Jane Renshaw - Watch Over Me

‘Bekki at first could not be located. I found her myself in the back garden, where she had been left unsupervised. She was curled up in the corner between the shed and the wall of the house. It was raining. The back garden seemed to be a dumping ground for a variety of items that would present a hazard to a child, including two old fridges, a mattress with its springs exposed, and a car engine. The ground was covered in dog and possibly human excrement. Bekki was dirty. Urine was leaking from her nappy. There were cuts and bruises on her arms, legs and back.’

With the hand that isnae on Connor, I grab Mandy’s arm.

‘I was subjected to continued threats of violence from Mr Johnson and his eldest son Ryan. Ryan Johnson then physically assaulted me. I left the premises, called the police, and applied immediately for an emergency child protection order. Bekki was removed from the house later that day.’

Fwah : ‘And what happened subsequently?’

Mair: ‘A series of meetings – arranged by the Social Work Department of Glasgow City Council in conjunction with other stakeholders – and LAC reviews and children’s hearings were held to determine what the next steps would be. Lady Semple, the reports and minutes from all the meetings and hearings that have considered the child have also been supplied to you. Although Mr and Mrs Johnson were informed of the dates and times of the meetings and hearings they were entitled to attend, they only attended one, and on that occasion unfortunately had to be ejected from the room for disrupting proceedings and making threats against myself and others. This is all detailed in the report.’

Fwah : ‘Thank you, Ms Mair. That’s all very clear.’

Fucking bitch.

Mr Lyall gets up and goes, ‘Ms Mair. You must, in your daily round, see a lot of households living in less than ideal conditions. In poverty and deprivation.’

‘Well, yes –’

‘And would you say that this alone would be sufficient cause for removal of a child from his or her family?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Of course not. Otherwise half the sink estates and housing schemes in the city would have to be emptied of their children, I suppose?’

‘This wasn’t just poverty, this was – the conditions were insanitary. Dangerous. The household was clearly one in which relationships were characterized by aggression and casual violence. Bekki was obviously being neglected and probably physically abused.’

‘In which case, presumably Corrigan Johnson has also been removed?’

‘What?’

‘Little Corrigan Johnson. The son of Travis Johnson and his girlfriend Mackenzie Smith.’

Ya dancer! Get it up ye!

‘No. He’s on the at-risk register, but I understand he’s still living there. That’s out of my control.’

‘I see. Thank you. I think that’s all for the moment.’

Mair bolts out the pen like there’s a Rottweiler hanging off her arse.

Fwah : ‘Dr David Reid, please.’

Oh here we go. Trust-Me-I’m-a-Fucking-Doctor Reid. Old bugger with a comb-over and a big red alky’s nose.

He goes on about Jed being an alky, a chain-smoker and maybe a junkie. Then he starts in on me. ‘Lorraine Johnson is also a very heavy smoker. Her lung function is poor. Her BMI is thirty, placing her in the obese category. Insulin concentrations in her blood were found to be elevated, indicating that she is prediabetic. She has problems with mobility and has difficulty rising from a chair.’

Fwah : ‘In your opinion, Dr Reid, would these medical problems impact on the ability of Mr and Mrs Johnson to care for a two-year-old child?’

‘Most definitely, yes.’

I squeeze Shrek.

I breathe.

I count in my head, like Connor said.

One. Two. Three.

I jump up and point at Reid.

‘ Difficulty rising from a chair , is it? Aye?’

‘Mrs Johnson, please sit down.’

‘I. Am. Not. Fucking obese . Excuse my language, My Lady. Okay I’m heavy, but that’s down to a wee bit podging – comfort eating, you know? – after Shannon-Rose got put in the jail and Bekki got taken off us. I’m a fff – a wreck so I am, thanks to the fff – system doing nothing to stop Shannon-Rose killing Dean and then turning round and taking her babby off of us. Aye we’re all chain-smoking, and Jed’s back on the drink – because of that bitch !’ I point at Mair.

‘Mrs Johnson,’ goes the sheriff, ‘if you do not sit down and be quiet , you will be ejected from this court. You will have your chance to speak in due course.’

I sit.

Mr Lyall’s giving me evils.

I take a hud of Connor’s hand. He tries to pull it away but I dig in my nails.

Next up: Trust-Me-I’m-a-Fucking-Doctor Fernandez. Big red lips on her and a wee short skirt like she’s away to shake her fanny up a Drumchapel close. Doctor my arse.

Fwah : ‘Dr Fernandez, I understand you accompanied Ms Mair on a subsequent visit to the Johnson home to carry out a psychological assessment of Jed and Lorraine Johnson.’

‘I did, yes.’

‘Gobshite!’ yells Carly. ‘She never came near! She never!’

I goes, ‘Shoosh.’

‘Please, Miss Johnson.’

Fwah : ‘In your report, you state that in your opinion Mr Johnson may be suffering from a number of undiagnosed conditions, including early-onset dementia, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, and substance dependence.’

‘My interview with Mr Johnson was necessarily cursory, but from his answers and behaviour generally, those would definitely be among a number of possibilities. I would also estimate him to have an IQ below the normal range.’

‘And Mrs Johnson?’

‘Again, the interview was brief, but she displayed some signs of a mood disorder and showed depressive symptoms. And also low IQ, possibly to the point of learning disability.’

‘And in your opinion, would there be any issues with this couple being the primary carers of a two-year-old child?’

‘Such a responsibility would present a significant challenge, in my opinion, to both Mr and Mrs Johnson.’

‘Thank you.’

Mr Lyall gets up. ‘What form did these “interviews” take? Were they structured interviews? The Bipolar Spectrum Diagnostic Scale? The Hamilton Rating Scale for Depression? Some other recognised scale?’

‘No… They were informal interviews, given the circumstances, but –’

‘Are you a medically qualified psychiatrist?’

‘My degrees are in clinical psychology. I’m qualified to make such an assessment.’

‘And yet you did not use any of the accepted standardised interviews for diagnosing the conditions with which you have labelled Jed and Lorraine Johnson on the basis – let us be clear here – of a brief chat, in stressful and, dare I say, very trying circumstances for the Johnsons? Dr Fernandez? You did not follow even the most basic standard protocol for such diagnoses, is that correct?’

The bitch goes, ‘In the circumstances, that was not possible.’

‘Thank you. That’s all.’

Like Carly says, she never came near. She’s never even met me and Jed, never mind ‘interviewed’ us. And Mair never showed her face neither after that first visit. All that about three subsequent visits is a pack of fucking lies but we cannae prove it. I asked Sonia McLeckie to gonnae give us a wee deek at her CCTV footage to try and maybe prove neither of those bitches had been at the house after Mair that first time, but Sonia McLeckie told me to fuck off.

The lawyers and the sheriff go on some more and then Mr Lyall’s eyeballing me and going, ‘Mrs Johnson, please?’

Jesus Chutney .