Toni's Story

On Saturday, July 15th 2006 my 6 year old daughter was taken to the Gold Coast Hospital by my eldest brother after my husband had grabbed her wrist to stop her from falling to the floor when he saw her falling from a high chair.

My brother had taken her to a doctor but the doctor had told him that he suspected that her arm was broken and that she should go to the hospital. At the hospital she was put through Fast Track due to her age the the possibility of a fracture. X-rays were carried out and the fracture was confirmed.

My elder brother stayed with my daughter at the hospital until approximately 4pm, when my husband arrived to relieve him. My brother took my 10 year old son and 4 year old daughter back to our place and my husband stayed with my 6 year old daughter with my 3 1/2 month old daughter in his lap until 11pm that night.

I wasn't at home at the time. I had taken my 13 year old daughter and my 68 year old mother to North Mt. Tamborine on a weekend retreat and I wasn't due to be home until the following afternoon. My brother had rung me on my mobile phone at about 2pm, but the mobile phone reception was dreadful and I could only hear stilted words among all the static and none of it made sense. My brother tried to call about 3 times to get a better connection, but at the end the battery died on my mobile and he wasn't able to hear anything more due to the bad signal. I was left with the knowledge that something had happened to my 6 year old daughter's arm and that it had something to do with the high chair and that was it. I wasn't able to ring home because the nearest pay phone was an hour's walk away from the retreat venue and none of my other friends at the retreat were getting decent mobile phone signals, so borrowing a friend's mobile wouldn't have helped.

At approximately 5.30pm the same evening, just before we were to have dinner, my husband managed to get through on the mobile of one of my friends. I had to go outdoors and stand in a certain spot and face a certain way to try and get enough bars of signal strength to be able to talk to him. He told me that my daughter's arm was broken and that he had grabbed her wrist as he tried to stop her from falling out of the high chair. The first words that came out of my mouth were "Oh, fuck". I always thought my 10 year old son would be the first to break a bone but my daughter being so tiny for a 6 year old, it made me wonder if, along with her small stature she also had bones that were easily broken. He also said that he would be picking my daughter up at 10am the following morning and bringing her home.

We didn't speak for long and then I went and sat down to dinner and gave everybody the news that my daughter had been admitted to hospital. All my friends were amazed that she had been admitted for only a broken arm. I also thought it was strange, but I didn't have the all the information on what happened. I couldn't ring the hospital because of mobile phone problems and no nearby public phone, so I resolved to wait until I got home the following afternoon and then I would be able to see how my daughter was and peak to my husband about exactly what happened and get the full picture. There was nothing else that I could do.

The following morning, Sunday, July 16th 2006, my husband rang me at 11am to say that the hospital was not releasing my daughter because she had had breathing problems during the night and they wanted to keep her in for observation. My daughter had the flu, so this didn't surprise me. I knew that hospitals like to treat everything when patients are admitted. The hospital didn't tell my husband when they thought she would be OK to be released. He also said that the police had come by and that they wanted him to go to the Surfers Paradise police station.

I thought that was really odd. Not knowing exactly what had happened to my daughter and hearing that the police wanted to speak to my husband, I couldn't fathom it. My husband was saying that he had a feeling that the police were going to charge him. I didn't know what to think. I had seen the police charge my other brother for something which he didn't do and I was becoming concerned that they may just do the same thing to my own husband.

We were due to be picked up from the retreat venue by my other brother at 2pm. In the meantime, my husband had called me approximately 3 or 4 times, telling me that the police were beginning to get antisocial about him not attending the police station and that they were really pressuring him to get down there. During the last call, he said that he had called my elder brother to come and be with the children while he went to the police station.

My other brother was extremely late, he had taken the wrong turn off and headed out to Beaudesert instead of coming to North Mt. Tamborine. He didn't pick us up until 4.15pm. We got home at 5.10pm. My husband wasn't at home but this wasn't surprising. Speaking with police at a police station can take many hours. My husband and I had to give statements to police the year before for a murder case and we were at the police station for 8 hours doing it.

My other brother took my mother home to her house and I began to unpack the car. I got 2 loads of luggage out of the car when my mobile phone rang.

It was my husband. He wasn't sure if I had made it home, so he was calling my mobile just in case. He told me that the police were charging him with assault (occasioning bodily harm) and that they were coming to take the children. I was absolutely floored. My world began to fall down around me. I asked him why and I can't even recall his answer. There was movement in my driveway. I looked up and 4 plain clothed police officers were walking up my driveway. It was 5.15pm and I had only been home for 5 minutes.

I stood and stared at them. I couldn't believe that they were here to take my children. What on Earth did I do to warrant them taking my children from me? They served me with court orders to take my 5 year old daughter and my 3 1/2 month old daughter from the family home. I couldn't do a thing about it. I asked them why they were taking my children and they said that they didn't know the full details and it was something about "nobody being in the home to look after the children".

I was outraged! I said to them that I was home, that they were looking at me. I pointed out that my elder brother was in the home and had been looking after the children for the past few hours. I told them that the children had most definitely not been left at home by themselves.

I asked them why they weren't taking my 13 year old daughter and my 10 year old son and they said "they are old enough to look after themselves". This made even less sense!! If I left a 10 year old boy in the home by himself I'd be in trouble with the law. I couldn't understand it.

It didn't matter. They gave me the number for DoCS and told me that I could call DoCS in the morning. Then they left with my 2 younger girls. I hadn't seen my baby in 3 days and I didn't even get to say goodbye to my girls. They just marched them down the driveway in the cold of night without covering on their heads or a backward glance. Just like seized property. No emotion and void of humanity. They didn't even speak to my girls. Just marched them off.

I was stunned and numb. Home by 5.10pm and without a husband and young girls by 5.50pm. I didn't know what to do. I sat in my carport feeling numb and stunned. Still wondering what the hell I had done. The police had said that my husband may get bail that night.

I made numerous telephone calls, telling family and friends of what had happened. My elder brother kept coming out the the carport to voice his opinion on what had happened. It was typical of him. All opinion and no action. He was going on about how he had seen my daughter's arm and there was no redness or bruising and this and that. After a while, I just tuned out. I didn't want to listen to his ravings. I had my own problems.

At around 6.30pm I telephoned the hospital. I asked the nurse if she knew what had happened and all she said was that it was something to do with my daughter falling from a high chair. I asked her how my daughter was and she told me that she had been to theatre and that she was OK. Nothing was said about any breathing problems. I asked if I could come and see her and she said it was fine, so I arranged with my elder brother to go to the hospital.

I rang my mum to tell her that it looked like my daughter had had a plate or pins put in her arm. I couldn't think of any other reason why she needed to go to theatre.

I got to the hospital at 7.15pm. My daughter saw me as soon as I walked into her room. I asked her what she was doing in the hospital and she said "I broke my arm". There was a nurse hovering around like a bad smell, fluttering curtains and moving chairs about. I thought this behaviour was a bit strange, but figured that she probably didn't have anything better to do. She then pulled up a chair next to my daughter's bed and sat in it. I thought this was really weird. I kept looking over at her, but she never said anything. Eventually I asked her if she wanted to ask me something and she said that no and that my visit with my daughter had to be supervised. I was horrified!

I had absolutely no idea what to say. I looked at her as if she had just grown a set of horns. I can't even recall what I did say, I was so shocked. I said something about nobody telling me this when I had spoken to the police and a hospital nurse. I then said that they needn't worry about having to supervise my visits with my daughter because I wouldn't be coming back. I said to my daughter that it was 7.30pm and time for her to go to bed, so I had to leave and let her get some sleep. Then I departed.

On the way back to my house my elder brother was off on one again. Ranting and raving about the system and somebody thinking they were God and numerous other things. I tuned him out yet again. I was still in shock about being treated like some kind of child abuser and I still didn't know exactly what had happened to my daughter.

I was getting no answers from anybody. The police didn't tell me anything and the hospital didn't tell me anything. I couldn't speak with my husband because he was to be taken to the Southport watch house under arrest and there was nobody else whom I could question about it. I was stuck trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle with lots of missing pieces.

I sat in the carport and my brother left. I don't even know what time he went. I don't recall him even leaving. I rang my mother and told her what had happened at the hospital. She was shocked and wanted to know if the same thing would happen to her if she was to visit my daughter. I had no idea. I couldn't give her an answer. I had no answers.

I tried to think rationally. So many things needed to be done, but I had to wait until the following day to do them. I began to feel redundant. My husband was probably at the watch house and he had no legal representation. He might get bail that night or he might not. I had to contact DoCS but they weren't open until the following morning. I still had no idea of what had happened to cause this situation and there was nobody I could ring about it. And what the fuck did I do to my child to make me be treated like such a criminal?!

