uniform.

For the other 80% of restraining order defendants—recipients of orders that were either dubiously necessary or based on false allegations—their lives may well come to an abrupt halt. Recipients of fraudulent restraining orders, especially, may be traumatized by feelings of gnawing outrage, betrayal, mortification, and impending doom. The rhetoric of restraining orders is calculated to inspire dread—maybe so most recipients simply slink away into a gloomy corner. It reflects better on the court and its statistics if restraining orders stick.

Insomnia, persistent feelings of vulnerability and distrust, anxiety, depression, retreat—the stress responses people report are predictable and are ones, obviously, that can lead to physical and psychological illness, sidetracked careers, and neglected, scarred, or broken relationships. In most cases, restraining orders that do stick—and that’s most of them—never come unstuck. The stink follows you wherever you go.

Even the rare few who manage to extricate themselves from trumped-up allegations, usually with the help of a competent attorney, are never the same. What may have been an attention-seeking stunt performed by some pathetic schemer over a lunch break leaves a permanent impression.

Like a shovel to the back of the head.

The Real Obstacle to Exposing Restraining Order Fraud: Blind, Gullible Faith

June 18, 2013July 13, 2023Moderator 4 Comments

What most people don’t get about restraining orders is how much they have in common with Mad Libs. You know, that party game where you fill in random nouns, verbs, and modifiers to concoct a zany story? What petitioners fill in the blanks on restraining order applications with is typically more deliberate but may be no less farcical.

Consult any online exposition about restraining orders or a similar legal remedy for harassment or threat like the law against telephone (or “telephonic”) harassment, and you’ll find it’s taken on faith that someone seeking such a remedy has a legitimate need.

And it’s not just taken on faith by expository writers but by cops and judges, too, who’ve been trained to react paternally, especially to allegations of threat made by women—as, in the age of feminist ascendency, we all have to some extent by dint of cultural osmosis and conformity.

I mention the law against telephone harassment, because its ease of abuse was recently brought to my attention by a respondent to this blog. What this law is meant to do is provide relief from harassing callers like cranks, heavy breathers, or hangup pranksters—or to get people off your back who are threatening you.

How, you might ask, does someone prove what was said or exchanged during certain telephone calls? S/he doesn’t. Unless the calls were recorded, there’s no way a third party can know what transpired. It’s presumed that someone who complains is telling the truth (and what’s supposed to be presumed, of course, is that the person who stands accused is innocent).

The insurmountable unh-duh factor here is that someone with an ax to grind and no scruples about lying to cops and judges can make up any story s/he wants: “He said he was going to burn my house down!”

Now, let’s say you have to defend yourself against an allegation like this and what you really said was, “Hey, Sally. I just called to say thanks. That fondue you sent over was delicious!” And maybe you called back later to get the recipe. And maybe you really thought the fondue—or whatever it was—was revolting, and you think Sally is certifiably bats, but your sister said to be nice to her. And maybe Sally asked you over to see her collection of porcelain ballerinas, and you politely declined and inadvertently hurt her feelings, and now Sally feels spurned and hates your guts.

How do you prove you didn’t threaten to burn Sally’s house down? Or to eat her cat with some fava beans and a nice Chianti?

You can’t. The burden of proof that should be your accuser’s is yours. Justice, which is supposed to be blind, is instead blindly credulous: “Yeah, yeah, and then what happened?”

Restraining orders work the same way and are just as easily abused by wanton frauds (in fact, they too can be based on telephone calls). Police officers and judges have very literally been trained to accept the stories they’re told like baby birds awaiting a regurgitated meal.

Any number of people have written in to this blog whose lives have been highjacked by vengeful liars, attention-seekers, embittered (ex-)spouses or (ex-)lovers, psychopaths, or flat out predators. Many, targeted by the particularly and devotedly malicious, have even been jailed on false allegations. Their personal and professional lives have been scarred if not derailed or demolished.

