Saturday, 11 December 2010

DJ Moony and the Dawn Raid

Half Past Eight on a Saturday morning.

In fairness, by three weeks, that's the quickest Torquay and Newton Abbot county court has ever furnished me with a copy of one of their orders. In fact, the last one of 15 November still hasn't arrived.

The fax that we sent at 0955 on Thursday took half an hour from receipt to make it to the Judge, such is the competence of this tinpot one-man-and-his-sheep setup. We tried to ring them to chase it up, but by their own admission, they only have one telephone line in and out, and it was engaged.

What have we got? Well, the nice bailiff on the doorstep kindly explained it to me - I will upload the footage in time. Despite the news he was bearing, that's the second one I've met and they're the only people who emerge with any dignity from all this - except from the fact that he probably was told to wait until early this morning to make sure I was in.

So, what did the court do in my absence, in response to my statement?

They ordered that my application of 22 January for residence be withdrawn, despite never in that time having been heard at any of the court hearings that have taken place.

They received oral evidence from Mummy, and her barrister, although there is no record of any scrutiny or consideration of the mountains of paper-based, video and audio taped evidence of mine. I paid £300 to lodge it and nobody has ever read it after 11 months. I'm due a refund, I reckon.

I asked for a transcript - they haven't produced one. Convenient, huh?

Mummy's barrister claimed that they had not had receipt of my position statement, which was lodged with the court by email with a CC to her solicitors on the specified date, 22 November. I have read receipts for both, from the day they were sent, and correspondence with the solicitor referred to its existence in the days prior to the hearing. A nice bit of perjury from them then - paid for by the taxpayer.

That's not enough to get an order bailiff served on a Saturday morning, though. Especially since Mummy's not paying for the bailiff - we all are.

In addition to handing Mummy the right to decide for herself what, if any, contact I can have with you, (but no barring it, so I can't be that nasty - just persona non grata) comes a restraining order - that's right, because I'm such a nasty man.

My turning up to collect my own son from nursery, and dropping him back to his home, where Mummy wasn't even in at the time, (neither thing being formally banned and both being things Mummy does every day) has earned me an order that I may not go within 100 metres of either Mummy's home or any school or nursery which you attend. I'd love to have heard how she described the incidents, both of which are on film, although I've already got enough evidence to pursue her for perjury, too.

The order states that the Legal Services Commission have paid for Mummy's legal costs.

Attached to the order is a copy of my letter to the court, exerpts of which I've already published. It contained no overt criticism of Mummy, but rather an account of what the process so far had done to me, and a reminder that the CAFCASS report had not even come close to complying to the terms District Judge Andrew Moon himself ordered in September.

Well done, Sir.

You've failed to uphold your own orders from September.

You have responded to the withdrawal of a father whose spirit you have broken, by handing him an injunction.

What a brave man you are.

One day, son, this man will rue the day he met me. I promise you.

Love from Daddy, whose kitchen has flooded.

No comments: