The Dire State of Family Court Systems and Its Psychological Toll on Survivors and Children

Family Courts Failing to Protect Abused Children and Parents

Family courts are intended to put children’s safety and wellbeing first, yet in numerous cases they have failed to protect children from abusive parents. In the worst outcomes, this has had tragic consequences. For example, the Center for Judicial Excellence tracked 707 U.S. children murdered by a parent involved in divorce or separation since 2008. At least 98 of those children were killed by a parent or parental figure after a family court gave that parent unsupervised contact despite warnings that the child was in danger. Investigations have found that courts often allow unsupervised visitation or custody to parents with histories of abuse, resulting in continued physical or sexual abuse and sometimes homicide. These grim statistics highlight a family court crisis in which children are being placed at risk.

One major factor is that judges and court-appointed evaluators often do not believe abuse allegations raised by the protective parent (typically the parent who was abused). Many court professionals assume that a parent’s warnings about abuse are merely tactical maneuvers to undermine the other parent’s rights, rather than credible concerns. In fact, some protective mothers report being advised by their own attorneys not to mention abuse in custody proceedings – because raising abuse might backfire and lead the judge to award custody to the other parent. This pervasive skepticism means evidence of danger is too often discounted. Unless proof of past abuse is “airtight,” judges may be reluctant to limit a parent’s access to their child. Overloaded courts also contribute to poor decisions: family court judges might handle dozens of cases a day, sometimes spending only 15–20 minutes on each , leaving little time to discern complex abuse dynamics.

Furthermore, family courts sometimes prioritize parents’ rights over child safety. Even when a judge believes one parent has been abusive, they often hesitate to deny that parent visitation. Instead, courts may order therapy or parenting classes for the abusive parent while allowing continued contact. “Child safety should trump any considerations of equity between mom and dad,” as one analyst notes, yet some judges do not agree. In practice, courts have at times treated an abusive parent’s “right” to a relationship with the child as more important than the child’s right to safety and a life free from trauma. Women’s rights organizations have documented cases of family courts prioritizing an abuser’s parental rights over the survivor’s and child’s rights to life and freedom from abuse, allowing perpetrators to continue their coercive control through court orders.

The result is that survivors of domestic violence and their children often encounter a family court system that is not the place of safety it should be, but rather a traumatic and dangerous environment. This dire state of affairs has begun to gain wider recognition. In 2018, for instance, the U.S. Congress passed a resolution urging that child safety be the top priority in custody decisions and calling on states to improve how courts handle family violence evidence. Some jurisdictions have started reforms, but the day-to-day reality remains that many abused parents and vulnerable children continue to fall through the cracks of an under-informed, overstressed family court system.

Abusers Exploiting the System and the Revictimization of Protective Parents

For survivors of domestic abuse (most often mothers) who turn to the courts for help, the legal process can become an extension of the abuse itself. Research shows that abusive partners frequently manipulate family court proceedings as a tool of continued coercive control. This phenomenon is sometimes called “legal abuse” or “post-separation abuse.” Instead of the court providing protection, the abuser uses litigation, custody fights, and false accusations to harass and control the victim from afar. In a scoping review of 25 studies, scholars found that perpetrators often “use the system as a mode of coercive control,” taking advantage of custody disputes to continue or reassert power over their ex-partner. Every new court motion, hearing, or mandated interaction becomes another opportunity for the abuser to make the survivor’s life difficult.

Tragically, family court professionals can (even if unintentionally) become complicit in this revictimization. Judges, evaluators, and guardians ad litem may discount the survivor’s experiences, blame them for the conflict, or treat them harshly, essentially aiding the abuser’s agenda. Protective parents – those who courageously left an abusive partner to shield themselves and their kids – often find themselves on trial in court for their very act of protection. There are documented cases of judges suspecting the protective parent of “alienating” the child from the other parent, or exaggerating abuse claims, rather than recognizing the validity of the abuse. One study noted that survivor-mothers in family court commonly felt judges and officials mistrusted or even penalized them for coming forward: these mothers felt “fearful, humiliated, retraumatized, powerless, betrayed, and mistrustful” of the family court system and institutions broadly.

