This I Would Kill For

by Anne Buist

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘What about Mr Essa’s mother?’ Li, still sitting, leaned forward across the table.

  ‘I have spoken to her,’ said Natalie, avoiding looking at Ama. And Okeke. ‘From Jenna’s point of view, her mother-in-law will always put Malik first. Mrs Essa’s comments to me—in one telephone call—were consistent with that view.’

  ‘Do you have any idea regarding Mrs Essa—senior’s—care of Chris?’

  ‘I haven’t seen her with Chris. She is deferential to her son, though, and has strong opinions which are more…old school; at odds with Jenna…culturally.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Louise Perkins leaned forward. ‘Ms Yang can we move on please? The witness hasn’t assessed the grandmother.’

  Natalie saw Ama smile triumphantly.

  ‘Though I trust, Doctor King,’ continued the magistrate, ‘that you aren’t saying there is a problem with old-fashioned methods per se?’

  ‘Ah…no, I’m not saying that.’ Which didn’t mean she couldn’t say it. Smacking for starters.

  ‘Doctor King,’ Li said. ‘My client is the primary carer, correct? The children’s primary attachment figure?’

  ‘Yes.’ Natalie would have liked to add that, at eight, Chelsea had less need of this as a constant than she had at a younger age, and even Chris at three, would be unharmed if he spent time apart, like at preschool, but she wasn’t given a chance. Li handed over to the Dictator.

  ‘Doctor King.’ His smile reminded her of a cat. A big, smug one. ‘Can you please tell us about your assessment of Ms Radford in more depth.’

  Natalie read from her report. ‘She is an intelligent women who clearly cares for her children. She—’

  ‘I meant her diagnosis. Or rather, absence of one.’

  ‘Jenna has some depressive symptoms as a result of her circumstances. These do not qualify for a major psychiatric disorder. Her eating disorder is past, not current.’

  ‘And does she have a personality disorder?’

  ‘No, she has—’

  ‘And I see in your report that you don’t believe Mr Essa does either. ’

  ‘No, I don’t believe—’

  ‘But Doctor King. Surely you just heard Professor Wadhwa outline the criteria of antisocial personality disorder.’

  Natalie turned to the magistrate. ‘If I could be allowed to finish, I would like to explain that under stress both Jenna and Malik have accentuations of underlying less-functional personality traits emerging. It doesn’t mean either has a personality disorder.’

  The magistrate’s mouth twitched; she didn’t like having a QC in her courtroom and for a moment Natalie was a co-conspirator. ‘Yes, I’d like to hear more about this.’ Her look to the Dictator said ‘button it’. He smiled, a tiger now: just a hint of teeth.

  ‘Jenna has some struggles with sense of self. She has some dependent, histrionic and borderline traits as well as some obsessional ones; under pressure she may become more dramatic, or revert to trying to control her environment. Being unable to do so will increase stress. Even her eating disorder can be viewed as a maladaptive way of dealing with intrapsychic conflict.’

  Jenna was looking at her. No smile. More a death stare.

  The Dictator had regrouped. ‘That’s hardly very damning, is it Doctor King? The late Elizabeth Taylor was histrionic, was she not? She had plenty of children as I recall without being reported as dangerous. So, what about Mr Essa?’

  Natalie was aware of a second stare now directed towards her. ‘Malik has paranoid traits. Perhaps in part cultural…’ She winced as Okeke narrowed her eyes. ‘Perhaps in part a function of the relationship, how he reacts to what he perceives as being goaded. His need to know Jenna’s every movement was a large part of why they broke up.’

  ‘Come, Doctor King, it was more than just a need to know, wasn’t it? It’s a clearly dysfunctional characteristic in any culture…and don’t these disordered aspects of his character become additive? Along with the antisocial ones?’

  For a lawyer, Tatterson knew his psychiatry.

  ‘Except he doesn’t have any. At least I’ve seen no evidence of them in the maybe four hours I’ve spent assessing him and questioning his mother.’

  The Dictator’s expression would have given Jenna—and Elizabeth Taylor—competition. His hand was on his chest as he paused and pushed his shoulders back. ‘So you are saying a professor of psychiatry is wrong? That her Honour imagined the aggression that happened here previously?’

