A much delayed legal blogpost – an explanation
In October 2024 I visited the Central Family Court in London. My objective was to observe a hearing before the magistrates. At the time, the Reporting Pilot was in operation and there had been almost no reporting of hearings before magistrates. That remains true today – most reporting by legal bloggers and journalists relates to hearings conducted by judges. I thought it was unsatisfactory that there was almost no visibility or scrutiny of the work of magistrates, who make serious decisions for families across the country, but who have no legal training.
There are a number of reasons why I’ve not published this post before now. First, I was so worried about the competence and conduct of the court appointed lawyer* I observed asking questions on behalf of a litigant in person, that I took the view that, as a barrister, I had a professional duty** to make a report to our mutual regulator, the Bar Standards Board. This was the first and only time I have felt that being both a barrister and a reporter (i.e. a family court legal blogger) gave rise to an acutely difficult ethical conundrum. I took a long time to reflect on how to deal with it before deciding to act, and even once I had decided to do so, it was not straightforward, because a quirk of my being a lawyer but being present in the courtroom only by virtue of being a reporter, meant that until I had the transparency order in my hand I could not make a regulatory report in any event.
It seemed right to allow that regulatory process to take its course before publishing anything. Nothing happened. I checked and checked the public register of misconduct hearings and the register of barristers for records of sanction or a tribunal hearing listed, until eventually I was satisfied the regulator must have decided to do nothing. As far as I know, this barrister is still active and may still be accepting court instructions to act as a QLR – he is listed as having a current practising certificate, although I cannot find a practising address or chambers.
Subsequently, although I have always intended to get this post ready for publication, something more pressing has always come up. That’s my bad – life as a family barrister is busy enough without the competing demands of legal blogging (and various other life events and roles). Part of me had hoped, I think, that issues with QLRs might resolve and that this post would become irrelevant. But that hasn’t happened either. Anecdotal reports of problems relating to QLRs and the QLR scheme continue, and so this report is as relevant as it was in October 2024. So here it is. What happened when I went to scrutinise the magistrates doing their job, but where I came away worried not about the magistrates, but about one of the lawyers….
There are a few aspects of my experience that I do think might be different 18 months on and, where that is the case, I’ve said so.
Context
*For context, a ‘Qualified Legal Representative’ or ‘QLR’, is appointed by the court in domestic abuse cases to ask questions on behalf of a litigant in person, where they are not allowed to question the other party directly. They do not provide legal advice or full representation and are responsible to the court not to the litigant in person, who is not their ‘client’ in the usual way. They are paid for by Government rather than legal aid.
**For further context, a barrister (like me) has a duty to report serious professional misconduct of another barrister to their regulator, the Bar Standards Board (BSB). It is serious professional misconduct not to make such a report.
Before the hearing
So, we are back in October 2024 at the Central Family Court (CFC)…
My plan was to watch the magistrates in action. I had emailed the night before in an attempt to let the court know I was coming (I couldn’t do it sooner because I needed to see what was on the court list). Predictably, my attempt to sign in on arrival at 9am was met with confusion. As expected, I was unexpected! I signed in for a case to be heard by one of the two sets of magistrates. Attempts to get the usher to take my legal bloggers form failed dismally and were met with a stony faced ‘Why would I want the forms?’. This appeared to be intended as a rhetorical question but I persisted, telling the usher that I needed them to be passed to the legal adviser so they had advance notice I was at court. I was told ‘You’ll just have to wait’ and that the usher had ‘no way’ of getting the message through.
Nobody had yet signed in and the court room was locked so I went to find somewhere to sit in line of sight of both the usher’s desk and the court door, in the hope of catching a lawyer or legal adviser to explain my presence and work out which case to observe.
There are some private rooms at the CFC, but never enough. I pitched up on a double back to back row of seats, keeping a lookout, managing to select an unstained one.