I was in a total daze. Time was going by and I was not aware of it. Some time between 9pm and 11pm I used my credit card to recharge my mobile phone with credit. I figured that I would make calls on my mobile phone and leave the home phone for incoming calls. This was the only constructive thing I had to do while I waited for time to go by.

I had tried to call the watch house at some point after I got home from the hospital, but they didn't have my husband there. He still hadn't been taken to the watch house from the police station.

I cried, but I didn't want my elder children to see me cry. They already knew that something was terribly wrong and I needed to put on a brave face for their benefit. I don't even know what time they went to bed. At some point they asked where my husband was and all I could say was "I don't know". I didn't know. I didn't know if I could call the Surfers Paradise police station nor what the phone number was. I had no idea where my husband was.

I cried.

After what seemed like forever, I checked the time and it was 3.30pm. I had been sitting in my carport for hours and I wasn't even aware of it. I knew I had to take myself off to bed, so I went to my room and climbed in, still fully dressed. My children were still awake, I could hear them both crying. I was too emotionally exhausted to go to them. How could I comfort them when I can't even comfort myself? I don't recall falling asleep. I think my body just gave in to exhaustion.

I woke up the next morning at 7am. After getting changed, I armed myself with my mobile phone, the home phone, a notepad and a pen and went outside to the carport and sat down. I had a lot of things to do and a lot of calls to make. The most important being a call to obtain legal representation for my husband. I wasn't there with him, but I could do my best to help him.

My son went off to school at his usual time and my elder daughter stayed home with the flu. I don't even recall who made his lunches. It might have been me or it might have been my daughter. I don't know. I recall wondering at some point what the fallout would be at the schools my children attend.

At 9am I knew that the police would start putting people through the court from the watch house, so I rang a criminal barrister whom I knew and informed his receptionist that my husband needed legal representation. She told me she would pass on the message and I told her my husband was already in the watch house. She changed her tone an said she would call the barrister as he was at the court house himself. That was one thing off my list and a weight off my shoulders.

I rang the school and told them that my 6 year old daughter would not be attending school because she was in the hospital with a broken arm. I also warned them that their might be issues with my son and for them to keep their eye out for behavioural changes. They wanted to know when my daughter would be back at school and I told them that I didn't know.

I began to get things done and I started to feel a bit more positive about the situation. I rang DoCS not long after 9am and asked to speak to anybody about my girls. I was put through to a worker who said that the file hadn't arrived from Crisis Care and that a worker had already been assigned and that she would get him to call me back as soon as possible.

I cried.

I rang the hospital to enquire about my daughter. Nobody would tell me anything except that she was OK. I left a message for my daughter's doctor to call me.

I hadn't seen my baby for 4 days and I was missing her with physical pain. Thank God I wasn't breast feeding.

I cried.

There were incoming calls, but none of them were from people I needed to hear from. It was always the way. Everyone else rings except the people you hope will ring.

Everyone who rang was shocked about what had happened. Each phone conversation ended with "If there is anything I can do... " . There was nothing that anybody could do. I was at a complete loss as to what I could do.

At 10.30am I rang the watch house to see if my husband had been taken into the court. They said that he had not and that they were running late with the court hearings and had only just begun to get people through.

I cried.

I felt so alone. I was doing everything I could but it just didn't seem like enough and I hated playing the waiting game.

At 11am I rang DoCS again. I figured that they should have had some kind of information by this time. I got to speak to the assigned worker and he said that he had only just received the file but hadn't had a chance to read it. What use was that?! I asked him to call me back.

I cried.

At 12pm I rang the barrister's office to see if the had heard anything. The receptionist old me that my husband had been granted bail and that he was waiting for his paperwork before they released him. What a relief! My husband would be coming home.

At about 12.30pm I rang DoCS back and spoke to the assigned worker again. He said that he had read the file and that he was waiting on a report from the police and something from the hospital. He also said that my baby was in the hospital. This made no sense. I said my 6 year old daughter was in the hospital and he said my baby was in there as well. Something to do with respiratory problems and her going to the hospital half an hour after she had been taken from my home.

What the fuck?!

I couldn't understand it. I rang the hospital and they told me that they didn't have my baby in their care. I rang the DoCS worker back and told him that the hospital was saying my baby wasn't there. He was sure he had been told my baby was at the hospital, but he couldn't confirm which one she was at. I hung up and rang the Logan hospital. My baby wasn't here either.

I rang the DoCS worker back again and asked him where the hell my baby was. I told him that both the Gold Coast and Logan hospitals were saying my baby was not in their care. I wanted to know where the hell my baby was! He said that he would contact the hospital and confirm that my baby was there and call me back.

I called him back myself and he told me again that my baby was in the hospital and that it was the Gold Coast Hospital. I said that the hospital was denying that my baby was there. Then I asked him why nobody had informed me that my baby had been admitted to the hospital. I didn't get an answer.

It dawned on me that I was a mushroom... Kept in the dark and fed on bullshit.

At 1pm a good friend came by with cake. I hadn't eaten for 24 hours. We had cups of tea and cake and chain smoked. I had smoked nearly a full pack of 50 cigarettes in 16 hours. She was shocked about the whole situation and we rehashed everything that I knew. Neither of us could make any sense of it.

At around 1.20pm my husband rang my mobile phone. He had been released and was on his way home. I wanted to ring a taxi for him, but he wanted to walk. My friend offered to go and pick him up but he still wanted to walk. He said he wanted to clear his head and I totally understood.

My husband arrived home about 20 minutes later. My friend patted him on the back and left straight away. I didn't know what to say to my husband. I had a lot of questions, but I didn't even know where to start.

I had never seen a devastated man before. My husband was a mess. He smelled terrible and he was unshaven and the look on his face I can't even put into words. I gave him a hug and he held onto me as if I as some kind of lifeline.

I asked him what had happened and the details poured forth.

He said that at 12pm he had sat my 6 year old daughter in the high chair to eat her lunch. My 10 year old son and 4 year old daughter had eaten their lunch quickly, as usual. My son had gone next door to play with the neighbour's son and my 4 year old daughter had gone into the playroom to watch TV and my baby was in bed asleep.

He said that my 6 year old daughter had wanted to get down from the high chair, but she had a sandwich and a crust on her plate and he had asked her to finish her lunch first. Then my baby awoke, so he went into our bedroom to check on her.

When he came from our bedroom, my 6 year old daughter was standing with her feet on the front edge of the tray on the high chair and her hands on the top of the back rest. As he stepped from the bedroom doorway she slipped, so he immediately reached out and grabbed her wrist to stop her from falling to the floor.

My husband was a hero. He had saved my daughter from what could have been a terrible fall and I felt a huge surge of admiration for him. She could have got her leg trapped in the high chair or hit her head on the floor or anything. He was a hero.

He said he set my daughter on the floor and asked her if she was OK. She had said her arm hurt a bit, so he got her to wiggle her fingers and checked her arm for any swelling. Her fingers wriggled and there was no swelling beginning, so he didn't think anything of it. She said she wanted to go to bed and have a lie down.

My 6 year old daughter lay in her bed and began to cry. My husband went in and asked her what the matter was and she said her arm hurt. He tried to call out to my son to come home, but my son didn't hear him, so with my baby back asleep and not wanting to disturb her, he rang for my elder brother and asked him to take my daughter to the doctor.

Through the explanation my husband cried and I fed him tissues. It was all I could do while I listened.

He was a wreck. Deliberately hurting a child was the last thing he would ever do. He had raised his 2 eldest daughters in England. He had no criminal history in England or Australia. He even held a Blue Card. Plus the degradation of having to spend the night in the watch house and the treatment he received in there was all impacting on him.

He said that on the Sunday morning the police kept calling him every hour, trying to get him to the station. He said that after 12pm they were calling him every half an hour and putting pressure on him to come to the station. He also said that by 1.30pm on Sunday the police had asked him to ask my elder brother to come and look after the children while he attended the station. My husband had said that my elder brother was not the ideal person to look after the children as he had no children of his own and no parenting skills. On the request of the police, my husband organized for my elder brother to come after work and watch the children while he went to the police station.

He said that he got to the police station just before 2pm and had to wait until 2.20pm before the police officer took him into an interview room.

The "little man on my shoulder" was talking to me, so I went and got the paperwork that the police had served me with the previous night and looked for a time on them. The court orders had been issued within minutes of my husband being taken into the police interview room.

I showed my husband the time on the paperwork and it dawned on us that the 20 minutes my husband was made to wait at the police station before a police officer came to get him was the time being used by the same police officer to ring a Magistrate and have court orders endorsed over the phone!