  ‘No. Well yes. That is, he has some traits—the aggression. When provoked, as I understand it. There is no history of physical violence against Jenna or the children. The only—’

  ‘Excuse me Doctor King. What do you mean there has been no violence?’

  Natalie stared at the lawyer. Jenna gave her an embarrassed half-shrug and looked away.

  ‘At the last access visit,’ the Dictator continued, ‘we have eyewitness testimony of Mr Essa shoving Mr Radford, Jenna’s elderly father.’

  Mr Radford was hardly elderly. He was under sixty, and more strongly built than Malik. She wondered who’d shoved who. Mr Radford’s glare in the direction of his son-in-law suggested a less than cordial relationship.

  ‘I can’t comment on the event—I wasn’t there,’ said Natalie. Why did she have the feeling she had just walked into a trap? ‘But, as you described it, it was not against Jenna or the children.’

  ‘Really?’ The Dictator looked smug. ‘Ms Yang has submitted to the court that he has also…’ The Dictator picked up a report and read: ‘…physically intimidated Ms Radford, twisted her arm behind her back and thrown Chris across the room.’

  Three times Jenna had denied this in the initial interview. Had the hesitations before answering been because she was lying then? Or was she lying now? Natalie found her eyes searching out Jenna again. Twisted her arm behind her back. Jenna had used Natalie’s own words. Her head was down, avoiding Natalie’s gaze. Natalie squared her shoulders.

  ‘Jenna denied any such occurrence in my interview. And I did ask.’

  The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. That was what Natalie had sworn to uphold. ‘The sexual abuse? That Jenna may have been unsure about; perhaps she only suspected it. But there was no reason to deny any past physical abuse to me. She had already left Malik.’ The Dictator looked like he had found himself on the back foot and wasn’t sure how he’d got there. ‘And I’ve heard of only one fight as a child. Hardly abnormal.’

  ‘Excuse me Doctor King,’ The magistrate intervened. ‘You’re saying these claims have only come up recently, after your interviews?’

  ‘I was unaware of them until just now.’

  The magistrate wasn’t finished. ‘And are you telling me that he was not antisocial as a child?’

  ‘He was a good student, your Honour—he got a scholarship to study in Paris. After that fight when he was twelve, it was Malik that was hospitalised. There is no evidence of lying, stealing or killing of animals that are common in people who become antisocial.’ Natalie smiled her own tiger smile back at the Dictator and caught Malik’s small punch in the air.

  ‘Could he not be lying?’ The Dictator was back on the attack.

  ‘Yes, he could. But I did seek corroboration—his mother tells the same story. And, unlike Jenna’s, his story has remained consistent.’

  For a moment, the court was silent.

  The Dictator made one last attempt. ‘But you agree surely that monitoring of his children as he does his wife would not be good parenting?’

  ‘There is no reason that he would be jealous of his children, Mr Tatterson. And I could only speculate about what his aptitude in parenting a teenage daughter would be—a lot of people aren’t very good at that.’

  Mr Tatterson gave her a tight smile and sat down.

  Malik was already on his feet. ‘So, Doctor King, you did see me with my son did you not?’

  Natalie tried to address her answer to Louise Perkins. ‘I hav
e seen both parents with Chelsea and with Chris.’

  ‘Can you explain your report? About Jenna not being able to manage my son?’

  Natalie didn’t look at Jenna or her father, continuing to focus on the magistrate.

  ‘Jenna struggles to manage Chris and tends to take his behaviour, especially withdrawal, as rejection. She struggles with limits and wants Chris to like her. Children his age, particularly those going through a messy parental breakup, need firm boundaries. Chelsea tries to please her mother, who is not always aware that her own issues are getting in the way. None of these are issues that would prevent her from having custody. She needs education and support.’

  ‘And ah…Mr Essa?’

  ‘Chris is clearly bonded to his father. And appears to respect him. At the least, Malik—Mr Essa—is able to put limits around him.’

  ‘Why is this important?’ Malik sounded like he genuinely wanted to know the answer.

  ‘Because children Chris’s age are testing out just what they can do—if they aren’t given boundaries then they face the anxiety of being uncontained, rather than learning how to deal with limitations, with not getting their own way. And they become at greater risk of anxiety and behavioural disorders.’

