An Aggressive Approach to Restraining Order Policy Reform: Threaten to Sue the State Courts Administrator in Federal Court

February 3, 2016February 15, 2018Moderator 28 Comments

Restraining orders are public records, and recent posts have concerned or commented on their publicity and the unavailability of having their traces expunged even if orders are dismissed by their petitioners or otherwise vacated. This post highlights the pioneering efforts of one Missouri civil rights lawyer to upset the imbalance by threatening to file a federal lawsuit.

“Unless expunged, criminal case records remain online, even if prosecutors drop the charges. Civil lawsuits [which include restraining orders] stay on Case.net even if a judge dismisses the claims, [Kansas City media attorney Jean Maneke] noted.

“‘Openness is generally a better way to clean up concerns about inaccuracy than attempting to put everything back in a box,’ Maneke said.”

—“Pending Protection Orders Yanked from Public View”

Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion. “Bullshit” is this writer’s opinion of the one quoted above. If you’ve been wrongly implicated in an abuse of process (or several), you probably disagree with views like Ms. Maneke’s, too, and believe that lies should never have been taken out of the box in the first place let alone engraved in databases and preserved indefinitely for public scrutiny.

Here are among what views like Ms. Maneke’s ignore:

Restraining orders aren’t criminal cases, so they can never be expunged. Even if a judge dismisses (“tosses”) the allegations, only Tennessee has legislation that affords a wronged defendant the opportunity to have the case against him or her erased from the public record. Many orders, moreover, are finalized despite being grounded on fraud.
Restraining orders aren’t criminal cases, but they’re not strictly civil cases, either. Acts imputed to defendants are often, if not typically, criminal (e.g., harassment, sexual harassment, stalking, terroristic threats, assault, battery, child abuse, sexual violence, or domestic violence).
Unlike in other kinds of civil cases, a restraining order judgment may be wordless and formed in mere minutes, and the defendant may never be heard from at all. (An order can be obtained in a county or state other than the one a defendant resides in, so s/he may have no practicable opportunity to defend.) Also, an order may be awarded even though some of what may be many allegations are never considered by the court or are determined to be baseless. An approved order is an approved order. There aren’t necessarily any qualifications from the court on the recorded instrument to indicate which claims it regarded to be real and urgent, which suspect, or which baseless. To a third-party reader of the order, then, the accusations that appear on it are taken at face value.
The mere title of an order may be prejudicial all by itself, regardless of the facts litigated in court.

The story the epigraph was excerpted from begins like this:

The client couldn’t stand it.

He typed his name into Case.net and up popped an ugly classification: “Protection Order: Adult Abuse Stalking.”

Who needs any more than those five words to form a conclusion about the person they were applied to? The case was dropped by the woman who made the accusation, but those five words nevertheless remained on the Internet.

The man was naturally concerned about the affect those words could have on his business and asked his lawyer to intervene.

[Bevis] Schock, a St. Louis attorney, [drafted] a federal equal protection lawsuit against the Office of State Courts Administrator. He never filed it, because four months later a Missouri Supreme Court committee decided privacy concerns trumped the public nature of this type of electronic court records.

Now pending orders of protection don’t appear on Case.net until judges grant full orders of protection.

The policy shift isn’t unopposed, but today “if the judge denies a petition or the filing party drops her request, it won’t ever appear online [and the] rule change is retroactive; OSCA scrubbed any previous ex parte orders from Case.net, including those involving Schock’s client.”

Schock said he spent 40 to 50 unpaid hours drafting an 18-page federal lawsuit against Greg Linhares, state courts administrator. Among other arguments, the lawsuit claimed the prior public records rule treats respondents differently than petitioners, because respondents are named online but petitioners are not.

The federal 2005 Violence Against Women Act prohibits states from publishing online any identifying information about people seeking protection.

Remarkable is that it takes the threat of a federal lawsuit to alert the courts to an obvious inequity. (Note, too, that finalized orders remain online, even though they may have been based on false allegations, and that even dismissed orders are preserved and can be accessed at the courthouse.)

The story is recommended reading. It notes in passing several facts about the process that are rarely observed, for example, that plaintiffs may file “seven or eight orders of protection” only to have them dismissed.

Under Missouri’s former policy, all of these dismissed petitions would have been visible online.

Unsurprisingly, a staff attorney with the Domestic Violence Unit at Legal Services of Southern Missouri is quoted as expressing the conviction that a “history” like this is indicative of true victimhood.

It can also be indicative of persecution by a venal and vindictive ex, vexatious neighbor, or fixated nutcase.

The So-Called Dialogue about Restraining Order Injustice and How It Might Be Redirected with Smarter Words…Like FRAUD

January 29, 2016July 9, 2023Moderator 3 Comments

Okay, first, there is no “dialogue” (or “debate”) about restraining orders. That’s a misnomer. There are uninfluential people speaking truth to influential people (occasionally) and influential people calling uninfluential people crazy (typically). That’s not communication, so it’s not a conversation. The only dialogues are between influential people talking to influential people (e.g., politicians with anti-domestic-violence advocates) and uninfluential people talking to uninfluential people (e.g., fellow victims of procedural abuse commiserating on Reddit). Uninfluential people who try to get the ears of politicians or journalists (the influential people) are spurned. (Uninfluential people who try to get the ears of anti-domestic-violence advocates are lambasted.)

There’s no inter-group exchange (except insults and sniping), so there is no “dialogue.” (One side, moreover, is consolidated, organized, and flush with cash, and the other is fragmentary.)

Case in point: I tuned in to an interview on NPR a few months ago with a man who had allegedly been falsely accused of some kind of abuse of a serious nature. I knew long before the interviewer said as much that the man being interviewed was gay and in a position of prominence. The man didn’t “sound gay.” I just knew he would be, because I know what victims liberal-oriented media are interested in and what victims they aren’t. False allegations against women and gay men of “social importance” rate attention; false allegations against hetero men and “little people” don’t.

No one of the influential party is comfortable saying people who allege abuse lie. It’s taboo. It’s “victim-blaming” (because, as you know, to claim to be a victim is to be a “victim,” ipso facto.)

Consider the first paragraph of a news story that was excerpted in the last post:

A man who was shot in a work dispute learned a few days later that a judge granted a protection order against him—requested by the man who shot him.

The journalist observes an ironic circumstance. It isn’t her place to comment, though, on whether the plaintiff of the protection order lied. The fact she cites casts suspicion on the process, but what the truth is isn’t for the writer to conclude.