No sooner had I sat down than I was called back. Now the receptionist had found a crib sheet – reading from it she asked me for my press card and the number of my transparency order, neither of which I had (since I’m not a member of the press and a transparency order is not usually made until AFTER a reporter attends). She asked me for my name (which I had already written on the sign in sheet). I tried to explain I was a duly authorised lawyer (legal blogger) who had sent her ID in advance and, finally, I was assured that the receptionist would contact someone. I went to sit back down. It was soon apparent the receptionist’s rather brusque tone was not reserved just for me, but was meted out even-handedly to everyone who approached the desk. No big deal for me, but perhaps difficult for already anxious and frightened litigants to deal with.
Various people came and went from the chairs around me, and nobody really seemed troubled by having their conversations within earshot of strangers, perhaps recognising the reality that there was no way of achieving confidentiality in any event. A man sat down beside me, looking worried.
Almost an hour passed with me sitting for a few minutes, trotting over to the courtroom to see if the door was still locked, and back again with no sign of a legal adviser or anyone on ‘my’ case. I decided to fill in the form to attend the other hearing, as I had a sense this one would not be effective. And then a legal adviser arrived, assuring me that the case I had earmarked was ‘definitely happening’, and directly discouraging me from attending the case she was dealing with – as the QLR and the interpreter were late and it was listed for 3 days. I was happy to run with this as I could only attend for the day (the list had said ‘6 hours’).
I sat back down next to worried looking man, only to find the legal adviser then approach him to explain his QLR was late. She asked if he had prepared any questions (presumably for the QLR) and he said he had but hadn’t brought them with him. It was clear that English was not his first language. He hadn’t realised the hearing was for 3 days, his parking was due to run out at lunchtime. He was anxious about getting a parking ticket. He seemed bewildered by the process. This did not bode well.
I went back to the usher’s desk to see if there was any progress – a young lawyer arrived and begun chatting with the worried man, introducing herself as the mother’s lawyer, and I couldn’t help but hear snippets of what she said. She was gently and patiently explaining her role and asking him about his allegations. He didn’t know what ‘allegations’ meant. I waited at distance until they were done to take my seat back beside him.
Now I was told the shorter case wasn’t happening after all, so to avoid a wasted journey I sought out the legal adviser to tell her I was going to attend her case after all. She wasn’t hostile but nor was she familiar with legal bloggers attending hearings. ‘Well’ she said, ‘I am willing to let you stay, even though we have had no notice’. I explained I had in fact given notice. Next: ‘Where is your application’? Her expression suggested she was sceptical of my polite insistence that I didn’t need to apply to attend, though I did need to apply in order to report (as the pilot hadn’t yet been extended to cover magistrates). I explained what a transparency order was and that the court could make one to enable me to report. Now the young lawyer approached us, to introduce herself. Helpfully, she reassured the legal adviser that she had the template transparency order and could draw one up if necessary. [reflection in summer 2026: the experience of having to navigate entry to hearings by liaison with unfamiliar court staff is pretty much par for the course in 2024. Over time, more and more lawyers have some awareness of Practice Direction (PD12R), which is what followed on from the pilot I attended under, but it is all still often unfamiliar territory for both court staff and lawyers.]
On going back to my seat, it seemed polite to introduce myself to the worried man, who it was now obvious was the father in the case. I explained I would only report anonymously, and asked if he had any questions. ‘No’ he said, ‘I’m just a bit nervous’.
Finally, at just before 10.30am, half an hour after the hearing had been due to start, the QLR arrived. He had been preceded by first one, and then a second, smartly dressed young law student. Nobody quite seemed to understand why they were there. Within a very few minutes we were ready to begin (so no real opportunity or attempt to discuss the case with the father in order to inform any questioning).
The father, the QLR and two students, the interpreter, the mother and her barrister, the legal adviser and three magistrates. And me…Into court we went.
