The institutional path after violence: police, social work centre, courts

It is two in the morning. The flat is finally quiet. She is sitting at the kitchen table with her phone in her hand, and on the screen she has typed 113. She doesn’t press call. One question keeps turning in her head, stronger even than her fear of him: What happens then? Will the police turn up at the door and the neighbours see them? Will they take the children away? Where will she sleep tomorrow? Will he find out that she called?

When people look at violence from the outside, they often wonder why the victim doesn’t report it. From the inside, the question is different. It isn’t only about courage. It is about not knowing what follows once you open the door to institutions — and about the fact that uncertainty can sometimes be more frightening than the hell you already know.

In this piece I want to describe, in general terms, what the police, the social work centre and the courts do when it comes to domestic violence. Let me say straight away: I am not a lawyer and I am not a specialist in violence. Procedures depend on the circumstances and laws change, so you won’t find deadlines, articles of law or conditions here. There are people who do this every day, and their numbers are at the end of this piece. What I would like is for the path to become at least a little less unknown.

Why “what happens then” is such a big question

The researchers Belle Liang, Lisa Goodman and their colleagues described how seeking help for partner violence is not a single step but a process. First, a person has to admit to themselves that what is happening is violence. Then they have to decide that they need help. Only then do they choose whom to turn to. At each of these steps they can be stopped by fear, shame, dependence on their partner, worry about the children, or the bad experience of someone they know.

A large survey by the European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights, which asked tens of thousands of women across the European Union, found that one in three had experienced physical or sexual violence since the age of 15. It also found that most of the most serious incidents of partner violence had never been reported to the police. That doesn’t mean women lack courage. It means there is a wide gulf between experiencing violence and walking into an institution — and that it has to be bridged with knowledge, support and patience.

Men, older people and children experience violence too, and the doors are the same for them. If you first want to know all the places you can turn to — not only institutions but counselling organisations as well — there is an overview in Where to get help with abuse in Slovenia: a map for the first step. Here I will focus only on what happens behind the doors of the police, the social work centre and the courts.

First: if you are in danger now

Before anything else: if you or someone else is in immediate danger, call 113 (police) or 112 (in Slovenia). No thinking about procedures matters more than that.

Nor is this piece a tool for judging how dangerous your situation is. Danger can escalate quickly, and often precisely when a person is deciding to leave or to report. It is best to assess the risk together with people who do this work — on the SOS helpline for women and children victims of violence (080 11 55, in Slovenia), with the police or at the social work centre. How to prepare for dangerous moments is described in A safety plan for abuse: what it is and how to put one together.

In Slovenia, domestic violence is a criminal offence, and the Family Violence Prevention Act sets out that a range of services must work together to prevent and deal with it — the police, social work centres, courts, healthcare, schools and non-governmental organisations. This is worth knowing: you don’t have to pick the “right” door. Whichever one you open should point you onwards.

The police: what you can expect

The police are often the first institution a person meets — sometimes because they call themselves, sometimes because the neighbours, a child or someone at work calls. Their first task is to stop the violence and protect the people in danger. The second is to establish what happened: officers talk to those involved, write down what they hear and gather evidence such as injuries, photographs, messages or witness statements.

The police can order the person who is violent to keep away from you or from the place where you live for a certain period. Whether such a measure lasts longer is later decided by a court. When there are children in the family, the police will, as a rule, inform the social work centre about the violence.

A few things worth knowing before you meet them:

• You don’t need to have bruises. Violence isn’t only physical. Threats, intimidation, control and humiliation can also be part of a report.
• Notes help. Dates, what happened, who was there, saved messages and medical records of injuries are things you can lean on when your head is foggy.
• The proceedings don’t necessarily depend on your wishes. Once the police learn of a suspected criminal offence of domestic violence, the proceedings will, as a rule, not stop simply because you later change your mind. This surprises many people. So it is a good idea to raise this question in advance with an adviser on the SOS helpline or with a legal aid service.

The social work centre: more than “welfare”

Social work centres often have a bad reputation. Many people are afraid of them because they associate them with children being taken away. So it is important to say that, when it comes to violence, their role is above all a supportive one: the staff talk with you, assess together what you need and draw up a help plan. They help you move to a shelter, a mother and child home or a crisis centre, advise on sorting out everyday matters and connect the other services.

When children are involved, the centre also looks after their safety. To do so it often convenes a multidisciplinary team — a meeting at which professionals from different services (for example the police, the school, the nursery or healthcare) agree who will do what. The aim is not for decisions to be made about you without you, but for help not to fall apart into pieces that don’t hear each other.

It is also true that experiences with the centres vary. Some people meet a professional who really hears them; others meet an overstretched service and a sense of being just a number. If that happens to you, it doesn’t mean you did something wrong — and you have the right to ask, to request an explanation or to look for support elsewhere.

The courts: criminal, civil and about children

When people say “court”, they usually picture criminal proceedings. That is one of several kinds of proceedings that can be connected with domestic violence:

• Criminal proceedings are brought against the person who is violent. The state conducts them through the prosecution service; you are the injured party and often also a witness. You may have to talk about what happened more than once.
• Protective measures: at your request, a court can decide on measures that protect you — for example an order to keep away, not to make contact or not to harass you. This is separate from whether anyone is punished.
• Decisions about children: in a divorce or separation, the court decides where the children will live and how contact will work. Violence is an important circumstance here, and the court should be told about it.

The Family Violence Prevention Act allows a victim to be accompanied in proceedings by a person of their own choosing. This can be a friend, a relative or someone from a counselling organisation. It is also worth checking whether you are entitled to free legal aid. Which kind of proceedings makes sense to pursue, and when, is a question for a lawyer or an adviser, not for a blog post.