In many cases, the court’s response (or lack thereof) ends up facilitating ongoing abuse. Abusers may file frivolous motions, drag out litigation to drain the survivor’s resources, demand custody or visitation mainly to torment their ex, and the courts often allow it. A recent review emphasizes that coercive control by an ex-partner, combined with secondary victimization by the family court, inflicts serious psychological harm on survivors. In other words, the legal process itself can deepen the trauma. Protective parents are frequently required to relive their abuse in court proceedings, recounting painful details again and again. They may face skepticism or outright disbelief when they present evidence of violence. Some mothers describe the court experience as “worse than the abuse itself,” because it not only invalidates their suffering but also jeopardizes their children.

“The court, rather than removing the power from the perpetrator, empowered him even more,” one survivor reported. “Years after everything that happened I am still being harassed… the perpetrator is using the court to continue it.”

Protective parents have also described how courts paint them as the problem, even when they are trying to keep their children safe. For instance, an abused mother in one study noted, “He’s not interested in the child at all – it’s a way of keeping contact with me and making my life difficult. They don’t see that… instead I come across as the one who’s in the wrong all the time.” This kind of role reversal – where the victim is treated as the perpetrator – is deeply damaging. It sends a chilling message that seeking safety and asserting boundaries is “wrong,” and it reinforces the abuser’s power by undermining the victim’s credibility.

The psychological effect of this system-driven revictimization on survivors is severe. Protective parents going through family court often experience extreme stress, anxiety, depression, and trauma symptoms. Upcoming court dates can trigger intense fear, insomnia, and panic attacks. In fact, mothers who engage with the family court report a range of short- and long-term psychological impacts, from acute anxiety and PTSD to feelings of hopelessness. They may develop chronic health issues related to stress, and some even suffer suicidal ideation or self-harm as a result of the protracted trauma in the courts. Dr. Emma Katz’s research with survivors found many serious negative health consequences linked to their family court battles, including eating disorders, self-harm, and suicidal attempts in mothers who felt trapped and belittled by the process.

It’s important to recognize that this outcome – the traumatization of abuse survivors by the very system meant to help them – is not an uncommon anecdote but a documented pattern. The combination of an abusive ex misusing the courts, and a legal system ill-equipped to detect and stop that misuse, creates a perfect storm of “secondary abuse.” Mothers describe feeling that the power imbalances and gender biases that existed in their abusive relationship get replicated in the courtroom . Court officials who lack understanding of domestic violence dynamics may misinterpret a survivor’s fear and urgency as hysteria or vindictiveness, while taking a calm, manipulative abuser at face value. This “toxic combination” of domestic abuse ignorance and ingrained biases leads to deeply traumatizing experiences in family court.

Psychological Impact on Children Placed with Abusive Parents

Children caught in these situations suffer immensely. Decades of research have shown that children who are exposed to one parent abusing the other can experience psychological harm as severe as if they themselves were directly abused. Living in an environment of fear and coercion leaves lasting scars on a child’s mental and emotional development. Numerous studies document negative effects on children’s psychological, emotional, and cognitive functioning when they witness domestic violence. In fact, children who see or hear a parent being beaten, threatened, or controlled often exhibit the same trauma symptoms as children who are physically abused.

If a family court then places such a child in the custody of the abusive parent, these harms are only compounded. Firstly, children are at greater risk of being directly abused once the abusive parent has sole access to them. Research confirms that when one parent has a history of abusing the other, the children are at higher risk of suffering abuse themselves, especially after the parents separate. An abusive parent may hurt the child as a way to retaliate against or control the other parent. Indeed, abuse of the child often escalates post-separation – once the abuser no longer has the same access to victimize their ex-partner, they may turn their aggression toward the child. In extreme cases, this has led to the kind of tragedies mentioned earlier. (Judges sometimes assume a parent who “only” abused their spouse but not the child poses no danger to the child, but sadly many children have been harmed or even killed by a parent with a prior domestic violence history.)

Even when physical abuse toward the child does not occur, the psychological environment with an abusive caregiver is toxic. Children living under the control of an abuser experience chronic fear, instability, and confusion. Their development is shaped by the abusive dynamic – they learn to adjust their behavior to manage the ever-present threat. Experts note that exposure to domestic abuse is a form of child abuse in itself, because it causes profound emotional trauma. Recent research on coercive control (a non-physical form of domestic abuse) shows that children are harmed by coercive and controlling behavior in ways very similar to the harm experienced by the adult victim. For example, a coercive parent might isolate the child from supportive relatives, enforce trivial demands rigidly, constantly degrade or threaten the child, and undermine their sense of self. A child enduring this learns that love is conditional and that any misstep could lead to terrifying consequences. One survivor recalled that as a teenager, “one of the worst things her father did was make this particular creepy smile” – a signal that danger was near. Such subtle cues haunt children, keeping them on perpetual high alert. In short, a child with an abusive parent lives in a state of constant psychological siege, forced to manage the unmanageable.

