A PAIN CASE RELATING BACK TO 2004-VERY LITTLE HAS CHANGED IN THE CHILD PROTECTION INDUSTRY SINCE CLEVELAND

[Alison J Stevens]

Emma and Martin did what any parent would do when they found a lump on their baby's head: they took him to their GP,
who sent them to the local hospital. There, doctors called social
services, who took the little boy into care and have now arranged his
adoption. Cassandra Jardine speaks to the parents about their nightmare
– and hears how a closed and seemingly inflexible system might be
reformed

Emma and Martin's home in Essex is filled with photographs of a round-faced, smiling baby boy whose whereabouts they no longer know. In the bathroom, a box of rubber
toys awaits his return; on the stairs there are gates to prevent him
falling – but his parents' chances of ever seeing him again are looking
increasingly slim.

They dread the post. Any day now, it will bring a letter informing them that their son has been adopted against their wishes. It will set the seal
on a process that began just over a year ago when Emma took Peter to
their GP because she had noticed a lump on the side of his head.
Although it didn't seem to be causing him any pain or affecting his
behaviour, she wanted it checked out, as she had no idea how it got
there.

The GP referred her to the local hospital for an X-ray. A hairline crack was found in Peter's skull. Since Emma couldn't explain the wound, the paediatrician deemed it suspicious and
police and social services were summoned. They never left the hospital
as a family. Peter was taken into care and Emma and Martin returned
home, frantic with worry, but hopeful that it would all be sorted out
soon.

Peter is now living with adopters who, when they are ready, can apply for the arrangement to be formalised. After that, there is no hope of reversal. Adoptions are final; birth families are
history. Even though Emma and Martin now believe they have the evidence
to clear their names, they cannot get anyone to listen.

Of 258 criminal cases that local authorities were asked to re-examine following Angela Cannings's successful appeal last December against her
prison sentence for the murder of her children, only one is known to be
under review.

Meanwhile, there are hundreds – possibly even thousands – of other parents accused of physical or emotional abuse who believe that they have been unfairly deprived,
temporarily or permanently, of their children in civil proceedings.
They point to problems more deep-rooted and widespread than the
questionable theories of individual medical experts – problems that
many believe pervade the culture in which social services and the
family courts operate.

"You are guilty until proved innocent," says Emma of her family's experiences. She has written a long, detailed and harrowing account of their past year which she has
placed on the website of a support group, Pain (Parents Against
Injustice).

It describes the events leading up to what she calls "the longest walk of my life" – the steps she had to take away from her son after their final "contact" meeting in January.
Despite the allegations of abuse, Martin's son from his first marriage
can still stay with them as often as they like. "We can have any child
in the world in this house except, Peter," says Emma.

The account is all the more searing because Emma writes in a deliberately unemotional manner – the same style that she uses in the many letters
she has sent to those in social services, politics and the law whom she
hopes can return their son to them. "I always ask Martin to read my
letters, in case I have created a strident impression," she says,
producing documents from the orderly box files that cover their dining
room table.

When the police investigated the possibility that they had deliberately harmed their child, Emma and Martin were each interviewed at length
and, because there was no evidence against them, all charges were
dropped; the police officer even said he was sure they would soon have
their son back.

Social services, however, decided to pursue the case; Emma and Martin fear that their educated and reasoned approach counted against them. "They want you to admit guilt or blame
one another and ask for help," says Emma. "We wouldn't do that, so we
were considered in denial and beyond help."

Their problems began in the hospital after Peter was X-rayed. The child needed no treatment but when, after several days, Emma asked whether it
was necessary to stay in hospital, social services applied for an
emergency protection order, citing a fear that she might abscond if the
child was not taken into care.

On that same application, Martin was also described as arguing with a doctor. In fact, the couple say, it was the paediatric radiologist who was
aggressive to him, on the day they left hospital, when they asked
questions about the X-rays of their son's injuries. He refused to shake
their hands, leaving them in stunned silence. It was their first taste
of what Emma calls the "embellishments" with which social services
established their control and cast the parents in the role of abusers.

No attempt was made, they felt, to investigate ways in which Peter might have been accidentally hurt. If it was not possible that he had simply
hit his head on his cot, Emma and Martin have worked out that the
injury must have occurred during a day out in London when they used
public transport.

Going into the hall, Emma fetches Peter's buggy. It has a hard frame but offers no protection to the sides of the head. Someone carrying a suitcase on the Underground could
have knocked Peter without them noticing and, if he had blacked out,
they would have assumed he had dozed off.

