Freaky Friday

Sorry to take so long getting back. I've spent much of the week trying to confirm some things before I posted them here. They're pretty well confirmed now, though, so here goes.

First, about Judge George. I was shocked to learn that he should never even have heard the case regarding the EPO. According to our attorney, it should have gone to the judge who handled the original divorce. That would be Judge Byer. So, he dissolved the EPO and sent the boys back when it shouldn't even have been his case to hear.

Next, I was shocked to learn that I was right. (That may surprise my wife - finding I was right about something.) According to the rules of court for Jefferson County (published by the State Supreme Court), Judge George had an obligation to hear our witnesses. It's very clear cut. Wonder why he doesn't follow the rules?

And now for our buddies at CPS. I mentioned the Family Court Clerk was having trouble finding the file. Now we know why. Imagine this. ANY CASE that CPS enters is immediately classified "Confidential". That means it becomes a secret. No one except the parties to the case can have access to it. Stop and think about what that means. It means that whatever CPS does, it's a secret. If they conduct an "investigation" and it involves you, you have no right to know what they said. No matter how badly they may botch a case, you'll never know. It's a secret.

Now, here's an opinion for you. It is my considered opinion that "secrecy" has no place in the judicial system. Courts (and files) should be open to the public. This is not Hitler's Germany, or Stalin's Russia. This is a democracy. These are judges we elected. These are courtrooms we pay for. What do they have to hide? It's an interesting thought.

I've launched a somewhat devious plan to challenge the secrecy issue on the cheap. More about that in the next post. I'll let you know what's up.

Amazing Monday

It was a truly incredible Monday. I made it to the hearing in plenty of time, and the lawyer was even early. We had a very nice conversation before motion hour started.

From the moment the case was called, one thing was obvious. The judge was totally unprepared. Bear in mind, we filed an eight page motion simply asking for a custody hearing. We supported it with three sworn affidavits, photos of the abuse, and records of CPS hearings regarding violence to the boys. The judge didn't have a clue. She looked at none of it. Not even the motion.

First of all, she had read nothing. She didn't even know what the point to the motion was. I'm not sure that she ever did actually understand we were looking for a custody hearing. She was, however, very concerned with whether or not T.J. is up on his child support payments. Apparently that was an issue (unraised in the motion) she could really get her teeth into. Hunter's poor little arm didn't bear looking into, but she sure combed the file to see if money was changing hands.

On the subject of money, she tried to order a pre-custody evaluation for the modest price of $3,500. That's no doubt a real bargain in the legal system. I have read that the real purpose of Family Court is to make money for the "service providers" they deal with. I'm beginning to think there may be some substance to what I read. Anyway, we nixed the $3,500 deal. My lawyer made it clear we were looking for bargain basement protection for the boys.

When we turned down the high-dollar deal, the judge moved on to suggesting mediation. I'm not real sure Hunter knows much about mediation. He just knows his mommy bit him, and may do it again. I'm not sure what the price is for mediation, but I do believe it's somewhat cheaper than the pre-custody evaluation.

In the end, no one knows what the judge decided. She said she'd issue some kind of order. No one knows what it will be. Our attorney is waiting for the record to come down tomorrow, so we'll know what the hell she did. I sincerely hope she went back to her office and at least read the motion before she issues her order. Guess we'll see.

To make a bad situaton worse, this afternoon I went to the Family Court Clerk to order a copy of the videotape they make in court. When I gave the clerk the case number, it came back under another name. He swears there's no such case as the one we heard this morning. Incredible. There appears to be no end to their buffoonery.

On that topic, I'll have more tomorrow. I have some shocking revelations about Judge George, who dissolved the EPO originally. I read the local rules of practice. Literacy is a wonderful thing. I don't want this to be too long tonight, though, so be patient.

More tomorrow.

