✎ Legal Reflection: When Justice Feels Like a Pinky Promise
I live at the end of a dead-end road. On paper, that might sound peaceful. In reality, it’s isolating — especially when your closest neighbours are the surety for your abusive ex’s bail.
Yes. The people vouching for his release are the people living closest to me. They’ve trespassed. They’ve screamed at me on my own front porch. They’ve told me to “fuck off, bitch” in front of my door — and when I called the police, I was told it wasn’t technically criminal.. So nothing could be done.
Now, my front door is always locked. My car is always facing down the driveway for quick escape. And even inside my own home, I don’t feel safe. I feel trapped. I feel vulnerable. I feel exposed.
And I’ve done everything they tell victims to do:
- ✅ Blink camera system uploading directly to the cloud
- ✅ Trail cameras surrounding the property
- ✅ Motion-sensor floodlights
- ✅ Indoor panic alarms and emergency bars
- ✅ Two large, fiercely loyal dogs
- ✅ Safety plan
- ✅ Reporting all issues no matter how small or large
But safety tech doesn’t stop the fear. Security systems don’t stop him from trying again. And dogs can’t stop the justice system from handing him another piece of paper promising he’ll behave this time.
The systems I’ve put in place might help my kids feel a bit safer at night. But they don’t help me feel safe. Because I know how quickly things can go wrong. I know how easily paper promises are broken.
“This is what safety looks like for victims — constant vigilance, tech, dogs, panic buttons… and still sleeping with one eye open.”
A Paper Promise Is All I Have
I went to the courthouse today. I must have misheard that the officer who helped me file the report said he was released pending a bail hearing, because that wasn’t quite accurate. There was no hearing scheduled. No judge reviewed the situation.
Victim Witness Assistance confirmed the same no scheduled bail hearing. The court house called me back when they had a confirmation for me.
He was released on an undertaking — a written promise to follow his original bail conditions and appear in court for the new criminal charges. The original bail conditions still stand. But this new undertaking? It’s just another piece of paper added to the pile.
So, despite the fact that I had two of my children with me when I saw him — two children he also has restraining orders against for previous assault — someone decided he wasn’t a high risk.
Even though it’s domestic violence.
Even though the breach was at a prohibited location.
Even though I had my children with me.
So they’ve released him on an undertaking, which is a promise not to breach the promise he already broke.
I went back to Victim Services today to pick up more security equipment: window alarms, personal panic buttons, and new motion detectors — all to protect my kids.
But this is another promise. Another breach. Another shrug. Another day pretending that paper equals protection.
How the Justice System Fails Victims
I get it. The justice system is overwhelmed:
- Too many cases.
- Not enough judges.
- Family court gets bumped for civil court. Civil gets bumped for criminal.
- There isn’t enough room for all the bail hearings and motions that should be happening.
So officers, duty sergeants, justices of the peace — they make judgment calls. But it always feels like those calls favour the accused. The ones with the charges. Not the victims. Not the ones locking their doors and building bunkers out of legal files and floodlights.
It’s justice, but it doesn’t feel just.
“We know that our current approach is not working. It does not adequately support victims and it doesn’t adequately reflect how intimate partner violence actually occurs.”
— From the Canadian Forum on Civil Justice, emphasizing the need for reform in domestic violence cases
Domestic Violence Death Review Data: Ontario, 2003–2021
The numbers are horrifying for me as a victim:
- 563 homicides in intimate partner cases in Ontario.
- 76% had a history of violence.
- Roughly 25% involved a breach of bail or a protection order.
That’s not a random statistic. That’s a quarter of fatal domestic violence cases happening after someone broke the law meant to stop them.
It proves what we already know: paper doesn’t protect people.
And Yet I Still Have to Prove My Safety
I’m in court fighting my ex on three fronts:
- Criminal charges against me and two of my children.
- Civil proceedings over our businesses.
- Family court for custody and financial division.
I recently had a small win: I got travel consent for my daughter’s humanitarian trip. My lawyer wouldn’t help — not unless I gave in on custody issues. I refused. I fought alone. And I won.
Next is the motion over custody of our son. We’re adjourned until September. I stopped access after child abuse charges were laid. The judge adjourned it til we had reports back from the Office of the Children’s Lawyer, The Police and the Children’s Aid Society – This bail violation may finally tip the scales.
But until then, we keep living like this. Cameras. Dogs. Locks. Panic buttons. Trail cams. Hypervigilance and High Anxiety. All to make up for the fact that the system can’t — or won’t — truly protect us.
Final Thought
“Coercive control is one of the highest risk predictors for domestic homicide.”
And yet in Canada, it’s still not a crime – although it is FINALLY heading there.
He’s excelled at it. Still does. And every broken bail condition, every new paper promise, every police shrug — just reinforces that I’m still not truly safe.
I’m playing it smart. Like being bear smart in the fall. Avoid the threat. Stay alert. Never leave the kids behind. Make noise. Carry your spray.
But we shouldn’t have to live this way. Not because we left. Not because we survived.
Because survival shouldn’t have to look like this.
Written by a mother, a fighter, and a survivor.