When the path becomes a second blow

I could write about the institutional path as if it were a series of correct steps that carry a person safely to the end. For many people it isn’t like that. The psychologist Rebecca Campbell studied how survivors of sexual violence experience their contact with the legal, medical and mental health systems. She found that contact with a system that doesn’t believe them, hesitates or asks questions in a way that sounds like blame can wound a victim all over again. This is called secondary victimisation. At the same time, her research showed that the experience was markedly better when someone was there to accompany and advocate for the victim.

People who have survived partner violence often describe something similar too. Questions like “Why didn’t you leave sooner?” Having to tell their story to five different people. Waiting while nobody tells them what is going on. A court corridor where they run into the person they are afraid of.

This is how a conversation with someone thinking about reporting might sound (a composite, not a real person):

“What scares me most is that they won’t believe me. He can be so charming when someone else is around.”
“What would make it easier for you to go?”
“If someone came with me. And if I knew what they were going to ask.”
“Both of those can be arranged. You don’t have to go alone, and you don’t have to know everything in advance.”

This fear is common and understandable — people who use violence are often very convincing from the outside. And that is exactly why support along the way matters as much as the path itself. I described what happens to our inner experience after severe experiences in How trauma stays written in the body; when it comes to proceedings, it helps to know that during an interview or when you come face to face with the person who hurt you, you may suddenly “switch off” or be unable to find words. That is not proof that you aren’t telling the truth. It is how a body that has survived trauma responds.

Exercise: your folder for the path

This exercise doesn’t replace a safety plan and it is not a danger assessment. It is a way to turn the uncertainty of “what happens then” into something you can hold in your hands. Only do it if it is safe for you — if there is a chance someone could find your notes, don’t write them at home or on a shared phone.

1. Write down every question that is holding you back. “What will happen to the children?” “Where will I sleep?” “Will he find out?” A question on paper is smaller than a question in your head.
2. Choose one person who would go with you — to the police, to the centre, to court. They don’t need to know everything. It is enough that they are there.
3. Start recording incidents somewhere safe: the date, what happened, who was there. Briefly, without explanations. Keep them where the other person has no access.
4. Call the SOS helpline (080 11 55, in Slovenia) and read your questions out loud. Not so that you decide straight away, but so that you get answers for your own situation.
5. Write down what calms you after a difficult conversation — a walk, a friend, a warm shower — and allow yourself that after every step, not only at the end.

Having the folder won’t make the path shorter. But it can make it yours, rather than just something that happens to you.

When the institutional path isn’t (yet) the answer

I want to be honest here, because reporting is often talked about as if it were the only right decision. It isn’t.

Reporting is not a measure of courage. Someone who first turns to a counselling organisation, a friend or a doctor is no less brave than someone who calls the police. Sometimes the safest first step is quiet and invisible.

Pace matters. Seeking help is a process. People decide in steps, and they often go back — professionals have been writing for decades about why leaving is so hard. Pressure along the lines of “you have to report it now” can push a person back into isolation.

Justice is not only punishment. The psychiatrist Judith Herman asked people who had survived violence what justice would mean to them. Many did not talk first about punishment, but about being believed by those around them, about the violence being acknowledged and about someone condemning it publicly. Proceedings provide some of these things and not others — and there is nothing wrong with seeking acknowledgement elsewhere too.

But: when children are at risk, or the danger is immediate, the pace is no longer only yours. Then it is right that those who must act do so — and right that children who need protection know this too.

Where therapy fits in

Therapy doesn’t replace the police, the social work centre or legal aid. A psychotherapist is not a lawyer and cannot make decisions about proceedings on your behalf. Nor is therapy the first port of call in a crisis — I described the difference between a crisis conversation and the therapeutic process in First aid is not therapy.

What therapy can offer is a space alongside the path and after it. A space where you can be angry at a system that was slow, grieve for a relationship that couldn’t be saved, and slowly widen the window of tolerance that narrowed during the years of violence. A space where the inner voice that says it was your own fault can also begin to loosen — there is more on that in Self-image after abuse: when you believe it was your fault.

I want to be clear about two things here. First: when there is violence in a relationship, couples therapy is not an appropriate form of help, because joint sessions can expose the victim to new danger and because violence is not a “shared problem” but the responsibility of the person who uses it. Second: I am a marriage and family therapist in training under supervision, and I am not a specialist in violence. While the violence is still going on, the first port of call is a specialist organisation. Once safety is in place, I can be one of the people who go on with you — I also work with English-speaking clients, in person in Ljubljana.

For help with violence in a relationship, you can turn to:

• the SOS helpline for women and children victims of violence: 080 11 55 (in Slovenia, free of charge);
• the police: 113 or 112 (in Slovenia), when you are in immediate danger;
• Klic v duševni stiski, the mental health crisis line: 01 520 99 00 (in Slovenia, every day from 7 pm to 7 am) and the Samaritans line Samarijan: 116 123 (in Slovenia, 24 hours);
• the social work centre where you live, as well as counselling organisations and shelters.

What to remember

• In immediate danger, first 113 or 112 — everything else comes after.
• The police, the social work centre and the courts each have their own role; you don’t have to pick the “right” door — any of them should point you onwards.
• The path can be painful and sometimes wounds you again — someone beside you and questions written down in advance help more than you might think.
• Check the details of procedures, deadlines and rights with the SOS helpline (080 11 55), the centre or a legal aid service.
• Therapy doesn’t replace institutions, and couples therapy is not appropriate when there is violence; therapy can be a space alongside the path and after it.