No one in a position of influence ever uses the word lied. Judges don’t, journalists don’t, politicians don’t, and certainly no one with a political interest in maintaining the status quo (i.e., “anti-abuse advocates”) does.

Journalists and politicians can only say “lied” if a judge does. Judges don’t. If they dismiss abuse allegations, they call them “unfounded” or “baseless.” Use of the word lied would begin to cast suspicion on the legitimacy of the whole shebang (and someone influential might wonder aloud why “liars” aren’t being prosecuted). Judges and others are perfectly comfortable with the moral judgment “victim,” but the moral judgment “lied” is one they avoid. It’s a hot potato. It’s also a judgment that would require more investigation than some 10- to 30-minute drive-thru procedure allows (one might suggest the same is true of the judgment “victim,” but that one’s written into the law itself—which tells you the law itself is ethically compromised).

People who’ve been lied about who use the word lied, what’s more, are typically (dis)regarded as sore losers. (Even if these “sore losers” actually “won” in court, their accusers are still called “victims,” and the record of the accusations against them is indefinitely and publicly preserved, so whether they prevailed at all is an open question.) People who’ve been lied about who use the word lied publicly, what’s more than that, face being prosecuted for it.

This post is to report a trend the author of this blog has noted of late. Observe for yourself:

People who’ve been lied about are using a different and savvier word, one that has more pointed legal implications. Fraud is knowingly lying with the intent to cheat people and to cheat the system.

Fraud in the restraining order process is epidemic, and the process itself promotes fraud, because accusers, even when their allegations have a basis in fact, are motivated to sensationalize their claims to make them seem more urgent and be more effective.

Allegations spiked to mislead are fraudulent, because they intend to induce a false conclusion.

Words count, and it may be small changes like this in how people characterize how they’ve been abused that obliquely enter the stream of conversation and consciousness.

States that MAY Allow Records of “Protective Orders” to be Expunged…and Why They’re So Few

January 26, 2016February 2, 2018Moderator 7 Comments

“The consequences that arise once a protective order is entered against a person (the respondent) are substantial. Though technically considered civil proceedings, protective orders have a close relationship to criminal law. The consequences of having a protective order entered often include restrictions on constitutional rights in addition to financial obligations. Violations of protective orders bring about serious criminal charges.”

—Attorney Misha Lopez

“I have been fighting for 10 years to clear my son’s name from a false restraining order that [was] dismissed and vacated by the court. But to clear themselves, [officers of] the judicial system turn their heads to the wrongdoing and cause this young man to be [defamed], not able to continue his education, etc. His [access to] life has, it seems like, forever been barred.”

—Blog respondent

The remark above by a criminal lawyer on the “consequences of protective orders” echoes those of many other attorneys (which may observe that restraining order records limit job opportunities and can interfere with the lease of a home, getting government housing, or obtaining credit). I could find you a quotation along the same lines from a law firm in any state of the Union. The woman whose remark follows the lawyer’s, Lena Bennett, identifies herself as a “concerned mother who needs to be heard,” and this post is dedicated to her and her son.

A former trial attorney, Larry Smith, who knows the law in this arena better than he wishes he did, responded to Lena: “I doubt that you can get an expired order expunged in most states because the restraining order, although it has may components of the criminal law, is said to be civil.”

As usual, Larry gets right to the heart of the matter. The fact is there are laws on the books that allow a person who’s been convicted in a criminal court of, say, harassment, stalking, terroristic threats, or assault to later have the charges expunged.

But if a person is baselessly accused of any or all of these acts on a civil restraining order, there’s no legislation in place (except in Tennessee) to enable him or her to have the accusations removed from his or her public record even if a judge determined them to be baseless and dismissed the order.

Note: People who have actually committed crimes can relieve themselves of the onus of a court record (that may hobble their employment opportunities), while people who’ve merely been accused on an ex parte order of the court (30 minutes in and out) are incriminated for life without ever having been tried for a crime, and that, again, is even if a judge formally decreed them innocent and tossed the accusations.

The paper trail, which may include multiple false reports to police officers and registration in police and publicly accessible state databases, is indefinitely preserved.

(Let’s say you’re an employer screening a male job applicant, and you see a restraining order record on which a woman has indicated that he stalked or sexually assaulted her. Let’s even say the court dismissed the case as lacking any foundation. Will you or won’t you be influenced by that record?)

Excuses for preserving restraining order records, which emerge from anti-domestic-violence dogmatists, are anachronistic. Typical of the law, statutes are about 20 years behind social trends.

Consider:

The bill whose defeat is reported in the headline above would have allowed citizens of Maryland who had been accused of domestic violence on a dismissed restraining order petition to have the allegations completely expunged (erased). It was shot down.

Supporters of the measure argued that abuse accusations carry such a stigma that allowing records to remain public in cases that have been deemed unfounded unfairly hurts innocent people as they seek employment or housing.

Opponents contended that requests for protective orders are often dismissed because battered victims, usually women, are too scared or intimidated to pursue the matter. They said records are not expunged in other kinds of civil cases, even when allegations are unproved.

Never mind that these opponents are well aware that restraining order cases are not like “other kinds of civil cases.” Their implications are plainly criminal and highly prejudicial. They’re recorded in police databases.

A year later, another bill is proposed to the same legislature. This one wouldn’t expunge anything, but it would “hide” restraining order records from public view.

“Shielding” is possible in Maryland today and only requires a clerk to sign off on it. It removes the record of a dismissed order from Maryland’s Judiciary Case Search. The record still exists, however, and can be easily accessed by anyone who swings by the courthouse.

In the whole of the nation, as revealed by a Google search performed yesterday, these are the only states in which there are reportedly means to have a restraining order expunged:

Of these, only Tennessee has an actual statute (law) enabling a person who’s been accused on a restraining order petition that was later dismissed to move the court to expunge the record.

And in only a handful of states (again, according to a casual Google search) has legislation been proposed that would offer the same opportunity to their citizens:

That’s it.

What Can Be Done with Public Records, Like Restraining Orders, Arrests, and Convictions: A Tutorial for Judges and Everyone Who’s Been Lied about to One

January 3, 2016June 24, 2023Moderator 7 Comments

Court records are available for public consumption, freely or for a few dollars, besides people’s home addresses, telephone numbers, birth dates and ages, work histories, list of associates and family members, etc. Men and women falsely targeted for blame in drive-thru court procedures may be fined or jailed for airing information about their accusers’ conduct that’s far less sensitive than what anyone with an Internet connection and a credit card can glean in five minutes—which may include decisions against men and women falsely targeted for blame in drive-thru court procedures….

sniffing

Decisions of the court in public proceedings are public records.