Children in these circumstances often exhibit a range of emotional and behavioral problems as a result of the trauma. Some common psychological effects on children who are placed with (or spend unsupervised time with) an abusive parent include:

• Chronic fear, anxiety, and hypervigilance: They are always on guard, not knowing when the next violent or chaotic episode will occur . Even when there’s no overt violence, they feel the “ever-present danger” and can never fully relax. This can manifest as sleep disturbances, nightmares, or constant tension.

• Depression, low self-esteem, and self-blame: School-aged children especially may blame themselves for the abuse (“If only I behaved better, maybe Daddy wouldn’t get so angry”). They often feel guilt and shame, and their confidence plummets. They may become withdrawn or lose interest in activities, believing they are “bad” or unworthy because of the turmoil at home.

• Developmental regression and stress-related physical symptoms: Younger children might revert to earlier behaviors like bed-wetting, thumb-sucking, or excessive crying and clinging. Many children of all ages develop stress-related ailments – frequent headaches, stomachaches, or other psychosomatic complaints.

• Behavioral issues and risk-taking: Some children respond by externalizing their distress. Teens, especially boys, may become aggressive, defiant, or engage in risky behavior (substance use, fighting, skipping school). They are acting out the chaos they’ve internalized. Girls are more often observed to become withdrawn, anxious, or depressed in their teens, though many boys suffer these internalized effects too.

• Difficulty with relationships and trust: Children from abusive homes can struggle to form healthy peer friendships or later romantic relationships. They may either emulate the abusive behavior they’ve seen or become overly passive, having learned poor models of conflict resolution and trust. They’ve been taught by experience that relationships are unstable or dangerous.

• Long-term mental and physical health problems: Studies show that childhood exposure to domestic violence increases the risk of serious long-term issues. As adults, these children face higher rates of PTSD, depression, and anxiety disorders, as well as physical health problems like heart disease, obesity, and diabetes that are linked to childhood trauma. They are also more likely to either become victims of abuse again or perpetrate abuse in their own adult relationships, continuing the tragic cycle.

Over time, many children in these situations develop what psychologists call complex trauma (or C-PTSD) due to prolonged exposure to abuse. Renowned trauma expert Dr. Bessel van der Kolk explains that kids living with chronic violence or coercion “develop a view of the world that incorporates their betrayal and hurt. They anticipate and expect the trauma to recur and respond with hyperactivity, aggression, defeat or freeze responses to minor stresses.” In other words, their nervous system becomes calibrated to an environment of danger – they may overreact to small triggers, or conversely shut down (freeze) because they feel hopeless to change their situation. This conditioning can start very early; even infants are acutely sensitive to an abusive atmosphere, reacting to the caregiver’s fear and distress .

As these children grow, the untreated trauma can result in serious psychological disorders. They often carry deep mistrust into adulthood – a “distrust of others” and expectation that betrayal is inevitable. Many experience difficulties with intimacy and friendship because of this lack of trust. Other common symptoms in teenagers and adults who grew up with domestic trauma include feelings of detachment, shame, guilt, alienation (“feeling like an alien”), helplessness and hopelessness, and even suicidal ideation or self-harm. It’s important to note, as van der Kolk does, that the child’s dark view of the world is not an innate flaw or irrational – it is a logical survival adaptation to the reality of their upbringing. They learned to expect harm because harm repeatedly came, especially when the systems around them (courts, authorities) failed to intervene effectively. What served as survival strategies in an abusive home (e.g. dissociating from reality, or lashing out to preempt harm) often become maladaptive in normal settings, leading to misdiagnoses and misunderstood behavior later on.

In sum, placing a child with an abusive parent creates a perfect storm for psychological damage. The child loses the sense of safety and consistency they desperately need, and instead lives under fear and control. The longer this situation persists, the more entrenched the trauma becomes, altering the child’s development and mental health trajectory in profound ways.

