My parents separated when I was 2. I don’t really remember anything before then. We lived in a blue house in St Lois Park. I remember my father beating up my mother when he would pick us up for visitation. One incident in particular, my brother and I hid in the living room closet. On another occasion he had sent us outside and he beat up my mother in the kitchen. My brother and I watched through the kitchen window. It was horrible!
You see…. The judge was so wrong because the abuse didn’t stop just because my parents separated. I remember that my mom was scared all the time.
When I was 5 we moved to a tiny studio apartment in Kenwood. It was so small. There weren’t even any bedrooms but we loved it! My mother built a loft for me and my brother in the dining area. She slept on a futon in the living room. I remember my mom telling us that we would be safe there, because there were people all around. As far as I can remember my father didn’t beat my mother up any more, but he became more and more aggressive to me and my brother during visitation. It got so bad that we used to beg our mother not to make us go with him. I was so scared that I would cry so hard until I threw up. Eventually my mother told my father that we were too afraid that she couldn’t force us to go. My father called the police on several occasions and they would pull us out from underneath the beds and hand us over to my father. Even to this day, I am still afraid of policemen.
When I turned 6 we moved back to New England, where my parents are from. It was a great celebration! We were free! We didn’t have to see my father for a whole year. We were so happy. We still had to talk on the phone with him once a week (court ordered.) Sometimes he was actually nice to us and he would tell us that he missed us. At those moments I missed him too, but I didn’t really trust him. Other times he would warn us that my mother was going to die and we would have to go live with him. At night I used to cry in bed and worry about my mother dying. My mom would let me and my brother climb in her bed and she would sing us sleep.
I remember once when he called and he said he was coming to visit us. My mother took the phone and she hung it up in a panic. She said that my Dad was at the airport and he was coming to get us. We rant to the car and drove and drove. My mother promised that she wouldn’t let him hurt us anymore. We went to the ocean and we slept in the car. In the morning my mother decided to call my father in Minnesota. She hung up the phone when he answered. We were so relieved that it was just a threat. We were happy to go home.
In the spring (1992) we had to return to Minnesota to see our dad. My mom promised that she would go to the judge and tell him everything. She promised that he wasn’t going to hurt us anymore.
Suddenly we had to move back to Minnesota and go right back to visiting my father. The court people didn’t listen to us at all. They just said that he was our Dad and we were going to have to get used to going with him again. Michael London (the guardian ad litem) told us that maybe if we behaved better, he would be nicer to us. I was already used to trying so hard to not do anything wrong but I became even more cautious.
Three days before Christmas… (December 22 1992) my mother returned from court in a panic. She was hysterical and said that we had to go live with my father. I couldn’t understand what was happening. She let us open a few Christmas presents. I remember that we both got a new big stuffed animal. My mom sprayed them with her perfume and we went to meet Michael London and my father. I panicked when he said that it was time to go. I was screaming and clenching to my mom. She picked me up and hugged me and told me that everything would be alright. At one point I was relieved when my told them that she couldn’t do it. She said that she couldn’t make us go with him. Then Michael London grabbed me and pulled me out of my mother’s arms. I wouldn’t let go. I remember all these people prying my fingers loose from my mom’s dress. When Michael London had me, I kept kicking and screaming “MOMMY I WANT MY MOMMY.” I told Michael London “BUT HE HURTS ME AND HE HURTS MY BROTHER!” I still remember him saying “I know!” as he handed me to my father. That was the worst day of my life!!!!!
Kan verkligen barn utsättas för trauman som beskrivs ovan? Eller är det ett barns påhitt? Eller är det inplanterade minnen? OM det nu har hänt, så händer det inte i Sverige – eller? Vad tror du som läser? Kan det svenska rättssystemet verkligen utsätta barn för liknande behandling?
Svaret är JA, det svenska rättssystemet utsätter barn för liknande behandling. Barn tvingas med våld om det så krävs att träffa eller tom bo hos en föräldern som barnet är livrädd för.
Det svenska rättssystemet tvingar barn till både umgänge och boende hos föräldrar där man VET att barn har berättat om misshandel eller/och utnyttjande.
Det svenska rättssystemet tvingar barn till umgänge och boende hos föräldrar där barn uppvisar märkliga skador/åkommor/sjukdomar i underlivet/anus/munnen.
Hur länge till ska barnen bli utsatta innan människor börjar reagera?