The hearing itself
The court room was set up with a screen to protect the mother, who alleged domestic abuse, but arranged so that the mother and interpreter could see the QLR. I only saw the father fleetingly for the rest of the day and he had little opportunity to say anything from behind the screen (he will have given evidence the next day).
There were some informal introductions and we were told by the QLR that the female law student was ‘a barrister here to take notes’, that although she had not been called to the bar she had some experience.
And then the recording went on and the bench came in and formal introductions were made. Now the female barrister was said to be ‘called to the bar but not yet qualified’. The male student was said to be simply observing, while the female was to take notes. I found this all rather confusing, but it got more confusing as things went on.
The formalities of my attendance and the making of a transparency order didn’t take long to deal with – I was given a little mini-test by the bench – asked to explain the rules, ostensibly to show I understood them. I assume I passed because I was allowed to stay.
The bench chair sought clarification from the QLR as to his role. He confirmed he was not appointed in a traditional lawyer-client situation and was not ‘in court to iron out any bad things from the client who has made allegations’. Although awkwardly expressed, this much is correct. A QLR is appointed by the court and isn’t responsible to the ‘client’ in the usual way. The bench checked he was ready to start and the QLR confirmed ‘Yep. I don’t need any clear instruction from the client. My duty is only to cross examine.’ While it is technically correct that the information given by the party isn’t ‘instructions’, most QLRs would want to spend a bit of time talking to the person on whose behalf they were asking questions, to understand which questions might be most appropriate (I certainly would, and the Statutory Guidance that applies to the scheme certainly anticipates as much).
The case involved the parents of a boy of primary school age who I’ll call Rashid. The father had applied for contact. The mother had fled to a refuge with Rashid and made allegations of domestic abuse. The parents were cousins, both originally from a North African country, but Rashid had been born here. The mother had arrived here as a young woman, and she spoke no English. Her Arabic interpreter, a kindly looking older man, sat beside her throughout the part of the hearing I observed. The father was much older than the mother.
Counsel for the mother raised some preliminary issues in her case summary (which helpfully was provided to me). But first, she sought clarification as to the status of the two people with the QLR. Now the young woman was identified as ‘an unregistered barrister’, and the young man confirmed as ‘a student’. It was established that both were over the age of 18 (they did look young) and that neither had a right of audience. In the order I later received they were described as ‘assistants’ to the QLR.
The court then moved to consider participation directions. It was confirmed that, because of the father’s physical disability, he would be permitted to move around if he needed to and would be given time to move his car during a break.
A number of other points were raised – about the father’s identity being different in some documents to others, and about covert recordings apparently submitted by the father. The bench didn’t have the recordings and the mother’s lawyer complained that they were supposed to be dated and labelled to say which allegation they related to. Some of them involved dialogue in Arabic which the barrister couldn’t understand, and were longer than the court had permitted. Most of this material was allowed in, but ultimately it doesn’t seem to have been terribly helpful to the court.
Finally, there was a query about how to deal with allegations made by the father, but which counsel for the mother said did not need to be decided because the father had agreed that Rashid should continue living with his mother.
We break for the magistrates to consider what to do about all this.
As we move back in the waiting area there is now a strong smell of cannabis. The mother’s conference room has been taken and the father, led by the QLR, wanders into the alternative room her barrister has found before being asked to leave. The special measures do not seem to be working terribly well.
The legal adviser and both lawyers go into a room for some sort of discussion and I sit back down in my original seat to await developments. Before too long another lawyer and her client sit in the seats directly behind me, chatting. The barrister was explaining the FDAC*** process to her client before what is probably their first hearing. He is keen to give the process a go. I wonder how old his child is – probably a baby.
***FDAC is the Family Drug and Alcohol Court. It has a high success rate, meaning parents are more likely to get clean, stay clean and keep their babies.