Social services' energies, however, appeared to be devoted to establishing the couple's guilt. A week later, when their social worker applied for an
interim care order, they found, again, that acts for which there was an
innocent explanation counted against them. Their health visitor, to
take just one example, reported that she had concerns because Emma had
wanted appointments for her visits. "I merely wanted to know when she
was coming, so Martin could come home from work to be there," says Emma.

Throughout the various stages of the proceedings, they felt as if evidence was selected to show them in the worst possible light. Thus, a single
instance of Emma visiting her GP, complaining of feeling low, became
"mental health problems". A row between herself and Martin in which she
tripped over and needed stitches for a cut was cited as proof that
theirs is a "violent relationship". Martin's attempt, 10 years ago, to
help a young child being bullied by punching the 17-year-old ringleader
became evidence of his uncontrollable nature: only the charges were
noted, not his unconditional discharge.

"It is very hard to challenge assertions like those," says Emma, who spotted 78 errors in the "core assessment" of their family background and personal
histories. The social worker who compiled it met them twice but only
observed them with their son for 15 minutes – most of which he spent
talking about his holiday plans.

They hoped that the skills and warmth they displayed with their son in contact sessions would count in their favour. Reports on the early sessions, conducted
by independent observers, were "exemplary" but when the sessions were
conducted under the eye of social workers, everything written about
them became unfailingly negative.

Emma gives an example: "I was accused of being obsessed by hygiene because, when I changed my son's nappy, I didn't let him wander around without
one for a while. What would they have said if he had wet himself and
had to wear urine-soaked clothes?"

At this later stage, all contact had to be made in a family assessment centre, 17 miles away from their home in the opposite direction to Martin's work.
The sessions were arranged at irregular times, so it was hard for
Martin to get the time off to be present. When they complained, they
were criticised for putting Martin's work first. When they asked for
meetings with social workers after working hours, so that Martin could
attend, they were described as "reluctant to meet".

Their determination not to give up worked against them. Social services remarked on "the lengths these parents will go to" as they wrote
letters of protest. "Wouldn't you do the same, if your son was taken
away from you?" asks Emma. Even simple kindness seems to have been
denied them. When the social worker told Emma that they would have "no
trouble" finding adopters for her son, because babies like him were "in
high demand", she left her sobbing and made no attempt to comfort her.

Their solicitors advised Emma and Martin on procedures, but not on how to counter the half-truths in the reports. As advised, the couple had
separate legal representation – members of the Children's Panel,
experienced in this kind of work – but they felt that the solicitors
were waiting for one of them to blame the other.

"Then their job is easy: they fight it out between them," says Emma. Above all, she resents not being told that it was crucial that they
should produce medical evidence in their defence before the causation
hearing, four months after the injury occurred. "After that," she warns
others in similar situations, "it is too late."

Before that hearing, the local authority had sought an expert opinion from a paediatric radiologist. He couldn't determine from the X-rays how the
injuries were caused but gave a "personal opinion" that they were
non-accidental. He also, to Emma and Martin's horror and disbelief,
found evidence of a healing injury on one of Peter's legs, which "may
have been a fracture".

Naturally, facing the accusation that their child had been injured twice, the parents asked for a second opinion. Another paediatric radiologist was lined up and
sent not only the X-rays but the damning reports against them. His
report included a one-line endorsement of the first doctor's findings.

A third doctor had looked at the X-rays for the police and had not spotted the damage to the leg, but when he was told of the other two
doctors' views and the background, he, too, fell into line. Emma and
Martin were sunk.

All parental submissions to the court had to be in before those of social services or the guardian ad litem (the voice of the child), so the professionals were always able
to respond to Emma and Martin's defence. Anything that might have
helped their case was, they say, ignored both before and at the final
disposal hearing. They produced 30 character witnesses and were accused
of wasting time.

An unsolicited and glowing report from Martin's ex-wife, who gladly lets her three-year-old son stay with his father at weekends, was deemed to have been written under duress.
The exemplary contact reports were dismissed in favour of those written
by social workers. Even a report by a psychologist who could find
nothing wrong with either of them went against them: because they had
no obvious flaws, there was nothing that could be fixed.

The whole process was so rapid that even though Emma e-mailed eminent paediatricians all over the world, asking for their opinions, she did
not hear back from any of them until after the court had decided that
their son should be adopted. It was on the day that she took those last
agonising steps away from her son after their final meeting that she
finally made contact with medical experts at the world-renowned
Hospital for Sick Children in Toronto, whom she cannot name because of
the secrecy surrounding any case involving children. The two Canadians
who agreed to give an opinion on the X-rays – without charge – have CVs
that stretch to 65 pages against the single page of the English doctor
whose evidence was accepted by the court.