The Damage of Severing a Child’s Bond with the Protective Parent

Another often overlooked harm in these family court failures is the severing of the bond between the child and their protective parent (typically the non-abusive parent). In many domestic violence custody disputes, the protective parent was the primary caregiver and the child’s source of security. Removing or limiting that parent’s contact can be psychologically devastating for the child.

Child psychologists and legal experts agree that one of the most important protective factors for a child who has witnessed abuse is a strong relationship with a safe, nurturing parent. According to the National Council of Juvenile and Family Court Judges, “the most important protective resource to enable a child to cope with exposure to abuse is a strong relationship with a competent, nurturing, positive adult — most often, that adult will be the non-abusing parent.”. Conversely, it is considered detrimental to a child, and not in their best interest, to be placed in any form of custody with the abusive parent. In plain terms, children do best when they remain in the care of the parent who did not abuse them. That stable bond is a lifeline that helps children heal from trauma.

When courts instead award custody to the abusive parent – or impose severe restrictions on the protective parent’s contact (such as only allowing supervised visitation or, in extreme cases, no contact at all) – the child undergoes a form of attachment trauma. The child may feel they have “lost” the parent who makes them feel safe, at the very moment they need that parent the most. This loss can cause intense grief, confusion, and anxiety in the child. Often, children do not understand why the separation has occurred; they may even believe the protective parent abandoned them or doesn’t love them, unless it’s explained (and in many cases the abuser might actively poison the child’s mind against the other parent). Young children in particular can experience severe separation anxiety and behavioral regression when abruptly taken from their primary caregiver. Even older children and teens, who may understand some of the situation, often feel deep distress and anger at being kept away from the loving parent. In some documented cases, children placed with an abusive parent begged or pleaded to be allowed to see their protective parent, to no avail.

Family court practices have at times actively enforced the break of parent–child bonds under the belief that the protective parent’s influence is “harmful” (often due to unproven claims of parental alienation). One infamous pattern is when a mother raises abuse concerns, is not believed, and the court not only hands custody to the allegedly abusive father but also cuts off or heavily monitors the mother’s contact with the child. Under the guise of “reunifying” the child with the father or stopping “alienation,” children have been forced into camps or therapy programs that bar any contact with the protective mother for extended periods. This is immensely traumatizing for children. As one investigative journalist bluntly observed, “In previous centuries, judges could order an abused woman to return to her husband… that is exactly what the family law system still does to children.” Even when children openly disclose that a parent abused them – corroborated by professionals – family courts have ordered them to live part-time or even full-time with that parent. In such scenarios, the child’s pleas to stay with their safe parent are disregarded, essentially ordering the child back into an abusive situation while estranging them from the parent who tried to protect them.

The psychological fallout for a child of being barred from their protective parent is severe. That protective parent is usually the child’s main attachment figure – the person who provides comfort, love, and safety. Cutting or undermining that attachment can lead to:

• Profound feelings of abandonment: The child may not understand why they can no longer see Mom or Dad freely. They might internalize that Mom didn’t fight for me or Mom left me, which can cause sadness and abandonment wounds. In reality, the mother may be fighting desperately in court but losing; from the child’s view, she’s just suddenly gone or only allowed short, supervised visits.

• Loss of trust and stability: The one stable element in the child’s life (the non-abusive parent) is suddenly unstable or absent. The child’s trust in the permanence of love and family is shattered. This can make it hard for the child to trust anyone again – they may think, if even my mom/dad can disappear or be taken away, no relationship is safe.

• Identity and developmental problems: A child’s sense of self is closely tied to their relationship with their caregivers. If a beloved parent is portrayed as “bad” by the abuser or the courts (to justify limiting contact), the child can become confused about their own identity (since half of their identity comes from that parent). They might also feel guilty for loving that parent, or feel they have to hide their true feelings, which is an enormous psychological burden.

• Heightened vulnerability to the abusive parent’s influence: Without the balancing presence of the protective parent, the child may be more susceptible to the abusive parent’s manipulation. The child might identify with the abuser as a coping mechanism, or start to believe the abuser’s negative claims about the other parent. This can lead to long-term relationship strain even if reunification with the protective parent happens later – precious time has been lost, and sometimes the parent–child relationship is gravely damaged by the enforced separation and brainwashing in the interim.

Consider an example from Australia’s family court system: A boy (“Alex”) was placed in the sole custody of his father as a toddler after the mother’s abuse allegations were dismissed by the court. For years, Alex was physically abused by his father. He was allowed only limited contact with his mother. Desperate and depressed, Alex ran away to his mom as a teen, saying he’d rather die than stay with his father. The court’s response was to send him back to the abusive home and order that all contact with the mother be cut off, even threatening to jail the mother if she tried to help him. Alex attempted to flee multiple times; only after persistent effort was he finally permitted to live with his mom at age 14. By then, the damage was done – as a young adult, he was diagnosed with severe PTSD, unable to work or study, essentially a casualty of the system’s decisions. Sadly, Alex’s story is not isolated. Many children have developed trauma-related disorders or self-harmed due to forced separation from a loving parent and placement with an abuser. Family counselors report that some children kick, scream, hide under beds, and even threaten suicide to avoid being handed over to an abusive parent by court order. These behaviors underscore just how against a child’s own instinct and wellbeing such forced custody arrangements can be.

Psychologically, when a child watches the court take their safe parent away or render that parent powerless, it violates their fundamental need for security. A child inherently expects parents (and by extension, adult authorities) to protect them. When instead the authorities remove the protector and hand them to the aggressor, it creates a deep existential fear: Who will keep me safe now? Children may feel that the world has been turned upside-down – right and wrong no longer make sense. This is a breeding ground for long-term trauma, including depression, anxiety, and complex PTSD, as discussed.

What Children Learn from These Traumatic Experiences

Beyond the immediate psychological damage, an even more insidious effect of these scenarios is what the child comes to believe about society and justice. Children are very perceptive. When they live through a situation where the abusive parent is rewarded or empowered and the protective parent is punished or discredited, they internalize powerful lessons (usually negative ones) about how the world works. Here are some of the distorted “lessons” a child might learn:

• Authorities don’t protect the innocent: When a judge or guardian ad litem sides with the abuser or minimizes the child’s fears, the child learns that people in power (courts, police, etc.) cannot be trusted to help. This can lead to a profound mistrust of authority and institutions that lasts into adulthood. Indeed, many survivor-mothers report losing all faith in the legal system after their ordeal; similarly, their children may conclude that the very systems meant to deliver justice are unfair or even harmful.

• Telling the truth or asking for help can backfire: If a child disclosed abuse – whether to a teacher, a counselor, or in a court interview – and the result was that nothing improved or things got worse (e.g. they were forced to live with the abuser), the child may deeply regret speaking up. They learn the dangerous message that voicing problems leads to punishment or disbelief. This could make them less likely to seek help in the future, even outside the family context. They might also develop feelings of guilt, thinking “If I had just stayed quiet, maybe Mom wouldn’t be in trouble”.

• Victims are to blame for abuse: Watching their protective parent be treated like the “wrongdoer” imparts the idea that victims somehow cause or deserve their mistreatment. The child sees that the parent who tried to do the right thing (leave an abuser, report violence) is the one being criticized, monitored, or sanctioned. This can terribly skew a child’s moral framework: they may start to believe that standing up against abuse is futile or even a bad thing. They might also blame the protective parent (“If only Mom had just stayed or kept quiet, we wouldn’t be going through this”), because that’s the narrative the abuser and even court findings might be reinforcing.

• Abuse is normal or “what love looks like”: Children model what they see. If the outcome of the family court case is that they must live with an abusive parent and cut off the nurturing one, a child may rationalize that the abusive parent’s behavior was not really wrong – after all, the system essentially sided with that parent. This is especially likely if the abuser and their allies actively tell the child that the other parent was lying or “deserved” the treatment. Over time, a child might normalize abusive behavior: a boy might learn that using violence or control is an acceptable way to exert power in a family, and a girl might learn that being mistreated is something one has to endure. This warped lesson perpetuates the cycle of violence into the next generation.

• Learned helplessness and cynicism: Ultimately, many children in these circumstances develop a form of learned helplessness – the feeling that they have no agency to change their situation or to protect those they love. When they see their protective parent struggle in vain against an unjust system, it can instill a sense of cynicism and fatalism. The child’s worldview becomes one where justice is rare and cruelty often prevails. As they grow up, this can manifest as disengagement from society, anger at authority, or conversely, excessive compliance out of fear. Some may carry an enduring resentment, feeling that society failed them utterly.

