Chapter 14 – Round two in the youth court

With the appeal of the custody for the children my new advocate changed his mind on how he wanted to handle my situation. He handled the appeal on child custody court with the exact same documents he handed in for the eviction court hearing, which is my CV, qualifications, etc.

This same advocate vehemently said to me he will be “my voice in court”. Now he did not want to place pictures in front of the court of a 4 year old boy’s swollen and bruised arm and x-rays of his broken leg where a wagon went over him in the negligent care of this father. Also not the transcription of the conversation I had with the children about this incident. He was not going to put evidence into court as proof of the existence of this father’s rumour of liking little boys, or the testimony from my mother which states the incident she witnessed in 2009, as well as a testimony from my mother’s doctor stating my mother had discussed the incident with her at the time, because she felt upset. Not even evidence showing this father lied in several courts.

This father’s advocate, on the other hand, gave the court pictures of a knife on a cutting board and pictures of a stove turned on. Everyone can turn on a stove or put a knife on a cutting board and take pictures. These pictures did not proof in any way that in my care the children’s lives were put in direct, imminent danger. Unlike X-rays proving a child’s injuries after a near death incident, caused by negligence and inattentiveness.

But my advocate’s reasoning encompassed saying this in court is attacking this father. He now said this social service worker’s report is objective, unbiased observations and cannot be countered. Simply the proof of bedroom doors having no locks, while in this report it is claimed I locked my children in a room – proof he also did not want to put to court – made his statement false.

His reasoning further entailed: This report claims I have lost touch with reality. If I stand up for myself and the children, I am going to look crazy/mentally unstable.

My children were indeed taken away from me, because of me being proclaimed “mentally unstable” by this respected country’s court — without me having spoken one word in this court and without them having a medical certificate stating this. My “silence” was used against me by this father’s advocate when I approached our native country’s court. He made the accusation, “She did not make herself heard in this court,” and now she approaches her native country’s court. I did speak to the police, the social service workers and my advocate. They all knew what my children had told me, as well as the rest of the information. Their decision was to ignore me; a horror situation for children (without investigating or protection); and chose to discredit me with whatever they could grab at to prevent my testimony from being heard.

My reasoning entailed: If silence prevails and nothing is on record, who will benefit? Silence, secrecy and confidentiality are keywords and actions where abuse is taking place. This is simply a weapon of abusers, aimed solely for their benefit to avoid having to take responsibility. It serves only to protect the truly wrong and shamed — abusers.

So the decision this advocate presented me with boiled down to: being proclaimed “mentally unstable” by the court in silence, as has been done, or being proclaimed “mentally unstable” twice for giving evidence to the court.

On the day of the appeal court sitting, my advocate said he preferred me not to be in court. I obliged. He was not truly representing me, but only gave them my credentials, saying, “Yes, she can read. Yes, she can write. Yes, she seems to be capable of learning. Yes, these people in these testimonies say she is nice.”

My children, who spent most of their time outside in the field and garden when in my care, was now confined inside the house most of the time. Invisible boundaries had been put up. The clear target: Increasing the comfort, ease of living, minimal effort and work for the three little children’s caretakers. Of course the added benefit in these people’s hearts was the children’s mother could not see them and the children could not see their mother.

Their father carried on with his self absorbed life as he knows it. He simply left these children alone in the total care of whomever. Nannies came and went as if tourists.

My children’s voices and movements woke me up in the morning and my heart felt as if in a compressor. I heard them crying and screaming. I heard people mocking and yelling at my children. It made me feel like climbing the walls, wondering if my children got hurt or needed something. It compared to continual emotional torture. To prevent myself from loosing my mind I started using earplugs to minimised the majority of my children’s noise.

The children again walked to school with the “foot bus” in the mornings as they used to. This father was not at all visible on his bicycle, nor “exercising” or running with the children to school in the manner he did in the school period after I had gone to the police.

Around 19 February 2013 13h32 I heard my eldest child (5 years old) screaming through my earplugs. This was abnormal for him. Outside a nanny was pulling him by his arm onto the sidewalk and told him to walk. Through his crying he said she should walk with him. She replied no and said, “Walk.” Still crying he started to walk away alone down the sidewalk. This father stood outside the garage during all this. He did and said nothing, allowing the nanny to treat the child like this. When the child had started walking he went and stood next to the nanny on the sidewalk. The child stopped walking, and just stood crying on the sidewalk. This father then walked to the child and they walked further from there.

That evening around 19H00 my second child cried outside the house. I looked out of the bathroom window and saw the child wearing a pair of shorts, holding a trolley suitcase. It was dark outside and −3 degrees. I watched as my child started walking away from the house, in the middle of the street, pulling the suitcase behind him. This father stood watching him and made no effort to fetch the child or prevent him from going into the street. The child walked about 100 meters. I waited for this “nice” father to care and to go and fetch his child, but he just stood with his arms crossed, watching him. I told this father from the window to go and fetch my child. He took out his phone, held it towards me in a position for pictures and video making. His four year old child, that he apparently in a court room cared for, who now walked in a pair of shorts in −3 degrees in the middle of a dark street, was of less importance than having a picture or video of me. This, while this respected country’s court prevented me from action in protecting and caring for my child. I fumed with anger. I started yelling at this husband, “You can take all the pictures you want. Go and fetch my child!” He continued taking pictures. I then told him I am going to phone the police, if he does not fetch my child. This father hates witnesses and too many questions in dubious situations, but witnesses while he was being a “nice” father or pretended to be a victim were perfect for his image. He stopped taking pictures. He turned and walked towards the child, who was busy walking back. They walked back into the house.

