When supervised visitations start, the thought that immediately comes to mind is that this absurdity cannot last. It is just not possible that your relationship with your children, the free, loving life that ties you to them be held off by an unfounded accusation. The Court will soon realize the dramatic injustice and harm of prolonging this way of seeing your children. Meanwhile, like an inmate who has a conjugal visit in jail, you try to get all you can from the pathetic supervised one hour a week you have: kisses, smiles, hugs and news. You need that until the next one. And time passes. 2003 Supervised Christmas visit was supervised visit number twenty third. My older sister was visiting from France at this time. On December 27 2003, she experienced her first visit in jail -the crummy room of Comprehensive Family Services in downtown Manhattan – with me and her nieces, whom she had not seen in two years and has not seen since then. She barely could hold her tears after the visit. I guess she was not used to the “comprehensiveness” of Manhattan Family court justice. They don’t have it in old Europe.
Awareness of injustice never strikes the folks of Manhattan family court. Law guardian Garline Octobre is nowhere to be seen while supervised visitations last, judge Sturm just cares for procedure and Spitzer, the director of Comprehensive Family Services, pays the bills with your money. This little useless world peacefully sleeps until the next court date, when it will recommend more of the same, while you try to make sense of this absurdity.
Supervised visitations are like preventive wars on terrorism: blunt stupid and inefficient. While their alleged purpose is to prevent unproven child abuse, all they succeed in achieving is to give sicko ex-wife the leeway to spoil the relation between the non-custodial parent and his children. A prescription for disaster. They should be ordered in homeopathic doses, and only when abuse is proven.