We don’t get back in to court until 12 o’clock. It has taken half an hour for the magistrates to discuss and decide on the preliminary issues. They decide to allow the photos and videos in. They don’t accept the barrister’s objection that she can’t take instructions on them because she won’t understand what is being said. The magistrates are happy that they can admit them for the ‘tone’, ‘gestures and postures’ only. They say that the mother can go through the recording with the interpreter and can address this on day 2 (this seems to be a plan for the mother to be recalled to give a second round of evidence, which is unusual. The order I subsequently receive records that in fact the interpreter translated the videos in court and a written record of this was made).
The legal advisor seems surprised that the mother wants to swear on the Q’uran, saying ‘I haven’t had that before’, before taking the Qu’ran out of its bag (something that isn’t supposed to happen, because the Qu’ran is sacred and isn’t supposed to be touched by unclean hands). For a court with such a diverse litigant makeup, this lack of familiarity was surprising, but is perhaps a consequence of covid, since when affirmations are habitually taken from almost everyone. Seeing that her request was causing some confusion, the mother then volunteered to affirm instead. There then followed a slightly farcical dance between legal adviser, interpreter and mother, trying to work out whether the oath was to be read in English and interpreted into Arabic and repeated in Arabic, and whether it should be translated back into English as the mother spoke it. It took a few tries.
Although the mother confirmed she could not read or write either in English or Arabic, she was passed a bundle anyway. The interpreter was later to read passages from the relevant page to her. The process of getting the mother to confirm in respect of each and every statement and how it had been taken (in English or Arabic), interpreted and confirmed was extremely laborious and by the time this task was complete it was time for lunch and for the father to rush off and rescue his car.
As all this was happening I was able to read the case summary to find out a bit more about the case. It told me that the allegations that the mother made against the father included using her immigration status to control her, stopping her from working, hitting her with a heavy frying pan, pushing her whilst she was holding Rashid, at one point locking her out of the home with Rashid inside. What was less clear was why two years passed between the father’s application for contact and the fact finding hearing I was attending (again the answer may have been partly covid, and the resulting increase in court backlogs which were particularly acute in London, and remain a problem there). In answers to her own lawyer’s questions, the mother confirmed that she had allowed video contact whilst at the refuge (who had apparently approved it as long as she was not on camera), but this had been stopped by the Magistrates when the court case started. In its place, the court had made an order for cards and gifts to be sent to Rashid. I couldn’t really understand how this would have worked, since the mother doesn’t read or write, but in any event it appeared the father hadn’t sent any. The mother’s position was that the child should choose whether to see his father when he grew up. She said Rashid didn’t mention his father at all.
After lunch things get more interesting. And not in a good way…
The hearing resumes, slightly late, as nobody can find the QLR again. He is asked for a time estimate for his cross examination of the mother and offers an hour. He is encouraged to take not more than 40 minutes, but also that the bench don’t want to restrict him. It is at this point that he first raises that he does not have the bundle. After some to and fro it is established that he does in fact have the bundle.
Some time is spent establishing facts which seem uncontroversial (for instance, when the couple married and how long they were married, when the child was born). The QLR suggests that the father’s family has supported the mother. Since the paternal aunt is a witness in support of the mother I am not surprised when she confirms this is correct. The questions are often delivered as statements followed by a staccato: ‘Am I right?’.
The QLR has a strong accent and his diction is difficult for the interpreter to grapple with. Sometimes he swallows parts of his words. The whole courtroom is collectively squinting with concentration, trying to understand a question about lying on documents to the Home Office. The mother says she didn’t lie. The question is repeated several times until we all eventually realise that the QLR is saying ‘you relied on’, not ‘you lied on’ (he has swallowed the first syllable). As we go on, the interpreter repeatedly has to say he doesn’t understand or hasn’t caught the question.
Whenever the mother gives an answer which the QLR does not feel is an answer to his question he chides her sharply: ‘I am not asking that question– the question I am asking, please answer to that! I don’t want any tale or other things!’ (here and elsewhere when I put the participants words in quotes I am confident I have their words verbatim, because from early on it seemed important to capture both exact wording and delivery). At one point he remonstrated with the mother for not sticking to his question, apparently not registering that the Chair of the magistrates had asked a follow-up question which the mother was trying her best to answer. As the legal adviser points this out, counsel for the mother sighs audibly. It is at this point that I realise the QLR is focused rigidly on delivering scripted questions to the extent that he has not clocked what the Chair has been saying.
