Douglas Kennedy - A Special Relationship

The court clerk asked us to stand as the judge was due to arrive. A side door opened. He walked in. We all stood up. His name was Merton and he was noted for taking care of business in a brisk, no-nonsense manner.

'In the great scheme of things, he's not the worst', Ginny Ricks told me before he came in. 'I mean, considering the number of genuine misogynists who could be hearing the case, we're rather lucky. He's old school, but fair'.

He certainly looked old school. A seriously tailored black suit, silver hair, a patrician bearing. He asked Tony's barrister to 'open' the case, which she did in about two minutes, telling the judge who the parties were and explaining the background to the first ex parte hearing. The judge then said that he'd read the statements and that he just wanted to hear submissions.

Paul Halliwell stood up first, his diminutive height and off-the-peg greyness suddenly making him look a little shabby in front of the thoroughbred on the bench. But he spoke in a clear, moderately thoughtful voice, and from the moment he kicked off his submission with the words 'My Lord' he narrated my side of the story with straightforward clarity and no lapses of concentration. The terrifying thing was, he was essentially winging it (how could he do otherwise?) - like one of those rent-a-padres at the local crematorium who insert the name of the deceased into the pre-ordained service. At least here, he managed to sound reasonably convincing, but the argument he presented wasn't really an argument, merely a repetition of the facts.

'As Ms Goodchild's attending psychiatrist, Dr Rodale, states in her deposition, Ms Goodchild responded well to treatment and re-bonded well with her child. As to the claim that she informed her husband's secretary that she would kill her son... uh...'

He had to glance at one of the statements.

'... her son Jack... the fact is that, at no time did Ms Goodchild ever actually physically harm her son. And though her comment may have been somewhat extreme - and one which Ms Goodchild deeply regretted from the moment she uttered it - it is important to take into account the fact that, like any new mother coping with an infant, Ms Goodchild had been suffering from extreme sleep deprivation which, in turn, can cause anyone to say excessive, unfortunate things in exhausted anger... which have no bearing whatsoever on the loving relationship that she has with her son. I would hope as well, My Lord, that the court will take into account the fact that this comment was made when my client was suffering from postnatal depression, which is a most common and fiendish medical condition, and which can make an individual temporarily behave in a manner completely out-of-character. Once again, I refer My Lord to the statement of Dr Rodale...'

A few sentences later, he wrapped it up with the comment that it struck him as cruel and unusual punishment that my son be taken away from such an eminently respectable woman like myself' -a former distinguished journalist' - because of one angry comment spoken while 'trapped within the horrendous mental labyrinth that is depression'; a labyrinth from which I had now emerged back to 'completely functional normality'. And surely, how could the court keep a child from its mother, given the lack of any violent behaviour on my part?

I judged it a rather good performance, considering the fact that he had been handed the role only minutes before curtain up. And I was pleased that he underlined the cruel extremity of the order against me - surely a sensible, no-nonsense judge like Merton would have to see the truth in such an observation.

But then Tony's barrister stood up. Ginny Ricks had told me that her name was Lucinda Fforde, and little more. Perhaps because she already knew something that I didn't... but was certainly about to find out. Fforde had the predatory instincts of a Pit Bull.

And yet, her voice - like her demeanour - was the apogee of cultivated reasonableness. She sounded so calm, so concerned, so certain. And devastatingly precise when it came to undermining everything about me.

'My Lord, my client, Mr Anthony Hobbs, would be the last to dispute the fact that his wife was once a distinguished journalist with the Boston Post newspaper. Nor would he dispute the fact that she has been through a serious psychological illness, through which he supported her with great sympathy and understanding...'

Oh, please.

'But the issue here is not about Ms Goodchild's onetime professional standing or the fact - clearly documented by her psychiatrist - that she is gradually responding to pharmacological treatment for her postnatal depression. No, the issue here is about the welfare of her son Jack - and the fact that, through her actions of the last few weeks, Ms Goodchild has raised severe doubts about both her ongoing mental stability and her ability to cope with a young infant without endangering its safety'.

And then she brought out the heavy artillery.

'Now, My Lord, you will note from the witness statement by Ms Judith Crandall - who was Mr Hobbs's secretary at the Chronicle - that Ms Goodchild rang her husband at the newspaper several weeks ago and said - and this is a direct quote - "Tell him if he's not home in the next sixty minutes, I'm going to kill our son". Thankfully, Ms Goodchild did not make good on this threat, and though her counsel can certainly argue that this heinous comment was made under duress, the fact, My Lord, is that all women dealing with newborn children suffer from sleep deprivation and its attendant lassitudes, but the vast majority of women do not threaten to kill their children, no matter how fatigued they might be. More tellingly, though one might be able to forgive one such outburst made in exhausted anger, the fact that Ms Goodchild made such a comment twice...'

I heard myself saying, 'What?' Immediately, every eye in the court was upon me, most tellingly that of the judge who looked at me with care.

Ginny Ricks jumped in before he could say anything.

'Apologies, My Lord. That will not happen again'.

'I should certainly hope not', he said. Then turning back to Lucinda Fforde, he said, 'You may continue'.

'Thank you, My Lord', she said, calmness personified, especially as she now knew that she had me. 'As I was saying, Ms Goodchild's threat to kill her child was not simply a one-off event. Following the delivery of her son, Ms Goodchild was hospitalized in the Mattingly, during which time her postnatal behaviour became increasingly erratic, to the point where, when her son was in the paediatric intensive care unit of that hospital, she was overheard by one of the nurses, telling her husband - and this is another direct quote from one of the witness statements that My Lord has before him: "He is dying - and I don't care. You get that? I don't care."'

Ginny Ricks looked at me, appalled. I hung my head.

'However, not only did she publicly proclaim her lack of interest in whether her son lived or died, she also was seen by one of the nurses in the hospital to physically yank her infant son off her breast while feeding him so that the nurse was genuinely concerned about whether or not she might hurl the child on to the floor. Once again, My Lord, this is documented in the - witness statements, taken by the nurse in question - a Miss Sheila McGuire, who has worked in the Mattingly for the past five years.

'You will also note a witness statement from the eminent obstetrics consultant, Mr Thomas Hughes, who states, very clearly, that he became increasingly concerned by Ms Goodchild's repeated emotional outbursts in hospital. As Mr Hughes clearly notes in his witness statement: "From the outset, it was clear to me that Miss Goodchild's mental condition was quickly deteriorating, to the point where myself and my colleagues at the hospital voiced private concerns about her ability to cope with the ebb and flow of postnatal care for her son."'