Restraining orders are unparalleled tools for discrediting, intimidating, and silencing those they’ve been petitioned against. It’s presumed that those people (their defendants) are menaces of one sort or another. Why else would they be accused?
One answer, not to put too fine a point on it, is sex.
A couple of years ago, a story came to my attention about two British women who accompanied a guy home for a roisterous threesome. He probably thought it was his lucky day. The women later accused him of rape, because both had boyfriends they were concerned would discover they’d cheated.
Classy, huh?
Although their victim could easily have ended up imprisoned indefinitely, he was able to produce exculpatory evidence that saw him vindicated and them jailed instead. The beauty of a criminal prosecution is that evidence is key: no proof, no blame.
Petitions for restraining orders, by contrast, are civil prosecutions. The horror of a civil prosecution is that no evidence is required. False allegations of crimes, which may never even be contemplated or commented on by a judge, may be entered on restraining order applications without fear of recrimination. Even if those allegations are proven false later on when the defendant is allowed to respond, there are no consequences for making them, and the likely consequence of making them is success. Also, and this is a beaut, those false allegations remain on public view for all time and may reasonably be presumed true and valid by any third party who scrutinizes the record.
Whether an infidelity is emotional, sexual, or somewhere in between, a restraining order is a peerless tool not only for covering it up but for revising the truth into one favorable to an unfaithful partner. The cheat has the further gratification of displacing the blame s/he is due onto the (very possibly unsuspecting and unintentional) third wheel.
Ever wondered how to have your (beef/cheese)cake and eat it, too? Get a restraining order.
Memorable stories of restraining orders’ being used to conceal (or indulge) indiscretions or infidelities that have been shared with me since I began this blog over two years ago include a woman’s being accused of domestic violence by a former boyfriend she briefly renewed a (Platonic) friendship with who had a viciously jealous wife who put him up to it; a man’s being charged with domestic violence after catching his wife texting her lover and wrestling with her for possession of the phone for an hour (he was forced to abandon his house so his rival could move in); and a young , female attorney’s being seduced by an older, married colleague who never told her he was married and subsequently petitioned an emergency restraining order against her, both to shut her up and to minimize her opportunity to prepare a defense. I’ve even been apprised of people’s (women’s) having restraining orders petitioned against them by spouses (women) who resented being informed of their mates’ sleeping around.
Restraining orders not only enable cheating spouses to redeem themselves by characterizing people they’ve come on to, developed infatuations with, or bedded as stalkers or kooks; they enable the spouses who’ve been cheated on to exact a measure of vengeance on intruders into their relationships, intruders who either may have had no designs on compromising those relationships or may not have been told about them in the first place. Restraining orders reassure the “cheatees” or cuckolds that they’re still their spouses’ numero unos.
If I haven’t remarked it before, restraining orders cater to all manner of kinks.
Copyright © 2013 RestrainingOrderAbuse.com
Ann Abdilla-Musso
December 9, 2013
I’m still haunted by the allegations and humiliation of the false accusations, Todd.
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December 10, 2013
Good to hear from you, Annie. I’m guessing the couple never even apologized?
You know, it’s funny. Everyone has these white trash expectations of the people who are snared and snarled by these processes, but in my experience it’s the officers of the court whose implicit expectations sooner meet this standard. It’s as if they reckon it should be no big deal to someone to be publicly fingered for battery or stalking or sexual harassment or whatever. It blows me away. Everything the justice system does is designed to impress upon you how serious the allegations and their consequences are—and its officers expect them to mean nothing to you (let alone oppress you indefinitely).
I’m glad not to have troubled you with my own latest court foray (another six months off my life). It was farcical. The judge I ended up with was one I genuinely would have liked to like—he showed a degree of human sincerity and iconoclasm in court that gave me reason to hope for more from him—but I don’t think he’d have given much regard to an affidavit that you went to the trouble of writing. He tracked motions, because he was obligated to respond to those. Otherwise I don’t know how much he knows about the matter even now. This has preoccupied nearly eight years of my time, and I’m still able to be disappointed by the courts. If a judge you face ever declares, “Pretend I don’t know anything,” don’t pretend, depend on it. The judge asked me in court to specify where I lived, for example, as though I were dissembling or trying to avoid answering the question when it was posed to me by the plaintiffs’ attorney.
The very first exhibit in the answer memorandum that I had filed two weeks prior (the product of 60 hours of research, stress, and toil) was of both ground-level and aerial photographs of my home and its surroundings. Not only had the judge evidently not scrutinized the memorandum; he hadn’t concerned himself with the pictures.
I was asked whether I pimped my dog out for puppy profit and told by the attorney that I had “propositioned” his client. These are the basest and most dehumanizing procedures I’ve ever been party to, and we call them “civil process.”
The upshot of the case was that I was ordered not to write about its plaintiffs publicly, so I’ll let the recap go with that (I told the judge I’d honor his ruling, and I will). I know you’re only too able to read between the lines. Words fail, because they’re so impotent to remedy the aftereffects of these ordeals, but I really hope you guys are at least on the mend.
Nona is well, by the way. I ordered a pull harness for her from a gal in Canada, and I’ve been making her drag tires around to rehab her leg. She’s a cussedly stubborn dog, but she’s getting into it now. The surgeon says she’ll always be prone to ache in the knee because we had to delay the operation for so long, but we’re up to a decent-sized car tire, and she’s hopping hurdles again. So there’s that.
Happy holidays to you and G—.
Todd
P.S. If it would be cathartic for you to write about your own experiences (sans names), I’d be glad to post your story. Impressing upon people with no experience of these things the torment they cause is the toughest obstacle to clear between turning indifference into consciousness and empathy (and, one hopes, eventual action).
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Moderator
December 10, 2013
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