It is telling that children who suffer long-term domestic trauma often develop a worldview colored by betrayal. As noted earlier, kids with complex trauma come to “anticipate and expect” harm, even in benign situations, and often respond with out-of-place aggression or fear responses. This shows just how much their fundamental expectations of the world have been altered. They may also harbor deep-seated distrust, expecting that people will hurt or abandon them . One trauma survivor described feeling like “an alien” among peers – a poignant reflection of how isolated and different abused children can feel, as if no one else can understand or be trusted. These psychological impressions amount to the child “learning” that the world is unsafe and justice is an illusion.

Additionally, when children witness the family court ordeal, they might not only distrust the system but even lose respect for the protective parent, despite loving them. This can happen if the child absorbs the court’s implicit message that the protective parent’s actions were wrong or that the parent is powerless. Some children, especially as they reach adolescence, become angry at the protective parent for not “winning” in court or for seemingly putting them through the process. It’s tragically common for an abuser to capitalize on this by telling the child that the other parent didn’t want them or fought against them, twisting the narrative of what really happened. Without proper support, a child can be left bitter and confused about who was right, who was wrong, and whether justice exists at all.

Finally, some children internalize a lesson about surveillance and self-censorship. If a protective parent is placed under supervised visitation or court-ordered monitoring (essentially treated like a potential criminal when they did nothing wrong), the child grows up under constant scrutiny as well. Visits at a supervised center, being told not to discuss certain “adult” topics, knowing that someone is always watching – these experiences teach a child that their private family life is subject to invasion and that they must censor their speech about the abuse. They learn to keep secrets and suppress their emotions, which can hinder healthy emotional development. It can also instill a sense of shame – as if their family is so “bad” that it requires surveillance.

In essence, children learn from a young age whether the world is fair or not based on how their own family crisis is handled. A child who sees an abusive parent held accountable and a protective parent vindicated learns that wrongs can be righted. But a child who instead sees the abuser prevail and the loving parent pushed aside learns a darker lesson – one that can shadow them for life.

Trauma from Witnessing the System’s Abuse of a Protective Parent

An especially painful aspect of these cases is the trauma children experience from watching their protective parent being mistreated by the very systems that should help them. It’s not just the direct abuse by the abusive parent that hurts children; it’s also seeing their mom or dad cry, struggle, and be humiliated by courts, evaluators, or social services. Children are extremely intuitive to their caregiver’s emotional state. When they see their protective parent being disbelieved, berated, or treated like a wrongdoer, it can be terrifying and traumatizing.

Imagine a child in a courtroom or at a custody exchange who sees a judge scold their mother, or hears that their mother must have supervised visits as if she’s dangerous. The child knows this is wrong – “My mom never hurt me; she’s the one who keeps me safe”. Yet the system is treating her like a perpetrator. This is profoundly disorienting for the child’s moral compass. The child might feel anger and frustration on behalf of the parent, but also helplessness because they have no power to fix it. They may also fear showing love toward the protective parent, worrying it could get that parent in more trouble with authorities (for example, if the court thinks the child has been “alienated” because they favor the safe parent).

When the protective parent is placed under surveillance (such as supervised visitation), the child feels the stigma and tension of that situation. Those visits are typically in unfamiliar, monitored environments where normal parent-child interaction is disrupted. Young kids may not understand why a stranger is listening to their every word with Mom. Older kids might feel humiliated or resentful that their parent has to prove themselves under watch. Seeing their loving parent in this position can evoke intense emotions: empathy and sorrow (feeling their parent’s pain), guilt (believing their own statements or wishes might have caused the trouble), and fear (wondering if the system might punish them or their parent further if they don’t behave “correctly”). One survivor recounted how her ex-partner took her to court when she was extremely vulnerable, and she naively expected the court would see through his lies – but instead “everyone bought it hook, line, and sinker.” Her child witnessed how defeated and broken she was by not being believed, which undoubtedly affects how that child views standing up for truth.

There is also the aspect of prolonged litigation stress on the family. Children may not be present in the courtroom, but they live through the months or years of custody battles at home. They see their protective parent preparing evidence, maybe crying at night from stress, scrambling to pay legal fees, or reacting to each new court ruling. This ongoing strain can cause secondary trauma: the child is essentially witnessing the system “abusing” their parent, in an emotional sense. The child might think, “The judge keeps hurting Mommy by not listening” or “These people are making my dad very sad and angry”, depending on who the protective parent is. The child’s heart breaks seeing the person they love being wronged repeatedly with little recourse.