We have been going some time, but none of the questions so far have touched on domestic abuse. Now the Chair intervenes: ‘We have allowed you a certain amount of latitude. But we are all struggling a little to see how this helps us with the allegations’. So am I. The QLR will not be moved, brushing off the indication with ‘I am going to the allegations in a minute’, before continuing to ask about the circumstances of the mother’s arrival in the UK and the father’s largesse in helping her. When the mother references the abuse, she is met with a sharp ‘that was not my question either!’
When the QLR finally begins to ask about the allegations he does so by asking her to confirm she has made them:
‘You made several allegations against him, didn’t you?’
‘I’ve been telling what I have lived’ says the mother.
At the question ‘Is it possible he tried to make you available to immigration status so you are concerned, isn’t it?’ everyone is at a loss. The interpreter says he doesn’t understand. Eventually the question is reworded, but it is still unclear.
The hearing begins to break down slightly as the legal advisor begins overtalking to ask the QLR how much longer he has, whilst the interpreter is still grappling with the last question in order that the mother can answer.
I see one magistrate say audibly to the Chair that ‘they don’t understand…him’, gesturing at the QLR (i.e the mother and interpreter couldn’t understand the QLR, which is patently correct). Someone volunteers that maybe the QLR is trying to ask whether the mother relied upon domestic abuse in her immigration application. The answer is ambiguous. The QLR doesn’t press it.
We move on to the actual allegations. The frying pan. The legal adviser asks which allegation is being referred to. ‘I’m dealing with domestic violence’ says the QLR. Sensing the QLR doesn’t actually know which numbered allegation this relates to, the legal adviser asks again: ‘Which allegation?’. ‘I only have the paragraph number’, replies the QLR, notably not giving a paragraph number. Reader, he doesn’t have the paragraph number. The legal adviser tries again: ‘Which bundle page, sir?’ Several minutes are spent trying to establish the reference. All the while the unregistered barrister has been beside him frantically looking through the papers on her laptop, the QLR looking intermittently over at her for assistance before thumbing through the bundle in front of him. He is just generally fanning the pages rather than purposefully navigating to the index, the statement or the schedule. Performative, I think.
There seems, in the answers that follow, to be confusion between two different incidents, but it’s difficult to tell. There is an attempt to challenge the mother on why she didn’t seek medical attention when hurt, but there is overtalking of the magistrates whilst the interpreter is still going. My note here reads as follows [my 2026 explanations in square brackets]:
‘This is absolute chaos. [that’s my note to self]
QLR: ‘You say arm was badly bruised is that true?’
In 2022 or 2020. [I think this is the legal adviser or chair clarifying which allegation is being raised]
He [QLR] says [20]20.
Legal Adviser says its [20]22.
I think this unregistered barrister has prepared his questions [again, my note to self when the penny drops]’.
Eventually, after the legal adviser crosses the room to help the QLR navigate his bundle, it is established that the correct date is May 2020.
Now the QLR asks the mother if the father maltreated her ‘at this time’ but doesn’t wait for an answer. And now the unregistered barrister is gesturing to him, directing him on his script. More questions about injuries not being reported.
The Chair says ‘I repeat please, go through the allegations in a logical manner and tell us which ones you are dealing with. We are finding it very difficult jumping from allegation to allegation’. The legal adviser again tries to help by explaining to the QLR that he needs to ‘look at the bundle and bring us with you’. I have never seen magistrates so proactive, nor a legal adviser having to give basic advocacy tutelage to a barrister.
Just as I am shifting uncomfortably in my seat, Counsel for the mother invites the court to break so that she can have an ‘advocates only’ discussion. I know instinctively why.
