Had mine eighteen months ago and I still think about it. CAFCASS officer was called Helen - seemed decent enough, though you never really know what they’re writing in those notes.
First meeting was at their office in Birmingham. Sterile little room with children’s drawings on the walls that felt performative, you know? She asked about my relationship with Tom and Emma, what our routines were like before everything fell apart. I showed her photos on my phone - birthdays, school sports days, bedtime stories. She wrote everything down but her face gave nothing away.
The home visit was three weeks later. I’d cleaned obsessively, bought fresh flowers. Stupid really - like flowers would prove I’m a good mum. She walked through the house, peered into their bedrooms that had been empty for two years already. Asked practical stuff - where would they sleep if contact resumed, how would I manage school runs from my flat.
What threw me was when she asked about my ex directly. “Tell me about James as a father.” I’d rehearsed staying neutral but it’s so hard when you know what he’s been doing to poison them against you. Managed to keep it factual - he was involved, they loved him, the split was difficult for everyone.
She interviewed the children separately. Never told me what they said but I can guess. Tom would have been nine then, Emma seven. Old enough to parrot whatever they’d been fed about mummy being the bad one.
The whole process took four months. Four bloody months for a report that recommended supervised contact only because “the children express anxiety about seeing their mother.” No mention of why they might feel that way or who planted that anxiety.
Helen seemed to believe she was being fair. Maybe she was, within the constraints of a broken system. But you can’t assess parental alienation in three meetings when it’s been carefully constructed over months of drip-drip poisoning.
Still, I kept hoping she’d see through it. Right up until I read that final report.
Christ, this takes me back. Mine was with a bloke called David in Manchester - same sterile room, same poker face when you’re pouring your heart out about your kids.
The bit about showing photos hit me hard. I did exactly the same thing - scrolling through birthdays and holidays like I was proving I existed as their dad. David barely glanced at them but kept scribbling in that bloody notepad.
My boys were eight and ten when they interviewed them. I know they would have said whatever their mum had coached them to say about me being scary or angry or whatever the story was that week. The CAFCASS officer seemed nice enough but like yours, didn’t seem to grasp how sophisticated parental alienation can be. How it’s not just “mummy/daddy is bad” but this subtle undermining that turns kids against you from the inside.
My report was similar - supervised contact because the children were “reluctant and anxious.” Took another two years of fighting before things started to turn around. But they did turn around. Helen might not have seen through it then, but truth has a way of surfacing eventually, especially as kids get older.
God, this brings back everything from my own assessment. Same sterile room, same poker face from the officer - mine was called David, and I swear he’d perfected that neutral expression that tells you absolutely nothing.
The bit about showing photos really got me. I did exactly the same thing - scrolling through my phone like a desperate man trying to prove I wasn’t the monster my ex had painted me as. Pictures of Priya at her school play, weekend trips to Brighton, bedtime cuddles. David nodded and scribbled but I could see he was just ticking boxes.
What kills me is how they assess something so complex in such a shallow way. My daughter was eight when she told the CAFCASS officer she felt “scared” of me - the same child who used to run into my arms every Friday. But there’s no box to tick for “systematic brainwashing by alienating parent” is there?
The cultural stuff made it even messier for me. Extended family kept asking why I couldn’t just “fix things” - as if CAFCASS assessments and parental alienation are problems you solve with a family meeting and some mithai.
Two years on and I’m still unpicking that report. Still wondering what Priya actually said in that room.
This takes me right back. My CAFCASS officer was called Sarah and I remember that same sterile room feeling - like they’d stuck up those drawings to make it look child-friendly but it just felt cold.
The worst bit for me was that question about my ex too. How do you explain years of subtle undermining without sounding bitter? I tried so hard to stay neutral but inside I was screaming “Ask them why my daughter flinches when she hears my name!”
My report took five months and said almost exactly the same thing - the children “expressed reluctance” to see me. No exploration of where that reluctance came from. It’s like they document the symptoms but never dig into the cause. I know Sarah was probably doing her best within the system, but it felt like being diagnosed with a broken leg while everyone ignored the person holding the hammer.
The supervised contact recommendation stung the most because it felt like being labelled the dangerous one when you’re actually the victim. But I did those sessions anyway, every single one, because it was better than nothing.