This type of trauma – sometimes called “betrayal trauma” – occurs when a trusted institution betrays one’s expectations. Children expect courts, police, and social workers to be “helpers” who stop bad guys. When instead those institutions seem to side with the bad guy or accuse the good guy, a child’s basic trust in social order is shattered. They experience a form of cognitive dissonance: the world says it values truth and protects the innocent, but their lived experience shows the opposite. Watching a protective parent be railroaded by the system is a nightmare that can stick in a child’s psyche forever.

Consider the extreme: in one case, a teenage girl was so afraid of her father (who had abused her mother and been intimidating toward her) that when the court insisted she be returned to his custody, she ran away and threatened suicide rather than go back. Federal police were literally sent to enforce the court order. Only her suicide threat caused the authorities to relent and hospitalize her instead. She eventually was allowed to live with her mother, but only after demonstrating the depth of her terror. For a child to reach that point, you can imagine how many times she saw her pleas and her mother’s pleas ignored by the system – an utterly traumatizing saga of being voiceless and watching her protector be vilified until she had to resort to desperate measures. In another case, a boy was told by a court-appointed “expert” that his suicidal statements were just “stress” and that he didn’t really want to die, after he tried to live with his mom instead of his abusive father. That expert recommended cutting off his contact with mom completely and even jailing her if she let him come to her – essentially punishing the mother for the child’s attempt to escape abuse. The boy had to run to the police multiple times before he was finally heard. These stories highlight the extreme anguish children feel when their reality is denied and their protective parent is treated like a criminal. The children involved often suffer symptoms like nightmares, school failure, anger outbursts, self-harm, and deep depression as a direct reaction to the system’s actions, on top of the original abuse trauma.

Even in less extreme cases, the dynamic of seeing one’s protective parent being surveilled, disbelieved, or outmaneuvered in court leaves emotional wounds. Children may develop a protective instinct towards that parent, effectively parentifying themselves – they feel they have to support or save their mom/dad since the system won’t. This role-reversal can burden a child with inappropriate levels of responsibility and anxiety. On the flip side, some children cope by emotionally distancing from the embattled parent, which can be heartbreaking as well – they shut down or try not to care, because it’s too painful to watch what’s happening.

In summary, a child who watches their protective parent suffer injustice learns a harsh truth about the world: that systems can fail, adults can be cruel to the innocent, and even a parent can be rendered powerless to protect or even to self-protect. This realization is traumatic. It often underlies the long-term distrust and alienation such children feel. They not only carry the trauma of what the abusive parent did, but also the betrayal trauma of what the court or child protective services did. This double-hit can make healing especially complex.

Conclusion: Toward a Child-Centered Justice

The scenarios described above paint a deeply concerning picture of our family court systems – a picture in which the very processes meant to shield children and survivors from harm sometimes end up perpetuating harm. Placing children with abusers, disbelieving and punishing protective parents, and thereby re-victimizing those who seek safety, is not only a failure of justice but a source of profound psychological trauma for all involved. The children learn that the world may not protect the vulnerable, and the protective parents learn that escaping abuse can lead to new forms of abuse by the system. These outcomes benefit no one except the abuser.

Fortunately, there is growing awareness of these issues. Advocates, researchers, and some enlightened lawmakers are pushing for reforms – from better judicial education on domestic violence, to guardrails on the use of unscientific “parental alienation” claims, to laws (like “Kayden’s Law” in the U.S.) that mandate courts to prioritize child safety over parental access. The ideal is a family court system where children’s rights to safety and a healthy upbringing are truly put first, and where a parent’s allegations of abuse are met with careful investigation, not knee-jerk skepticism. Protective parents should be supported, not maligned, for trying to shield their kids. And abusive parents should not be coddled under a false notion of fairness or “equal rights” when the safety of a child is at stake.

In essence, we must remember that every child has a right to grow up free from violence and fear, and that right should never be overridden by an adult’s desire for access or a court’s desire to appear neutral. The psychological stakes are incredibly high. Childhood trauma of this magnitude – living with an abuser and being severed from a loving parent – can derail an entire life course. As a society, and for all of us who care about justice, it’s imperative to address this dire state of the family court system. The lessons children take from their early experiences will shape the next generation. We owe it to them to ensure those lessons are about safety, trust, and the protection of the innocent – not the opposite. Only by reforming these systems to truly hear and respect survivors’ voices can we stop teaching children that abuse prevails and start showing them that society can indeed uphold their right not to be abused.

Carey Ann George