They plan to sue. They plan to seek media attention. They plan to write a book (or, um, start a blog). Being vindicated from obscene lies validated by a complacent judge or earnest cop becomes their mission in life.

Sound mad? If it does, that’s because the same thing hasn’t happened to you.

Some Myths about Restraining Orders

May 29, 2013July 13, 2023Moderator Leave a comment

FALSE: Restraining orders are mostly sought against batterers.

Redress of domestic violence was the original impetus behind the conception of restraining orders 30 years ago. Today, however, violence is seldom a factor in restraining order cases. This isn’t because violence has been stamped out—far from it—but because relative to the vast number of restraining orders petitioned from our courts each year in which violence plays no part at all, those involving violence or allegations of violence are few. As many restraining orders may now be based on Facebook annoyances as on domestic assault.

FALSE: Restraining order fraud happens only occasionally.

Fraud of a greater or lesser kind is probably more the rule than the exception. Allegations made on restraining orders are rarely without a subjective element: I feel harassed, I feel afraid, I feel in danger. Judges are responding more like advice columnists when they sign off on restraining orders than they are like criminal scientists, that is, they’re responding to alleged emotional states more than anything concrete. “I feel afraid” may in fact be the only allegation needed for an applicant to have a restraining order approved. Disregarding whether this assertion should be sufficient grounds for a restraining order’s being issued, allegations of fear can be falsified, obviously, or greatly exaggerated to mask any number of ulterior motives. Maybe someone is really just peeved and feeling spiteful. Maybe one domestic partner has designs on the other’s property or wants to gain sole custody of the kids. Maybe a dissatisfied boyfriend or girlfriend doesn’t want to make a difficult break-up call. Maybe an adulterer doesn’t want news of an affair getting back to his or her spouse. Maybe someone has a pathological need for attention (“Save me!”). Or maybe someone just wants to trash someone else’s life for the sheer wicked satisfaction of it. Neither restraining order applications nor their applicants receive any special scrutiny. An applicant is in and out of the courthouse door in less than an hour. And most of that time is spent filling out the form(s) and hanging around to rap with a judge for five or 10 minutes.

FALSE: Only residents of trailer parks receive restraining orders.

Restraining orders are issued to people in all economic brackets and fields of employ and who have achieved any level of scholastic or professional success. Those who’ve responded to this blog over the past two years are people with advanced degrees (and students seeking them), teachers, police officers, attorneys, public officials, and businessmen and -women, among others. In fact most respondents who allege they’re victims of false restraining orders are both highly sensitive and highly literate.

FALSE: Only guttersnipes defraud the courts to obtain restraining orders.

Casual lying or sensationalizing of allegations cuts across all economic and social divides. Truly committal and calculated lying, though, seems more common among the intelligent, educated, and socially successful—whose credentials, moreover, make a fraud that much more plausible in the eyes of a judge. Remember we’re talking here about a five- or 10-minute screen test. A successful performance in a restraining order interview doesn’t have to be Oscar-worthy. With intelligence, education, and social success, also, come a surer faith in one’s personal value and entitlement to special treatment. The greater someone’s sense of entitlement, the greater his or her sense of being above the law. Movers and shakers are accustomed to viewing others as competitors who either need to be wooed, subdued, or eliminated. Cut-throat comes easier and more naturally to them than it does to soccer moms. The politically oriented are more practiced at, adept at, and indifferent to lying to achieve their desired ends. They perceive life and the manipulation of others as a game.

FALSE: The issuance of restraining orders is fact/evidence-based.

Though they invariably criminalize their recipients by mere implication, restraining orders are civil not criminal instruments. Consequently no standard of proof is applied to them at all. Because they’re issued ex parte, furthermore, their sole basis is the word of their applicants and those applicants’ representations/interpretations of whatever evidence they may provide to the judge during a few-minute interview. Restraining order recipients are completely in the dark until a constable shows up on the lawn, and if they don’t immediately appeal, no contradictory testimony or evidence is so much as heard by the court, let alone considered. A judge doesn’t even know what the person looks like whom s/he’s issued a restraining order against.