The first letter that Emma produces from one of her files is from a professor of paediatric surgery. Having examined the X-rays, he said the head wound
could have been caused by Peter being dropped, or by a blow from a
heavy object such as a suitcase. As for the previous leg injury, he
couldn't find any evidence of one.

Two further letters came from the surgeon in chief, who wrote that he had been "dealing with suspected abuse problems for 30 years" and is "perplexed
by the way in which your courts handle this kind of problem". Since the
child's injuries seem to him very likely accidental, "the most likely
scenario in Canada is that the child would be supervised by social
services... it is unlikely that the child would be removed from the
family."

When Emma sent copies of the letters to Essex social services, the reply they received said that since she and Martin "refuse to accept" the judgment against them, "any further
letters will not receive a response".

Unable to believe that there is no way they can use the evidence to get their child back, they have written to every influential person they can
think of, from Tony Blair and Cherie Booth (in her legal capacity) to
Margaret Hodge and Dame Elizabeth Butler-Sloss, president of the Family
Division of the High Courts of Justice, and the social services
ombudsman. Everyone has passed responsibility on to someone else. There
seems no way forward.

Legally, they feel boxed in. The local government ombudsman cannot deal with cases that have been before the courts. Appeal is their only hope, but they cannot get legal
aid because Martin earns more than the threshold. They asked their
judge's permission to show the case papers to the Bar Pro Bono Group;
it was denied. Butler-Sloss suggested they appear as litigants in
person but they do not dare because they would be liable for the legal
costs of the local authority and guardian ad litem (which could be
£60,000) and might still be denied leave to appeal.

Even if they were to risk bankruptcy, it would probably be too late. The adoption of their child would not be held up. Their only hope is for
the local authority – which has responsibility for their son's best
interests before he is adopted – to bring an appeal. Essex appears to
have no interest in doing so: Emma and Martin have been informed that
they have "made use of all legal avenues available".

Their MP, Alan Hurst, who is also a solicitor dealing in criminal cases, has been shocked to discover they aren't eligible for legal aid. "They are
barred from full access to justice, as important evidence has not come
before the court. Because hearsay evidence is permitted in family
courts, it is all the more important that the appeal process should be
available."

As for being denied the right to show papers to the Bar Pro Bono Group: "That could be a human rights issue. Adoption is a very drastic step for both the parents and the child but
the system as it stands makes it very difficult for them to prevent it.
Many parents who come to the attention of social services have long
histories – here, we have a single incident from which enormous
consequences have followed."

Peter is now more than 18 months old; he must be walking and talking but his parents can only imagine what he is like. He will grow up to be told that his parents
were abusers, and suffer all the confusions that afflict the adopted.
As if their lives were not already blighted, Emma and Martin now know
that if they were to have another child, he or she would be taken away
at birth – unless they could prove they had changed.

The Children Act 1989 stressed the importance of keeping families together, but in practice the couple believe that theirs has been torn apart in
the over-zealous implementation of policies designed to prevent
children suffering. The emphasis on speed has made it hard for them to
clear their names and the current call for increased adoption has made
that low-risk option seem preferable to giving parents a chance to
prove that their son could live with them unharmed.

They understand that social services face a difficult problem when a baby suffers unexplained injury: they must take action if there is a danger
of further abuse, but removing a child from parents should be a last
resort. They feel they were not given the benefit of any doubt, even
though they had drawn attention to their son's injury in the first
place. "We have been called abusers," says Emma, "but it is the social
services in this country which are really abusing children by
separating them from their families."

Six weeks after the meeting at which my investigations into Essex's handling of adoption began, Tony Sharp, Lyndsay Davison and Letitia Collins (county
adoption manager, adoption services manager and child care and
assessment manager) were once again in Room 101 of County Hall, this
time to hear my findings. I had found no evidence that adoption
authorities were "snatching" children maliciously, or that they were
motivated by a desire to help childless couples, but there did seem to
be a substantial number of people who feel they have been victims of
injustice.

Sharp and his colleagues appeared unaware of the unhappy "users" of the system – even though several parents had written many, many letters begging for reconsideration or
complaining against specific practices or individuals. This time,
however, they were slightly less adamant that errors could not occur.
"No system is foolproof..."; "no one always gets it right..." they
demurred. At the end, Sharp turned and asked a blunt question. "Do you
believe in adoption?"

The answer is yes. Swift, efficient adoption for young children whose parents are persistently abusive or incapable of caring for them gives them a second chance.
Despite well-known learning and behavioural concerns, their prospects
are better than if they were kept in care.