Remarkably, not even judges grasp the significance of the word public. More astonishing than that many judges today don’t know the first thing about the Internet is that no one in government seems to think it’s important that they be instructed.

The conditioned imperative is blame…and the consequences be damned.

Billions of federal tax dollars have been dedicated over the past 20 years to biasing police and judicial responses to accusations of abuse, but not one has been earmarked to show judges how the Internet works and how the public records they generate may be used.

This post will attempt to amend the lapse.

Here are a mere handful of websites that peddle so-called “private” information:

What follows is a demonstration of how they work.

In the most recent fiction-based prosecution against the author of this post, it was ruled by a superior court judge that I violated the privacy of my accuser by discussing her motives online, and I was unlawfully prohibited from publicly referencing her in future. My judge was Carmine Cornelio, and here is what is returned (at no charge) if I enter his first and last names into SwitchBoard.com:

his middle initial,
his approximate age,
his phone number (a landline provided by Coxcom),
his home address (and a map showing where his home is located),
a tab that provides directions to his house,
a tab that leads to information about his neighbors,
the names of a couple of “people [he] may know,” and
an invitation to “View [his] Background & Public Record Information.”

If I enter his name into Intelius.com (again for free), his age is confirmed to be 64, and I’m provided with the names of five of his relatives, as well as his address history, aliases, and prior jobs he’s held (he’s identified as an attorney but not a judge). All of this is right there on the surface. If I cared to know more, here’s what else I could learn for a trivial fee:

Matthew Chan of Defiantly.net has recently chronicled the case of a New Jersey man, Bruce Aristeo, who was jailed for six months for “vlogging” about a woman who accused him of abuse after he was issued something called an “indefinite temporary restraining order.” The judge didn’t even view the contents of the YouTube videos his ruling was based on. I’ve viewed some of their contents, which are mostly satire and fully protected under the First Amendment, and they’re a lot less invasive that an Intelius report. Mr. Aristeo has been arrested at least four times based on allegations he says are false, and those arrests are all public records that may be pulled from an Intelius report, by an employer, for instance, or a prospective girlfriend.

Below is a screenshot from a website called BustedMugshots.com (a product of U.S. Data Co. Ltd.).

blurred mugshot

I was told by this man’s sister that accusations against him were falsified:

It makes me wonder, how common is this? Because my own brother had his girlfriend and mother of his child accuse him of rape a few years ago. He went to prison for it even though she later recanted her lie, but the case was already in the court’s hands and they wouldn’t accept her testimony. She truly ruined his life.

This certainly isn’t something a viewer of this record (e.g., an employer, a neighbor, or a girlfriend) would conclude. Significantly, also, this record is 15 years old. Court records, besides being very public, are very permanent.

Twice on the same page featuring the above record appears this search bar:

It encourages the viewer to look up the public records of yet other people. A button under the mugshot offers the viewer the option to “Order Complete Background Report” from the same “National Database” (called “Instant Checkmate”). The viewer is also invited to enroll in a service that notifies him or her of future arrests of the same person (“Monitor For Future Crimes”).

People, possibly on arrantly false grounds, are set up as targets for constant and endless scrutiny…to which they can hardly be insensitive.

While a line of text under the mugshot suggests a person can “Request This Record to be Modified or Purged,” here’s what pops up when you click its hyperlink:

It’s a tease. The website will only remove the record if it’s been ordered sealed or vacated by the court, or if the person it identifies has died. The blurb hastily clarifies that BustedMugshots.com isn’t out to blackmail people. It doesn’t have to: It collects fees from its advertisers.

This titillating “warning” greets the visitor to InstantCheckmate.com.

Besides advertising the services of Instant Checkmate, BustedMugshots.com advertises for InternetReputation.com, with which the notice above tacitly urges someone with a mugshot published online to inquire (“Protect Your Online Privacy”).

Observe the squeeze: Damning information is published (legally) for the person it concerns to see. That person also sees that anyone can access this and other sensitive information, and is urged to exploit the services of a company that offers to protect his or her reputation…for a fee.

(Summary in media res: A person may be falsely accused in a farcical “trial” and emotionally and financially devastated. S/he may be arrested and imprisoned based on lies. The records may be used to further maim him or her in additional prosecutions. And—and—the records of all of these proceedings, based on a fraud or frauds, may be aired publicly. But the accused may not discuss them defensively without risk of court censure. No wonder, then, that some victims of procedural abuse never want to leave the house and flinch when the doorbell rings.)

This blog concerns restraining orders, which can be obtained easily on hyped or fraudulent grounds and make defendants vulnerable to arrest and conviction for “crimes” that only they can commit, for example, sending an email or placing a phone call.

Vigilant response to any claimed violation of an order has been vigorously conditioned for decades (by the Office on Violence Against Women), and it’s not uncommon for people to report that they’ve been arrested multiple times for falsified violations of restraining orders with falsified bases (see above).

On top of all of this, the records generated by this mischief can be legally published or sold, and the government, besides, has its own public databases that may be freely accessed by anyone with an Internet connection.

These are among the reasons why principle must be restored to process.

*BustedMugshots.com includes this contemptible sentence in its disclaimer: “The data may not reflect the status of current charges or convictions and all individuals are presumed innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.” Sure they are.

“Somebody Do Something to End This Madness!”: One Commenter’s Appeal for Restraining Order Reform

October 22, 2015February 11, 2018Moderator 7 Comments

A comment Wednesday resonated with the author’s experiences of legal abuse and many others’. It said its writer’s life was trashed because he showed compassion for another. He exhausted his savings to help his ex-wife out of a fix, flying out to California from Colorado on a day’s notice. Five years later, having lived with the aftereffects of legal madness every day of the interim—which included appeals in another state, postponements, and a five-year restraining order extension—he says he feels his life is “over.” Of particular note is that the apparent instigator of the fraudulent restraining order petitioned against him was his ex-wife’s son; the son allegedly threatened to turn his back on his mother and evict her from his home if she didn’t comply with his wishes.

The commenter’s account:

[In] 2010, she calls me in Denver [Colorado], where I had a two-bedroom apartment, crying the blues that she had a big fight with her boyfriend, and requested to stay with me for a little while. I gave in as we were married for 23 years and had remained friends.

I fly out to San Jose [California] the next day, and we drive directly from the airport to U-Haul, pick up a truck, and are on the road in a couple of hours. Five days later, I move her into her own bedroom and put her furniture in storage.

