News Blogs & News When Protection Becomes Punishment: A Family Court Survivor Speaks Out As the government finally moves to overturn the presumption of parental contact in the family courts, one mother’s story exposes how the system silences victims and enables abuse through the very institutions meant to protect them. For three and a half years in court – four and a half since leaving the relationship – Susan* (not her real name) has fought to keep her daughter safe. Her ex-partner had been violent and controlling, a pattern documented by the police, by social services and by her own children’s testimony. He was finally removed from the family home, and the children were placed on child protection plans. “He wasn’t allowed any contact,” Susan says. “It was the first time we felt safe.” But that safety didn’t last. A new social worker arrived and told Susan that she had imagined the abuse because she had mental health issues. “She wanted me to take an IQ test,” Susan says. “It showed she didn’t understand mental health at all.” Although this opinion was later overturned through a formal complaints process, the damage was done. By the time the correction came, the court had already been told there was no abuse. Contact was reinstated against the original risk assessment, and from that point on, Susan says, “Social services denied any abuse had taken place.” “Once the courts decided there was no abuse, I became the problem. Every time I raised concerns, it was twisted into ‘parental alienation’. When all I wanted was to protect my child.” A Four-Year Ordeal For the next four years, Susan was trapped in a legal battle that drained her finances, her health and her trust in the system. Her daughter continued to report being hit by her father, but her words, Susan says, were dismissed or ignored. “Every time she said something, it became about me, that I was influencing her. If I took her to the doctor because she had a bruise from her dad, I was accused of being dishonest for not also reporting it to social services. But my solicitors advised me not to report the bruise because it could be used as more evidence against my supposed ‘alienating behaviours’. You can’t win.” At one point, the police refused to take a statement after her daughter came home with bruises. “They said social services say there was no abuse, so they wouldn’t even take a report.” Doctors, on the other hand, did try and report their concerns after seeing bruises on Susan’s daughter. “They were supportive, they made safeguarding referrals. But social services denied receiving them, even though copies were given to the court.” Eventually, the court ruled that the child should live full-time with her father - the very man she had accused of abuse. “They said I’d caused emotional harm through parental alienation. They didn’t look at any of the evidence. They wouldn’t even do a fact-finding hearing. The court even removed evidence of abuse from the case file because no fact-finding hearing had been held. Anything they could use against me, they did. They even tried to prove I hated men because I had cut off contact with my abusive father when he was arrested. What should have been seen as a positive step to protect my children was twisted to make it look like I just hated men.” When Institutions Enable Abuse Susan’s experience is far from unique. Campaigners and women’s organisations have long warned that the family courts are being used as instruments of coercive control, allowing abusers to continue their domination and abuse long after the relationship has ended. The presumption of parental contact, introduced through the Children and Families Act 2014, placed in law the idea that children should have contact with both parents unless there was evidence of risk. But in practice, critics say, it tilted the system decisively against protective mothers and children. A review in May 2024 by Right to Equality estimated that up to 60% of child-arrangement cases involve domestic abuse, and they, along with many other campaigners, argued that the presumption of contact reinforced the minimisation of abuse and the pathologising of mothers. A 2020 Ministry of Justice (MoJ) review titled ‘Assessing Risk of Harm to Children and Parents in Private Law Children Cases’ found what it called a “pro-contact culture” embedded within the family justice system. After ongoing lobbying and campaigning from the women’s sector, the government announced in October 2025 that it would finally repeal the statutory presumption of parental involvement, acknowledging that “always prioritising contact … can perpetuate child abuse in the worst cases.” In that announcement, the justice minister noted: “The horrors of domestic abuse can scar a child for life … the presumption of parental involvement can, in some cases, lead to contact being ordered even in cases where there has been domestic abuse.” While this news is welcome, Susan worries how it may affect her own case. “It’s huge progress for future children,” she says, “but I’m scared that if my case ever goes back