I phoned my advocate and told him this had to be on paper in court. In court this father’s advocate elaborately talked of how well the children are doing. How well they have adapted without their “lost touch with reality” mother. How well the children are progressing in school. The children are fine, she said. This did not look or sound “fine” to me and the court needed to hear of this.

My advocate responded in writing a letter to this father’s advocate with the detail of the incidents. This meant his reasoning involved this father’s advocate was going to place these incidents before the court. Neither he nor this husband’s advocate gave this to the court. My advocate proceeded in telling me that his letter is highly confidential and I am not allowed to use it.

His advice, of him not wanting me in this appeal court, was inaccurate as well. This judge wanted to see if I am a “mentally unstable” person. She ordered another social service report to be done. From my experience, this report did not include a professional evaluation to hear small helpless children in a stressful situation. Did it even include having a conversation with them? No, it consisted of: This adult said this. This adult said that. These adults said this. And writing whatever is said down as 100% truth, but with no proof attached. This highly confidential, highly regarded gossip column is then used by a court judge to base life impacting decisions of people on.

Also included in this order, finally, after a year of being claimed mentally unstable on rumours, a judge ordered a psychiatric evaluation of me. Commenting on the evaluations I already did as, “Several sessions of evaluation are not enough.” My voluntary psychiatric evaluations with certificates totalled five hours stretching over a period of nine months with six hours psychometric evaluation tests. Off the record consultations were around seven hours with psychiatrists and psychologists.

Another court sitting was scheduled for about two months later while waiting for this new psychiatric report.

The court order gave no information on the arrangements of my mental evaluation, save to say by whom this evaluation would be done and that I need to pay half of this evaluation. My advocate did not have any further information either. I contacted this psychiatrist’s office and made an appointment with a lady who spoke English well. She did not know of the court order. The court order stated that several sessions of evaluation were not enough, which to me meant, I will have to do more sessions than had been done with the earlier evaluations. One needed at least two months for this, so I made an appointment for as soon as possible.

I phoned again to this psychiatrist’s office two days before the appointment and, speaking to a different secretary, asked the bank account details to pay the court ordered amount for this evaluation. I stated in this conversation who I am and the date of my appointment.

On the day of the appointment this psychiatrist started asking me questions. The manner in which he spoke made me realise he is unaware that I am supposed to be evaluated on a court order. I told him. He replied that I do not have an appointment for that day. He phoned his secretary to ask her and he said she replied that she had never spoken to me before. Every time phoning his office I confirmed his name with the person. But, according to him, his secretary is convinced she had never spoken to me. While giving him the transfer slip, I told him in that case his money was payed into someone else’s bank account. He took this slip and again phoned his secretary. The account on the deposit slip was his. She then remembered having spoken to me and also that she had, the day before, mailed a letter to me with an appointment date for the evaluation. This was when I found out this evaluation will only be two hours on one day. Not at all the impression in the court order of “several sessions are not enough”.

I went to his office for this evaluation appointment made for 13h00. The same secretary that said she had never before spoken to me, now told me through the intercom that they are closed for the afternoon. I told her I have an appointment. She replied, “We are closed. There are no appointments.” I repeated I have an appointment and she again repeated there are no appointments. I told her I have a letter stating an appointment at this office, at this time and date with this doctor. This resulted in her opening the door. What would have happened if said in court I did not keep to my evaluation appointment?

This psychiatrist started this evaluation session by asking me why the court had decided to take my children away. I was depicted in every court document as the worst possible mother on the face of this planet. I recited these accusations adding that a hamster was at the police station and that the claim is it ran around the whole station with my permission. I told him what my children had told me of their molestation and he replied, “We will have to see if you have obsessive compulsive disorder.” I asked him what is obsessive compulsive disorder. I have heard of it about people repeatedly cleaning. Did it apply to not liking what your children are telling you? That they are being abused not only by the father, but apparently also by other people in a “zoo”? And seeking help one needed to speak up.

The psychiatrist further said he will probably need to do more tests for obsessive compulsive disorder and will contact me for that. So on that note, making sure to give him my contact number, I left.

The psychologist who did the psychometric tests in my native country advice me not be obsessive about my children’s abuse.

A young man, aged mid to late twenties, informing me he had no official qualifications in psychology, was appointed to do the newly ordered social service report. Considering the intricacy of this situation, I found this ridiculous, to say the least.

During the meeting, he told me this husband had lost his job with the earlier rumours being spread of him preferring little boys. When I stopped laughing out of frustration, I asked him who had told him that. He avoided giving me an answer.