The police had manipulated my husband! They knew that they were going to get court orders as soon as my husband arrived. They had planned it!

It made sense with what my husband had said about telling the police that my elder brother was not a good choice to look after the children and then the police telling me the previous night that they had been told something about there being nobody there to look after the children.

After hugging and crying together, my husband went inside for a long soak in the bath to wash the watch house filth off him and I stayed in the carport. I had told him everything that had been going on at my end and he had told me everything that had been going on at his end. We were up to date.

I rang the DoCS worker back and he wanted to make a time to come out and meet with us in our home to get our side of everything. We agreed on a time for Wednesday, July 19th. I told him that I wanted to see my daughters and he said "I'll see what I can do".

I sat in the carport and stared at nothing in particular across the street for hours and chain smoked for hours. I'm not a chain smoker but the stress was unbelievable.

My children came home from school at round 3.30pm. They were thrilled to hear that my husband was at home but they went about their own business. It was like they were tiptoeing around the house, not wanting to upet anybody.

I didn't know what to say to the children. I didn't want to tell them too much because there were things that young children just didn't need to know. Yet I didn't want to tell them too little because as part of the family they had a right to know what was going on. I didn't know what to say at all to them.

My son was afraid of having to go to foster care too. I couldn't give him an answer. I had no idea what was to come.

My husband spent hours crying in the bath. I left him be. I knew that it was better out than in. I had already cried until I felt I had no more tears to cry, only to find more during another bout of emotion.

On Tuesday, July 18th 2006 the entire family was numb. My husband and I weren't really talking to eachother about what had happened. We didn't have anything to say that we hadn't already previously discussed. My house seemed huge without the little girls. Cold like a morgue and void of childish laughter. I kept thinking that I could hear my baby but had to constantly remind myself that she wasn't there any more. I missed her dreadfully. Each time I thought of her I cried.

I said to my children that there would be a man coming the following afternoon to speak with us and that he would want to speak with them too. I said that we had to do everything we could to try and get the girls back and that they were to be honest and tell the truth.

I still hadn't had a call from my 6 year old daughter's doctor at the hospital. I began to suspect that I wouldn't be getting a call. I rang again and left another message for the doctor to call me.

At 11am on the morning of Wednesday, July 19th I went to the hospital to see my daughter and took my eldest daughter with me. She was still off school sick. My husband was still reeling from the past 48 hours and he couldn't even drive properly. We nearly had an accident on the way to the hospital. He was in no emotinal state to drive.

My elder daughter and I went to the children's ward and met up with the ward's school teacher en route. She said that she knew my daughter and lead us to her bed. I said hello to my daughter and asked her how she was. She said "My arm is broken". Every one of my daughter's fingers, including her thumbs, were cut to pieces and swollen. They were all purplish-brown, as if blood had been squeezed from them. She held a child's drinking flask on a lanyard with the palms of her hands. She couldn't use her fingers. I recalled the DoCS worker saying something at some point about the hospital being concerned about her size and running more tests. I vaguely recall wondering why the hospital never requested my permission. I wondered how on Earth my daughter was feeding herself at meal times with her little fingers in such a terrible state.

I wanted to ask her about what had happened. I felt I had the right as her parent to hear it from her. Staff were swarming towards me. They seemed to come from nowhere all at once.

I was surrounded by nursing staff, the ward school teacher and a social worker. I tried to look at my daughter's chart, but the school teacher whipped it away and took it to the nurse's station, giving me a look as if I had just committed the ultimate crime against humanity. I had no idea what was going on.

The social worker seemed to become the designated speaker for all the hospital staff around me. I tried to speak to my daughter, but she butted in. She said that I couldn't be there. I asked her why and she said that I was a risk to my children. I was floored!

She then repeated that I was a risk to my children and that I had had all my children taken away from me. I was absolutely mortified. I said "I have not!" and my eldest daughter said "She has not!" at the exact same time.

All the other children and parents in the room could hear the conversation. I was humiliated. This woman was slandering me, defaming my character, right there on the ward in front of everybody. She was saying something about needing to be supervised and something about me having to ring DoCS about it. I began raving back at her, saying that nobody is telling me anything and that she had no right to speak to me that way. All of this was said in front of my daughters.

I left the hospital in abject rage. I could not believe the social worker's lack of discretion and professionalism. I rang my husband to come and get us. When we got home, I rang the hospital and put in a compliant with the liaison officer about the behaviour of the social worker and other nursing staff. I then rang the DoCS worker and yelled at him about being treated like such a criminal.

Somewhere around 2.30pm the DoCS worker arrived. He had received the report from the police but nothing from the hospital. My husband spoke about what had happened with my 6 year old daughter and how it had happened. I was keen to listen because time frames were included in this rendition. We spoke about my daughter's eating behaviours and why she was given her meals in a high chair.

I asked the DoCS worker about my baby. He said she was definitely in the Gold Coast Hospital. He then mumbled something with the woman who was with him taking the notes and said something about DoCS often using aliases when it comes to children being admitted to hospital. He also said that DoCS had plenty of names to choose from with my family. I had learned something new.

I asked him about the police report and he said that they had written that my 13 year old daughter had told a police officer to "fuck off". My daughter, who was sick in bed yelled from her room "I did not!". He also said that the police had written that my son had run off up the street when they arrived. I said to him that this was completely untrue. I said my elder brother and my son were in the playroom playing video games and that my son would have had to have come past me in the carport to run up the street.

I was completely astounded.

My son came home from school and the first thing he said when he got in the door was "Are we going into foster care?". The DoCS worker said "No, you're not going into foster care". This appeased my son.

The DoCS worker then went upstairs to our lounge room and asked my daughter the required questions. After this he spoke with my son and asked him the required questions. He asked my son if he had ever been smacked. My son said yes. He asked him if he still gets smacked and my son said no. He asked him when it was that he was smacked and my son said a long time ago, maybe last year. There were more questions asked and my son said something which we couldn't hear. I heard my daughter say something that we couldn't hear either.

That night a wrote a letter to the senior whomever at the Surfers Paradise police station who was in charge of JAB and put in a complaint. I also wrote a letter to the CMC about the police report.

Pieces of the ugly puzzle were falling into place. The hospital had referred to my elder brother as being my 6 y year old daughter's father and not my husband. They had given the police the wrong information from the wrong man. My brother's story did not match my daughter's story. It wouldn't have, he wasn't even there.

I wrote a letter to the Director of the Gold Coast Hospital, demanding to know why his staff had accused my husband of something based on something which my brother had actually said.

My 6 year old daughter had stated to somebody "Daddy broke my arm". She had not said anything to anyone about climbing out of the high chair herself or why she was in the high chair in the first place. She just spoke about the end result, not how events lead to the end result.

My 6 year old daughter had phoned me twice from the hospital. On one occasion she said "There's a baby in here". I said "A baby just like (name withheld).". The conversation was ended abruptly. My daughter didn't even know her sister was in hospital with her.

On July 20th 2006 I rang DoCS, demanding that I get to see my daughters. I hadn't seen my baby for 6 days and I hadn't seen my 4 year old daughter for 4 days. All I got was "I'll see what I can do".

On July 21st 2006 my 6 year old daughter was released from the hospital and went straight into foster care.

I spoke with the DoCS worker again at some point and learned that my 4 and 6 year old daughters were in the same foster home. I wasn't told where it was. A visit had been arranged for my husband and I to see my 4 and 6 year old daughters at the park at the Charis Lagoon on the Broadwater at 10am on the following Monday (July 24th, then we would go to the hospital to visit with my baby.

My baby was still in the hospital and obviously would not be released before Monday.

Monday, July 24th 2006 came and my husband and I were at the park by 9.45am. At 10.20am I rang the DoCS worker and asked him where my daughters were. I said that they were not there and we had been there for 35 minutes. He said he would ring the foster carer and find out what was going on and call me back.

He rang me back and said that my 6 year old daughter had a hospital appointment at 11am and that she was on her way to the hospital. I had a go at him and demanded to know why I hadn't been informed of it. He said something about not knowing about the appointment himself. I was disgusted at the lack of communication between all these supposed "services".

We went around to the hospital and waited in the lobby. Shortly afterwards my daughters arrived, accompanied by a huge older Maori woman with dreadful teeth. My 4 year old daughter was an emotional mess. As soon as she saw us she began to cry her heart out and she was all flushed from the flu. My 6 year old daughter was very blasé about the whole thing. She was to have her cast redone.