On the Eve of Battle

It's Sunday night, and tomorrow's the big day. Tomorrow our motion either dies, or we move on to stage two. I'm truly apprehensive. Considering the horror stories I've heard about (and seen myself) in family court, I'd say it could go either way. Win, lose, or draw, though, it won't be over. I'm not giving up the fight until Rayn and Hunter are somewhere safe. If we lose tomorrow, I'll simply move on to the next plan. I don't intend to quit. The boy's safety and happiness are at stake here.

Speaking of horror stories and ineptitude, CPS had the nerve to call T.J. Friday afternoon. The lady wanted to know what was going on in court tomorrow. Apparently Jennifer feels CPS is her ally, so she called them. She's not smart enough to figure out the paperwork and explain to them what's happening, so CPS called T.J.

To his credit, T.J. did the right thing. He told CPS absolutely nothing. Conisdering the way they've handled this thing, that's what they deserve to know. Their name doesn't appear on the docket in this case. They're not being called as a witness (at least not by T.J.). Let's consider them a moment. First, they conducted an inadequate investigation when they got the complaint about Hunter being bitten. They didn't talk to his grandmother, who made the complaint, or to me. When they completed their investigation, they decided to leave the boys in the home. When we got them out, CPS went to court and testifed when no one else was allowed to appear. They have no business in court Monday. However, T.J. did tell them if they want to know what's going on, they can show up. If they show up in the courtroom, though, I hope T.J.'s attorney moves to have them excluded. If the judge won't let the rest of us in, there's no reason to let them in. They're not a party to this action.

Well, that's about it for the night. I'll let you know tomorrow what happens. Keep your fingers crossed in the morning. Here's hoping for the best.

Filing Day

Believe it or not, I actually did it. I got everything filed, and we have a motion before the judge on Monday morning at 9:00 a.m. That's motion hour for Division 1. I'm a little disappointed, though. We have a different judge. They put it into Division 1, instead of Judge George's court. I kind of wanted Judge George to have a chance to do the right thing and straighten this mess out. But now it looks like it's out of his hands. So, I guess we'll deal with whoever the judge is in Division 1. Pray for a happy ending.

Psychomom got hold of one of the flyers I've been passing out. Apparently I gave one to a friend of hers, who took it to her. She hasn't called me directly, but I gathered she's not happy. (I gathered this because she called T.J. and raked him over the coals.) I'd much have preferred that she call me, but that's not her style. I hope I can sleep tonight, knowing I've upset her. Guess I'll just have to do the best I can.

Speaking of Psychomom, I'm sure she'll be upset when she gets her copy of the motion for Monday. If we're lucky she'll refuse to give up the boys for the weekend. That way we can also move the judge for a contempt citation Monday. A little jail time for contempt might change her attitude. It would help her build character.

No more news for tonight. I do want to plug my lawyer, though. His name is George Schuhmann, and he's really good. He's also inexpensive as lawyers go. If you need a good lawyer, call him. His number is 439-3766.

Catch you tomorrow.

Finally, Some Progress

Monday and Tuesday were good days. The courthouse was interesting and entertaining. I'm still concerned about some of the stories I'm hearing there, though. They're awfully sad. I have to wonder if the people at CPS don't realize that we love our children?

Today I talked with an attorney who stopped and asked what my sign was about. It seems his sister had a baby one year old. The sister and her husband went out one night, and hired an older lady to babysit. The next day, the babysitter called CPS and reported that she didn't think the baby looked like she was being fed properly. CPS took the baby, placed her in a foster home, and kept her there for a year. That just seems incredible. All the heartache for the parents simply because the babysitter didn't think the baby looked like she was being fed properly. Makes you wonder where we're living. Is this the old Soviet Union, where everything - including our children - is the property of the state?

Enough. Tomorrow's the day to finally make some progress. Tomorrow we file a motion for a hearing on custody for the boys. The lawyer we retained thinks that's the best way to go. He seems very competent, so we're taking him at his word. He's counting on me to actually file the thing, so I hope I can handle it. I think so. All I have to do is carry it into the clerk's office. Won't they be shocked to see me actually come into the building? It'll be something different.