Things went fine until she wanted this dog up in Wyoming that had some issues.

We drive up to get the dog and then after getting it home, I find out the issues—the dog would just pee on the carpet at random. I told her the dog had to go. She’s not happy, but we surrendered it to the local shelter.

Next thing I know, there is a knock on the door with her son ready to drive her back to San Jose.

Not a problem until two weeks later when the sheriff delivered the TRO [temporary restraining order] that stated I had to give up my guns and appear in San Jose at a hearing in seven days. “Why?” I asked. “Don’t we have laws in Colorado? Shouldn’t the case be tried in Denver?” Apparently not. I lost that argument.

I went to San Jose, had a 10-minute hearing in front of—what else?—a woman judge. My ex had a lawyer [thanks to] the good old folks at VAWA providing the funding. I [checked with] over 30 attorneys, and no one would touch the case pro bono (she took any spare money I had moving her).

Then we found out that she can talk to me; I just can’t talk to her (great system).

We found a way to communicate…through the Internet on one of those game shows. We would pass notes back and forth. She did not have a problem with that. The son found out and over his IPhone requested an extension on the court order.

Turns out, truth be told, that the son was the one who wanted her to get the RO. She never had any intention of doing such a thing. The son apparently was angry because he asked me what happened between his mother and me. I responded by asking him if he was sure that he really wanted to know the truth about his mom. Well, I told him the truth. I told him that his mother was screwing around on me every chance that she had.

That did not sit well with him. So here we are…RO. Every lie in that first and second complaint was written by him. He forced his mother to go along with it by threatening that he would not want her to be around him anymore and that she would have to move out of his house.

With all the postponements, when we finally got a ruling on the attempt to continue the first RO, which only had two weeks left on it, the judge, a new woman judge, ruled against me. She would not even let me speak.

So, long story short, after all the delays in between the appearances, I now received an additional five-year RO causing my total RO to be about 7 years.

I don’t give a shit whether I ever see her again, but I thought that this was a country of laws. There was never any violence between us. Yet this judge violated my Second Amendment rights once again.

So…lesson learned: Never even raise your voice to your significant (???) other. When she finds out how much money she can get out of all the federal funding, inclusive of cars, a place to stay, educational programs, etc., etc., she will come after you without a second thought.

The entire law is wrong. It violates [the First, Second, and Sixth Amendments, and probably others]. And the worse part of it is that any woman you want to date is going to plug your name into the Internet before she considers going out with you. Or her son or daughter or girlfriend will…just because they want to make sure she’s not going out with a “bum.”

My life is over. I have no social life [and] no place to turn. Not one lawyer will help. Not one congressman or senator will go against all the women who started all of this in 1994. And why? The only reason that I can come up with is that they don’t want to get “cut off.” They have no balls and couldn’t care less about what is right or wrong.

This is a bad law. I think if I remember the VAWA statute correctly, the phrase man or men is mentioned one time. I am for anyone who has any ideas on how to overturn this law and at least give us our “rights” back. I can understand it if you are a wife-beater or something like that, but the word harassment is so ambiguous. How can any judge make an honest decision?

Please, everyone, chime in. This could happen to you! If your wife gets an RO on you, you are in “the system.” You no longer will have a job, friends will shy away from you, and even your own family will distance themselves from you.

SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING TO END THIS MADNESS!

Please.

Copyright © 2015 RestrainingOrderAbuse.com

*The anonymous commenter’s remarks began: “I will be more than happy to pay any attorney to get my Santa Clara County, California RO taken off of the Internet!”

Judicial Incompetence and the Consequences of Restraining Order Rulings (Using South Carolina to Illustrate Why the Restraining Order Process is Pernicious)

March 16, 2015March 23, 2018Moderator 1 Comment

“Most magistrate judges in both Beaufort County and the state are not lawyers, and the county’s chief magistrate lacks a college degree, state records show.

[…]

“In Beaufort County, four of 11 magistrates are lawyers, according to Terry Leverette of S.C. Court Administration.

“Seven of the county’s judges were required to have a four-year college degree, because they were first appointed after the state changed the education requirement in 2005. Beaufort County’s chief magistrate, Darlene Smith, appointed in 1994, finished high school but does not have a college degree.”

—Luke Thompson, The Beaufort Gazette (Sept. 20, 2010)

In his article “Most county magistrates aren’t lawyers, but education standards are changing,” Luke Thompson reports that in 2010 “only about 13 percent of [South Carolina’s] 311 magistrates” were certified to practice law.

Standards are changing, he relates. The state’s Supreme Court requires that magistrate judges who rule on “check cases” be licensed attorneys (because decisions may levy significant fines).

This degree of legal competency isn’t, however, required to rule on restraining order cases.

“Are lawyers kind of presumptively better qualified to judge cases than somebody who has never had that background? Yes, sure they are,” said John Freeman, a retired University of South Carolina law school professor who sits on a panel that screens state judges. “Would the public be better off? I think probably the public would be better off, and I say that without meaning to disparage or degrade some of our fine magistrates who don’t have full legal educations.”

[…]

It’s not clear if magistrates without legal training are more likely to make bad rulings. Leverette said the state does not keep statistics regarding how many magistrate cases are overturned on appeal. [Note: few restraining order cases are ever appealed to the state courts in the first place.]

Freeman…said magistrates account for a disproportionate number of disciplinary actions. Requiring law degrees might reduce that number, he said.

(Ya think?)

The “check cases” referenced in Mr. Thompson’s story presumably have to do with fraud or nonpayment, i.e., money. In law, a great deal of emphasis is placed on money. Disregarded, however, is that “disciplinary actions” undertaken carelessly, like the casual issuance of restraining orders, can exact a far graver toll than some kited checks.

Restraining orders, what’s more, are no less permanent public records than charges of “check fraud,” and these records may be conveniently accessed by the Internet. The “public index” for Charleston County, South Carolina, shows just how conveniently:

Appreciate that the (mere) implications of the (mere) phrase restraining order or protection order include stalking, “terroristic behavior,” battery, child abuse, and sexual assault.

Finally, consider that petitions for restraining orders—which may cost men and women their jobs, security, and access to children, pets, home, and property—may be ruled upon by people whose educational credentials are nothing more than a high school diploma or a degree in library science, and that highly prejudicial and prejudiced restraining order rulings are available for public consumption (by defendants’ friends, associates, students, patients, employers or employees, loan officer, landlord, etc., etc., etc.).

Anytime and for all time.