We went up to an outpatients of some kind and waited in the waiting room. The huge Maori woman was mumbling something and something was said which lead to the discovery that not only was she given the wrong names of my daughters by somebody, but she was given the wrong ages. We also found out that she had not been told about our visit with the girls nor that we would be going to visit the children's ward. She knew nothing.

Waiting for my 6 year old daughter to be called, we found out that the huge woman had not been given a hospital card by anybody about the appointment and that my 6 year old daughter was booked in with the wrong surname.

After all this and on our way to the children's ward, my 6 year old daughter tells me "I have a new mum and dad now" and "I live in a new house now". What on Earth had somebody been saying to my child?!

We got to the children's ward and I was dreading everything. I did not want to run into any staff who had surrounded me on my previous visit.

The hospital staff hadn't been informed that we were coming. They had to ring around and make all their checks. My baby was being given a bath somewhere.

We were lead to my baby's room. It was a single, private room on the ward and stinking hot. It was like a sauna in there. There was no drip stand. Where were the antibiotics if my baby was meant to have bronchitis? On the table were boys clothing. They were dressing her as a boy.

They brought my baby in and I was horrified. She wasn't this beautiful little girl whom I had see the day I left on the retreat. She was this big fat ugly slug dressed in a boy's romper with a winter knitted cardigan, covered in thick cradle cap that ran down her forehead and across her cheeks. This was not my child!

My child did not have thick cradle cap. My child did not have a face covered in dry peeling skin with clots of oozing lymph and cradle cap. My child did not have red, painful cheeks. My child was not a boy! I couldn't touch this child. I wanted to vomit.

My beautiful baby girl was suffering from lack of hygiene and oozing skin. I looked at her. Her hands had no marks from where a drip might have been. Infants are given antibiotics intravenously at this age. She had not been on antibiotics. She had not had bronchitis. She had not been sick at all!

No signs of a residual cough.

Dressed in winter clothing in a sweltering hospital room... It dawned on me.

DoCS had no foster home to put her in! So they had had her admitted to the hospital until they could find a home for her!

Rare bathing had allowed cradle cap to develop and thicken. The hot room and winter clothing had dried out her skin, allowing her face to become parched, split and sore.

Neglect! Child abuse!!

We went home and I rang the DoCS worker and vented my anger. I demanded to know what she was being fed at the hospital because it was most certainly not what she was being fed at home. I wanted answers! I demanded to know when she would be released from the hospital. They still had no home for her to go to.

I wanted to vomit.

DoCS were saying my baby had eczema. Eczema my fucking arse! She never had "eczema" at home.

We had our first court case I think on July 25th. I can't recall the exact date. It might have been the 28th. We had acquired a solicitor who turned out to be completely useless. His best advice was to allow DoCS to have the orders they wanted on the girls and to go from there. We weren't prepared to do that. He claimed that DoCS were making allegations other than the break to my daughter's arm. This was news to us. DoCS had not mentioned anything to us at all about other allegations.

Needless to say, we attended court, the solicitor couldn't even say anything that didn't begin or end with "um" and DoCS won a 4 week Court Assessment Order.

I spent the next 2 weeks with everything going around and around in my head at night and throwing up with all the stress in the mornings. I wrote letters to everybody whom I could think of, including the Magistrate. I said to her that the DoCS worker had done nothing towards an assessment of the case and that he had told me so himself. I dropped him right in it! I didn't give a shit.

My baby went to a foster home, separate to my other 2 girls, at some point. I don't know when she was discharged from the hospital. I was never told.

Each time I rang DoCS, I tried to find out what these other allegations were. I was given little information. Nor was I given a chance to address the allegations with DoCS.

My daughters would come for visits. My 6 year old daughter was very aggressive. She would hit anybody with anything that she had in her hand. She would give everyone "the finger" and refer to the foster parents as "Mum" and "Dad". She called my husband and I by our first names. What signals were these people giving my daughters?

My baby still had thick cradle cap a dry peeling face and the creases at her ankles were beginning to split open. All she wanted to do was sleep. I was disgusted that her foster carer had done nothing about her cradle cap.

We still hadn't given my older children much information about what was going on. In reality, we didn't have to tell them much at all because they had been able to work things out for themselves by listening to my husband and I talk and phone conversations I had had.

On July 28th, 2006, my eldest daughter and I had a conversation about my 6 year old daughter. We didn't talk for very long. I didn't want to burden her with things that she wouldn't fully understand, so I just said to her that her sister didn't tell anybody the full story of what had happened. My daughter said "She'll tell me." and that was the end of the conversation.

That same afternoon, during a visit with the girls, my eldest daughter got our video camera and started filming the girls. This wasn't unusual, we often make home movies and she knew how to use the video camera. She gave the video camera to me just after 2pm to upload the video onto our computer. What I saw was my 6 year old daughter completely recanting her story, including the words "Daddy saved me". I had a piece of information in my hands and I didn't know what to do with it.

At some point my son commented that he hadn't seen my 6 year old daughter at school. I asked her about this and she said "Mum doesn't know where the school is". I couldn't believe it. After the girls had left, I rang the DoCS worker and demanded to know why, 2 weeks after being discharged from the hospital, my daughter was not back at school. He didn't have an answer, so he said he would contact the foster carer about it.

I called him back at some point and he said "She is very tired and we have decided that she could have some time off school.". Who the fuck is "we" when the DoCS worker didn't even know she wasn't attending school? And why the hell wasn't I consulted about it?

In mere days my daughter was back at school. Arriving after 9am and getting to class by 9.45am each day.

On one occasion, during a visit with the girls after school, I went through my 6 year old daughter's school bag. She was still not eating her lunch properly. I found a drink bottle in her bag that shocked the shit out of me. I asked her what she had had to drink at school and she said "Water".

Her drink bottle had brown, crusty muck in it that looked like old chocolate milk around the top and inside the bottle. It stunk and it clearly had not been washed properly. My daughter confirmed that she had been drinking out of the drink bottle. My husband took photos of it.

After the girls left, I rang the DoCS worker and complained about the condition of the drink bottle and the fact that my daughter was expected to drink from it.

Then the messages from the foster carers started. "Mum said to tell you...". Both my 4 and 6 year old daughters confirmed that their foster mother had told them to tell me things. I made another complaint to the DoCS worker about my daughters being used as messengers. I told him that if the carers want to tell me something they can tell him and he can pass the message on to me.

DoCS acquired a worker from Pathways to do a family assessment. This man usually took 3 months to do assessments, but he knew that his time was very limited. He only made a tentative report, writing on the report that the time frame made the report's information limited.

My husband and I acquired a new solicitor. DoCS wanted a 4 week extension on the 4 week Court Assessment Order. We were going to oppose it. At some point we had been served with an affidavit that DoCS had subitted to the court.

I never read so much bullshit in all my life. They were trying to claim that my son and 6 year old daughter were small because they were neglected. They were saying that both my husband and I smack the children. That my young daughters were scared of us. That my eldest daughter was "clearly sticking up for her parents". Plus numerous other allegations. It was incomprehensible. These allegations I knew absolutely nothing about until we were served with the affidavits. I had tried on many occasions to speak with the DoCS worker about them but was never given the chance.

The next court date was around August 25th, 2006. We got the same female Magistrate. She handed our new solicitor a copy of the letter I had written her and gave one to DoCS as well. I didn't know whether to crawl under my chair or hold out my hands for shackles and a charge of contempt of court. The Magistrate was very concerned about the fact that she had given DoCS 4 weeks to do an assessment and they still had not completed it. She was also very concerned about the young age of my baby and the fact that she was in foster care. DoCS won, but they only got a 2 week extension. She also wanted to know why 2 children had been left in the home if the 3 younger children were "at risk". The DoCS worker said something about the older children being considered able to look after themselves. She wanted a better answer, but none was forthcoming from DoCS.

We went home and I rang the fellow from Pathways, letting him know that he only had 2 weeks to finish what he would normally do in 3 months.

Our family was adapting to life without the girls. The house was quieter, but through our adaptation to our new situation we were evolving into a family of 4 instead of one of 7.

I took it upon myself to clear up my daughter's cradle cap. Each visit, I would gently scratch and scrape at her head and the flakes would fall away. After a couple of visits of doing this, her scalp cleared. Strangely, so did her face. Her cradle cap never came back after that and her face remained perfect. Mother knows best. Eczema my arse!

My husband wasn't faring well. He was becoming extremely depressed. We still weren't really talking about things. It just hurt us both too much to rehash the same thing over and over. I could feel that the icy tentacles of suicide were always clawing at my husband's mind. I just hoped that he wouldn't do something stupid. He got himself some counseling at a place in Helensvale. It was the best thing he could have done and I completely supported him in it.