The hearing on the motion will be Monday afternoon, I believe. I hope the judge grants the motion and gives us a quick hearing on the custody issue. If it goes well, we should have the boys to a safe place soon. I'm certainly praying for that. Just to be honest, the stress is beginning to wear me down.

Enough for tonight. Tomorrow I'll let you know how it went at the clerk's office. Keep your fingers crossed.

Answer to Quiz

Okay. Here's where we find out your qualifications as a judge. Can you really think legally, like the fine judicial minds at our Family Court downtown.

I'm guessing that most of you sent the kids in our quiz home with their father. After all, they aren't exactly safe in a house where drive-by shooting occur. And the house is owned by their step-father, rather than their real father. So it only makes sense to grant custody to their father and send them home with him. Right?

Wrong. The judge sent them home with the step-father.

Don't feel bad. I voted with you. Why the judge didn't get them out of a drug environment, I can't understand. But that's judicial reasoning in this town. Maybe it's time for some new Family Court judges?

Friday was an interesting day at the courthouse. Students were coming in from all over the state for some kind of mock trial. There were hundreds of them. That means, of course, that we got our message out statewide. I was pleased. It was a great opportunity. I did my best to make the most of it.

I've noticed something down there. The CPS people seem grumpy towards me. No matter how nicely I smile and say, "Good morning," they never answer back. They just sort of scowl and move on. I'm beginning to suspect they don't like me. Gee. I hate that.

Jennifer stalled on giving up the boys this weekend. I suspected maybe she had done something to one of them, so I had their father take the police over there and examine them. They seemed to be okay, except Ryan has a rash. She took them to the doctor this morning, and then gave them up this afternoon. They were ecstatic to get away from her.

Well, guess that's it until Monday. The lawyer we're working with is a real crackerjack. I heard from him several times yesterday, and he's obviously working away. I like that. If you need a good lawyer, let me know.

Catch you Monday night.

Pop Quiz for the Week

Two more days in front of the courthouse. Today was a much better day because it warmed up a little. My nose ran a lot less. That was a distinct improvement.

Here's a pop quiz. Answer it correctly, and you're qualified to be a family court judge. It's a true story I heard this morning outside the courthouse.

A young man is in family court seeking custody of his sons. He was divorced, and they were living with their mother, who remarried. He is accompanied by his parents, who are a lovely couple somewhere in their fifties. They're prepared to help him raise his sons (their grandsons).

The ex-wife (mother of the sons) is deceased. She died recently of a drug overdose. The sons continued to live with her husband (their step-father), who went to court to seek custody. So now we have a mother who died of an overdose, and a father and step-father in a custody battle.

Here's the kicker. Last week there was a drive-by shooting at the step-father's home. Two of the bullets penetrated all the way into the boy's bedroom, where they were sleeping. Now here's the quiz.

You're the judge. You have to make a decision about where the boys should be living, based on what's in their best interest. So, who do you send the boys home with? Your answer will tell us whether or not you're qualified to sit on the bench. I'll give you the judge's answer tomorrow.

Things are moving along. I sent three affidavits to the attorney today. He's adamant that the petition for a rehearing should have affidavits that can be used as evidence. I think that's in case the witnesses don't get to testify again. That way their testimony will already be on the record. Smart man.

I'm also in touch with another organization that represents abused children in Kentucky. Their service is confidential, so I can't name them right now. They seem to be very nice people, and interested in helping. When this thing has finally played out, I'll tell you who they are. Some of you may have need of them.

Don't forget to think hard before you answer the quiz question.

A Good Day Tuesday

Progress at last. I talked with a lawyer this afternoon who may provide the solution to the whole problem. We've decided to put the issue back in front of Judge George, asking him to reconsider his dismissal of the EPO. The lawyer was extremely helpful, and seemed like he knew his business. He believes if the situation is approached properly, we can prevail and get the EPO reinstated. That will once again get the boys away from their mother. We've begun working on it, and hopefully by next week we'll be back in court.