to court, it could be used against me because the court’s view is still that I’m the abusive parent. It’s progress for others, but too late for us.” Campaigners agree that this change is vital but stress that deep cultural reform is still needed. Many judges, social workers and psychologists continue to operate with outdated assumptions about domestic abuse and coercive control. Silencing Through ‘Parental Alienation’ The concept of parental alienation - where one parent is alleged to turn a child against the other - has become a highly contested weapon in family courts. The Family Justice Council (FJC) has made it clear that the term “parental alienation syndrome” (PAS) has no recognised evidential basis and is a “harmful pseudo-science.” It is often invoked by fathers to discredit mothers who allege domestic abuse. Susan recalls being labelled an “alienator” every time she tried to show evidence. “The more proof I had - the risk assessments, police records, doctor’s notes - the more they said I was obsessed. They wouldn’t even look at the evidence. They just saw a hysterical woman making a fuss.” Once the label sticks, it shapes every professional’s report. “Each new social worker started from the same false assumption - that I’d lied about the abuse. Even the court-appointed psychologist began from that position. Even when his false allegations were disproved, they’d come up again later as fact in professionals’ documents. He’s made false allegations about me to the police, accusing me of exactly what he’s done – classic narcissism.” When one social worker did try to advocate for Susan’s daughter, she was removed from the case. “We never saw her again,” Susan says. “She was the only one who listened.” The Cost of ‘Neutrality’ Family court proceedings are meant to centre the child’s welfare. But in Susan’s case, her daughter’s voice was ignored at every turn. “She told them she didn’t want to see him, that he’d hit her. But they haven’t listened to her. They said I’d told her to say that. How is she ever going to trust adults again when nobody has protected her?” During the years-long ordeal, Susan says she received little to no practical support. Women’s organisations, charities and even her own MP told her they weren’t able to intervene because the case was ongoing. “You’re on your own. There’s no one to help you navigate it.” A System That Protects Itself Asked whether she believed professionals acted out of ignorance or malice, Susan hesitates. “Some were manipulated by him,” she says. “But professionals should be trained to recognise coercive control — instead, the system enabled him to use it to further control me. Others just didn’t want to admit they’d made mistakes. They’d rather protect their reputation than a child.” She believes the turnover of social workers fuels systemic failure. “Each one picks up the last one’s report and treats it as gospel. Nobody checks the facts.” She adds, “There’s been no acknowledgement of abuse — the courts and social services are gaslighting me. He denies everything and blames me, and they carry that on for him. It’s coercive control by proxy.” When asked what real justice would look like, Susan doesn’t hesitate: “For my daughter to be safe. For someone to actually look at the evidence. For the courts to admit when they’ve got it wrong. For them to stop letting abusers use the system to keep control.” A Turning Point? The government’s 2025 announcement to remove the presumption of contact marks a watershed moment. But a date for this change is still forthcoming and progress on the many recommendations in the Harms Panel report is painfully slow. For Susan, change cannot come soon enough. She now has limited supervised contact with her daughter: two hours a week in a contact centre. “It’s lovely to see her,” but heartbreaking too. She looks dirty and neglected. She used to have long hair; she thought she was secretly Rapunzel. But he didn’t take care of it, so her hair became matted to her scalp; it couldn’t be salvaged. So, it was cut to a boy’s hairstyle. It’s badly affected her self-esteem.” The Cost of Courage There is a quiet resilience in Susan’s story, as well as a warning. Behind every policy debate or court judgment, there are real people enduring impossible choices. For mothers like her, the system meant to protect children has instead become another arena of control and disbelief. “The court said I wouldn’t accept that it was safe,” she adds. “But how can it be safe if they never looked at the abuse? He’s doing this to hurt me out of revenge, but it’s our daughter who’s paying the price.” “If they’d just been curious - even if one person had said, maybe she’s telling the truth - everything could have been different.” As the family-court system faces long-overdue scrutiny, her words cut through the jargon and legal defences: When protection becomes punishment, it’s the children who pay the price. Sign our petition, which, amongst other things, calls for more women's voices to shape policy. Photo by Jay Son on Unsplash Manage Cookie Preferences