At one point he was joking around with my eldest daughter when she slipped in the kitchen on some margarine on the floor. My husband went to grab her, then rushed to the toilet to vomit. This is what it had come to for him.

At the end of the 2 weeks, another court hearing date was set. I was sick of trying to speak to DoCS about these supposed allegations, so I discussed it with our solicitor. We met with the DoCS court rep and the DoCS worker at the court house and I explained that they had these allegations but had never given us an opportunity to address them. I said that I felt that we had the right to address the allegations. They agreed to an adjournment and the DoCS worker said he would contact us with a time and date to meet at the DoCS office to discuss the allegations.

The hearing was adjourned for a week and the meeting at the DoCS office was set for the morning of the date of the court hearing. The timing of everything meant a tight schedule for that day.

At the meeting our solicitor attended with us. There was talk about my daughter's broken arm, the fact that there was still no report from the hospital and many other things... Except the real reason why we were there.

After a while of hearing stuff that I had heard before, I asked the DoCS worker about the allegations. He said that he didn't have the paperwork on him, that it was back at his desk. Then his Team Leader piped up and went on about the break to my daughter's arm as if that was the one and only allegation.

We had been manipulated. The meeting we had requested had been manipulated into a Family Group Meeting that DoCS had to have as part of their procedure. It was unbelievable.

We went to court that afternoon. DoCS had brought the Team Leader. I thought that was unusual and commented on it to our solicitor. We had a male Magistrate this time. DoCS were adamant that they wanted custody of my girls. They won. I don't even know what kind of order was issued.

I wanted to vomit.

We went home and moped around. Neither my husband nor I had any idea how to fight this.

On August 31st, 2006, our girls came to visit. There were 2 people supervising the visit with the girls. We couldn't fit everybody into the house, so we had to go outside. Everyone was eaten by mosquitoes.

After the visit I rang DoCS. The usual worker was away, so I spoke to the Team Leader. I said to her that I could not have so many people supervising the visit because my house could not fit that many people at once. I told her we were all forced to go outside where, everyone had been bitten constantly by mosquitoes.

The DoCS worker had been at the foster home my 4 and 6 year old lived in when I had rung the office. In the next affidavit it was written that my home was full of fleas, the statement dated August 31st, 2006.

On September 7th, 2006 my solicitor rang at about 1pm. She dropped the bomb shell that DoCS were applying to the court to remove my 2 elder children to foster care. I was absolutely astounded. She said that they had been embarrassed by the court and were back peddling. Almost immediately the DoCS worker arrived to serve us with the next affidavit.

I couldn't believe it. Things were getting worse, one thing after the next.

I didn't read through the affidavit. I knew that it was a repeat of the same false allegations with the latest reports included. I would read it when I was emotionally ready to deal with it.

My husband went into our room and sat on our bed to read through it. He turned the bedroom light out at around 7.30pm. I stayed up and played a game on the computer. I wanted something that would make me think of anything other than what was coming up at court on September 12th.

At 9pm my husband staggered from our bedroom to the toilet. He looked and acted like somebody blind drunk but I knew he hadn't been drinking and I couldn't smell alcohol. He never usually gets up at night to use the toilet. This was strange behaviour. He was walking into the walls and could barely negotiate the doorways.

He staggered back to bed and at about 11pm I heard strange moaning coming from our bedroom. At first I thought he was talking in his sleep, so I listened and it was definitely moaning. I went and turned the bedroom light on. He was lying on the bed with his legs partially off the side and he was trying to sit up. He couldn't sit up.

He managed to get himself upright and I asked him what was wrong and he said nothing. I knew darn well something wasn't right. For a start, he was slurring his speech as would a drunk. His jaw was slack and there was dribble on his chin and right shoulder.

Stroke.

I'd found my mother the previous year after she had had a stroke and I knew what the signs of stoke were. I also knew that time was of the extreme essence.

I told my husband that I was ringing Emergency. He slurred that he was OK and I said straight out that he wasn't. I dialed 000 and requested an ambulance. I gave the operator my husband's symptoms and they asked me if he had ever had a stroke before. I said no.

I went to help my husband dress. It was difficult to get shorts on him as he couldn't stand straight for very long. Together we got his shorts on and I put his shoes on him. He wanted to make a coffee. He took his coffee cup from the bedside table with a stumbling, tripping effort and went towards the kitchen. I was concerned that he would fall, smash his cup and cut himself. This was the least of my worries.

He turned to the kitchen and began to run. He couldn't stop himself. He was plowing towards the bench and if he didn't stop he would go through the kitchen windows.

Fortunately the kitchen bench stopped his charge. My husband's brain was not functioning properly at all.

It took 2 hours for the ambulance to arrive. They had to come down from Brisbane. They tried to ask my husband some questions, but his answers were slurred and incomplete. He knew his name and his age and birth date, but he couldn't speak clearly enough so I gave the information to the paramedics.

My eldest daughter had woken up with all the noise followed by my son. I told them that my husband was going to the hospital and that he had possibly had a stroke. They knew about strokes. Tears began to flow from everybody. I still hadn't told them about the day's news.

The following morning my elder brother drove me to the hospital to see my husband. It was just after 9am and he was still on the emergency ward. They were waiting for a bed to become available for him, so they were admitting him. They said that they had scheduled a CT scan.

My husband was much the same as he had been the previous night. Even after all these hours, there was no improvement. He acknowledged me with a slur and went back to sleep.

I left and went home. I rang the solicitor and informed her of what had happened.

Later that morning I got an SMS from my husband asking me where the hell I was and why the hell he was in the hospital. He didn't remember anything. He had no idea that he had drooled all over himself or nearly gone through the kitchen windows. He was on the ward and they had done the CT scan, taken blood and had scheduled an MRI for the following morning.

The CT scan had shown nothing and neither did the blood. The hospital were hoping the MRI would show something.

After my elder children had come home from school, I told them about what DoCS were trying to do. I figured forewarned was forearmed. Neither of them really reacted, so I think they figured that it was bound to happen. Children aren't stupid.

We all went to see my husband that night. The following day he came home. There was no talk from the hospital staff about the possibility of Bell's Palsy. They put it down to a mini stroke, even though the MRI showed nothing either.

I was just relieved that the sleeping tablets which had been prescribed some weeks earlier for my husband by our GP were not the reason behind it all. My husband hadn't decided to end it all and I was very pleased about it. It was something that had been playing on my mind.

September 12th was the date of the dreaded court hearing and the date that my son was to have a pre-op dental appointment. We had been waiting a year for him to get into the hospital to have his teeth done. My husband opted to stay home and get my son to his appointment while I faced the lions with our solicitor in the court room.

We fought a brave battle, but DoCS won. It honestly did not surprise me. I went in there expecting it. My solicitor and went back to her office after the hearing and had a coffee. I rang my husband. I didn't know how to tell him DoCS had won again.

The DoCS worker went straight from the court room to our house. He didn't even have any paperwork with him. He informed my husband that he was there to take the children and my husband told him that they weren't even home from school yet. It was only 2.30pm. My husband also said that he wasn't going to allow him to take the children without the paperwork and that he wished him off the property because he was trespassing. The DoCS worker said that I knew, but my husband said that I had not informed him and repeated that he was not going to hand over the children without legal paperwork.

The DoCS officer left the property and stood on the footpath. He called his Team Leader to bring the paperwork and told her that my husband was not allowing the children to leave without it. She arrived with the paperwork around the same time that my elder daughter got home from school. My daughter knew exactly what was going on and screamed "No!!!" and ran into the house.

My husband had telephoned me soon after the DoCS worker arrived. My solicitor tried to negotiate with the worker, but he was adamant that he was taking the children right then and there. My solicitor was disgusted.

I spoke with both my son and daughter over the phone and told them that they had to go. I said I couldn't stop it and that they needed to be on their best behaviour. They were taken before I got home.

Again, I didn't get the chance to say goodbye to my children in person.

The DoCS worker was aware that my son had a dental appointment and had promised my husband that he would get him to the appointment. He never took my son to the dentist. Nor did he take his ADHD medication with him when he left with the children.

After I got home and the dust continued to waft around us, my daughter began sending me SMS messages. They were living in a motel somewhere on the Broadwater and the huge Maori woman with terrible teeth was their carer. The messages were continuous.

Bad food, no food. Sick of icecream, locked in the bedroom. Verbal abuse, smacking. Nothing to eat but ice. No sanitary liners, carer wouldn't buy any. No breakfast, no school lunch. It went on and on.

Shit hit the fan on July 18th, 2006. My daughter was so scared of the carer that she refused to leave her school and go home with the woman. I had already rung DoCS and spoken to the new Team Leader that morning about what had happened with my elder children over the weekend and put in a complaint. She said they would investigate it. Another carer was organized, but it turned out to be the daughter of the original carer, so yet another was organized.