*The story cited above was killed after it was quoted in this post. Here is a story about magistrates in Pennsylvania. Its reportage is similar.

“On the Receiving End of a Sociopath’s Lies”: A Professional Mom’s Story of Restraining Order Abuse

February 10, 2015August 14, 2023Moderator 8 Comments

The following account is reproduced almost verbatim from an email of recent vintage. Its writer is a professional woman and single mother of three with whom I corresponded last year while she was embroiled in strife—legal, medical, and emotional (a synergy of torments that’s been reported here before). The capsule version of her story is that she was in an abusive relationship (including violently abusive), sought a restraining order, which was dismissed on appeal, and then was issued an order petitioned by her abuser, which she reports was based on fraud, and which was nevertheless upheld despite her appealing it. She brought criminal charges, also. Her abuser smoothly extricated himself from those, too. The victim of assault is the one with the “restraining order” on her permanent record. She asked that I not use her name because she’s “terrified of the possibility of repercussions.”

In her own words, which more poignantly express the psychic trauma of procedural abuses than any I’ve ever read:

My active involvement with my sociopath has, mercifully, ended.

[H]e refused to accept a plea deal, he took his assault case to a jury trial, and he was found not guilty by a jury of his peers. His lies were, apparently, more believable than my truth, or, best case, the jurors didn’t really believe him but couldn’t find him guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’ve seen enough of the court system to learn that the truth is completely immaterial, and that the officers of the court will consistently choose the “easy” ruling over the one that is true. If the matter before them requires some thought, some extrapolation, some reading between the lines, and/or some backbone, forget it. The truth will be jettisoned faster than a grenade with its pin pulled.

I don’t really know how to describe how profoundly my brushes with domestic abuse/restraining order abuse/generalized legal abuse have affected me. In a few short months, a year will have passed since the criminal trial against my abuser took place. Four years will have passed since the whole odyssey began on Easter of 2011, when I walked into the police station and reported my abuser’s attack after agonizing overnight about whether or not I should do so. Imagine that—agonizing overnight about whether or not to report a crime! On some level, I must have known even then how very awry it all could go.

Let me just attempt to put this into perspective: I have lived through my parents’ divorce. I have boarded an Amtrak train headed for New Orleans at 16 years old in an effort to escape a miserable childhood. I have been scarred by the shame of being a high school dropout and then gone on to receive a college education. I have experimented with more drugs than I can count on two hands. I have traveled all over Europe with little more than a backpack and a few pfennigs. I have been robbed at gunpoint while working third shift in a Shell-Mart in Anniston, Alabama. I have scuba-dived off the coast of Honduras. I have watched my stepmother fight to regain pulmonary function after she was stabbed by a purse-snatching punk in the alley behind her home in Washington, D.C., only to watch her die an agonizing death from lung cancer fifteen years later. I have held a lion cub in my arms. I have lain helplessly in a hospital bed as not one, not two, but three premature babies were whisked from my body and transferred straight into the NICU. I have survived breast cancer, and then my mother’s untimely death from a hospital-acquired infection four months after my diagnosis. I have been sliced and diced and blasted by radiation. I have been exposed to, and treated for, tuberculosis. I have lived through bacterial meningitis and undergone a blood patch procedure after a botched spinal tap. I have been resuscitated with Narcan after being given too much IV narcotic during an acute episode of kidney stones. I have skydived over the Newport, Rhode Island coastline. I have loved multiple dogs and cats and then held them in my arms when it was their time to leave this earth. I have fought for my children and for myself against a relentlessly bitter spouse during a contentious, protracted divorce.

Not one of those things has affected me as deeply as being on the receiving end of a sociopath’s lies, and the legal system’s subsequent validation of those lies. There is no “coming out the other side” of a public, on-the-legal-record character assassination. It gnaws at me on a near-daily basis like one of those worms that lives inside those Mexican jumping beans for sale to tourists on the counters of countless cheesy gift shops in Tijuana.

I have sort of moved on; I mean, what else can one do, particularly when one has young children? But the horror, outrage, shame, and, yes, fury engendered by being wrongly accused by a perpetrator, and then having that perpetrator be believed, chafes at me constantly. Some things born of irritation and pressure are ones of beauty, like a pearl, or a diamond, but not this. This is a stoma on one’s soul—it never heals, it’s always chapped and raw, and if you’re not careful, it can leak and soil everything around it.

These days, when sleep escapes me, which seems to be fairly frequently, I often relive the various court hearings associated with this shit show. One is the court hearing for the restraining order that my abuser sought against me (and which was granted) based on his completely vague, bullshit story that he felt “afraid” of me—this from the beast that had assaulted me on numerous occasions, slashed my tires, and had a documented history of abusing previous girlfriends. Another is his trial for assault and battery, during which I was forced to undergo a hostile, nasty, and innuendo-laced cross-examination by his scumbag defense attorney in front of a courtroom full of strangers. But the hearing that really gnaws at me and fills me with an almost homicidal enmity for the judge overseeing it is the one where I was requesting a restraining order against my abuser, this after a particularly heinous assault in the days following my cancer diagnosis and my partial mastectomy.

That judge apparently believed my abuser’s bald-faced, self-serving, and absurdly improbable lies over my detailed, accurate, and horrific account of his behavior immediately following my surgery. That judge believed that a well-dressed, employed, and reasonably intelligent woman would drag her ass to court a week after a life-threatening diagnosis and major surgery just to harass her blameless ex. My memory of the surreal, humiliating, and completely unexpected ruling that day, made even more galling by the judge’s proclamation that he found the defendant to be “more credible” than me, is as grievously harrowing today as it was then.

To say that I feel indignant about it would be an understatement. Take indignation, add a dollop of pain, some hefty pinches of fear, embarrassment, and hopelessness, and a heaping dose of fury, and you’ve got a toxic mix of emotions that, if I don’t actively squelch them whenever they surface, could blow the top of my skull clean off. No amount of therapy can mitigate this particular affront; I’ve learned that the best I can hope for is some measure of containment. Kind of like radioactive waste.

I will have that prick’s bogus restraining order on my record today, tomorrow, next week, and on and on into perpetuity. I am a licensed professional whose employers require a full background check prior to being hired. I honestly don’t know how that restraining order was missed by the company that my most recent employer contracted to perform my pre-employment vetting. I live with the ever-present dread that someday, someone will unearth the perverse landmine that my abusive ex planted in my legal record, and that dread hasn’t lessened one whit since the day the restraining order was granted.

