“You took my kids off me you fucking bitch.” I heard the words, but stared in wide-eyed ignorance at the huge man opposite me at the client’s dining room table. The diatribe continued unabated until finally the penny dropped. Ah, so you’re the partner then.
I had never met this man - I will call him Dave Smith - and neither had I had any role in his particular case. However, I knew he had been relieved of his role as father to his four children after hospitalising his wife and demolishing most of the house with a chainsaw in a fit of temper.
His children were in the process of adoption, which he found understandably difficult to accept. He demonstrated his displeasure by abandoning his work van across the exit of the social services car park, barricading the entire staff in the office. For good measure, he shouted death threats through the window at the social worker responsible for his case.
My client – I will call her Tracey Wilson – was a single mother with two small children and her association with Smith posed a potential risk. She had been advised in writing that maintaining her friendship with him would inevitably prompt further action from social services. The children’s teacher advised us that they’d been seen together on school grounds.
A visit was duly arranged, with our student, who I will call Penny, accompanying me. Like most students, she was keen as mustard to get out there and experience the job first-hand. As we entered Wilson’s home, there were two men standing in the hall, and their presence disturbed me. I would later regret ignoring my gut feeling, which had acted like a warning device on so many occasions. Both men spoke pleasantly enough to me, however, and I returned the courtesy. Suppressing my doubts, I looked to Wilson and raised an eyebrow. “They’re just mates,” she mumbled, as she showed us into the dining room where the plan was to discuss the concerns the local authority had.
A minute later, we were joined by the larger of the two men. He looked directly at me and with considerable menace said: “You took my kids off me, you fucking bitch.” Here we go again, I thought wearily. Sure enough, the man launched into a torrent of abuse and it was clear that, despite my total lack of involvement in his case, he held me personally responsible for his current situation. Ah, so you’re Dave Smith then.
Realising that any further discussion was futile, I stood up and told a worried looking Penny that we were leaving. Smith disagreed and squared up to me, blocking my path. I braced myself and looked up at his six feet four inch frame. “Excuse me,” I said. “May we get past?” He smirked, “You’re not going anywhere,” and let loose another barrage of abuse and threats. Despite my reasoning and negotiating, he steadfastly refused to allow us to leave.
Eventually, I decided to take a more proactive approach. Like many of my colleagues, I had 999 on speed dial and always kept my mobile phone in my pocket within easy reach. I located the familiar button, and the call connected. Ignoring the threats coming from Smith, I briefed the operator on our situation and thankfully his bluster began to evaporate. After a few more half-hearted threats, he let us leave the house. He was subsequently arrested and cautioned.
Penny later confessed that she had been convinced he was going to physically attack me and expressed her feelings of powerlessness. Trying to be philosophical, I advised her that the Dave Smiths of this world are thankfully the exception, not the rule. However the fact remains that in my 14 years as a child protection social worker I have been kicked, punched, spat at and, more worryingly, I have been threatened with a knife and a shotgun.
This incident made me angry. In trying to do my job, I had been subjected to unnecessary verbal aggression and bullying. We have the expression zero tolerance, but sadly, this was not an isolated incident. Many of my colleagues experience similar incidents every day, and yet we pick ourselves up and get on with our work. Despite this, ours is one of the most negatively portrayed professions in society.
My desire to communicate an authentic view of the daily life of a social worker and to highlight the reality of the difficulties we face motivated my fictionalised book, Known to Social Services.
Someone in the office joked that they hoped I had not “broken” the student. I gave a wry smile, “Welcome to my world Penny, welcome to my world.”
Freya Barrington blogs at freyabarrington.blogspot.co.uk/; her novel, Known to Social Services, published by Faraxa Books, will be available from Amazon as a paperback from 28 February 2015. A downloadable version will follow