  A light went on for Malik. ‘So you mean Jenna’s parenting could make him antisocial?’

  ‘In a child that would be a conduct disorder. That may become antisocial personality disorder, particularly if the male role model is violent.’ Natalie stared pointedly at Malik. ‘But as I said, Jenna was only—’

  ‘And how was Mr Essa with his daughter, Doctor King?’

  ‘There are some clear positives between the two.’

  ‘Do you think I abused her, Doctor King?’

  Shit. What to say? The truthful answer was clear. But what if she was wrong? The safer option still was to ensure Jenna got custody. And it would be easy—one line—to back her up. Perjury, but surely she could live with that if it meant Chelsea would be safe…

  The law, Liam, said, was his domain. She wasn’t Solomon. Natalie took a deep breath.

  ‘I haven’t been able to establish if Chelsea has been abused or not.’

  The magistrate frowned.

  ‘But what do you think?’ asked Malik.

  Natalie felt her chest constrict. Would she ever forgive herself if she sent Chelsea back to an abuser?

  ‘Objection, your Honour.’ The Dictator looked as if he was wasting his time in kindergarten. ‘Doctor King has explained—’

  ‘Yes, I know, Mr Tatterson.’ The magistrate looked frustrated. ‘Doctor King. My problem is that the child was interviewed and there was nothing definitive there either. I will allow Mr Essa’s question. At least you have seen Chelsea. What do you think, Doctor King?’

  Natalie thought of her dreams, the father she fantasised about. Her gut feelings…No. It was about the evidence, not feelings—that was her job. Her impartial assessment. Then she remembered her conflict of interest and her promise to Declan to inform the court. Shit.

  ‘I can only say it’s possible. To be more certain, a number of individual sessions with Chelsea, over weeks or months, would probably be needed. Ideally, with a team watching behind a one-way screen, maybe combined with therapy to help decrease the stress of the separation.’

  ‘Your Honour, this is all hypothetical and fanciful,’ said the Dictator. ‘Ms Radford is clearly able to offer the child a safe home without having to put the child through all this.’

  ‘Sit down, Mr Tatterson.’ The magistrate glared at them all. If everyone ran their courtroom like her, cases might be settled a good deal faster.

  Malik had the floor again. ‘Doctor King, is it possible my wife made this up?’

  The magistrate intervened. ‘I’m not allowing that question Mr Essa. Sit down.’ She was looking frustrated. ‘What about Ms Radford’s police statement?’

  This was the question Natalie really, really, didn’t want to answer.

  ‘Your Honour, I’m afraid I don’t know. It…’—Natalie took a deep breath— ‘would fit with Jenna’s…tendency to exaggerate. And her need to control. But…’

  Louise Perkins looked at her pointedly.

  ‘I have to tell you…while I don’t feel it has in any way biased me, I may have what might be viewed as a conflict of interest. It has come to my attention that my brother is currently working for Mr Essa.’ Could she say anyone in their right mind would sack Blake and that she’d take Malik’s side? Poor Malik. She’d just handed him a gift and was now taking it back. The QC pricked his ears up.

  Louise Perkins took a deep breath, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘Okay. This is how I see it. I have one psychiatrist who has support for Mr Essa but a conflict of interest. Mr Essa, in turn, is defending himself against the court’s advice. I have another psychiatrist who may well be being paid enough taxpayers’ money to attract the attention of the Audit Office giving me mumbo jumbo that supports Ms Radford. And no one has spent any significant time with the child in question through all of this. Can I remind all parties that this is not a criminal court, or even the Family Court? That we are after what is in the best interests of the child?’ She looked at the two lawyers, then at each parent.

  ‘You,’ the magistrate said, pointing at Natalie, ‘seem to know what is needed and have already met the child. Can you see Chelsea until you can give me a better answer?’ Her look said both: Don’t fuck with me and Keep her safe. She added, ‘And see the grandmothers while you’re at it.’

  Natalie began to say she wasn’t a child expert but stopped. Better her than Wadhwa. And it seemed she’d dodged the conflict-of-interest bullet.