FALSE: Having a restraining order on your record is no biggie.

Restraining orders routinely implicate their recipients as serial harassers, violent threats, sexual deviants, and stalkers (in sum, sickos). Allegations of this sort don’t have to be made explicitly; there are little tick boxes on the forms that allow them to be made implicitly. And just the phrase restraining order conveys these connotations, irrespective of what’s alleged. Not only are restraining orders public record and subject to discovery by employers or would-be employers, significant others, authorities, and officers of the court; there are also movements afoot to have restraining order recipients cataloged in registries like sex offenders, and some such registries already exist. These registries don’t just make the names of restraining order recipients conveniently available to the public; they make finding them out enticing. Those falsely accused on restraining orders of the behaviors identified above are psychologically traumatized and may be indefinitely tormented by fraudulent allegations that endure on public record to corrupt all aspects of their lives, in extreme cases causing social isolation tantamount to false imprisonment. Respondents to this blog have wondered if they’re allowed to relocate, to travel, to do volunteer work, to become police officers, to adopt, or even to talk to other people.

I’ll debunk other misconceptions concerning restraining orders in time, possibly by making additions to this post. One of the most common of these is manifested in the question, “Why would someone lie to get a restraining order?” Below is a brief response to this question lifted from this blog’s Q & A page (see also here):

There are many [reasons]. Here are some: to spitefully subject the defendant to public humiliation and/or to ruin him or her personally or professionally (petty revenge), to gain custody of children or possession of property from a domestic partner, to terminate an illicit relationship (or gag an extramarital friend or lover so s/he feels intimidated and can’t speak to your spouse), to lame or discredit a romantic or business rival (exes’ new spouses or love interests are popular targets), to gain power or leverage over someone (stalkers have obtained restraining orders against their victims), or simply to get attention.

In short, there are no limits on the ways people can suck when they’re handed a golden ticket to.

“Do I Need a Lawyer?”: On Combating Restraining Orders

May 28, 2013February 12, 2018Moderator 7 Comments

nutcracker
“Do I need a lawyer?” is a question that commonly brings restraining order defendants to this blog and other sites like it.

No one wants to shell out thousands for an attorney to bat away allegations made on a restraining order that may have been concocted in a fit of pique by an embittered friend, a jealous ex, or a crazy neighbor. Too, it’s often the case that allegations leveled by restraining order plaintiffs are of a kind no one wants to advertise to strangers, let alone friends and family. Just the implications of the phrase restraining order are enough to make most people recoil.

I know someone who applied to the mayor for a character reference after she was falsely accused of domestic violence—on a restraining order—by a married friend she’d briefly renewed an association with. Sounds insane, right? The judge ultimately tossed the case after observing that the allegation wasn’t even applicable, because the plaintiff and the defendant weren’t in a domestic relationship. But that didn’t cause a judge any hesitation in approving the restraining order in the first place, and imagine what it cost this woman emotionally to have to explain the matter and ask for help. Imagine further if she had been a he, and you can appreciate the horror of fighting these kinds of allegations, which are validated by judges on a modicum of evidence, if any, and which neither cost nor risk their plaintiffs anything to make. Restraining orders are cheap or free to get, and no one is ever actually jailed for lying to get them.

I did a quick scan today of top Google returns for the term “lying to the court.” Most commenters weighed in that lying = perjury, which is a crime, so beware. It’s true that lying about a material fact in court (a fact, that is, that’s likely to influence a judge’s opinion) is a statutory crime. A felony, no less. Equally true, though, and much more pertinent is that lying isn’t prosecuted. So there’s nothing really for a fraudulent plaintiff to have to be wary of except maybe a little embarrassment if actually caught in a lie (and most plaintiffs, of course, aren’t aware that lying to a judge is a crime, so it’s not even on their minds).