I met this husband around 18 years ago. This husband’s statement in court read his “rumour” was spread 18 years ago. Not knowing of the “rumour” at that time, but having knowledge of this husband’s work history, I can say he had his own company and got an international flying contract. That is how he left our native country and established himself in the respected country. I estimated this social service worker was around 8 years old at the time. He did not know this husband. He had no hint of proof of what he was saying. Meaning he drew conclusions based on hearsay.

Yes, once again this social service report was to be a gossip column filled with rumours, no proof attached and no in-depth investigation – this included no one speaking to my children.

This same male social service worker asked me why is it not possible for me to walk past my children without greeting them. This gave me the impression he thinks a mother acting as if she does not know her child, is normal behaviour.

On leaving, this social service worker informed me that, after he handed his report into court, he would be off the case and would have no more dealings with it. This was interesting information to me. It meant the previous social service worker involved herself above and beyond duty. According to this husband’s testimony in our native country, she involved herself in abusive actions aimed at me and my children, after having written her report.

I sent this new social service worker an email with the information of the incident where my second child was driven over by this father. As well as a testimony of someone that spoke to this father where he said he did not interview or speak to a nanny (nanny number two I assume) before employing her. He only spoke to her mother. This social service worker was, after all, supposed to be looking into the interests and welfare of the children, not this father’s financial security.

These were documents my advocate refused to hand into court, saying that it will appear as if I am attacking this father. This father in his “nice, caring and responsible” fashion nearly killed my child and then lied about it. Nobody questioned this father on his behaviour, but I am being questioned on not wanting to ignore my own children and was found out of line for not wanting to obey abusive orders. Care was exhibited to the extent of being incapable of understanding why I did not except these orders that boiled down to me not having children any longer.

My advocate looked at this new social service report at the court chambers and said it is not good. He said I have two options. I could go along with them in saying that I am “mentally unstable” or I could fight. I had been clear from the word go with him, however, again told him I want to fight. He agreed once again, and then, after a few days, again changed his mind.

My eldest child’s birthday was coming up. He would turn 6. The smallest child’s birthday was a week after. Then he would be 3. I still had no word from this place where I was supposed to have visitation with my children and around two months had passed. I decided no one else paid attention to court orders, so why should I.

The nanny set-up was: Nanny-three (from our native country) worked on a holiday visa. Which meant she worked three months and then left three months to return again for three months. She complained about working full time and this father employed another nanny, nanny-four, so they could work shifts. But, nanny-three left for her holiday visa reasons and nanny-four wanted an increase in salary. She signed up on the basis of working shifts. This father refused and nanny four left within a month.

There were now two new nannies (nannies number five and six), with an approximately seven year old girl, the daughter of one nanny, who did not attend school at all. This father’s mother was also there.

I knew these nannies will not give the children their presents or allow me to give them their presents. They obeyed this husband. Getting the presents was the easiest. Imagine giving a present to your child as being a difficult thing to do.

When the eldest two children left for school I stuck my head out of the second story window and called to my children. The oddity of the whole situation was that I felt afraid of my children. If they rejected me it would emotionally be difficult to handle.

They did not react at all different to before. They spoke to me in the exact same fashion as always. The eldest child told me it is his birthday. I told him I know. He said he has a drawing for me. The second child also said he has a drawing for me. I told them to put it at my front door. I will get it. I noticed they used the front door when arriving back from school.

I told them I got them presents, To which the second child replied he is not allowed a present. His birthday is only later. I told him he can get a present from me. The nannies started prodding them to walk to the bus stop and they left. Later that afternoon I placed the children’s presents on the garden bench in the drive way. The car was gone, but I did not think of this. Until the two nannies, this father’s mother, with the one nanny’s daughter and the smallest child returned.

The one nanny started taking pictures of the presents. I presume in her type of mind this had to be a lovely incriminating picture of a mother giving her children presents for their birthdays.

My smallest child stood in front of the bench, looking at the presents. He did not move. This father’s mother told him to leave them and go inside, but the child did not listen. He took the eldest child’s present. I told him from the window whose present was whose. He did not look up or reacted in a way that he recognised my voice. He last heard me six months ago. He put the present back and then reached for his, but did not pick it up. All the while this father’s mother instructed him to leave the presents and go inside. He ignored her. He took the eldest child’s present and placed it in the garage. He walked back and forth, carrying all the presents one by one into the garage.

When the eldest children returned from school, I told them their small brother had taken their presents into the house and whose present was whose. Again both nannies five and six were outside and once again filming me by my window. Both children said they had made something for me in school and I told them to put this by the front door. The eldest child did. The second child said he wanted to give it to me himself. He knocked on the front door. The nannies were telling him to leave. He refused and carried on knocking. I thought, my child wants to give me a picture. I am going to open that door, even if I ended up in jail for it. At the door stood the same child I had known. He gave me his drawing. I told him he is beautiful, that his picture is lovely and that I love him and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

Every day before this hell had started, my eldest child had brought me a picture from school. I used to put all his pictures up on the notice board. He once brought me a picture he had drawn of me, smiling, and Jesus with wings, saying Jesus makes me happy. I found this to be a very amusing statement then, but also the truth. Still today.

