By Maggie Bruce-Konuah, 1st September 2025
I joined the Observers’ WhatsApp Group of the Open Justice Court of Protection Project in June 2024, and this is the first blog I have had the courage to write.
My interest in the Project, and in the Court of Protection, comes from my personal experience as a caregiver and attorney for my partner, who was diagnosed with dementia about five years ago. Acting in his best interests as appointed under his Lasting Power of Attorney has raised many questions for me about capacity, responsibility, and ethical decision-making. I value the Mental Capacity Act’s ethos of empowerment while also recognising the daily challenges of putting it into practice.
The hearing I attended was a remote hearing about DoLS before HHJ Beckley sitting at First Avenue House on 27th August 2025. I’ve observed hearings before with other members of the Project, which I usually find gives me a richer understanding through shared discussion. On this occasion, however, I observed the hearing alone, which gave me the freedom to reflect in a more personal way, even if that meant relying solely on my own interpretation of what was happening.
I’d initially asked to observe a 2pm hearing that day, but it turned out that the 2pm hearing was in-person and I wanted to observe remotely. I got a very nice email from court staff saying “you are very welcome to attend the in-person hearing, but we are too short staffed to set up a remote link for the hearing. You are welcome to observe the 12noon hearing which is remote”. Both involved DoLS cases and the same judge, so I was happy to join the earlier one.
Although the hearing only lasted 20 minutes, there were a surprising number of technical glitches that had to be overcome. For me, this ended up being very interesting — it gave me an insight into how the judge handled them.
Problems started almost immediately. The Official Solicitor was delayed in joining the hearing. While waiting, Judge Beckley asked me directly whether I had received a copy of the transparency order and if I’d had a chance to read it. As I was observing alone on this occasion, and not in the company of fellow members of the OJCOP Project (as always before), I felt more anxious than usual, and when Judge Beckley directed the question to me personally, I got so flustered that I switched my camera on by mistake instead of unmuting. Eventually I managed to reply that yes, I had received it and agreed to be bound by it.
Because the Official Solicitor was delayed as a result of technical problems, Judge Beckley used the time to give me an opening summary of the case so that I would have some background. At that point I hadn’t yet received the position statements.
When the lawyer representing P via the Official Solicitor finally joined, he froze mid-sentence. Judge Beckley remarked lightly, “Oh, I think he has frozen — or is it me?” His tone was humorous without losing composure, and he kept things moving. When the lawyer had to change to a colleague’s computer, the name on the screen didn’t match, but despite these interruptions the hearing carried on. At one point, Judge Beckley excused himself briefly and, on returning, promptly he told us that he had forgotten to put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ notice on his door.
What struck me was the way Judge Beckley handled these obstacles with wry humour and humanity. I was particularly touched that he spoke to me directly and even called me by name. At the end of the hearing, he asked both lawyers to share the position statements with me once they had my email address. I was tempted to thank him for his thoughtfulness but held back, uncertain how to address him. As it turned out, the statements reached me within an hour of the hearing ending.
Observing the hearing made a strong impression on me. Despite the technical problems, the time pressure, and the uncertainty about which Tier 2 judge would be available for the next hearing, HHJ Beckley kept me in mind throughout. That consideration, given to an observer who contributed nothing to the proceedings, was moving. It felt powerful to be held in mind in that way, especially as my presence was more or less invisible.
The Case
The case (COP 20005041) concerned a young man with severe disabilities, whose deprivation of liberty would need to be reassessed as he approached his 18th birthday. No family members were present, but from the position statements I had a strong sense of their supportive presence in his life.
As the Judge discussed scheduling for the next hearing, he explained that he himself would not be available until the end of September. Another judge, perhaps HHJ Hilder, would have to hear the case. He noted that she was “incredibly busy”. Despite the weight of these pressures and the difficulties of the hearing, the whole matter was completed within 20 minutes, which felt remarkable.
Personal Resonance
This hearing was my first formal encounter with a DoLS case. It had a special resonance for me as I discovered recently, in a fragmented way, that my partner — who has dementia and was admitted to hospital with a medical problem — has been, and is still, placed under a deprivation of liberty order on a hospital ward. He is subject to 24-hour one-to-one supervision and control.
That experience has helped me to understand, on a visceral level, how easily autonomy can be subsumed under the guise of safety, support, and risk management. I notice the gulf between how I describe what’s happening as ‘supervision and control’, and how one of the hospital caregivers referred to it, as ‘support’.
I am anxious that this first instance of DoLS on the ward may set in motion a pattern that repeats itself when my partner is discharged to another setting, especially if the setting and care plan necessitates the DoLS.
Witnessing HHJ Beckley’s humanity in the hearing offered a vital counterpoint to the helplessness I felt on the hospital ward, and reminded me that, even from the margins, small acts of recognition and thoughtfulness can matter profoundly.
Autonomy and Loss
I’ve been thinking more and more about autonomy, and how for many of us it is taken for granted until it is about to be lost.
When my partner was placed under a DoLS order, I felt that we were both at the margins: invisible, without agency.
Yet being at the edge can also sharpen awareness. It is both a disadvantage, and, strangely, a heightened vantage point. I was reminded of a passage from Kierkegaard in The Sickness unto Death:
“The greatest hazard of all, losing oneself, can occur very quietly in the world, as if it were nothing at all. No other loss can occur so quietly; any other loss – an arm, a leg, $5, a wife, etc. – is sure to be noticed.”
Maggie Bruce-Konuah is the informal caregiver for her partner, who was diagnosed with dementia about 5 years ago.
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