The Witchhunt
From my upcoming memoir:
'My son suffers from severe autism or possibly Angelman syndrome (which wasn't definitively excluded when he underwent genetic testing).
As a concerned parent, I reached out to several specialists in the field of autism, desperate to know how best to support him. In 1994, when my son was two, I started an information service called Autistic Information Matters to seek answers, provide support, and share facts.
After much difficulty with professionals—including a Professor Ben Sacks who cruelly suggested I send my two-year-old to an institution (I told him to get out)—I discovered Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA). At the time, I believed it might be a miracle cure that could help my son begin speaking.
However, after extensive research and insights from other parents, I came to realize that autism is an umbrella term, encompassing a variety of conditions rather than a single disorder. (I have written more about this elsewhere.) During this time, I was also enduring coercive control, violence, stalking, and emotional abuse from my son's father.
The police provided little help, especially after I refused to be a court witness against him. On one occasion though I did endure a hearing where I was asked what prison term he should receive, but I was very afraid so told the judge I didn't think he should go to prison. I was struggling with agoraphobia and afraid of the potential repercussions of his ongoing presence in our lives, I felt trapped. Among other horrible things, he tried to suffocate me. It was attempted murder.
But I digress.
We began ABA-based home education, and on the very first day with a strict 'supervisor' I realized it was a grave mistake for my son. I found it very suppressive of his natural, harmless 'stereotypical' behaviours. I found that it involved some force which is against all my principles. But we were stuck with it.
I suspect that my sons' challenges might stem from 'white matter' issues in the brain due to a genetic mutation I carry on the MTHFR gene. For some autistic children with more psychological needs, ABA may be beneficial, but I maintain it was not the right approach for my son. My (grave) mistake.
About three years into the ABA program, I developed a back problem. I sought respite care around this time, but the local council was unsympathetic and unkind. I refrained from mentioning my back pain, fearing it might make me appear too vulnerable. My son’s father had been taking him for weekend stays, which gave me a respite, but he ceased all contact in 2001—just as my mother passed away. I was also grieving the end of a romantic relationship at the time.
Despite these challenges, I focused on encouraging my son's vocalizations. An example was he began saying "bhees" for "keys," and I used rewards to foster these efforts. Unfortunately, I couldn’t manage the housework and fell into disarray.
A battle ensued with social services when they insisted on placing my son in overnight care at a place he disliked. I had only requested two hours of daytime respite on weekend afternoons, not overnight care! Admittedly, I was likely unpleasant sometimes to the council at the time, exacerbated by my reliance on tranquilizers and alcohol—a habit I thankfully left behind long ago.
One night, a few months after my mother’s passing, I made the terrible mistake of calling the police to take my son (the emergency social service number wasn't picking up calls) as I realized I was unwell and my home was in dire condition. I expected help, but the response was overwhelming. The police swarmed my house as though a mass murder had occurred. One officer assured me I wouldn’t lose my child over a messy home, but he was gravely mistaken.
What followed was a torturous nightmare: I was treated like a criminal by social workers, endured limited visits with my poor confused and distressed son, and faced a grueling 16-day court hearing from which I was excluded after the first day. Subsequent efforts to regain contact with my son failed, with no clear explanations provided.
That was about 24 years ago. Yet, gossips and critics still judge me harshly for losing custody of my beloved boy, who is now 32. I haven’t seen him in many years, not because of any wrongdoing on my part, but due to spite and hatred. I miss my son every day and love him deeply'
Liz Lucy Robillard 2024