I was really worried about my older children. I couldn't believe that nobody would even buy my daughter sanitary liners. I couldn't get any to her! It was unbelievable. The whole situation was a nightmare.

On the first visit with all 5 of the children, my elder daughter brought up g-strings. I wasn't even listening to the conversation. As soon as it dawned on me, I stopped the topic but there was mass exodus and all the children were removed.

Visits were cancelled until further notice. I hadn't even done anything! It took days to get the visits reinstated again.

At some point in September or early October my husband was burning the video made of my 6 year old daughter recanting her story to CD. He wanted to give a copy to his barrister. We had already shown the video to our Family Law solicitor.

I had told the DoCS worker around this time that we had a video of my 6 year old daughter saying that daddy had saved her. He asked me when it was made and I told him. He asked me why I had never mentioned it to him before and I told him that I had never planned to mention it to him at all. I said that I was only mentioning it to him now because my husband was planning to give a copy to his barrister.

He said he would speak to his Team Leader and let me know if they would be interested in seeing it.

By mid October things were getting worse. My daughter desperately needed new bras. I couldn't get them for her because Centrelink had just hit me with a massive bill that was not my fault. I was broke. I kept asking the new case worker to do something about bras for my daughter but it was always up to the manager to approve the funding. None of the many carers my children had would buy her any bras. My daughter was being forced to squeeze her self in to bras that were fast becoming more and more too small.

My elder children were being moved every week. Rarely would they be in one place for longer. They were constantly moving between 3-4 motels and apartment buildings. This was doing nothing for their stability. They weren't allowed to have friends over or go to visit friends. This did nothing for their social skills. They were completely isolated.

I also took a photo of my son at this time. DoCS were claiming neglect and I wanted pictorial proof to show that even though my son had been in foster care for a month, he had not put on any additional weight in which a starving child would have.

At some point in November there was a Case Planning meeting. This also involved the previous Team Leader, who had already managed to establish herself as a right bitch. DoCS were convinced that I was a bent unit. Their prime example in the recent affidavit they had submitted to the court was because I had contacted all these people and agencies and written all these letters. They were trying to paint me as a serial pest.

They were adamant at this meeting that my husband and I were to undergo psycho/social assessments. They wanted us to see some man in Brisbane, but as soon as I heard his name I refused. I knew of him and I wanted nothing to do with him. My solicitor mentioned another psychologist who was in Southport. It as agreed that we would see this psychologist.

They also wanted some kind of assessment done on the bonding between my baby and I.

During this time, the police wanted to interview me about my complaint about the JAB officer's report. So I had to attend the Southport police station to give a statement. Fortunately it didn't take very long.

I also took another photo of my son to disprove DoCS' claim.

It took weeks after the Case Plan was endorsed for DoCS to begin doing anything in the plan. The delays were always blamed on needing the manager to approve funds.

I got a call from the DoCS worker in November, telling me that something had been sent to the address of the foster carer who had my 4 and 6 year old daughters that had something in it about my 7 year old daughter having Hepatitis and that the carer had gone and had blood tests done on my girls for the disease.

I was totally shocked. I said that my daughters didn't have Hepatitis. She said that she knew that. I asked her why I hadn't been contacted about the blood tests and she said that she didn't know about them and that the carer had just run her to tell her she had had them done.

She also said that she had informed the carer that blood tests should not have been carried out without my consent and the permission of DoCS. Then she informed the carer that she would not get the results and that she would contact the doctor who wrote the requests and inform her that the carer was not to be given the results and that the results were to be sent directly to DoCS.

I asked the DoCS worker if there was anything she could send me about my rights as I retained guardianship of all of my children. She brought me out a photocopied document the next time she came out to supervise a my visit with my baby. It was extremely enlightening. I found that my rights had been violated in all directions.

It took until early December for my daughter to get new bras. By that time she had gone up 2 bra sizes and they only allowed $50 to buy bras and a new pair of shoes for her and my son.

My children had been allotted their own legal representative. She wanted somebody whom she knew to do the exact same assessment and report that had already been carried out by the fellow from Pathways. It was a complete waste of time.

My husband and I had our psycho/social assessments carried out some time in early December. The fellow we saw was somewhat anti-DoCS. He believed it to be extremely presumptuous for somebody to decide whether or not a person is a good parent. The end report was really good and DoCS hated it. They tried to get out of their contract with him because they "didn't get what they paid for".

Christmas came and went. We were forced to visit with the children on Christmas Eve. It wasn't the same.

There was some kind of meeting at the DoCS office. I can't recall what it was for. I demanded to know why my son's ADHD medication had not been taken when he was removed from my home and the new Team Leader said that she had only just found out a few days previously from the original worker that he didn't know my son had ADHD. This was a blatant lie. The original worker  had written in the first affidavit that I had told him my son had ADHD.

I also made demands about my son's dental appointment. About how it had been missed and not rescheduled and how we had been waiting 12 months for him to have his teeth done at the hospital. I accused them of neglecting my son's needs.

My daughter wasn't coping in foster care. She had been suspended from school 3 times and was heading towards being expelled. She had also taken up cutting herself. This behaviour was not like her at all.

At one point, during a visit with all the children, she went off the deep end in front of the DoCS worker, yelling about being sick of having to eat pudding and custard for meals and getting nothing more than junk food and other rubbish. She wanted real food.

It took a complaint from my son's school to DoCS before they did something about my children's diets and demanded grocery receipts from the carers each week. Anything I said meant nothing.

There was another Court Ordered Conference at some point. I was still enraged that I had not been given an opportunity to address all the allegations with DoCS. By this time there was yet another DoCS worker. This would be our third. Nothing came of it and we still didn't approve the further court orders that DoCS wanted.

In early December my baby and I began having in-home appointments with some kind of infant/parent social worker. Her report declared that not only was my baby developmentally delayed due to being placed in foster care at such a young age, but that the mother/infant bond had severe damage.

There was some kind of Family Group Meeting held in late December or early January. I was so disgusted with how my family and I were being treated, I took my daughter's school blouse along to the meeting. I pulled out the blouse, with it's missing buttons, safety pins and tears and I told them that this was what they were making my daughter wear to school.

By this time DoCS knew they had made a grave mistake in removing my elder children from my home. They discovered a bargaining chip for themselves.

My baby's ankles were dreadful and they weren't healing at all. It had been something like 6 months that her creases had had huge weeping splits in them. She couldn't crawl. She had been on constant courses of antibiotics, anti-fungal creams and other things.

Her health wasn't the best either. She always had an Upper Respiratory Tract Infection. I knew that she lived in air conditioning and I got sick of telling DoCS to tell the foster carer to turn the air conditioning off when my baby was in the house.

I got sick of trying to tell DoCS anything about my baby. I gave up.

In December we had to give up the family dog. She had been constantly getting out since July. She was so desperate that she would climb up and through the fence. It dawned on us that she was looking for the children. Our landlady wouldn't pay out a red cent to fix the fence line, so we had no choice but to give up our dog.

There was another Court Ordered Conference a few days before school was to resume for 2007.

If I agreed to court orders, they would allow my elder children to come home. If I did not agree, the elder children would remain in their custody until the trial in April.

I was between a rock and a hard place. I badly wanted to have my real day in court, but my elder children were not faring well in foster care and I also had to think of them as well. I bit the bullet and agreed to 3 different court orders so that my elder children could come home.

Also in early January, DoCS made demands that a branch of the St. Vincent De Paul Society be brought onboard in regard to unification of the children. If we did not agree, the children would not be coming home any time soon.

They came home on January 27th, 2007. Mere days before school was to begin and a week after their 11th and 14th birthdays.

Immediately my daughter's behaviour changed. Their speech improved and wasn't so filled with slang and badly pronounced words.

On January 31st, 2007, my husband had another court hearing for his assault charge. The police called my (now) 7 year old daughter as a witness, but the screwed up with new legislation that had been introduced the previous September or October. New legislation stated that if a special witness is called (a child under the age of 8 years), a certificate of fitness must be produced that ensures that the child is competent enough to be able to give evidence. The police had not done this and claimed that they had only heard of the new legislation the night before when putting the paperwork together for the case. The case was then moved to the District Court and the police were to produce a certificate before my daughter could give testimony. The next court hearing was set for early May.

We got yet another DoCS worker after the court orders were issued. This would be our 4th or 5th. I had lost count. This also meant a new Team Leader.

In February I really began to push for my baby to come home. I made it very clear that I wanted her home before her 1st birthday. DoCS had no legal reason not to allow her to come home. They had already permitted 2 children back into the family home.