Someone who’s morally bankrupt enough to lie to a judge in the first place isn’t going to hesitate because of the risk of shame if s/he’s caught. Shame is an emotion to which s/he’s obviously immune, anyway.

In the administration of restraining orders, the ideal of justice isn’t given priority. Restraining orders are issued ex parte, which means they’re approved without the judge’s having the faintest idea who s/he’s issuing a restraining order against. The only person the judge hears from is the plaintiff, and hearings to obtain restraining orders are typically 10-minute affairs.

Talk show host David Letterman was famously issued a restraining order petitioned by a stranger who lived in another part of the country. The judge didn’t think twice about rubber-stamping the thing and moving on to the next applicant.

Defendants don’t need attorneys; it’s perfectly lawful for them to defend themselves in an appeals hearing. Whether defendants need attorneys to better their chances of a favorable verdict is a different question entirely. David Letterman, it should go without saying, had a team of them. And it should come as no surprise that they shredded the restraining order to confetti.

A cynical answer to the question of whether defendants need attorneys to improve their odds of beating a bum rap is that defendants who can afford attorneys are perceived as deserving greater consideration than ones who can’t (or who don’t know enough to seek counsel—or who are hoping they can just quietly make the whole thing go away on their own). This answer doesn’t jibe with the judicial canon that everyone should be treated the same, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Because restraining orders are issued ex parte, the idea that fairness obtains at any stage of the process is clearly dubious.

Truth and falsehood in judicial proceedings are, besides, very relative things. For truth to even exercise its power to dispel lies depends on how effectively a defendant can make it plain to the judge. As straightforward as a naïve defendant might believe this to be, it’s not as simple as stating facts that contradict fraudulent testimony or producing some evidence that’s expected to be conclusive. The judge might decide that that evidence is irrelevant or that the lie it exposes is immaterial to the case. Or s/he might decide s/he doesn’t like the defendant period. Can you lose a case because the judge doesn’t like you or likes the plaintiff better? Sure. Does that have anything to do with the truth of the plaintiff’s allegations against you? No.

Representation by an attorney isn’t a guarantee of success. The mere presence of one, though, will give you a degree of credibility you wouldn’t otherwise have. An attorney with courtroom experience, furthermore, has presentational skills that you lack. Restraining order appeals hearings are very brief, judges tend to be skeptical of defendants (particularly men), and even a self-styled Perry Mason may find him- or herself stammering and squirming once s/he’s in the hot seat under the glare of the judge.

There’s the possibility, too, that the plaintiff will have an attorney, and attorneys aren’t known either for playing fair or for showing mercy to their opponents. Some attorneys—gasp—are even professional liars. Several respondents to this blog, in fact, have had false restraining orders petitioned against them by attorneys who were ex-lovers or -spouses or—in one case—a parent. The restraining order process, more than any other, brings out the worst in human nature.

If you’re the defendant in a restraining order case, especially one grounded on fraud, get an attorney.

Now.

Addressing the Judge: What to Expect at a Restraining Order Appeals Hearing…and What Not To

May 26, 2013July 13, 2023Moderator 4 Comments

Judges famously tend to be an inscrutable lot.

Defendants who expect a judge to leap from the bench with indignation upon being shown evidence of lies by the plaintiff are bound to be disappointed.

Far more likely the judge will evince bemused or stoic indifference. You may even wonder if s/he registered what you said at all.

Don’t be nonplussed. This is how s/he’s supposed to act. Keep on trucking until s/he interrupts or redirects your presentation.

What you want to focus on is triage. Triage means presenting the points of your defense in order of importance (triage is a wartime medical term that means privileging patients with the best chance of recovery over those who are sure goners). What will positively doom you in a hearing is rambling, speaking off the point, or carefully qualifying everything to the extent that the judge completely misses what you’re driving at.

Don’t waffle or be mealymouthed.