I had bought the children bath sponges months ago. I did not know how to give these to them. Now I had a plan. I drew comic pictures of them each in the bath with these sponges and put their initials on it. They knew their initials. I put this at the front door with a packet of strawberries.

I watched them coming back from school and as they walked up the front stairs to their front door they saw the strawberries at mine. The eldest child looked up to the window. I told him it is theirs and to take it. He took the sponges and the strawberries and the second child told him he will carry the sponges.

My children still remembered me, although I had my doubts if the smallest child remembered me. He had not seen or heard my voice since he was 2 and a half years old. I got a bit greedy and took chances of talking to the children whenever I saw them. I could take out my earplugs now. Their voices did not hurt me that much anymore if I could speak to them.

Another day, I put grapes by the front door for them and told the eldest child this when I saw them. He fetched it and the smallest child tried to take it, but the eldest child put it in a bag. I told the eldest child to remember his smallest brother, he also want. The moment I said this, my smallest child stopped, looked up and said, “Mamma?” He recognised me! I felt happy, but this made the nannies and this father’s mother jump into prodding the children to walk. I said goodbye. My baby remembered me!

I left out nectarines and prunes for them next. This was when either the nannies or this father’s mother began taking away the fruit I put out. I drew pictures for the children. This was also taken away.

One day my second child had a chocolate easter rabbit and he wanted to give this to me. I told him to eat it himself and he said no, he wants to give it to me. He put it at my front door.

Then the new defence and order of this father’s mother and his hired help (nannies) became, “Daddy does not want you on the stairs to the front door.” This was the truth, but his reason had nothing to do with their safety. There were no railings and this husband had never been bothered with providing this safety for us, irregardless of anyone’s discomfort.

This husband’s only reason now was he did not want them to pass my front door. The children came home and walked up those stairs every day, but now that their mother was giving them fruit and they were giving me their drawings, etc., he could not allow this. This father had worked very hard (lied, manipulated, indoctrinated and swindled) to get me, their mother, out of the way and attempted to manipulate them to forget about me. He misjudged the power of an emotion he did not own, had no knowledge of, could not feel and did not understand. I drew new pictures of each child and put this outside with strawberries.

The children came back from school and they were physically pushed towards the house. The second child made a little toy chicken in school. He showed me this while being pushed into the garage by the neighbour who previously curiously asked me on this husband’s comrades and if he profits from the children. The child kept on looking up and smiling at me. I told the child I love him and his chicken is beautiful.

Shortly after this a police car pulled up in front of the house. I expected this and waited for them to knock on my door. I was going to be interrogated for presents, fruit, pictures with hearts on them, chalk hearts on the sidewalk, as well as trying not to let my three boys forget that I love them. A huge “crime” in the eyes of this father, his employees and apparently authorities. This while physically and emotionally small, weak humans were being pushed around.

I got visitation rights 24 January 2013. It was now 22 March 2013 and there had been no word yet. The police officers told me I have to wait for my visitation and give the strawberries then. That they will have to write a report on my actions. That my advocate has to find out what was happening with my visitation. My advocate simply repeated this visitation organisation is a process and I have to be patient.

After the police left me they went to the neighbour who talked of pedophiles, this father’s comrades and profits from his children. When I had confronted her she told me she did not want the police at her house. Now the police were at her house and it was not I that had referred them. I wondered what she was saying to them — if she babbled about her having never said anything to me about the father’s comrades and profit. But she, or what she had said, had never been mentioned by me to the police. To me it sounded plum loony that a pensioner would know anything of a pedophile circle. I also had no proof, except for her husband, that she had said it. But she was now actively involved in making sure my children has no contact with me.

I had become too excited in speaking to my children and was risking too much for too little. Whatever I did, was exaggerated on, or my reasons were twisted and customised with their added false information and used against me.

This husband arrived home a few days after his employees (nannies) phoned the police. I heard him yell extremely loudly at someone for about 5 minutes. After his yelling both nannies five and six with the seven year old girl, who had been around for about a month and a half, were gone. My deduction from this was that these nannies might not have confirmed their police calling actions with this father. For him to be so angry there must have been some “mistake made”.

I still had great difficulty countering this husband’s false accusations and insinuations in the court documents. They emotionally influenced me. These lies, exaggerations and false impressions had literally ripped my children from my breast at a time when they are most vulnerable and needed me the most.

God helped once again. He guided me on how to handle these reports. I read them repeatedly, until I had no feelings of fear, disgust and anger and then categorised every sentence. Things that I never thought I will be able to counter, for example, of this husband and social service worker’s lies of me keeping the children away from “their father”. I now could prove these as lies. The irony in this: This husband’s own words countered himself.

