By Rebecca Witherspoon, August 4, 2025
There are few moments more gut-wrenching than standing in front of a judge, pleading for your child’s safety, and hearing the word: Denied.
It’s the moment every protective parent dreads—when the very system that is supposed to safeguard your child instead decides that your evidence isn’t strong enough, your words aren’t convincing enough, or your fear isn’t rational enough. It is a moment that can leave you breathless. Hollow. Terrified.
Over the past number of years since my family went through our ordeal, I’ve had friends tell me their own horror stories including things like, “I tried to speak up.” “I tried to alert authorities, but I was ignored.” “I tried to make a report.” “I tried to get the courts to listen.” But still, they were told to sit down, be quiet, stop stirring up trouble. In some cases, they were even accused of being dramatic, vindictive, or even mentally unstable.
I know exactly how that feels.
When I finally found the courage to speak out about what was happening in my home, it wasn’t just the abuse that terrified me, it was the fear that no one would believe me. And in some cases, they didn’t, or at lest not until the damage was irrefutably undeniable. And even after that, there were some people in the community where we lived at the time—some people in positions of influence—who continued to pretend nothing had happened and that my children and I were the actual problem.
This is what happens far too often in custody cases where abuse is involved. It becomes a he-said/she-said situation with the children stuck in the middle. Unless there is undeniable evidence—bruises, broken bones, burns, or other visible injuries—courts are often reluctant to take sides. So, a protective parent gathers up the strength to report what their children have told them. They follow the rules, hire the experts, document the evidence, seek therapy, call CPS, attend every court hearing. And still—the court says no. No change in custody. No supervised visitation. No immediate protection. And in some devastating cases, the court gives the abuser even more access to the child and might even penalize the reporting parent for harassing the abusive parent.
When people ask, “How could this happen?” the answer is complicated—but the truth is, this happens more often than most of us want to believe.
Courts often favor maintaining the status quo—especially when it might mean interfering with a parent-child relationship. They are trained to prioritize “co-parenting” even in situations that are clearly unsafe. Judges may be overworked, underinformed, or heavily influenced by outdated beliefs about family dynamics. In some cases, they actively dismiss abuse claims, especially if those claims don’t come with visible bruises, the children are threatened by the abuser into making contradictory statements, or if the abuser presents well in the courtroom.
And that’s how children are sent back into homes where they continue to live in constant fear. That’s how protective parents end up vilified. That’s how abuse persists under the false banner of “shared parenting.”
The hardest part is watching the aftermath. Children confused and hurt by a system that doesn’t protect them. Parents who do everything right, only to be accused of alienation. Communities who watch the drama unfold before them but convince themselves it must not be that bad—because surely, the court wouldn’t have allowed it otherwise.
And yet—here we are.
I’m seeing the same dynamics play out again right now. A protective parent raising red flags. Clear concerns being documented for years. Children struggling. And still, people asking, But where’s the proof? Or worse: Well, she seems like such a good mom.
And yes, she might seem like one. That’s how this works.
Sometimes the person causing the harm hides behind charm and image. Sometimes they are shielded by political alliances or by those who see them as useful to a bigger agenda. Sometimes they are simply so convincing in their performance that people stop looking any deeper. Or they choose not to. Because the truth would be too inconvenient.
And once again, children are caught in the middle.
This isn’t just a tragedy, it’s a failure. A failure of systems, a failure of due diligence, a failure of courage, and a failure of community.
They say a person can only wear a false mask for so long before it begins to slip and their true self is revealed. Patterns emerge over time—not just in moments of abuse, but in a broader pattern of behavior. It’s in the belief that the rules don’t apply to them. In the violations of custody orders. In coercing children to lie in order to cover their misdeeds. In a repeated failure to face consequences for breaking traffic laws and other legal boundaries. In the manipulation of the court system—delaying hearings again and again to preserve a certain public image, perhaps even for political gain. So when do we, as a community, finally say: Enough? When do we start holding abusers accountable for what they’ve done?
I don’t write this to sensationalize anything. I write this because it’s happening. Right now. In plain sight. And if we don’t start believing protective parents before it’s too late, we will keep failing the very people we claim to care about most—our children.
If you’ve been paying attention, you know this isn’t over. But for now, ask yourself, when a parent comes forward to say their child is not safe, what does it cost us to believe them at least long enough to investigate the validity of their claims?
And what does it cost the children when we don’t?
If Something Feels Wrong, Trust Your Gut.
Children can’t always speak up—but you can. You can be their voice. If you see or sense something that feels off, don’t ignore your instincts. Say something—but do so responsibly. This isn’t about personal vendettas or disliking someone. It’s about protecting the vulnerable and doing what’s right. You can make a report anonymously to help safeguard children and families—without exposing yourself to retaliation.
In Dane County, Wisconsin, suspected abuse and/or neglect can be reported 24/7 to:
Dane County Child Protective Services (CPS)
📞 (608) 261-5437
🌐 https://dcf.wisconsin.gov/reportabuse
Your name can remain confidential—even to the person being reported.
Together, we can create a safer, more accountable community—one voice at a time.
Musings By Rebecca 