Back at the courthouse this morning, and still hearing horror stories about CPS. (I'm still working the CPS sign, as opposed to the Judge George sign.) One very intelligent young lady talked to me and cried. She lost her job, and CPS took her child. She had financial support from her parents, but they didn't care. Her child is now in foster care, and she's allowed to visit once a week briefly. That's very sad. Needless to say, she's not a big fan of CPS.

I also heard a story from a lady who worked at a hospital. It seems a man brought his daughter in one night with a broken leg. The hospital called CPS. They investigated, but refused to take the daughter out of the home. Two weeks later the father scalded the girl to death with hot water. These are the people "protecting" our kids? God help us all.

I'm beginning to wonder if it's time to begin seeking plaintiffs for a class action suit (in federal court) against CPS. I think there's little hope of doing any good with them in family court. But considering the botched investigations and the removals without adequate cause, I'm wondering if there aren't some serious federal issues involved here. On down the road I may try to document a few of these cases and talk to an attorney who practices in federal court. I'd be willing to bet we could find a lot of plaintiffs. And a good lawsuit might actually make some badly needed changes in the system.

By the way - I found a website about CPS abuse and how to defend yourself against them. They have a number of resources. It's cool, and definitely worth taking a look at if you're involved with CPS. Here's a link.

http://fightcps.com/

No more news for the night. Tomorrow I'll try to update you on Psychomom's history with CPS. This is not her first time down the road with them.

Heart Attack Monday

Sorry to say it, but I missed the courthouse today. I'm very concerned, because I don't want the "justice system" to think I've lost interest in justice. I had no choice.

I had planned to be late this morning because I had an appointment at the hospital for a stress test. I have Chronic Heart Disease, and they like to check me out occasionally. The appointment was at 8:30, so I knew I'd be late. Unfortunately, fate intervened.

The stress test was a three part thing. First they take pictures of your heart. Then they stress it. Then they wait 45 minutes and take pictures again. This gives them an idea of what your heart is doing when it's resting, and when it's under stress.

They chose to stress my heart with chemicals. Let me tell you, readers, it is no laughing matter. When they hit my IV with that stuff, I thought my head would explode. The pressure was unbelievable. I couldn't breathe, either. I strongly suggest the CIA explore the possibilities of using this chemical in extreme interrogations. Anyone who gets zapped with it once will never want to do it again.

Anyway, after the chemical wore off they told me I could go and eat. So, I found the hospital cafeteria. Since weight is an on-going issue with me, I settled for a grilled cheese sandwich and order of fries. Then, when I got almost to the register to pay, it hit me. I was dead certain I was having another heart attack. There was a stabbing pain right in my heart, and a sharp pain shot from my left shoulder all the way to my finger tips. I only hoped this wasn't the big one.

The doctors rushed me down to the emergency room and started testing. The rest of my day was spent being poked, prodded, and examined. They evaluated the stress test results not once, but twice. They were not happy. I was not happy. They did EKGs. They checked the enzymes in my blood stream. And finally they got everything under control. By 5:30 p.m., my heart was behaving normally (if not happily). We debated much about whether or not I could come home. I won. I'm home. I did promise, though, that if the pain came back I'd rush straight back up there. You can believe that.

Saw the boys on the weekend. They were happy to be with their daddy, and away from Psychomom. No obvious signs of abuse. We're checking them very closely. They did complain again about not being fed properly, and little Hunter ate an awful lot Friday night. He said he hadn't been fed since breakfast - no lunch or supper.

They cried Sunday night when she picked them up. It's very difficult to make them go back. Hoping to do some good on that subject this week. More about that later in the week, though.

I'm excited about tomorrow. Wonder if they missed me today?

The Weekly Wrap-Up

Having spent three days belaboring the judge in this case, I decided to shift my emphasis on Friday. Time to turn to the role of CPS.

When Psychomom first bit Hunter back in November, my wife called CPS. As you can tell from the pictures posted here, it was a serious bite. CPS launched an "investigation," which turned out to take quite awhile (well over a month). They finally wrapped up their investigation by substantiating the abuse, and confirming that it was actually Psychomom who bit Hunter. And then they did a peculiar thing. They did nothing.