This writing had caused a problem. It occupied my time so much that things slipped. This included not taking out the mail. I received a call on 2 April 2013 around 14:23 asking me where I am. It was the place where I was to see the children. Telling the lady I am at home, she asked, “Are you not coming to see the children?” They had sent a letter a week ago, notifying me of the visitation, and I had not opened the postbox. The visitation was only for an hour. Half an hour had passed and it would take me more that half an hour to get there. The next appointed visitation was scheduled for two weeks from then. The court order that stated 4 hours per week visitation was simply changed.

I had missed the first possible chance in months to hold my children and was livid with myself. I asked them to please explain to the children that I had not received the letter, so the children would not think that I did not want to see them. There was nothing I could do about it now. Except be cross with myself for a few days and putting up reminders of when I had to take out the mail.

I saw my children on the next visit. I was petrified and excited. My eldest child laid on his stomach, playing. My second child sat next to him with his back to the door and my smallest child sat facing the door. I went and sat next to them and just said hello. The eldest two children did not respond and my heart sank. My smallest child walked up to me and stood in front of me. He started smiling and grabbed me around the neck. I held him without speaking for a while. After which he started pulling me around to show me things. My other two children were not greeting me? They had seen me in this time? I asked them if they were cross with me. They said no, and then also started talking to me and pulling me around to show me things. It took about five minutes, but it felt as if I was still with them, with not enough arms, eyes and ears to give each child who wanted attention.

On a nice, hot spring day these children were sweating from being over dressed in double layers for a winters day. I asked them if they are hot and then took off some layers. My children used to speak up or helped themselves when they felt uncomfortable. Now they were silent. They simply obeyed, as if brainless, and did what they are told to do.

While I listened, played and helped my children, my happiness in seeing them gradually changed into sadness. When I had to say goodbye, the eldest child said they want to go with me. I told him I know and it is not that I did not want them to go with me, I also want that, but this is the way things were right now and I am working to change it. My sadness changed into tremendous anger, as I walked away from them.

The next appeal court hearing on custody of the children was scheduled for about the beginning of April 2013. I went with my advocate this time. The hearing was held in a conference room with the judge, prosecutor, scribe, translator, this father, his advocate, me and my advocate all around a table.

The judge opened this hearing by asking me why I was not at the previous hearing. I looked at my advocate and thought, “Do you want to say it or should I?” This judge then angrily told me not to look at my advocate. Interesting what control does to a person. Since my advocate was not admitting his involvement in me not being in court, I did. This judge replied by threatening me with the repercussions and fines for my “actions”.

After this she asked me why I had missed my first visitation with my children. I told her I forgot to take out the mail.

She then asked me why I speak my first language with my children. I told her it is my mother language. She asked me why I don’t speak an international language with my children. I said because I speak my mother language with my children.

She then proceeded in asking me why I had taken a hamster to the police station. The transportation of hamsters appeared to be a huge obstacle for sophisticated, highly intelligent people. I replied I took the hamster with us, because my children had asked. I allowed this to help calm and comfort my children and I was only thinking of my children’s needs.

She then asked me three times consecutively how I obtained a copy of the first social service report. I told her every time it was an attachment to this father’s advocate’s reply affidavit in our native country’s court. This father’s advocate interrupted and said she is more equipped to answer this question. She proceeded in one of this respected country’s languages to paint a picture that looked different from the truth, implying my advocate in our native country stepped over the line and gave me this confidential report. When this husband’s own legal representatives, illegally in possession of this report, simply attached this highly confidential report as a normal public attachment to a court affidavit.

The judge, however, was satisfied with this husband’s advocate’s false impression and continued asking me questions on the content of this social service report. I kept on thinking why, if this report is not in question, as my advocate is advising me, is this judge asking me questions? Only my credentials are in front of this judge — is her job description to provide me with a job?

The judge questioned this father as well and he answered her by saying he first wanted to say that he had looked for help everywhere and was not helped. When the judge asked him how many nannies he had had, he only named two of the seven (at that time seven) and then started blushing and stammering, repeating one name. The judge helped him out and asked, “Are you looking for the right nanny?” “Yes,” he replied, “I am looking for the perfect nanny.” That was the end of that. No repeated questions from her.

The psychiatrist, who had done my court ordered evaluation, did not give his report to court as ordered. Nobody managed to make contact with this psychiatrist and he did not contact me for further testing either.

When this father and I touched on the subject of child molestation, this judge interrupted and changed the subject. These hearings purely concerned my mental stability. They did not involve, or touched on anything of what the children had told me. These proceedings bore no resemblance to the impressions created in our native country’s court by this father, his legal representative or the respected country’s legal representatives.

My advocate’s speech afterwards consisted of how he will take full responsibility for me not having been in court. Nothing on my three small children that needs protection and help. After this court hearing, I arranged a meeting with this advocate. He informed me the judge asked him to write a request, on my behalf. Requesting visitation with the children at home under supervision of this father and/or a nanny for two hours a week. This advocate added that I should feel happy.

This judge is capable of making orders without my involvement. No request from me is required. I also did not only want to see my children for the short time they were suggesting I make my request for. I am the children’s mother. I wanted my children whom I each had carried in my body for 9 months, with whom I had laboured in pain for hours to give life to, whom I each had nursed for years. No one else can claim this.