But it is a policy that raises concerns. Within social services, there are fears that the increase in the speed and numbers of adoptions might lead to
more breakdowns if adopters are not properly prepared to cope with
difficult children. Funds are being made available to prevent that.
Among parents and extended families, there is concern that "letterbox"
contact between birth families and adopters is available in theory but
not so often in practice, because many adopters fear that contact will
disrupt their newly forged family.

But the most serious concern is that the well-intentioned setting of targets in relation to time and numbers may be having unfortunate repercussions.
"Targets are a two-edged sword," says Earl Howe. "Some may be
over-zealous in meeting those targets."

Next year, under the new Adoption and Children Act, the system will be modified somewhat. There will be a new "special guardianship" status for
children who are too old to be adopted or unwilling to lose contact
with their birth parents. "Placement orders" will take over from
"freeing orders", which remove parents' responsibility for their
children; parents will still lose control but those children who aren't
adopted will no longer be in parental limbo.

Further accountability is under way for social services with the appointment of a Director of Children's Services in every local authority, as well as
Safeguarding Children Boards and Area Child Protection Committees.
There will also be a General Social Care Council to accredit existing
and new social workers, who will now have a three-year instead of
two-year training. It remains to be seen whether those measures will be
sufficient to counter Earl Howe's belief that social workers are "the
only profession in which there is no individual accountability".

More cases scheduled to come before the GMC may create change on the medical front, though Rioch Edwards-Brown, who runs Five Percenters, a support
group for parents accused of shaking their babies, is pushing for a
fixed medical protocol which she thinks would prevent needless parental
suffering.

"Every time there is a suspicion of abuse, a child should be seen by a paediatrician – not a general doctor – and dead babies and children should be seen by a forensic pathologist.
After 14 days, the case should be reviewed. All the surrounding factors
should be taken into account; the welfare of the child, family
background. It would take the pressure off the medical experts to come
to a conclusion. I would like abuse to be the last conclusion that
doctors come to, not the first."

But with the pressure still on to reduce risk, and adoption viewed as a panacea, parents have reason to fear if anything untoward occurs to
their child that brings him to the attention of social services. "The
Government is looking at this from the wrong end," says Cathy Ashley,
chief executive of the Family Rights Group, which aims to promote
better relationships between families and social services.

"New social workers, who go into risk-averse local authorities, learn to cover their backs and push resources at child protection. But from the
experience of local authorities such as West Berkshire, which have
rebalanced their investment to provide more support at an early stage,
social workers can develop the confidence to treat families as part of
the answer, rather than part of the problem. If they get it right,
fewer children will need adoption."

When social workers do decide to remove a child, Ashley thinks that more could be done to help the birth parents. "They aren't informed of their rights,
the spirit of partnership working is not followed and parents are not
kept informed. Unless a child is at immediate risk of harm, all
information should be shared. Parents should also have a right to an
advocate with a social work or legal background to explain the system
to them and prevent families feeling overwhelmed. Another person at a
meeting will mean that a report isn't purely one person's word against
another's. We are piloting this advocacy scheme in six London
boroughs."

But it may be possible to develop a system that is not as adversarial as the existing one, says Andrew Cooper, professor of social work at the Tavistock Institute and author
of The Risk Factor.

"State involvement in the welfare of children is fundamentally conflictive. Whatever is going on – something or nothing – it will be a point of friction. There is a
tendency for scared and angry parents to go on the defensive and for
concerned professionals to escalate the degree of control, which
obscures what is going on in the lives of the children involved. Then
we have an adversarial court system in which truth tends to be
sacrificed in favour of whether or not a case can be proved or
defended."

Instead of tinkering with a system that leaves parents feeling cheated and professionals unfairly blamed, Cooper would draw attention to the French system. "There – unlike
England and Wales – social services don't need legally admissible
evidence to take a case to court, just concern. They go to a children's
judge and ask for a hearing, without lawyers, in informal office
surroundings. The interest is in assessing the situation of the child.

"The judge cannot permanently separate the child from the parents or guardian and, although some babies are adopted, it is almost unknown
for that to happen to older children. The judge takes an ongoing
interest in finding ways to support the family." When French child
protection experts visited Britain, he says: "They were staggered by
what they saw. They found our interest in finding permanent solutions
perturbing."

The problem with adoption is that it is final. In those cases where it may have been used for insufficient reasons, parents have the heartbreak of losing their child for ever –
even if they subsequently prove their innocence. The child may never
know that their loving parents tried their best to give them a home,
but fell foul of the system. Before the Government presses further down
on the adoption accelerator pedal, it should be certain that everything
is being done to ensure that such errors do not occur.

• The names of Emma and Martin and some family details have been changed to protect their identities.
• Value-injustice