The parents are ushered out. The legal adviser says to nobody in particular: ‘Fact findings are never easy, but we will get there in the end’, and to the father: ‘you’ll have to find a place to wait’. He looks baffled. I am baffled. He is a litigant in person and entitled to remain in court. The QLR doesn’t speak for him. They do eventually remember and get him back in (in fact I break my observer’s rule not to interfere and whisper to Counsel for the mother ‘isn’t he entitled to be in court as the QLR isn’t representing him?’) But in the meantime, I am sitting in court with mother’s barrister, the QLR and his posse, waiting. For what seems a very long time, the QLR is engaged in earnest discussion with the note-taking unregistered barrister. Although I can’t make sense of what they are saying (they are talking in a language I don’t understand – Bengali, I think), I can see that she is directing him to parts of the paper script and to her screen, as if she is explaining or directing him. From where I’m sitting the tutelage is going only in one direction and it is even clearer that the QLR has not prepped the case himself – he has delegated it to an unregistered barrister, and this is the explanation for the difficulties with his questioning and his unfamiliarity with the papers and the facts.
Now the legal adviser and bench are back. The tape is on. Appropriately, politely, but clearly Counsel raises her concern about the manner of questioning. That her client is being repeatedly asked exactly same question phrased in a different way and at times is being asked multiple questions. That she has been unable to finish answers before being moved on. All of this is true.
She goes on. She ‘wonders’ if the QLR is perhaps ‘in some difficulty in that only has questions that have been prepared by the lady sat next to him’ (the unregistered barrister). She is diplomatic but deadly.
He says ‘No, I have prepared the questions. But the bundle was very late’. He complains that it was sent only two days ago and had more than 500 pages (neither the size of the bundle or the time to read them is unusual – and in any event, the order records the papers were in fact just over 350 pages).
‘My observation – if I may’ says Counsel, ‘Is that he appears unfamiliar with the questions he is asking and it is having an impact on the witness.’ Again, a fair observation and entirely consistent with her duty to her client and the court to assist it to ensure that vulnerable witnesses can give their best evidence and that the hearing is fair to all.
The QLR states again that he has prepared his own questions.
The legal adviser observes that ‘she (the unregistered barrister) is part of his team’, but is rightly reminded by Counsel that ‘if this leads to the witness being asked questions in an unfair way…’
No doubt anxious to ensure this hearing is not entirely derailed, the legal adviser says ‘the bench can manage in terms of moving the Gentleman on’. He is asked not to repeat questions unless he is asked to rephrase.
Before moving on though, the legal adviser asks the QLR to repeat what he had said about when the bundle was received and who wrote the questions. This seems like an important moment. But somehow the legal adviser skips on to giving guidance to the QLR on how to structure his questions: ‘say ‘allegation 1’ or give us a date’.
Counsel prompts the legal adviser to see through her enquiries: as to whether the unregistered barrister has helped him, and whether therefore an adjournment is necessary so that he can reformulate his questions and put them in a fair way. But the moment has passed. The legal adviser advises the bench to manage it by moving on. And of course, the bench adopt that advice. The Chair:
‘We will continue. We need to reiterate that it will assist the bench everybody in the court if you could speak a little slower, if we don’t understand please understand if we ask you to repeat or clarify what trying to do. It would help if you expressed open questions. It would help very much if you dealt with this matter in line with the specific allegations made and telling us which allegations you are addressing on each occasion. At the end of this we have to make some decisions, and at the moment we are in parts finding it difficult to be sure we have all the information we need to do that.’
The court has been told twice by a barrister that he has written his own questions. If he hasn’t, he has misled the court (and placed the unregistered barrister in an impossible predicament). If he has, it is completely baffling why he seems so unfamiliar with the material, and quite incapable of completing a basic cross examination with courtesy and competence. I am deeply troubled.
It is now 3.15pm. The paternal aunt has had to be released to do the school run. We aren’t going to get to her evidence today. The bench prompt the QLR to resume at allegation 2, May 2020.
And then… out of the blue, the QLR asks for an adjournment. To consider the bundle, to ‘review it with fresh eye that I can continue. I can definitely continue’.
The mother’s barrister is now in difficulty. She wants to take instructions from her client about this, but can’t because the mother remains on oath. She is given five minutes and permission to check with the mother, who in the event confirms she would rather get her evidence done today. Both advocates have had the bundle for the same length of time, because they received it via the same email, she says. The bench refuse to adjourn.
The legal adviser kick starts the questioning again, as the QLR is stuck. ‘Did you report it to the police or GP?’ The QLR immediately reverts to a portion of his script about May 2022.
The QLR wants to suggest that the father cannot have perpetrated domestic abuse because of a health condition. He does it like this:
‘QLR: ‘It is not possible to do such domestic violence with state of his health, that makes sense?’
M: ‘Am I lying to him? Who did hit me then?’
QLR (scornfully): ‘Please call police then!’’
During questions about the mother not being allowed out, he is asked for a page reference. I note him ineffectually pretending to flick through the bundle without looking at the index, whilst the unregistered barrister finds the reference on the ebundle. Someone else identifies the page number. He doesn’t turn to it. Now both of them are looking at the laptop, but he doesn’t seem able to operate it. The unregistered barrister points out a reference: ‘14 July 2023. C47’ says the QLR.
The chair asks ‘which paragraph’? One of the other magistrates has her head in her hands. The QLR ignores the question and stares at his script. Time passes. ‘Mr QLR?’ He continues with his question. He hasn’t given a paragraph number, I think to myself, because he doesn’t know it.
There are some questions containing assertions about the cost of flights to the family’s country of origin, and the Chair asks for a reference to his source. He wants to know if there is a source or if it is counsel’s opinion. The legal adviser wants to know the relevance of the question, but the Chair is not going to be deflected:
‘I asked where we were expected to find about the ticket at all, which I didn’t get a response to. A particular trip and sum were referred to. I was expecting that was somewhere in the many papers with that piece of information’.
The legal adviser suggests that it doesn’t matter because the mother agreed the sum (I don’t think she did. I feel like I am entering another dimension). A third attempt to establish if it’s in the bundle or counsel’s own research (from the mother’s barrister) is ignored with the announcement ‘Now I have finished questions about inconsistencies’.
It appears as though that is it for the domestic abuse questions, because the QLR moves on to questions about welfare and contact, which the court is not dealing with at this hearing. ‘You have five minutes, so choose your questions well’, he is warned.
The QLR is asked whether he has questions about a particular incident of alleged abuse when the child was said to be present. The legal adviser has to explain, and then show the allegation to the QLR. He says he has asked about it (he has not, other than putting a question about her not supporting police action).
Apparently clear this is not going to elicit the information the bench need, the legal adviser says ‘This hearing is to investigate incidents of abusive behaviour. If there aren’t any objections we can ask follow up questions at the end of day two. You (the bench) need the best information to make decisions’. There are no objections to this course of action.
The QLR asks one more general welfare question and that’s it. No questions have been asked about the father’s video evidence.
There then follows some quite lengthy re-examination, Counsel, presumably anxious to ensure that her client’s case is clear, since she has not been effectively challenged on it. She is permitted to go through each allegation and confirm whether the child was present or not, and to elicit more evidence about one allegation (of financial abuse via credit cards) that was not touched on by the QLR.
And that’s it. It’s the end of the day and I have to leave as I can’t come back tomorrow. I wonder what on earth will happen on day 2.