I again showed my advocate the documents I wanted to submit to the court. They contained proven lies of this father, his advocate and the social service worker. He replied in threatening me, saying if I continue to want to take this action he cannot be my advocate anymore and that it is not possible to counter every small lie. I asked him why he did not want to put anything into court and he replied, “You are not supposed to have this social service report, so I cannot comment on it.”

This advocate knew from the word go I was legally in possession of this report. His response, when I had employed him, was that he will be my voice in court. Now he responded in trying to silence me or else I lose his service. He proceeded by saying we both believe in Jesus. He lost me there. Christianity did not entail keeping silent, being inactive and attempting self preservation in the knowledge, or even suspicion, of children being abused. Not speaking up or passivity is an action of agreement and resulted in making yourself an accomplice to the sin/crime. I am not inclined to add certain things to my list of sins and I am responsible for these children. This meeting took place in a restaurant, where this advocate ate his dinner. He finished his dinner alone.

My advocates appeared to try to discourage me from speaking up, saying it is in my and my children’s best interest to keep silent. I started getting a strong impression it was a case of being silenced before I reach the respected country’s court room.

I gave selected documents into court. Since this judge had interrupted both me and this father when we had touched on the subject of molestation, I left out the witness statements on this. These judges clearly did not want to deal with that. The documents handed in provided proof of this father, the social service worker and this father’s legal representatives’ deliberate acts of deviating from the truth.

The judge ordered another hearing date. Not based on these documents, but the psychiatrist’s report had finally been given to court. Since I did not have legal representation, I was allowed to read this again highly confidential document myself at the court chambers. It was in a language I did not understand, but I declined a translator, preferring to use a translation program.

The evaluation report stated that this psychiatrist diagnosed me with delirium psychosis. Not obsessive compulsive disorder, which he had said, would require further testing. According to him I had no basis to say my children are being molested and hence I have delusional psychosis. His conclusion was based on the police report that said “no evidence” and the social services worker’s report that claims “I have lost touch with reality”. This diagnosis he made, he said, does not affect the rest of my functioning. The respected country’s authorities now had their medical certificate.

Since this psychiatrist opened this “forbidden” topic in court, more documents could now be given. The next set of documents I provided to court contained confirmation of this husband’s “rumours” of him preferring little boys. The witness statements on the molestation my mother witnessed, with her doctors testimony, as well as more of this father’s false impressions and false statements he made in courts. These clearly showed this husband/father’s brilliant talent for telling lies, manipulation, indoctrination, also his unhealthy desire for his comfort and control at his children’s cost. Some of these statements in the documents also pointed at unorthodox behaviour by the respected country’s authorities.

I saw a psychologist for support, the same psychologist this husband and I saw for marriage counselling. She felt upset when hearing the diagnosis of delirium psychosis. She said the diagnosis of delirium psychosis was not normally made without tests, as well as several sessions. This psychiatrist that did this court evaluation was also not fluent in English. She did tests for delusional psychosis and told me the results was within the boundaries of normality. After seeing the testimony of my mother’s doctor, she referred me to another psychiatrist for another evaluation. This psychiatrist responded by saying he cannot write a report countering the court psychiatrist. He can only write a report lifting out points and witness statements that should have been taken into consideration before making the diagnosis.

His report accompanied me into the next court sitting. It was the same setup around the conference table. Once again this judge started with me, wanting to know why I had declined a translator for translation of the court psychiatrist report. I told her that I used a translation program on the computer. She turned to the scribe and told her to make sure my declination of a translator is noted. Then she wanted my opinion on the court psychiatrist’s report of me. I replied I am not an expert and cannot comment. She seemed to get agitated and repeated her question several times, with me giving the same answer, until I got cross and asked her what exactly it is that she wanted me to say. She backed off. This father’s advocate spoke for about 10 minutes. Included in her speech was how “upset and unhappy” this husband is about this psychiatrist’s diagnosis of delirium.

I am a witness to what my children had told me, which was that this father is making “food” from his penis for them, etc. This diagnosis now eliminates my witness statement.

How would this father’s actions show his unhappiness for his wife’s condition? His advocate stated in a previous hearing that this father was doing his best to support me — his “mentally unstable” wife. Then this “mentally unstable” claim was said without a medical certificate.

Would he in his supporting actions, for example, lie in a court to discredit me? Or order me out of the house at midnight? Or torture me and my children with our longing for each other? Would he withdrew himself financially from me? Would he try to evict me from the apartment he himself ordered me to go to? The worst part of his “caring and support” was of course cutting all ties between me and my children, brushing aside our feelings and needs.

As I had no advocate I was now allowed to speak — not only answer questions. I pleaded my children’s case, saying they are small and vulnerable and needed help. That there are institutions that can evaluate and monitor these children. That nothing is done on this for anyone to validly claim (as this father’s advocate and this father were doing) that these children are psychologically or physically fine. I again requested an advocate for my children and this was declined on the spot. The judge replied: My children are too small for an advocate.