  The magistrate looked around. ‘On the matter of grandmothers, where is Mrs Radford?’

  Jenna’s mother? It was a good question. Maybe she had Chris. There was some hasty consultation.

  ‘Mrs Radford has been unwell, your Honour,’ Li Yang finally said.

  ‘All right.’ She addressed the next question to Jenna. ‘Your mother-in-law has cared for Chris and Chelsea in the past?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jenna’s reply was reluctant.

  ‘Safely?’

  ‘Not if she let her son abuse my daughter.’

  The magistrate ploughed on. ‘She loves them?’

  ‘Not as much as she loves Malik.’

  The magistrate narrowed her eyes. ‘Very well. We will set a court date in three months’ time. Chris is to have weekends with his father. Chelsea is to go on weekend days, supervised by Mrs Essa. Oh, and Ms Yang.’

  ‘Yes, your Honour.’

  ‘The court takes a very harsh view of parents who do not abide by its decisions. If Ms Radford continues to prevent access I will have her for contempt, is that clear? Meaning’—she looked hard at Jenna—‘I will lock her up.’ She paused for effect. ‘Court adjourned.’

  Louise Perkins had left the room before her ruling had sunk in.

  Natalie was still dealing with the thought of seeing Chelsea individually. She looked up to see Malik hugging his mother. Ama looked delighted, and to be sure there had been gains for their side. Natalie didn’t imagine for a moment that any supervision Ama provided would be rigorous.

  Jenna’s expression was stony. Her father was still in his seat when she came over to Natalie.

  ‘You lied, Jenna,’ said Natalie.

  Jenna leaned into Natalie. ‘There are no rules when it comes to protecting your children,’ she spat.

  23

  ‘Political Correctness Puts Children in Danger’ screamed the Herald Sun above Mark La Brooy’s by-line.

  Have we lost even the most basic common sense in our efforts to appease the moaning minorities? Women, ‘people of colour’, the ever-widening LGBTTQQIAAPPH2O community (if you haven’t been keeping up: lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, transsexual, queer, questioning, intersex, asexual, ally, pansexual, polyamorous, hijra, two spirit and—just in case there’s some previously unimagined deviance we’ve overlooked—other. Or perhaps that’s where w
e forgotten heterosexuals fit). And, of course, Muslims.

  Wasn’t La Brooy’s usual hobby horse fathers’ rights? Natalie wondered exactly how he was going to turn that around so he didn’t have to be on Malik’s side. She read through a half-page diatribe about political correctness taken to another level of stupidity and a plucky single mother doing the right thing by throwing out the violent de facto, to the final paragraph:

  Yesterday, at risk of contempt of court, a woman trying to protect her child was ordered to hand that child over to a violent, unrelated man who has been accused of abusing her.

  How could this happen? What has brought us to a place where two women—psychiatrist and judge—bend over backwards to support a male aggressor? Guess. What group are we most afraid of offending? What group do feminists inexplicably put ahead of the sisterhood—and apparently even the welfare of children? Yes, our man is Muslim.

  There are a lot of men out there justifiably angry at being denied access to children they love—but this isn’t a triumph for them. It’s a triumph of political correctness over common sense. Again.

  Natalie shuddered. At least La Brooy hadn’t mentioned her by name. Yet. What was it with these columnists? They took one angle out of context and distorted it to support their argument. He hadn’t mentioned Wadhwa and the psychopath diagnosis; she could only assume his research had been at best lazy. Malik hadn’t assaulted anyone. And he wasn’t unrelated to Chelsea—he was her adoptive father. The truth was often murky, and murkier still in the context of mental illness and custody battles.

  Beverley found her in the coffee room.

  ‘I take it this is you that Mark La Brooy is talking about?’ Beverley said pointing to the paper. ‘Have you seen Twitter?’ Natalie felt a stab of anxiety. She couldn’t afford to get into trouble with the College of Psychiatry or the Medical Board—she and the bean would be relying on her income if she didn’t want to become dependent on Liam. She reminded herself that Beverley had seen the original Okeke article, and typed her reports. It didn’t mean anyone else could identify her from the article. She felt her chest constrict when she found the tweets that had put Beverley into a spin.