Pity and Compassion

A reasonable person would assume that pity would come from compassion, an empathy with what a person was going through, but that isn’t always the case. More often, pity is just an insult that comes from resentment.

When the police came to remove me from my home, three officers showed up. One, the acting sergeant, was red-faced and held his hand on his baton, ready to attack me. He was disappointed at not getting a little action that night, I just went into the kitchen and sat down, offering them all a cup of coffee or tea.
I explained that Ob and I were exchanging emails and negotiating the sale of the house, and directed them to the large computer screen in my bedroom where the agreement was still on the screen.
One officer went in to look and confirmed what I’d said.
The A/S stared at me where I was sitting. I was trying to explain what had happened, some of the history of abuse I’d endured, but he just waived it off saying, “That’s not what we’re here for.” – From the tight grip on his baton, it was obvious what he was there for.
A female officer started questioning me, and I again tried to explain the broader picture – That Ob was abusing the Intervention Order process. – and she said, “We’re not here to take a report, just to ask these questions about the blog and emails. We have to ask these questions.” It’s amazing to me that those words stick in my mind so clearly after all this time.
I couldn’t understand how she could do that. No officer had ever bothered to investigate my side of the situation.
She went on to question me about the blog I’d written. I tried to explain that it had only one defense – That it was the truth. – and that no one had ever bothered to listen, so I put my feelings and experience on a public blog as a means of venting.
Only a few questions, pointed towards condemnation, without any interest in the reasons or circumstances surrounding, and she seemed relieved when it was over.
At that point, although never asked about anything in the emails, I was convicted of “harassment.”
The A/S announced that he was leaving to take care of “real crimes.”

I tried to make the point that if the purpose of an Intervention Order was to allow people to civilly resolve their differences and get on with their lives, then that was what was happening. Each of the officers could not disagree. The house was obviously being cleaned and packed; the settlement agreement was there on the screen; the papers for the realtor and conveyancer were on the cabinet in the front hall.
“None of that matters”, they both agreed, nodding. “We have to carry out the magistrate’s orders.”
“When were you called?” I asked.

It took a minute for them to look up the time. They were called only minutes after Ob had sent the first email with the proposed settlement. – It was all just a setup.
Ob had written the words, “WITHOUT PREJUDICE” on the top of her emails. At the time, I thought she was just using a rude play on words, since the tone of her voice and emails had always contained a subtle insult of some kind. (Just like every conversation for years.)
As it turns out, the words “WITHOUT PREJUDICE” is a legal device to allow someone to lie. A lawyer can put those words on a document and offer anything – without it being binding legally.
If there was a real crime that evening, the A/S missed it.

The other two officers allowed me to call a friend to see if I could rent a room. Then they helped me pack their car to move what I could.

Ob’s actions reveal the nature of her “pity.” She was duplicitous towards me, and all involved, and carefully manipulating the law to continue her abuse. The questionable legal device of “WITHOUT PREJUDICE” must have been irresistible to her.
I had overstayed the date on the Intervention Order. That meant I had breeched the order, even if I had done so in good faith and with the agreement of the other parties.
In a later court date, the whole circumstances would not be examined. Only the fact that I had breeched the Order would matter.

In a recent letter from Philip Ruddock, MP and federal Attorney General, sitting here on my desk, he concludes that “prosecution in the light of the probable facts and the whole of the surrounding circumstances” determines whether Ob and her family will be prosecuted for their actions. My answer to Mr Ruddock is simply: At no point did any of the officers of any agency or department seek to discover the “whole of the surrounding circumstances”; nor did they consider them when they determined their actions in the courts or otherwise.

Victorian police are now urged by Rob Hulls’ Victorian Justice Department to file Intervention Orders independently of any complaint, based on their judgment of the situation. Yet, to be fair to the two officers who showed reason and judgment during the incident related above, they did not have the authority to exercise judgment and reason to disregard the Order.
(I have often wondered if they received some sort of reprimand for their application of reason and judgement.)
Again, it is just another example of the biased application of the law at the practice and implementation level.