My baby came home on March 29th, 2007. In the first week, I had cleared up the splits on her ankles and she began to crawl. She also learned to clap her hands. Mother knows best.

By the end of March the worker from St. Vincent De Paul had done a disappearing act. She was meant to be coming to see me and my family twice a week for 3 months. I had only seen her about 4 times since February and she never showed up for 2 appointments after that.

I contacted the DoCS worker about this and she told me that the woman had quit her job the week previously. I had never been informed. The DoCS worker thought I knew.

March became April and my baby had her 1st birthday on April 5th. My husband and I had moved further forward into evolving as a family with only few children. The disinterest towards my 4 and 7 year old daughters was beginning. I had been fighting DoCS for so long and getting absolutely nowhere that I was beginning to wonder why on Earth I was bothering.

We had considered giving them all up for adoption before. Yet we never made the decision to do it, we just talked about it. I don't think we wanted the drama that DoCS would no doubt rain down on us.

We always found the strength to battle on.

My tears were long gone and I wasn't waking in the morning just to go and throw up. I had overcome all the stress.

At some point toward the end of 2006 I had printed off a copy of the Child Protection Act 1999 and pawed over it. I'd been smelling a rat for months and after reading the Act, I'd flagged 26 points where DoCS had violated the Act in my family's case. I set this aside for future reference.

In early May we got an unexpected visit from the arresting police officer. I wanted to spit on him, but I had to be an adult. He wanted to speak with my eldest daughter about the video she took. I was very surprised that it had taken them this long. My husband was home at the time. He came to the carport for a cigarette and had no idea the police officer was there. He was determined to finish his cigarette but the police officer wanted him to go elsewhere. My husband stood his ground. After finishing his cigarette he went back indoors.

The police officer began to question my daughter about the video. She answered all his questions and he left.

My husband was outraged. He became very negative. Apparently I had sided with the police and I should not have permitted my daughter to speak to the officer without legal representation and many other things. A rift became apparent between us. I was a traitor, the enemy.

For days we were barely talking to each other.

The night before my husband's next hearing the police arrived with a search warrant. They wanted to video camera, the computer the video was downloaded onto and any copies of the video on CD. The computer they wanted was in the repair shop having new RAM put in it. They took the video camera, the batteries in it, the memory card in it and the computer the children use. They asked my eldest daughter a couple more questions.

Then arrested my husband for perverting the course of justice.

He was back in the watch house again and I could do nothing to help him. It was after business hours and I couldn't get hold of his solicitor or barrister.

The following morning I got hold of both my husband's barrister and solicitor and told them that my husband had been arrested again and was in the watch house.

I didn't attend the court hearing due to having my baby at home, so I waited with baited breath to hear the outcome.

By late morning, I contacted my husband's solicitor's office to see if there was any news.

At some point I found out that he had been granted bail again. I was so relieved. I really thought they would send him to remand after this second charge.

He came home in the early afternoon and told me what had happened.

The police prosecution had really pushed for my husband to be sent to remand, but my husband's legal teams fought it strongly. The police claimed that my 7 year old daughter was either coerced by my husband or I to recant her original story in the video that was taken. They also claimed that my son had been coerced by either my husband or I to speak to my 7 year old daughter during a time in which she was at school with him. None of this was true at all.

The police also claimed that they had only just received a copy of the video, but the barrister spoke up and said that he had received it in October 2006 and had immediately forwarded it to the police, so they had had it since the previous October.

The doctor from the Gold Coast Hospital gave evidence via the phone. He said that although my daughter had been admitted to the hospital in July, he had not set eyes on her personally and had written his report about the break to her arm in September. He also stated that given my daughter's small stature, it was not inappropriate for her to be placed in a high chair to be given her meals. He also said that he could not state that the break to my daughter's arm was deliberate or accidental.

A nurse from the hospital gave testimony that when she asked my daughter how her arm was broken, my daughter had said "Daddy broke my arm" and child abuse was suspected because my daughter didn't want to talk about it.

The Magistrate stated that the evidence the police had was circumstantial at best. He also said that if he was to send my husband to remand, my husband had the right to see his family and there was no legal way that he could stop him from seeing his family.

Bail was granted with new conditions.

The new bail conditions stated that my husband was to have no direct or indirect contact with my 7 year old daughter what so ever.

Not only that, but the police claimed in the court that they wanted to speak with me about the video. I had rung my husband's solicitor and told him that I did not want to be arrested, his best suggestion was to wear something warm and not to worry about it because they would get me out. I didn't want to be "gotten out"! I didn't want to be arrested!! I spent the evening expecting to be arrested.

The following day we took a copy of the new bail conditions to the DoCS office. We were not going to allow them to put us in a situation where the bail conditions were breached. I then went to the school and pulled my 7 year old daughter out of the school. There was no way that I was going to open my family up to fabricated bullshit by the police, so if she was not at the school, they could not try and say my son had gotten in her ear in the future.

On July 15th, 2007, I was meant to begin unsupervised contact with my 4 year old daughter. My daughter had had Whooping Cough and I hadn't seen her for quite some time. The arresting officer rang the DoCS worker and told her that if I had unsupervised contact with my 4 year old daughter, this would be my husband having indirect contact with my 7 year old daughter and I was not to have unsupervised contact.

I could not understand this at all. My husband's bail conditions were clear and they had nothing to do with me or my 4 year old daughter. We were not on bail.

The DoCS worker didn't know what to do, so all visits with the girls were cancelled until further notice and thea referral was sent to the SCAN team.

I rang my husband's solicitor's office and spoke with another solicitor whom we knew about this new situation. She immediately applied on line for Legal Aide for me. She then set up a meeting at the DoCS office to discuss things.

At some point SCAN made the decision that my husband was not to see my 4 year old daughter at all. This was completely incomprehensible and I was positive it violated his basic human rights as a parent.

We had the meeting at the DoCS office and all hell broke loose. The Team Leader, whom I did not like at all, began accusing me of cutting my 7 year old daughter out. Yet everything she was saying was all about my 7 year old daughter and she herself was cutting my 4 year old daughter out.

Since when did this become solely about my 7 year old daughter? Was my 4 year old daughter just a pawn, stuck on the DoCS carousel with no way of getting off?

I couldn't believe it. Then the Team Leader began to actually yell at me!

DoCS were adamant that my 4 year old daughter would not be coming home without my 7 year old daughter. They would not allow unsupervised visits with my 4 year old daughter and they would not chance this until my husband's bail conditions were changed or a verdict was handed down on his assault charge.

The Team Leader also went on about how both of my daughters had "issues" and she said something about yelling in the family home. I had no idea what she was talking about, but she said it was in a report that had been written by my 7 year old daughter's counselor.

The meeting was getting nowhere, so we left. I couldn't believe that she had had the audacious nerve to accuse me of exactly what they were doing and that she had yelled at me in the way she did.

My husband and I discussed the possibility of a (secret) and she said it was not out of the question. I shelved this idea away for future reference.

My 4 year old daughter's behaviour deteriorated. She was already gregarious and determined, but had now become abusive, violent and out of control. Her natural personality and adopted behaviour became a cocktail of destruction.

The DoCS worker phoned our new solicitor and said that if we didn't agree to their terms, they would start making noises about my baby. It was blackmail.

I had no choice but to agree to what they wanted, even though I knew it was totally wrong.

Visits resumed and my 4 year old daughter's behaviour was unbelievable. I had never had such a disobedient child and I didn't know how to deal with it. It was completely beyond my capabilities. She was aware that attempts were being made to try and control her and this only fuelled her fire.

My husband and I had an appointment to meet with my 7 year old daughter's counselor. This meeting started off well, until she told us that she was only going to give us limited information. We got past this and I asked her about the Team Leader at the DoCS office stating that she had written in a report that my daughter had said something about yelling in the family home.

The counselor said that she never wrote that in the report and didn't write things in such a way. She also said that I had mentioned this in my previous email to her and that she had asked the Team Leader about it and the Team Leader had told her something about my 7 year old daughter being exposed to some kind of concern that happened during a visit with her at the family home.

This was a lie. This particular concern had happened on an occasion back in November when my eldest daughter had come home, suspended from school, and ranted at me about not wanting to talk about it. I said to her that my 7 year old daughter had not even been there at the time.

We got a new DoCS worker in mid June. I had been trying since December to get my side of the allegations put in my case file, but I was trying in vain. This was what the Team Leader had yelled at me about. She yelled that she "didn't want to know about it" when she held up the list of allegations that had been written out for me and yelled that that my children had already been assessed as being "at risk". I at first had no idea why she was yelling, until after we had left the office.