"Nothing" didn't sit well to those of us who actually know what's going on in the home. We felt outright physical abuse, which both Ryan and Hunter have suffered, deserved action. So T.J. (their father) filed for the EPO which resulted in the current conflict. Bear in mind that CPS had no role in getting into court, and thus no business there. In an attempt to justify their lack of action, they prepared a report for the court. What they didn't do, though, was talk to any of the people who actually know what's going on. Then they showed up in court to dazzle the judge with their ignorance. The long and the short of it is, CPS consideres biting an acceptable form of abuse. And the judge went with them.

So, on Friday I switched my sign. It has the same gruesome photos of Hunter's bite, but it now says, "CPS Call This 'Discipline'. Shame on Them." I also added the governor's phone number to the sign and my flyer, and urged people to call and demand an investigation. Thus adequately armed, I took up my post Friday morning at the courthouse.

I came to two conclusions very quickly. First, it didn't take long to figure out that CPS is actually more unpopular than Family Court. (I wouldn't have thought that possible, but it shows you how naive I can be.) I stood outside the courthouse for several hours on Friday, talking to anyone who'd listen. Not one person spoke a word in their defense. They seem to be universally despised. It was heartwarming to know I'm not alone in my sentiments.

The second conclusion I came to is that I'm unlikely to be invited to the annual CPS Christmas party. I gave flyers to several women I'm certain work for CPS. While they made no attempt to defend their actions, I was subjected to a glare which was distinctly hostile. Too bad. I'm not likely to lose any sleep over the fact that I'm not popular with CPS.

After four days of picketing the courthouse, I can only say that the experience has been gratifying. I've met some very nice people, and now have more insight into how our legal system is perceived by the average Joe. I've been amazed at the concern and even passion displayed by total strangers who see two small children in danger. And I've developed my character by facing up to adversity - even the ogre from Thursday.

I can't wait to see what next week brings.

The Ogre from Thursday

Thursday morning seemed pleasant enough. I took up my post about 10:30. People are beginning to get used to me. One guy pointed out that I was late. I explained that I had to stop at the cigar shop, and they don't open until 10:00. I promised to stay half an hour later, though, to make up for the lost time.

People are also beginning to ask how long I plan to keep this up. My response is that I'll be here until my grandsons are in a safe place. That's very simple. I'm 61, and don't expect to live forever. But I expect to live long enough to see them safe, unless pneumonia gets me first. It's cold outside.

After about an hour, I noticed a deviation from the routine pattern. A couple came out of the courthouse. It was pretty obvious they were lawyers. (They're easy to spot. They're well dressed, and carrying briefcases. You don't have to be Sherlock Holmes to know a legal beagle when you see one.) They came through the door and headed my way. I wasn't expecting much, since lawyers never even read the sign. True to form, the man turned his head and pretended I wasn't there. But then the woman acted totally bizarre. She stopped. And then, in total shock, I realized she was actually reading the sign. You could have knocked me over with a feather.

Thank goodness, I recover quickly. I gathered my wits and began to watch her closely. Abnormal behavior demands caution. I watched as her nostrils began to flare; her face reddened; she was breathing heavily, like a bull in Tijuana preparing to charge a matador. I watched her feet to see if she'd paw the ground, so I'd have some warning before she charged. And then, in a flash of insight, I realized who she was. This was the ogre from Thursday.

I didn't have long to wait. Her head shot upward, and she fixed me with a gaze that Medusa would have envied. I expected to turn to stone at any second. And then she spoke in a raspy, hate-filled voice. "Your sign OFFENDS me," she snarled. "Take it down right now."

Oh, my God. Imagine my horror. I've been standing outside a public courthouse for three days with a big sign attacking a judge, and demanding justice for my two grandsons. My feet are cold, my hands are frozen, my nose is running, and I've talked to hundreds of people. But now I've managed to OFFEND someone. I felt a sudden rush of self-loathing. How could I be so oafish? Oh, the shame. Thank goodness my momma's not here to see this.