Day 2 and 3 and the decision – what happens after I leave
I know what happened on days 2 and 3 because I was provided with the facts and reasons and the order made. They tell me that on the third day of the hearing, the Justices allowed the legal adviser to question the mother ‘as the court-appointed lawyer did not address her responses to the applicant’s third and fifth allegations’. The facts and reasons record the view of the bench was that ‘the outcome of such cases often hinges on the mother’s testimony’ and that ‘It is crucial to gather all relevant information to make findings that will contribute to the factual matrix of the welfare report, ensuring safe recommendations for child arrangements’. It appears that the mother’s barrister objected, on fairness grounds, to the mother being recalled, but that the court took the view that fairness required this to happen.
My reading of these events is that the QLR, having been present on two days, had failed to put the father’s case fully, and the legal adviser had to complete the task. Based on what I had seen on day 1 this is no surprise at all, and was probably necessary in order to salvage the hearing – as the mother’s evidence had not been adequately tested during the session I observed – which had potential to prejudice either the father or the mother.
The magistrates found all bar one minor allegation made by the mother to be proved. Those findings included financial control and verbal and physical abuse, including hitting and throwing the mother, hitting her with a heavy frying pan and grabbing her hard enough to cause bruising, and throwing her out of the house in her nightclothes, with the father shutting himself and the child inside. The child was present for much of the abuse and the magistrates accepted the mother had felt unable to report much of it because of fears about her immigration status. They found that the father had perpetrated controlling and coercive behaviour, that the mother had been stopped from working, and that there had been a pattern of arguments involving the mother being thrown out of the house. It appears that the father’s own sister gave evidence in support of the mother and her evidence about her brother’s behaviour was quite persuasive. The court did not find the father’s allegations proved (these were in some respects alternative versions of events that the court accepted the mother’s version of). The findings were to be sent to Cafcass to inform their welfare report.
The facts and reasons reveal that the child had only seen his father by video call since the parties separated following a police intervention during a domestic abuse incident in March 2022. Once the court case began, the court put a stop to the video contact too. Having made these really serious findings, the magistrates suggest that ‘The parties are now separated, and this may mitigate [the child] being exposed to abusive behaviour perpetrated by the father’, and go on to suggest that ‘The last incident was March 2022 after which the parents were able to agree video contact and the court will need an assessment as to how safe and beneficial contact can take place’. The court made an order for interim indirect contact without waiting for the report. The mother opposed that order being made (and with some justification given the contents of PD12J). These comments and the interim order perhaps do not fully acknowledge how domestic abuse can continue post separation, including through contact – but the section 7 welfare report should have contained a full analysis of risk. From what I saw of counsel for the mother, if she remained involved she will have made sure to properly deal with those issues when the case came back for final hearing.
After the hearing
Unfortunately, my attempts to communicate with the court through the legal adviser after the hearing, in order to clarify the terms of the transparency order, were slow and frustrating. It was only with repeated nudging from me and counsel for the mother, and formal escalation, that this was able to be resolved. I finally got the amended transparency order in March 2025. Until then I could neither report on the case nor make my report to the BSB (because until then I was in a double bind – being duty bound to notify the regulator but prohibited from doing so by the erroneous wording in the transparency order. If I had been involved in the case as a lawyer for one of the parties rather than as a legal blogger FPR PD12G would have permitted me to make the report without any particular order). The final welfare hearing was scheduled for a month later in April 2025, on a day that I could not attend due to my own professional commitments, but I later found out, was in fact postponed until July 2025. The final order records that the court made a final order for Rashid to live with his mother and have only indirect contact with his father, in line with cafcass recommendations. The order records that after the father had been given time to go through the report with the cafcass officer he agreed to the orders being made. I remain unclear how indirect contact to a child living with an illiterate parent is supposed to work, but otherwise the orders seem within the range of appropriate orders given the findings. It’s difficult to say more because I don’t have access to the report or the other evidence that ought to have been available at that hearing (such as the father’s hair strand test results for drugs and alcohol).
A post script
The author of this post, Lucy Reed, has written a post script to this post, about a different aspect of it. That second linked post is hosted at Lucy’s blog Pink Tape (see below).
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