I understand that the existence of a past restraining order can be a valuable red flag for the police when dealing with domestic abusers and stalkers. Most domestic abusers are repeat offenders, so prior bad acts can help to establish a pattern that law enforcement should be aware of (though, confoundingly, these same bad acts are not admissible during any trial). Even though I’m not necessarily comfortable with the existence of a permanent registry of all restraining orders—both those that are sought and those that are actually granted (which, as you know, is what currently exists)—what I’m not comfortable with is that this information is available not just to the police, not just to other governmental agencies, but to the public at large! My height and weight taken while at the doctor’s office are protected by law. A hospital cannot disclose if I was treated there for a sore throat. But an inflammatory, defamatory, embarrassing, unsubstantiated, and oftentimes false restraining order affidavit can be obtained by whoever strolls into a courthouse and requests a copy from the clerk.

I don’t believe this registry will ever be abolished, because restraining order abuse isn’t “sexy” and no one thinks it could ever happen to her, but can we at least limit who can access this information and the circumstances under which they can access it? It’s mind-boggling to me. It’s just so goddamn devastating to the people who are unfairly stigmatized, and, call me pessimistic, but I don’t think these casualties will ever have a voice.

[Today] I’m working full-time at a job that I basically enjoy, and my three children are flourishing. I no longer feel that I am defined by my intensely negative experiences with my abuser and with the legal system, or that my life is being hijacked on a daily basis. I go days at a time without any of this crossing my mind. To say that I have “gotten over it,” though, would be a lie. A piece of me was lost because of this, and an emotional fissure was left behind, that, from what I can tell, simply cannot be fixed or ignored. My only succor is my halfhearted hope that karma is, indeed, a bitch.

Granting Anonymity to “Men Wrongly Accused of Rape” Is Not about Anything but Protecting the Innocent: Talking Back to Joan Smith, Chair of the Mayor of London’s Violence Against Women and Girls Panel

February 4, 2015July 1, 2023Moderator Leave a comment

“There is a scandal around rape in this country. But it isn’t about a handful of men who have been wrongly accused, no matter how justifiably angry they are. Compared to the number of cases that never see the light of day, their experience is, I’m afraid, a drop in the ocean. It is about the many thousands of victims who don’t get justice at all—and the main effect of giving anonymity to accused men would be to make that situation even worse.”

—Joan Smith, The Guardian (Jan. 7, 2015)

It shouldn’t require observation that the headline of Joan Smith’s op-ed, “Men wrongly accused of rape mustn’t be granted anonymity,” makes no sense.

Probably the headline meant to read, minus the word wrongly: “Men accused of rape musn’t be granted anonymity.” Disturbing, though, is that no one notices a difference between the two versions, so conditioned has the equation of accusation with guilt (and allegations with facts) become. “Wrongly accused”/“accused”—the distinction doesn’t seem to matter. The implication of that irrelevance is that they’re all guilty really.

In a democratic society, if anyone is a “drop in the ocean,” then everyone is.

When a reported case of rape becomes prominently publicized and then discredited, such as the “Jackie case” printed in Rolling Stone a few months ago, its female subject is not regarded as a “drop in the ocean,” and many feminist writers have exhorted their readers to “remember Jackie” whatever the truth of the circumstances might have been.

Why are purported victims of rape due compassionate recognition but actual victims of false allegations to be written off? Is it too superficial to answer, Because the latter are men? Maybe…and maybe not.

In a commentary in Time Magazine last month, Cathy Young makes a case for “A Better Feminism in 2015.” Toward that worthy goal, feminist advocates must start exercising their faculty for sympathy less selectively.

The perception of pervasive, one-sided male power and advantage can create a disturbing blindness to injustices toward men—even potentially life-ruining ones such as false accusations of rape. A true equality movement should address all gender-based wrongs, not create new ones.

The crux of Ms. Smith’s position is this: “The truth is that our criminal justice system is failing to protect victims. And the reasons for that failure present a very powerful case against anonymity for those accused.”

Her position, blame and the innocent be damned, in turn makes a very powerful case for apathy to the “truth…that our criminal justice system is failing to protect victims [of sexual violence].” False allegations impact the lives of far more than “a handful of men who have been wrongly accused [of rape],” and the deficient empathy exemplified by supposing false allegations even of rape do no more than cause some to be “justifiably angry” is why a lot more than some are “justifiably angry.” False allegations don’t merely rankle; they maim.

The tone set by writers like Ms. Smith informs the direction of social science research and legislation, and prejudices authorities and judges (especially toward lesser allegations with overtones of violence like stalking and domestic abuse, whose defendants—male and female—are most vulnerable to vigilantism from the justice system). It, besides, prejudices the broader public.

The vehement imperative to expose exemplified by Ms. Smith’s commentary translates to federal cases’ being made of mere allegations of harassment—literally. In the U.S., restraining order defendants, who may only be accused of “harassment” or purportedly causing someone to “fear” (in civil not criminal hearings), are registered with the FBI, as well as entered into statewide police databases, to their lasting detriment.

While it may be the duty of the state to respond to complaints of abuse, it is not the duty of the state to invite complaints, let alone to urge them, by exposing the merely accused to scorn and revilement. In a society of equals, no one is a “drop in the ocean.”

Restraining Orders Are Public Records

January 23, 2015June 17, 2023Moderator 18 Comments

It’s hard to tell whether this is a goad or a guarantee: “Find Restraining Order Records For Anyone Instantly!” Either way, it’s enticing.

If you’re dating someone and you’ve noticed how their temper gets out of control, before things go any further, check their record on Restraining Order Records. They might not have ever committed a crime, but if their name shows up on Restraining Order Records, you might think twice about pursuing this relationship.

Lawyers discount restraining orders as he said/she said matters: no biggie. Judges may also consider objections to them to be overstated—simply because they’ve been stated at all. These dismissals stand in stark contrast to the admonition: “Restraining Orders aren’t pleasant to think about, but the consequences can be worse. Check Restraining Order Records.”

Which appraisal of the significance of restraining orders do you think more closely corresponds to the public’s? (That is a rhetorical question, yes.)

The quoted material above is featured on the site PublicRecordsReview.com, which advertises the “Top Restraining Order Records Sites”: Instant Checkmate, United States Background Checks, Been Verified, U.S. People Records, and SpyFly.

Whether the returns from such sites can be relied upon is something the reader may investigate if s/he chooses; the writer doesn’t want to know. Whatever the case, however, the issuance of a civil restraining order represents a judicial ruling, and judicial rulings are public records. Here’s “why”:

Essential to the rule of law is the public performance of the judicial function. The public resolution of court cases and controversies affords accountability, fosters public confidence, and provides notice of the legal consequences of behaviors and choices.