Penitent, I decided to make amends. All I could figure to do was to try and justify my loutish behavior. So, I asked in my most polite voice if she'd like a flyer, so she'd understand what drove me to be such a cad. She informed me very quickly that she wasn't interested. Well.

At that point, I realized this was not your average ogre. This was an ogre who was choosing to be ignorant as well as offended. The average ogre would at least try to find out what the hell was going on before they attacked a stranger in public. But not this one. This was clearly a person who was secure in her ogreness (is that a word?). And at that point my brief moment of penitence passed.

I informed her that since she didn't really care what was going on, she should move along. I believe my exact words were, "Go somewhere else and be offended. I'm busy."

Just to prove that there's always balance in life, the ogre was followed by two separate encounters with ladies of great charm and grace whom I also took to be lawyers. They broke the pattern and took a flyer, read it, and discussed it intelligently. They even made helpful suggestions about potential strategies to bridge the gap between me, my grandsons, and the "justice" system. I don't want to give away the gameplan, so I'll keep you informed as those strategies develop.

Thursday was a good day. I met some nice people with helpful suggestions, and survived an ogre attack. What more could I ask?

Wednesday and Walter Hickman

If you read the title to this post, you're no doubt asking, "Who's Walter Hickman?" Let me explain. It goes to my earlier point about the unpopularity of Family Court among those who have actually been there.

In my younger days, I spent several years editing newspapers. I started out in a small county in east Tennessee. The Sheriff in that county was a huge, bear of a man named Walter Hickman. Now understand this. East Tennessee is pretty rough. Walter had a tough job. Maintaining law and order wasn't easy there, and he sometimes had stiff opposition in enforcing the law. Yet Walter managed to get himself re-elected term after term. I asked him once how he managed it, considering the number of arrests he made and the high rate of lawlessness in the county. His answer was enlightening.

"It's real simple, son," he said. "People understand that my job is to enforce the law. But they also understand that I'm going to be fair with them when I do it. And as long as I'm fair, they don't hold a grudge. They figure I'm just doing my job. So they keep right on voting for me."

As I stood in front of Family Court Wednesday morning, Walter came to mind. I was continuing to hear complaints about the court, and I was still surprised about the depths of the animosity among people who had been there. I understand that courts are, by their nature, adversarial. Someone is going to be unhappy with the result. But I believe the hostility toward Family Court is because people don't leave feeling they've been treated fairly.

I thought of my own experience there. I've been there three different times to testify concerning my grandchildren. Not once have I been inside. The courtroom has been locked every time, and no witnesses have been called. Is that fundamentally fair? I mull over the question of why a judge would choose to make decisions affecting the lives and safety of small children without hearing every bit of relevant evidence. But for Family Court here, this is the norm. Concerned family is locked out, and never given an oportunity to have their say or tell what they know. No wonder people perceive the system as being unfair. And people who feel they've been treated unfairly are hostile. It's really as simple as that. I concluded that Family Court could learn a lot from Walter Hickman. He may have looked like a bear, but he was a pretty shrewd one.

Wednesday was an uneventful day. I passed out my flyers and met some very nice people. Again, people were overwhelmingly pleasant. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm doing something wrong.

Happy Tuesday, Courthouse

Tuesday morning dawned clear and cold. I loaded up the car and headed for the big courthouse at 7th and Jefferson. At 10:00 a.m. I planted myself in front of one of the big columns, armed with a huge sign and a folder full of flyers. It was a hoot.

The first few people who passed seemed distinctly concerned. I'm pretty sure they thought I was dangerously demented. While I was well dressed, I was standing there with a big poster with two pictures and text that said, "Protect Our Children. Remove Judge Stephen George." Clearly, their anxiety level skyrocketed momentarily - until they were a safe distance away.

But then a strange thing happened. I greeted everyone who passed pleasantly. I didn't foam at the mouth. No innocent passerby was bitten on the leg. And people began to take an interest.
They began to read the sign and ask, "What's going on, anyway?" I gave every person who asked a flyer, and explained the situation.