The new worker was fair game. I had a go at her about the SCAN decision and how it was affecting my 4 year old daughter. I had a go at her about my right to have my point of view on my file and the Team Leader refusing me the chance and yelling at me about it.

In early July I got a call from the new DoCS worker, stating that they had decided to send in a referral for my 4 year old daughter to have counseling. I told her what would fix the problem, but of course, I was ignored.

I wrote a complaint and sent it to the CMC.

My 4 year old daughter had her 5th birthday on July 5th.

In mid July my 5 year old daughter was so uncontrollable that she broke something in my home. I had told the DoCS worker the previous week that it would get to the point where something would be broken. We were now there. I sent my daughters back to the foster carer early.

I then sat down and wrote a letter to the new DoCS worker, requesting that the situation go back in front of the SCAN team. I sent a copy of my letter to my solicitor.

My husband had another hearing for one of his charges on July 13th 2007. The police didn't bring the paperwork, so the hearing was adjourned until July 20th.

His committal hearing for the new charge is on August 17th 2007.

The police have until a date in early November to submit an indictment against my husband for the assault charge. No actual date has been set for this hearing.

UPDATE: 30.10.08

On August 15th 2007, just 2 days before my husband's committal hearing for the new charge of perverting the course of justice, my husband was killed in a car accident on his way home from work.

The past year has seen my case put on hiatus because DoCS had no idea what to do with me. They suspected that my family might be one of "those" families (meaning things were questionable but not too bad) but they weren't prepared to risk believing it and returning my children to me.

In May of 2008 my contact with my girls was dropped back to 3 hours per week from 7 hours per week. This contact time frame still continues today.

Regardless of no notifications, no new concerns or anything of that nature, my case remained at a stand still. No amount of pushing and shoving on my part made DoCS budge.

Originally the CSO stated that they would not be moving ahead with the case until it went to trial in October 2008... Then she stated that they would not be moving ahead with the case until a worker from The Uniting Church "Pathways" program came on board - and we went to court in October 2008.

So the case rotted. My children were no closer to coming home. I was not making any progress with whatever the "concerns" were because nobody was "on board".

But the ammo against DoCS mounted... A paediatric report in regard to my son was carried out in July at the request of the Childrens' rep. Nothing in that validated any DoCS issues... But the paediatrician did write in the report that my son was diagnosed with ADHD and was under the care of a paediatrician. That didn't sit well with DoCS. They couldm't deny my son's ADHD diagnosis any longer.

The CSO submitted an affidavit for the trial in early August 2008 and one of the first paragraphs stated that DoCS had obtained my son's hospital file via subpoena... The proof of his ADHD diagnosis was right there infront of them... Further proof that they could no longer deny it.

Between August and October 1st 2008 I bombed my solicitor with everything that I could think of that would contribute to my case for the trial. I emailed her with every idea, all my thoughts, my opinions and loads of facts.

I was denied Legal Aid. They didn't feel that I could win my case. So I had to pay for the trial out of my own pocket. Trials are not a cheap hobby.

October 1st 2008 came and we went to trial. I met my barrister for the first time. Instead of having a trial, which I desperately wanted, it was a day of negotiations. DoCS knew that their case was full of holes, the Crown knew it and so did the Children's rep... But they weren't willing to go without an order - and they didn't want a trial.

The first offer was the following...

1. I give them a 2 year order on the children.
2. I retain custody of my son (they wanted him for 2 years).
3. Contact visits increase beginning the following week and move to unsupervised visits.
4. A reunification plan is drawn up.

I told my barrister to tell them to go to Hell.

The second offer was the following...

1. I give them an 18 month order on my children.
2. I retain custody of my son (they wanted him for 2 years).
3. A reunification plan is drawn up.

Again I told my barrister to tell them to go to Hell. Both my legal reps thought that this was the best I was going to get. They believed that since both DoCS and the Children's rep were against me, the 2-1 ratio would swing the favour towards DoCs being granted the 2 year orders... Then I would find myself getting less and less contact with my children, that DoCS would set me up to fail over the 2 years of the order and then they would apply for custody of my children until they were 18 years of age.

But the little man on my shoulder was telling me differently. Bloody Hell, the DoCS case was full of holes! The magistrate was meant to be unbiased... I had a damn chance! Even if it was only a chance.

We went to lunch and I could taste my frustration. Over lunch my legal reps still tried to make me see sense - but my barrister was prepared to go into the court room and tell them to call their first witness if that was what I wanted.

The worst thing that DoCS had on me was that I didn't have enough toys for my children... It was barbaric and completely untrue to boot.

I repeated again at lunch that I was NOT prepared to give them an 18 month order... My legal reps were listening to me, but they weren't hearing what I was saying.

So I had to draw pictures.

I said to them that I would give them a 12 month order... At the end of the day, it was dreadfully obvious that DoCS wanted an order and any order would do.

After lunch it was back to the negotiating table. I just sat there and twiddled my thumbs.

My barrister thought that the DoCS offer of 18 months was fantastic... She was shocked when they agreed to 12 months.

She didn't think they would... I knew darn well that they would.

She kept her pleasure to herself during the negotiations and manipulated DoCS just that little bit further and came out with a fist full of aces.

The agreement is as follows...

1. I tentatively agree to a provisional 12 month order.
   • This means that there still remains the option of going to trial if everything goes pear shaped. The failed negotiations had already filled my legal reps' armory with ammo to use against DoCS.
2. I retain custody of my son (they wanted him for 2 years).
   • They would formally revoke their application for custody of my son.
3. A reunification plan meeting was to be set up within 4 weeks.
   • Any assessments done were not permitted to be given to a third party for their opinion.
   • The person who was to validate that all reunification goals were met would not be a DoCS worker but somebody of my own choice.
   • DoCS would be made accountable for every step of their part in the reunification plan and if they failed to meet their own obligations the case would go straight back to court.
   • I would be permitted to have what I wanted written into the reunification plan and if DoCS did not agree it would be taken to a magistrate for their approval to have the goal/event included.
   • The reunification plan would not be a standard issue plan normally spat out by DoCS. It would be air tight.

My barrister was willing to participate in the reunification plan meeting - which is most unusual. Barristers are normally not present when standard issue loose reunification plans are drawn up by DoCS. Having a barrister present is just not done.

It took 3 weeks to have the reunification plan meeting. My barrister went in prepared to let DoCS do all the talking, but her guns were loaded. The first point she made very clear from the beginning was that all assessment was to STOP. There was to be no more assessment of any kind - we were at reunification. End of story.

The DoCS senior prac did all the talking... The team leader sat there looking like she was sucking lemons - she didn't like any of it at all. She wasn't happy at the court house and she wasn't happy at the reunification meeting... Bully for her!

At one point, the senior prac had the audacious nerve - the absolute gall - to declare that all that had gone before (the concerns, notifications etc) were now to be forgotten about. They had to be put in a cupboard and a lock put on the door... We were at reunification.

How on Earth can a parent forget all that? I will never forget.

She also stated that they now had to win my trust.

I nearly laughed. One thing they will NEVER have is my trust.

I had lots of opportunities to have a go at them and I did - and they copped every word of it without saying anything... I let fly to the point where my barrister told me to get back in my box.

It is amazing sitting there watching DoCS workers attempt to play nice... It's a whole new sight. They almost look human.

They have to - or we go to court... But it doesn't mean that I have to play nice too.

At one point the senior prac stated that after I had contact with my children I should let them know if I had any concerns, irritating moments things like this. It's really hard to hold back laughter.

I told her quite frankly that there is NO CHANCE that I will be telling them anything about what my contact visits were like. I reminded her that I have spent the last 2 1/2 years watching any contact issues get plastered across affidavits... I wasn't going to be telling them a thing. This met silence. They knew I was right.

She said that if I needed help with anything that I was to let them know. Jeez, what a joke.

I looked her in the eye and said the first time I asked them for help was the last time I was ever going to do it. I said to her that when my toddler was returned home last year, I'd asked for help because I had no clothing for her that would fit and was met with "And what do you expect us to do?" as a response.

The senior prac looked directly at the Team Leader - it wasn't a nice look. I'd have hated to be the Team Leader right then.

So we are at reunification. The first 3 months of the plan are sorted out and in action. I have already almost completely carried out my role. All I have to do is get my children to any medical appointments and report any feedback to the CSO... One medical appointment to go, but that's yet to be set due to issues out of my control.

DoCS have gone pear shaped already and it's only the first week in. The CSO has been sick all week and it's thrown their role in the plan into a tail spin causing them to struggle to meet their obligations. Sad shame that.

 

- Toni L. - Queensland

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