[…]

The public in general and news media in particular have a qualified right of access to court proceedings and records. This right is rooted in the common law. The First Amendment also confers on the public a qualified right of access. In 1980, the Supreme Court held that the First Amendment right of access to court proceedings includes the public’s right to attend criminal trials. The Court suggested that a similar right extends to civil trials…. Some courts of appeals have held that the public’s First Amendment right of access to court proceedings includes both criminal and civil cases (Timothy Reagan, “Sealing Court Records and Proceedings: A Pocket Guide”).

Although they’re civil instruments, restraining orders are associated with violent or otherwise criminally deviant behavior, so they’re recorded and preserved in statewide police databases and the FBI’s National Crime Information Center (NCIC) database, which private investigator Brian Willingham calls the “closest thing to a nationwide criminal records check in the United States today” (italics added). They’re also recorded (virtually in perpetuity) at their courthouses of origin. Defendants named on domestic violence restraining orders may furthermore be entered into a domestic violence (specific) registry, possibly even if a temporary order against them is dismissed. The potential consequences to employment and even employability in certain fields could hardly be more obvious.

A profession as mundane as “substitute teacher” requires that its applicants undergo an FBI background check, and any interviewer may, of course, simply ask if a prospective employee has “ever been the subject of a restraining order.”

Ease of access to restraining order records by the general public differs from state to state. In Indiana, for example, it just takes an Internet connection. In other states, records aren’t as conveniently scrutinized.

That doesn’t, however, mean they’re inaccessible.

The animus behind advocacy for restraining orders is the animus behind all law related to violence against women. Whether advocates are anti-rape or anti-domestic-violence, the argument is the same: that the accused must be exposed so that (female) victims of violence will be encouraged to come forward. Publicity isn’t just incidental; it’s demanded.

Superficially, the demand isn’t without sympathy.

Restraining orders, however, are adjudicated in civil court. That means they’re matters instigated by private citizens whose allegations aren’t (necessarily) vetted by the authorities or by government prosecutors. They are, very literally, he said/she said prosecutions. Temporary restraining orders may be obtained in minutes based only on finger-pointing and feelings (“I’m afraid”), or on testimony that’s significantly or totally false (or even maliciously fabricated). The evidentiary bar is so low as to be skipped over—tra-la-la—and judicial bias is endemic and may even be mandated.

Elaine Epstein, former president of the Massachusetts Bar Association, famously observed decades ago, “Everyone knows restraining orders…are granted to virtually all who apply.”

The situation that obtains then is one of damning documents’ being generated on the basis of one or two protestations of fear or danger made to prejudiced judges in mere minutes-long procedures whose rulings are recorded indefinitely in public databases that any teen with a laptop and Daddy’s credit card can poke a zitty nose into from McDonald’s.

Restraining Order Registries: Using Indiana’s Policies to Expose Government’s Abuse of Its Citizens

September 19, 2014February 8, 2018Moderator Leave a comment

One of the thrusts of the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) has been to establish public restraining order registries like those that identify sex offenders.

To underscore the inappropriateness of equating restraining order recipients with sex offenders, appreciate that the latter (sex offenders) have been tried and convicted in criminal court, and the former (restraining order defendants) have typically been labeled “offenders” according to civil criteria.

You’ve heard the phrases “innocent until proven guilty” and “proof beyond a reasonable doubt”? These don’t apply.

The usual “standard” applied to restraining order adjudications is “preponderance of the evidence,” according to which if a judge feels, on the force of a plaintiff’s testimony, that there’s a 51% probability that s/he’s mostly telling the truth, a restraining order should be awarded.

Often no ascertainable evidence is required at all to substantiate allegations ranging from pestering to physical or sexual assault. A mere claim of abuse or apprehension may be sufficient.

Restraining orders are largely approved according to judicial discretion. Judges are authorized to reckon the truth based on brief interviews with accusers (the accused are just names on forms). Judicial predisposition, furthermore, has been conditioned by federal cash inducements under VAWA to favor those pointing fingers. (These inducements are in the form of grants issued to courts in return for having their judges and staff “educated” about how to regard restraining order plaintiffs’ accusations.)

Note: restraining order proceedings are concluded in minutes, and there are no juries (or even anyone looking over judges’ shoulders). The game is played by house rules.

Despite the dubiousness of restraining order rulings vis-à-vis criminal rulings, however, it’s deemed just not only to enter the names of restraining order recipients in state and national police databases (indefinitely) but to enter them in conveniently accessible public registries (also indefinitely) the way sex offenders’ names are.

This isn’t a universal policy, but unquestionably were certain political interests to be given their way (and they increasingly have been in recent decades), it would be universal policy.

Recent reading I’ve done almost prompted me to take back past statements on this blog that public registries make finding out who’s received a restraining order “enticing” or “alluring.” Several state registries I’ve learned of limit registry access to specific government agencies, staff and officers of the court, and the like.

Some, however, don’t. Their registries are public in the most literal sense.

Here, for example, is what Indiana’s registry website looks like:

Every Indianan who’s been issued a “protective order” or “no contact order” since July 1, 2009 is recorded in this registry, including the ones whose cases were dismissed, that is, even those found “innocent” of the allegations against them are “outed” as having been accused of stalking, perhaps, or domestic violence or sexual assault. Browsers’ imaginations are free to take wing.

This search engine is simple to use. A restraining order recipient’s employer, landlord, student, client, patient, neighbor, girl- or boyfriend, etc. can perform a search in seconds—and as the headnote helpfully explains, “more information about cases” can be obtained by contacting the county clerk’s office.

Consider for a moment what the justification for a database like this could be. It doesn’t do anything to “protect” the plaintiffs of restraining orders. Therefore the justification must be to “protect” the public. Implicit then in the existence of such a database is that restraining order defendants are “dangerous.” Recall the basis upon which the determination of “dangerousness” was formed in the first place: a five-minute interview. Appreciate, too, that a restraining order recipient registered in a database like this may have been condemned for text messaging someone who resented the contact. And, as should go without saying, s/he may have been condemned on completely false allegations.

A process that’s highly prejudiced and answerable to no oversight is also highly punitive. Restraining order defendants are implicated according to kangaroo procedures whose rulings their noses are then rubbed in everlastingly.