After about fifteen minutes a very large Deputy Sheriff came out of the building. He looked grumpy. He parked himself in front of my sign and read it. I offered him a flyer, which he politely declined. But he didn't draw his gun or his nightstick, so I figured I was ahead of the game. He went back into the building and began talking to the other Deputies at the door. But none of them came out at the moment.

A few minutes later, a very polite, well dressed woman came out. She wasn't wearing a coat, which indicated she worked inside. She smiled nicely and asked if she could have one of my flyers. I told her she certainly could, and thanked her for asking. She carried it inside, reading as she went. I figured at this point the fat was in the fire. They have photocopy machines inside. I was gratified by the thought, though. If they wanted to copy my flyer and pass it around inside, good. Flyers are expensive to print. (How long's it been since you had to buy cartridges for an ink jet printer? They ain't cheap.) I was heartened by the possibility that the county might be helping pay to circulate my flyer. My tax dollars at work.

I learned quickly that my audience was made up of three types of people. First were the people who worked inside. You could spot them every time. They read the poster, because they wanted to know what kind of nut would picket the courthouse. But then they moved on inside. Their interest didn't extend to the details. They just wanted a broad outline. They were always polite and courteous, though, so I enjoyed them.

The second group were the lawyers. They're hilarious. They approach the building and see a poster. Then they rush to get away, being careful not to display even the slightest interest in what it might say. It's as if they think the poster may have leprosy, and they'll contract it if they read the thing. There's also the possibility they're afraid of "guilt by association." If someone sees them actually reading it, they may somehow be linked to this subversive exercise in free speech. Then there's the frightening possibility that if they read it, I might actually ask them to DO something. God forbid!!! The final possibility (which is my personal preference) is that lawyers have a secret pact. They have to be neutered before they're admitted to the bar. That explains why none of them have enough balls to even read the poster.

Our third group is the people who have business in the building. They're only passing through. They have no stake in the game. So overall they're pretty interested. Most of them stop and look at the pictures (the same two I posted here earlier). They're shocked, and frequently outraged. Most of them take a flyer. A lot of them ask if there's anything they can do to help. The response to my being there is overwhelmingly positive. I'm somewhat shocked at the negative reaction to Family Court, though. They seem distinctly unpopular among people who've been there. More about that in my next post.

Tuesday ends uneventfully but triumphantly (is that an oxymoron?). I was still at large, and had begun to make my point. It was a good day.

Now the Trouble Begins . . .

Needless to say, I was unhappy. And I have a peculiar personality quirk. I try very hard to meet people half way. But if you really piss me off, I let you know it. I gave this situation careful thought, and here's how I viewed it. Judge Stephen George held what should have been a public hearing in private. He refused to hear witnesses who should have testified. He ignored physical evidence of the abuse (photographs). And he placed my grandsons back into an abusive situation. My opinion of Family Court in general, and Judge George in particular, was somewhat jaundiced. I decided to act.

First, I downloaded a complaint form from the Kentucky Judicial Conduct Commission. I wrote a rather scathing complaint about the judge, and got it in the mail Monday afternoon. Then I did the unthinkable. Since secrecy seems so important to the Family Courts here, I decided to go public.

First, I made a flyer detailing the abuse the boys have suffered and their sorry treatment by the authorities here. (I'll clue you in on all those details in another post.) It has two pictures on it, and is a very attractive flyer. It gets attention. It also explains that I've made a complaint about Judge George, and asks people to call and demand his removal.

Next, I went to the Dollar Tree and bought several pieces of poster paper and some stencils. While my graphic arts skills are weak, I nonetheless managed to put together a large poster. It has two pictures - the two I posted here. In large letters underneath the photos, it says, "Protect Our Children. Remove Judge Stephen George." By bedtime Monday night I was ready.