Bullets. Present your case in brief staccato bursts. Everything should be short and sweet (so to speak). Time is always a limited commodity, and a restraining order hearing may be granted no more than a handful of minutes. People—and judges are people like anyone else—tend to remember best what they hear first and last and/or what’s stated to them emphatically.

Like bullets, everything you say should be pointed and intended to inflict damage. Pare down everything you want to say to its most elemental, and state facts in the light that most favorably represents you.

And absolutely speak to your conduct (or the conduct you’ve been accused of, anyway), because that’s what’s being ruled upon. In other words, don’t try to defend your own actions (or “actions”) by merely speaking to misconduct by the plaintiff like a little kid would: “She started it!” or “She’s a liar!”

It’s often if not usually the case that restraining order plaintiffs and defendants are lovers, spouses or ex-spouses, friends, or family members: people, in other words, who are or have been close. There’s a temptation, therefore, for defendants to explain the context of their statements or even to show sympathy or generosity toward their accusers. There’s also, of course, a tendency to feel betrayed, ashamed at being exposed to public censure, or humiliated by allegations that may be beastly misrepresentations of the truth.

Don’t yield to these impulses and emotions.

What you learn after you’ve been put through this ringer is that your opponent is going to show you no mercy and may very well lie heinously to ensure that you’re “defeated.” Even people you considered friends may turn out to be rats and side with your accuser and lie for him or her.

Combat analogies are very aptly applied to this process: the courtroom is an arena. “Bloodsport” isn’t a bad metaphor.

The judge is there to ensure that no one actually brawls, but his or her role otherwise is less as an arbiter or referee than as a spectator (who, like a Roman emperor at the Colosseum, gives a thumbs up or down when the dust settles).

Your goal isn’t to appeal to his or her sympathies; it’s to make a decisive impression. The judge’s impression will be based on your manner, composure, confidence, directness, and the cogency of your presentation, that is, how well it sticks together and how well it conveys your points (and, of course, how good those points are). The standard in civil cases is a “preponderance of evidence.” You want your evidence and testimony to have more heft and credibility than the plaintiff’s.

If the plaintiff’s allegations are a fraud, start by saying, “The plaintiff’s allegations, Judge, are a fraud.” Triage. Get the big points in—the general—then move to the specifics in short order. Directly address and contradict the allegations you can. The more evidence (“proof”) you can support your points with the better.

What attorneys do is this: they present their clients’ cases in the light most favorable to them (and most damning to their opponents), not balking at distorting the truth or outright lying, and ignore everything material that they can’t spin doctor.

I can’t advocate lying. Otherwise, though, thinking like an attorney isn’t a bad idea.

Translated into practical terms, this means a shove is an “assault,” a shout is “verbal abuse,” a demand is “harassment,” something that happened twice is “serial misconduct,” a touch is a “grope,” etc.: cold, cruel, categorical, and coarse.

Male judges have a chivalrous bent—and most judges are male—which is among the reasons why so many restraining orders sought by women against men are approved even on evidence or testimony that’s tenuous at best. If you’re a man defending yourself against a woman, bear this in mind. A woman can spout the most incendiary evil she can muster, and it’s not going to be held against her, because she’s a “girl.” Whatever a man counter-alleges against a woman needs to be presented reasonably and decently. He should choose his words carefully, avoid vigorous gestures, and keep cool.

If you’re a man defending yourself against a woman, you start with your hands tied and two strikes against you. That’s in the nature of this travesty of justice.

Bat with your head. There’s no surviving this process without some fractures.

*Unrepresented restraining order defendants, incidentally, should pour everything they’ve got into their appeals hearings, because the rules and expectations that obtain in Superior Court—should the case progress up the judicial ladder—are much more exacting and only capably negotiated by veteran attorneys (or shysters, a word that means unethical lawyers and fittingly derives from the German for “defecators,” because much of what comes out of their mouths is feces).

TALKING BACK to restraining orders

THEY’RE NOT JUST ABUSED BUT ABUSIVE

Tag restraining order appeals hearing