Defendants often have mere days to respond to restraining orders, which can make procuring an attorney’s aid impossible even if defendants grasp the need for representation and can afford to shell out a few thousand at the drop of a hat. Appeals hearings, moreover, may be 30 minutes or less in duration (and only half that time is afforded to defendants’ testimony).

The process is a lock, but rulings are represented as the products of diligence and deliberation—and the public takes those rulings seriously, rulings that Indiana legitimates and publishes in a conveniently accessible database.

Here’s what returns look like if you simply enter the last name Jones into Indiana’s registry search engine:

Only half of the orders on the first page this search pulled up were actually finalized. The other half were tossed—after previously having been approved. The judicial error rate reflected in this random sampling is 50%. This statistic’s economic ($) implications are disgraceful by themselves. If you further allow that some of the restraining orders that were upheld were cases of false allegations’ succeeding, then judicial error is the norm.

A few months ago, a friend joked to me that her daughter (a smart cookie) had researched her teachers’ criminal records to use as leverage in the event of a grade crisis.

Arizona, blessedly, doesn’t yet have a nifty resource like Indiana’s for teenaged blackmailers to mine.

Battering Women to Protect Battered Women: Using Massachusetts’s Policies to Examine Restraining Order Publicity and Its Damages

September 10, 2014June 20, 2023Moderator Leave a comment

“In the event a Restraining Order is issued for any period of time (initial 10 days or subsequent extension/dismissal), you will be listed in the statewide Domestic Violence Registry system. This could impact your ability to obtain or maintain employment in government, law enforcement, certain medical fields, or social services, or to work with/coach children. Impoundment of the restraining order does not expunge your listing on the statewide domestic violence registry, as certain government agencies and private companies with significant government contracts still have access to the registry system.”

—“Massachusetts Restraining Orders Procedure and Ramifications”

I’ve just been corresponding with a Florida woman named Ally who had a domestic violence (209A) protection order petitioned against her in Massachusetts alleging she was a danger to a former boyfriend (these kinds of instruments can be obtained by plaintiffs who don’t even live in the same state or country as their defendants).

Ally contends the allegations against her are false and has been living in hell for over a year.

She’s surviving day to day and can’t afford to procure the services of an attorney. Ally’s trying to defend herself and clear her name with no money and from another time zone. She’s preparing a motion on her own (very possibly ill-fated) to request that the order against her be expunged, because it has ruined her employability.

Note: As the epigraph explains, even were Ally to succeed in having the order simply dismissed (which is itself unlikely), she would still remain registered as a domestic abuser.

From a draft of Ally’s “Motion to Expunge”:

Defendant was refused jobs, [is] not allowed to attend [or] volunteer [at] her daughter’s school events, [and has had] numerous other rights taken away due to Plaintiff’s Abuse of Process and Fraudulent Allegations and written Affidavit to the Court. This continues today.

Note: To successfully combat prosecutions like this requires money…which prosecutions like this prevent their defendants from earning.

A recent post on this blog observed the court’s schizophrenic regard toward restraining orders. On the one hand, they’re viewed by judges as urgent, potentially life-or-death matters; on the other hand, they’re viewed as inconsequential as long as defendants mind their prohibitions for the prescribed period of time.

Ignored is that adjudications both initiated and finalized in minutes yield rulings that are entered into state and national law enforcement databases indefinitely. Orders become “inactive” once they expire, but they don’t disappear. A woman like Ally remains for the rest of her life marked as a perpetrator of domestic violence.

In contrast—and the contrast is a telling one—consider this excerpt from a “Memoradum” issued by the Massachusetts Supreme Court last year on “Internet Dissemination of Personal Protection Order Information.”

As transparency and improved access remain court goals, it is important that we not unknowingly or unintentionally release victims’ personally identifiable information through the Internet, recognizing that this information is easily accessed and that access to such information could be dangerous to victims. Additionally, it has been brought to our attention that current federal law prohibits providing information over the Internet about personal protection orders (PPOs) that would be likely to reveal the identity or location of the petitioner (“PPO Information”).

18 USC 2265(d)(3) states:

A State, Indian tribe, or territory shall not make available publicly on the Internet any information regarding the registration, filing of a petition for, or issuance of a protection order, restraining order, or injunction in either the issuing or enforcing State, tribal or territorial jurisdiction, if such publication would be likely to publicly reveal the identity or location of the party protected under such order. A State, Indian tribe, or territory may share court-generated and law enforcement-generated information contained in secure, governmental registries for protection order enforcement purposes.

The privacy of restraining order plaintiffs (who are nominated “victims”) is to be tightly guarded.

Note: Based on “determinations” formed in minutes and possibly based on nothing more substantial than accusation, a plaintiff is deemed a “victim” whose identity and privacy must be protected, and the defendant is deemed a “violent threat” whose privacy is accordingly due no consideration. After the term of the restraining order has flown, the “danger” to the accuser is assumed to have been resolved, but the accuser continues to enjoy anonymity while the accused must go on bearing the implications of the restraining order for the rest of his or her life, exactly as if those implications were a criminal sentence.

Only in the recent past, in fact, did it even become possible to remove a Massachusetts restraining order defendant’s name from the domestic violence registry if it were found that allegations against him or her were substantially or totally false. (Remember that such allegations are made ex parte in the time it takes to place an order at McDonald’s.)

Until recently, it was almost impossible to expunge a person’s record with the domestic violence registry once the initial entry was made. In the 2006 case of Commissioner of Probation v. Adams, it was recognized that a judge has the inherent authority to expunge a record of an abuse [from the] violence registry system in the rare and limited circumstance that the judge finds the order was obtained through fraud on the court.

Note: The phrase rare…circumstance (of fraud) is emphasized in the original document quoted above (“Massachusetts Restraining Orders Procedure and Ramifications”), which was authored by an all-female law firm (Mavrides Law of Boston). Allegations of rampant restraining order misuse in Massachusetts have actually been the subject of press coverage and at least one law review monograph, and one of the most outspoken critics of restraining orders, attorney Gregory Hession, practices in Massachusetts and has for many years reported that restraining orders are “out of control.”

The previous two posts on this blog were responses to allegations that those who criticize restraining orders and domestic violence laws are “opposed to the battered women’s movement.” Defenders of these laws are urged to ask themselves how Ally’s wanting to be able to provide for her daughter and one day attend her daughter’s graduation has anything to do with battered women at all.

They’re also urged to ask themselves how denying Ally these opportunities isn’t itself an act of brutality.

TALKING BACK to restraining orders

THEY’RE NOT JUST ABUSED BUT ABUSIVE

Tag restraining order publicity