My friends universally agreed that I was nuts. The concensus seemed to be that I simply could not complain about a Family Court Judge in front of his own courthouse. They assured me I was facing imprisonment, torture, or death. And probably all three. I was undeterred. I believe in freedom of speech and the right to peacefully demand a redress of my grievances. So, Tuesday morning I showed up at the courthouse, sign, flyers, and all. More about that in my next post.

The trouble has begun.

Hunter and His Arm

Judge George had copies of these photos, clearly showing the injury Hunter received from his mother. Yet he refused to hear testimony from three witnesses, and dismissed the protective order. This is "protecting" our children?

Our Nonday In Court

I wasn't exactly correct when I said, "Then we met the judge." Court was a shocking experience. The supposed purpose was for the judge (Stephen M. George) to hear evidence to decide whether or not the Emergency Protective Order should remain in force. That would continue to protect the boys. There was a small glitch in the system, though. We didn't get to meet the judge, because he wouldn't hear evidence from the witnesses. Let me explain.

Family Court in Kentucky has a somewhat unique status. They're authorized by law to close the courtroom if necessary to protect the best interests of the child. It appears that isn't quite the way it works, though. Family Court judges in Louisville close all the courts all the time. Family, friends, and the public never know what's going on in the courtroom. Apparently none of us have the best interests of our neices, nephews, or grandchildren at heart. We're ignorant, uneducated oafs who can't be trusted. So we're locked out of the public courtroom we're paying for, presided over by a judge we elected. How odd. We're smart enough to elect such a magnificent specimen of judgehood (is that a word?), but too dumb to be allowed to watch him work. Go figure.

Now, being locked out didn't sit well with me. But I took it gracefully because the welfare of the boys was at stake. I waited patiently, along with my wife and a family friend who is also familiar with the neglect and abuse the boys suffer at home. We waited, and we waited, and we waited. And then guess what. T.J. came out of the courtroom and told us the judge had dissolved the order and adjourned the court, without hearing our testimony. It seems he didn't have enough evidence to keep the order in force. Yet he wouldn't let the three witnesses testify, which might have given him the evidence he needed. Is there something rotten here in Denmark? (That's more Shakespeare, in case you didn't recognize it.)

On the subject of evidence, here's a photo the judge had in front of him. It's little Hunter's arm after he was bitten. See what you think.

How it Began

I never really set out to make a spectacle of myself. It just sort of happened one day. It was the only way I could figure off the top of my head to try to save my grandsons.

Ryan and Hunter are my grandsons. They're three and four years old, and they're in a bad situtation. Their mother and father (my step-son) are divorced. Their mother is schizophrenic and bi-polar. Much of the time she's off her medication. And as Shakespeare would say, "There's the rub." (That was Shakespeare, wasn't it?) When she's off her medication, she's a little nuts. (In fact, she's a little nuts when she's ON her medication. But it's worse when she's off. I digress. Sorry.)

In November, she went berserk and bit Hunter - the three year old. It was bad. Hunter was left with a big circle of teeth marks on his arm and a permanent terror of his mother. I have a lot of sympathy, because she terrifies me and I'm 61. My wife called Child Protective Services (CPS) here in Louisville, and Hunter came to stay with us. Ryan toughed it out at home, coming to stay with us on the weekends. That wasn't his choice. It was his mother's. She wouldn't let him leave full-time. She uses him to clean the house.

After a lengthy but superficial investigation, CPS substantiated the abuse. (That means they agreed she bit him and that it was abusive.) But they didn't order the boys removed from her home. Apparently biting is an acceptable form of abuse to CPS. When Jennifer (the mother) learned she was off the hook, she brought the police and picked up Hunter. (Clever girl. She realized I wouldn't give him back, because he was still terrified of her and didn't want to go. The two cops with guns persuaded me to see it her way. The cops in this town frequently shoot people.)

At this point their father (T.J.) intervened. He went downtown to the courthouse and obtained an emergency protective order for the boys. So far so good. Since he has joint custody with Psychomom (Jennifer), the Sheriff's Department (they have guns, too) picked up the boys and delivered them to T.J. And things were fine for three weeks. The boys were safe. Then we met the judge. More about that tomorrow.