The judge told me she did not want more documents from me and that she did have the email I sent to the social service worker. This would be the information of a child driven over and a witness statement that read he employed a nanny without even having spoken to her. However, this judge never questioned this husband in court on these matters or the other documents. She commented on the documents I presented as unreadable. I asked her in earnest if the print is too small (I tried combining the documents) and she did not reply.

On leaving this court, the judge asked me when I am getting a new advocate. “I am looking for the perfect advocate,” I replied. Hinting on this father’s many nannies and the claim of searching for the right nanny without interviewing, I said, “I think I will interview them first.” The judge was not amused.

Something else said during court — this father made a statement that the teachers say the children enjoyed being on his parents’ farm and how they talked about the animals, etc. This sounded as if he pleaded a completely different situation? The judge ignored him.

The holiday was almost starting. I got a suspicion that he was being prevented from taking the children to our native country, where I made the court case to have the children evaluated. If so, I doubt if it involved fear that he might kill one of the children in his negligence. Simply because the children were still in his care.

I employed a new advocate for the, so far, one year running emergency divorce procedures. This new advocate asked me if the country’s law under which I got married, had emergency divorce procedures. Nobody had any knowledge of an emergency divorce procedure under this country’s law. The difficulty is the law this father and his advocate quote in the divorce papers given to me, cannot be found in legal libraries in our native country under whose law we were married. My previous advocate sent a letter to court, asking for the correct law and months later I am still waiting for an answer.

In the meantime I saw my children from the window. Every time I greeted them a nanny pulled out a cellular phone, holding it to take photos\video of me. It was always the same cellular, irrespective of the change in nanny. This father was mostly away.

When nannies started to take away the fruit I put out for the children, I started throwing fruit and sweets out of the window for them. The eldest child drew a picture depicting this and placed it in my postbox. One nanny started running to grab what I throw down before the children could pick it up. They also instructed the children to hand it over to them or took it out of their hands.I still drew chalk hearts for them on the sidewalk. My children knew this because we used to draw with chalk on the pavement. The neighbour who asked me about this father’s comrades and if he profits from the children, washed these hearts off the sidewalk. Some of these nannies were very careless of the children’s safety. A nanny placed the smallest child (three years old) without any protection on an adult bicycle seat, telling him to hold on, while she cycled standing down the road, with him on the seat, “holding on”. She also gave this small child the foot long garden scissors to play with, while she sat staring in another direction. When this nanny ran to grab the chocolate I throw down I asked her why she allows the neighbours to give these children sweets, but took away what I gave them. She replied that the neighbours are not me. She also, in front of my children, told me that she is spending my time with my children. This same nanny took doormats and covered the hearts I drew for the children on the sidewalk. One has to wonder what drove her to this behaviour. I knew what drove me to drawing hearts on a sidewalk and giving things to my children. This nanny also took her harassment orders extremely seriously and would pull out the cellular whenever she sees me. She followed me right to my front door after I had taken out my mail. The children were not outside the house. On these occasions she held her phone in a recording position in front of her face without speaking. On my way to a neighbour I met up with them on the sidewalk and she again acted the same. In a controlled manner I pushed this recording phone down and when I turned away, she gave me a push on my back. She then went to the police, accusing me of slapping her. Also claimed at the police was that I am walking and living too loudly in the apartment.

There was no sound insolation put into the floor at the time of renovation. These people, not knowing how the house was renovated, did not seem to realise reality. If they can hear me, then I can hear them. This included them telling my children, when the children said they want to go to me, that they cannot, because their mommy is “ill”. It included this husband’s Skype conversations, on a very high volume setting. Sometimes instructing his nannies on how to deal with me and keeping the police involved, and trying to intimidate my children by asking them to choose between me and him.

This nanny’s accusation of me assaulting her, when I pushed down her recording device, gave me the opportunity at the police station to officially report this husband’s assaults on me. I gave them the medical certificate. These assaults took place at the time I approached the police to report what the children had told me. I did tell the officer at the youth protection division who took down my statement on the children’s molestation, of these assaults. He dismissed this and did not take down any information.

While I am figuratively speaking dissected for every move I made, this father and one nanny locked the smallest child alone in the house and walked with the eldest two children away from the house. In the house, this small child was screaming hysterically – I heard him through the floor and my earplugs. I ran outside and called them back, saying they have to open up for this child. This husband replied that the child wants him to lie down with him. I ignored him. Nanny seven immediately started recording me. I told her she just locked a three year old child alone inside a house and walked away. If she continues to choose to rather record me, rather than to open up this child, I am phoning the police for their abuse. She stopped recording me and went into the house.

In the meantime I had physical contact, still no telephonic contact, with my children every two weeks at this place of supervised visitation. The one hour was increased to two hours in this time. The children asked questions about the situation, but I tried staying clear of directly pointing at this father, which made answering their questions difficult. It was clear from what they were saying that this father was still telling them I am ill and they cannot be with me.

