Michael Robotham - Suspect

"I remember Boyd getting drunk and watering the plastic plants in the foyer."

We both laugh.

"Bring back any memories?" She motions to the files.

"Sadly." My left hand is trembling. I push it into my lap. "What did you make of Lenny Morgan?"

She sits down and kicks off her shoes. "I thought he was a pig. He was abusive and violent."

"What did he do?"

"He confronted me outside the court. I went to use a phone in the foyer. He asked me why I was doing this-as if it was personal. When I tried to get past him, he pushed me against the wall and put his hand around my throat. He had this look in his eyes…" She shudders.

"You didn't press charges?"

"No."

"He was upset?"

"Yes."

"What about the wife?"

"Bridget. She was all fur coat and no knickers. A real social climber."

"But you liked her?"

"Yes."

"What happened about the care order?"

"One magistrate agreed with the application and two claimed there was insufficient evidence to sustain the argument."

"So you tried to get Bobby made a ward of the court?"

"You bet. I wasn't letting the father anywhere near him. We went straight to the county court and got a hearing that afternoon. The papers should be all there." She motions toward the files.

"Who gave evidence?"

"I did."

"What about Erskine?"

"I used his report."

Mel is getting annoyed at my questions. "Any social worker would have done what I did. If you can't get the magistrates to see sense, you go to a judge. Nine times out of ten you'll get wardship."

"Not anymore."

"No." She sounds disappointed. "They've changed the rules."

From the moment Bobby became a ward, every major decision on his welfare was made by a court instead of his family. He couldn't change schools, get a passport, join the army or get married without the court's permission. It also guaranteed that his father would never be allowed back into his life.

Turning the pages of the file, I come across the judgment. It runs to about eight pages, but I scan them quickly, looking for the outcome.

The husband and wife are each genuinely concerned about the welfare of the child. I am satisfied that they have in the past, in their own way, attempted to discharge their obligations as parents to the best of their ability. Unfortunately in the husband's case, his ability to properly and appropriately discharge his obligations to the child has, in my view, been adversely affected by the allegations hanging over his head.

I have taken into consideration the countervailing evidence-namely the husband's denials. At the same time, I am aware that the child wishes to live with both his father and mother. Clearly, the weight given to those wishes must be balanced against other matters relevant to Bobby's welfare.

The child welfare guidelines and tests are clear. Bobby's interests are paramount. This court cannot grant custody or access to a parent, if that custody or access would expose a child to an unacceptable risk of sexual abuse.

I hope that in due course, when Bobby has acquired a level of self-protection, maturity and understanding, he will have an opportunity to spend time with his father. However, until that time arrives, which I see regrettably as being some time in the future, he should not have contact with his father.

The judgment bears a court seal and is signed by Mr. Justice Alexander McBride, Catherine's grandfather.

Mel is watching me from the far side of the desk. "Find what you were looking for?"

"Not really. Did you ever have much to do with Justice McBride?"

"He's a good egg."

"I suppose you've heard about his granddaughter."

"A terrible thing."

She spins her chair slowly around and stretches out her legs until her shoes rest on the wall. Her eyes are fixed on me.

"Do you know if Catherine McBride had a file?" I ask casually.

"Funny you should ask that."

"Why?"

"I've just had someone else ask to see it. That's two interesting requests in one day."

"Who asked for the file?"

"A murder squad detective. He wants to know if your name crops up in there."

Her eyes are piercing. She is angry with me for holding something back. Social workers don't confide in people easily. They learn not to trust… not when dealing with abused children, beaten wives, drug addicts, alcoholics and parents fighting for custody. Nothing can be taken at face value. Never trust a journalist, or a defense lawyer, or a parent who is running scared. Never turn your back in an interview or make a promise to a child. Never rely on foster carers, magistrates, politicians or senior public servants. Mel had trusted me. I had let her down.

"The detective says you're a subject of interest. He says Catherine made a sexual assault complaint against you. He asked if any other complaints had ever been made."

This is Mel's territory. She has nothing against men, just the things they do.

"The sexual assault is a fiction. I didn't touch Catherine."

I can't hide the anger in my voice. Turning the other cheek is for people who want to look the other way. I'm sick of being accused of something I haven't done.

On the walk back to the Albion Hotel I try to put the pieces together. My stitched ear is throbbing but it helps focus my thoughts. It's like being able to concentrate with the TV turned up full volume.

Bobby was the same age as Charlie when he lost his father. A tragedy like that can take a terrible toll, but more than one person is needed to shape a child's mind. There are grandparents, uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, teachers, friends and a huge cast of extras. If I could call on all of these people and interview them, maybe I could discover what happened to him.

What am I missing? A child is made a ward of the court. His father commits suicide. A sad story but not unique. Children aren't made wards of the court anymore. The law changed in the early nineties. The old system was too open to abuse. Precious little evidence was required and there were no checks and balances.

Bobby had shown all the signs of being sexually abused. Victims of child abuse find ways of protecting themselves. Some suffer from traumatic amnesia; others bury their pain in their unconscious minds or refuse to reflect on what has happened. At the same time there are sometimes social workers who "verify" rather than question allegations of abuse. They believe that accusers never lie and abusers always do.

The more Bobby denied anything had happened, the more people believed it had to be true. This one cast-iron assumption underpinned the entire investigation.

What if we got it wrong?

Researchers at the University of Michigan once took a synopsis of an actual case involving a two-year-old girl and presented it to a panel of experts, including eight clinical psychologists, twenty-three graduate students and fifty social workers and psychiatrists. The researchers knew from the outset the child had not been sexually abused.

The mother alleged abuse based on her discovery of a bruise on her daughter's leg and a single pubic hair (which she thought looked like the father's) in the girl's nappy. Four medical examinations showed no evidence of abuse. Two lie detector tests and a joint police and Child Protection Service investigation cleared the father.

Despite this, three-quarters of the experts recommended that the father's contact with the daughter be either highly supervised or stopped altogether. Several of them even concluded that the girl had been sodomized.

There is no such thing as presumed innocence in child abuse cases. The accused is guilty until proven otherwise. The stain is invisible yet indelible.

I know all the defenses to arguments like this. False accusations are rare. We get it wrong more times than we get it right.