Sometimes all you're doing in a lawsuit is making things worse. Particularly in family law court. Especially when you're representing yourself.
Michael Molinaro is married to his spouse for nearly 20 years, but she decides to leave, and files for divorce. As she's getting some of her stuff out of the former marital residence, she alleges that "after a verbal altercation with Bertha and some of
the family members, Michael moved his car to block the moving
truck from exiting the home’s driveway. Bertha called the police,
who eventually detained Michael." She also says that "Michael had physically restricted Bertha from leaving the home on two other occasions -- once by blocking the front door and another time by blocking her
car in the home’s carport. Before filing for divorce, Bertha had
installed locks on her bedroom door “because [Michael] was
acting erratic and [she] was afraid of him.” Michael threatened
to “throw a chair though the bedroom window” if she did not
remove the locks."
Not good stuff. So she moves for a restraining order. For that and some other conduct.
At the hearing, the wife "asked that Michael “please stop posting everything about the
case on Facebook,” and “stop giving the children all of my
pleadings.” Michael responded that he had only given the
children copies of “the domestic violence restraining order, not of
the divorce petition.” When the court asked, “what makes it okay
to give the 13-year-old and the 17-year-old copies of the court
papers,” Michael answered, “My best judgment, Your Honor.”"
Mr. Molinaro might not be reading the judge extraordinarily well at this point. But okay.
Then things start to go downhill.
"The court explained to Michael that it intended to “issue an
order against you today that precludes you from discussing the
matter with the 13-year-old and the 17-year-old,” warning him
that courts may “consider parents insinuating children into the
court process” in making custody determinations. Michael
objected to the order, arguing Bertha had “emptied [their] home
equity of $250,000 [sic]” and “relocated [his] children to a mystery
house without informing [him].” The court acknowledged the
objection, but asked Michael to confirm he understood the terms
of the order. Michael responded, “Okay. I understand the what.
I question the sanity.”"
Let me interject with a tip. It's generally not a great idea to openly "question the sanity" of a judge or one of his rulings. You can think it. You can ponder it. But probably best not to express it.
The parties subsequently appear at a different hearing in front of a different judge. So everyone's had an opportunity to cool down.
Or, apparently, an opportunity to heat up even further.
Mr. Molinario doesn't prevail at this hearing either, and the new judge enters various orders. At which point the new judge "asked Michael if he understood the order.
Michael responded, “No, I don’t. I think you’re insane. I don’t
understand a word you are saying. It lacks reason, Your Honor.
There was no evidentiary foundation for your order.""
Okay. Another tip. When multiple judges appear to you to be "insane," I redouble my counsel to keep your thoughts to yourself. And maybe -- just maybe -- to reflect on whether your judgment in this matter may be the problem, rather than the sanity of the underlying judicial officers.
But Mr. Molinaro's not finished. Not by a long shot.
"Bertha’s counsel asked to arrange “reasonable visitation
with the kids.” She suggested the parties go down to the
mediation office to “work out the parenting plan for the kids.”
The court suggested mediation might not be productive at the
moment, in view of Michael’s “behavior.” Michael interrupted the
court, demanding to know “[w]hat behavior.” The bailiff asked
Michael not to “scream,” and the court noted Michael had been
“[y]elling in court.”
The court ordered Michael would have monitored visits
with the children in “a neutral setting.” Michael asked that the
visits take place at the children’s residence. The court denied
the request, admonishing Michael that he was to stay 100 yards
away from the residence. The court also ordered that he was to
work with Bertha’s counsel to find a professional monitor.
Michael responded, “No, I’m not.”"
Telling a judge that you're not going to follow her express order is rarely a good idea. It does not generally incline that judicial officer to rule your way. Particularly in a family law dispute. The next line of the opinion reads:
"The court granted legal and
physical custody to Bertha."
Lest this be it, the proceedings continue. With this:
"At Bertha’s request, the court also ordered Michael to
attend anger management classes. Michael responded, “On what
basis? There’s been no abuse, Your Honor.”"
Let's stipulate for a moment that there's been no abuse. And, yes, I'm looking at a cold appellate record, and wasn't there. But even with those caveats, even I can see why maybe a court might have a reason to order anger management classes. Because the guy's having a problem even keeping it together in court. If you can't be calm and collected even in that setting, I can see why there might potentially be a problem with anger management in other settings as well.
And I come to that conclusion even before reading the footnote immediately after that last sentence, which reads:
"The objection prompted another exchange in which the
court and bailiff cautioned Michael against screaming or “raising
[his] voice and yelling.” When the bailiff, for a third time, admonished Michael not to scream, Michael responded by
disparaging the “family law bar.”"
Which reminds me that there's another job that I personally do not wish to have: being a bailiff in a family law courtroom. Rough.
So, fortunately, the hearing is nearly at an end. Or at least the part reported in today's opinion. But not before this:
"The court explained it was ordering anger management, not a 52-week batterer’s
intervention program. Michael continued to respond indignantly:
He told the judge, “Why don’t you put me behind bars[?]”; asked,
“How fast can I commit contempt of court by going to none of
them, Your Honor?”; and told the court, “I have no respect for the
court, Your Honor.”"
Again, I'm not sure that stuff like this really advances the ball. Indeed, when you say stuff like that, I'm pretty sure that your opposing counsel is just sitting there smiling (at least inwardly) as you dig your own grave.
I know it's hard. Extraordinarily hard. But try to remain calm. Even as things are very much not going your way.
Mr. Molinaro represented himself in this proceeding, as well as on appeal, and he used a lot of fancy legal language in places. (At least when he wasn't calling the judge insane.) So I wondered if he was perhaps an attorney. Which would make his outbursts even worse, or at least even more inexplicable, IMHO.
The litigant's name is Michael M. Molinaro, and the case is out of Los Angeles. There's an attorney named Michael Martin Molinaro in Los Angeles. I'm not saying they're necessarily the same person, since I don't know.
But it'd surely be unfortunate if they were.
One final mention. Sometimes the Court of Appeal thanks amici for participating in a case and submitting a helpful brief that articulates various issues. Justice Egerton's opinion does indeed mention the one amicus brief submitted in this case. But isn't exactly overly congratulatory. One might even say that Justice Egerton throws some implicit shade, saying in the final footnote:
"We also have reviewed the National Coalition for Men’s
amicus brief and find nothing in it warranting discussion."
Ouch.