Behaviour of the children had changed. They did not take care not to hurt someone or each other. They used to be attentive to this, but now literally walked over each other while kicking the other child on the head without apologising. They also kicked each other in a vindictive manner. The eldest child, while kicking ball with another child, all of a sudden picked up the ball, held it over his head and in an attacking manner and while grunting, stormed towards this child he was playing with as if to hit him with the ball. I told him to stop which he did. He also walked his smallest brother into the wall and carried on walking as if there had been no one in his way.

We played with water, outside the place where I visited with them, and this spilled onto the paving. The second child told me not to mess, because the man is going to be cross. I asked him which man and he pointed to a man at this visitation centre. I told this child no-one is going be cross and it is just water. This father’s obsession with messing was getting to them. That afternoon when the children were at home this child started playing with water on the paving at the back of the house. The children had the freedom in my care to do this. But this father exploded at the child now, saying he is messing.

During another visit I told my children to keep on praying to Jesus He will help. My second child told me he is not going to pray to Jesus anymore, because it does not work for him. His disappointment broke my heart and it was the first time I was mad at God for what was happening to us. I, a grown-up, knew something about life and had not led a sinless life. But my children being let down, was something different. This, to me, was not fair.

Reality is my innocent children were not the only victims of this “verbally caring, loving” world I lived in. In the worst conditions innocent, vulnerable children fed themselves whilst living on garbage dumps, or sold into terrible slavery and exposed to horrible living conditions all over the world. The people that had power to change these children’s living conditions, while sitting in their private airplanes eating gourmet food on their way to another six star hotel or their private mansions, were not exactly jumping in and changing these children’s situations. More aptly put they created these circumstances in feeding their greed. Others only did enough not to be said to do nothing, but never touched on sorting out real reasons. They preferred shaking hands with the guilty in their creation of “nice” impressions, while lining their own pockets behind the curtain.

I knew I was being unfair directing my anger towards God. I knew it was not He that was making us suffer and causing our pain. He allowed it, for what I deduct as a test of faith and commitment to Him. He, however, is not the one feeding the root of any of these situations in which people suffered.

During a visitation the children told me they are going to the sea for the holiday. So, this father was not going to drop off the children on his parents farm in our native country.

This judge of the appeal court made a ruling. No changes were made in this current setup. No aid for my children. No support. No investigation. No protection. Nothing. The psychiatric report claiming I have delusional psychosis was accepted. My documents that I handed into court showing lies, deception and distortion of reality of this husband and Co. were given to another department for investigation.

Not that I cared if they investigated. Taking into account equality, I wondered if this father’s diary or the social service worker’s report, was independently investigated? Looking at the obvious lies that were believed without question, I would have to say the answer to that, is no.

This father drove away with the children the evening, on the same day, the children’s school closed for holidays. Five days later I heard someone in the house downstairs. It turned out to be this father. He was on his own. He once again, true to his form, dropped the children off for their holidays.

He was at home for about a week and then left. It was not to be with his children. He left them at nanny seven’s house for six weeks.

My second child’s birthday was during this time. Taking a chance, I sent this husband an email, saying I would like to speak to my child on his birthday. This husband replied he does not have telephonic contact with his children, only contact via Skype at certain times, since the nanny damaged her phone in the washing machine. I said I understand. My phone is also out of order, for different reasons, and contact via Skype will suit me fine. He said he will arrange it. The next day he emailed, changing his story, saying he now solely wants to use telephonic contact and I should let him know when my phone is back in order for it. Also saying the children’s caretaker does not want to divulge her private information. He earlier said her phone was in the washing machine. I told him I have no problem with a conference call on Skype and since we had agreed on contact via Skype there should not be a problem now. He replied he hopes that I will show appreciation for him allowing us to speak.

The eldest two children spoke, telling me they are sitting at a table, drawing. The smallest child did not want to speak initially and the nanny, repeatedly, ordered him to speak to me. At home her behaviour involved telling the children not to greet me and, if I happened to arrive home while they are outside, trying to push them physically in the direction of the garage away from me.

I told this nanny to leave the child alone and to stop forcing him now. Her behaviour was confusing. When this child did speak, he told me he wanted a remote control car. From this I deducted that his brother must have gotten one for his birthday and he was not allowed to play with it and was cross.

The call lasted 49 minutes and was terminated by this husband. The Skype users were all this husband’s names, not a nanny’s. I suspected these Skype users are normally the manner in which he has contact with his children. I am not in the least bit interested in any of this husbands employees except for their integrity, the way in which they treat my children and their qualifications in childcare – I could not be bothered if they used any Skype user they could think of. As long as I can speak to my children.

I sent another email to this husband, saying I would appreciate more contact and of course expressed my appreciation for his permission that I was allowed to speak to my children. This husband never replied to the email. This husband enjoys power games and changes his mind and his rules concerning my contact with the children as it gratifies him and him alone.

Of course a court gave this controlling husband full abusive power. This husband also openly exploited this image of a court siding with him, implying/hinting that justice had been served and because of that he is in the right. This court did expressly use the words that this husband/father is “worthy of this court’s trust.”