The Morning an FVO Collapsed: A Cautionary Tale From Inside the System

(A real case study. Names and identifying details have been changed.)

Most people assume that Family Violence Order (FVO) proceedings are orderly, structured, and evidence-based.

But what actually unfolded in Courtroom 8 on a Friday morning late last year tells a very different story — one that exposes some of the deepest structural flaws in the family-violence system: overbooking, lack of evidence, procedural shortcuts, and the quiet, unseen pressure placed on courts and litigants alike.

This is an anonymised account of what happened when one man walked into court expecting a 1.5-day contested hearing…

and walked out an hour later with the entire FVO against him dismissed.

The Case Background

For almost a year, “A.J.” had been living under an interim Family Violence Order sought by his former partner, “M”. This was the third such application involving the same allegations; two prior applications by police had already been withdrawn or dismissed for lack of evidence.

Yet despite all this, the interim orders remained in place — restricting his movements, shaping his daily life, and consuming his time, money, and emotional bandwidth.

When the final hearing date finally arrived, A.J. expected an orderly process. He was self-represented, after spending over $50,000 so far defending against three FVOs, and having run out of money. So he was all new to this, and alone, apart from four friends in the back rows for support and a friend who was serving as his McKenzie friend.

What he found instead was something closer to controlled chaos.

10 FVO Cases, 1 Courtroom, 1 Morning

When A.J. arrived for his hearing, he counted roughly ten FVO matters stacked into the same morning list — each involving different parties, different lawyers, and different crises.

He had prepared meticulously for months.

He brought a support person.

He had printed submissions, sworn affidavits, timelines, exhibits — the whole lot.

His ex-wife appeared by video link with two solicitors and a barrister who had been briefed the night before because her regular lawyer had suddenly fallen “unwell”.

Something felt off from the beginning.

It's worth noting at this point that his ex-wife's lawyers supporting her FVO were paid for by the taxpayer via the Women's Legal Centre, without any means test required, and were likely in the order of $40,000 if she had to pay for them.

No such free legal aid test exists for men.

All this is without considering how much the taxpayer paid for the two previous FVOs, brought by the Police based on her false allegations.

The Missing Timeline

Every FVO respondent is entitled to a clear timeline of allegations so they can prepare a proper defence.

This is not optional — it’s a mandatory step ordered by the court.

But when the Magistrate asked about the applicant’s timeline, her barrister froze.

He could not explain:

• why no timeline had been filed

• why two court-ordered deadlines had not been met

• why no evidence had been provided

• why nothing at all had been disclosed, despite months of opportunity.

He hinted — vaguely — that the applicant had provided “some material”, and that there “may be a conflict emerging” between the applicant and her legal team.

He did not identify the conflict.

He did not specify the material.

He did not offer dates or documents.

He simply said he didn’t know.

This was the first major crack.

The Email That Changed the Atmosphere

Then A.J. tendered a short, devastating email from the state’s domestic-violence police unit.

It said:

“For transparency, we have no active investigations where the complainant is the victim.”

This contradicted months of statements by the applicant and her lawyers.

The courtroom shifted.

A palpable silence followed.

The Magistrate asked twice if the applicant’s legal team could name:

• the officer

• the station

• a case reference

• a single date of any report.

They could not.

Not one.

The Contempt-of-Court Gambit

Seeing how things were unfolding, A.J. made a strategic move — politely, calmly, and fully within his rights.

He raised his application to hold the Chief Police Officer in contempt of court for failing to comply with subpoenas for evidence.

This turned the courtroom cold.

Because the Magistrate now faced a dilemma:

Either

(a) examine why police had failed to produce evidence they were legally required to provide,

or

(b) dispose of the associated FVO application so the contempt issue became irrelevant.

A.J. then offered the court a solution:

“Your Honour, you could simply dismiss the applicant’s FVO for non-compliance with court-ordered timelines.”

The Magistrate took note.

The Mysterious ‘Conflict’ Emerges

After a short recess, the applicant’s barrister returned with even more uncertainty.

He informed the court that, after speaking privately with the applicant,

“There may be a conflict developing.”

He did not elaborate.

He could not explain.

He simply placed the word “conflict” on the table like an unresolved riddle.

For experienced court watchers, this is often a euphemism for:

“My client has given me instructions that I cannot ethically act on.”

Whether that was the case here, nobody knows.

But the timing was remarkable.

And the hearing turned decisively at that moment.

The Collapse

The Magistrate, now fully briefed on:

• the repeated non-compliance

• the absence of evidence

• the lack of timeline

• the contradiction between police records and applicant claims

• the impact of the interim order

• and the looming contempt issue…

…delivered one of the clearest rulings A.J. had ever heard:

“The application for final orders is dismissed.

The interim orders are revoked.”

He added that:

• the case had not been prosecuted properly

• six weeks had passed with no explanation

• the respondent had been denied basic procedural fairness

• and there was no evidentiary basis to maintain the order.

Just like that, the year-long interim FVO evaporated.

The Aftermath

The applicant’s legal team then asked for adjournment of A.J.’s own application for orders.

They had no choice — they said they only received his evidence binder the previous Friday and were unprepared.

The Magistrate agreed, listed the matter for a short directions hearing, and encouraged both parties to resolve the remainder by undertaking rather than continuing the war.

A.J. left the courtroom an hour later — stunned, relieved, and freshly aware of how fragile the system can be when process is neglected.

Why This Matters

This case is not unique.

Across Australia, family-violence jurisdictions are under acute pressure.

Overscheduling, inconsistent representation, missing evidence, procedural shortcuts, unexplained delays, and reliance on unverified narratives are far too common.

80 to 90% of Domestic & Family Violence Orders are never tested in court. Men (it's almost always men) run out of money, energy, endurance, or just want to see their kids or simply get on with their lives.

The Domestic Violence Industrial Complex (DVIC) rely on this. M and her lawyers likely never intended to file a timeline or prepare evidence. They relied on A.J. folding like so many of their other victims. Relying on bullying tactics, that have proven to work all too well for them in the past.

And because interim orders can be made ex parte, and can last months or years, respondents may live under serious restrictions long before any evidence is tested.

The moral of this story isn’t that the system is broken beyond repair.

It’s that process matters.

Evidence matters.

Transparency matters.

Timelines matter.

And courts must remain vigilant to ensure that procedural fairness is not the first casualty of an overloaded system.

When the system works, it works because someone insists it must.

On this particular Friday morning, it took one respondent, one paper trail, and one well-timed contempt motion to bring the truth into the open.

And that is why reform is not optional.

We need it.

Now more than ever.