By Daniel Clark, 14th January 2026
On 3rd December 2025, HHJ Burrows handed down a suspended prison sentence (of 28 days) to Mr Jim Slocombe.
The proceedings in this case (COP 14240025) began on 13th July 2023 and concern assessment under the Care Act 2014 and for after-care under the Mental Health Act 1983 for a man in his forties (with schizophrenia, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and Autism Spectrum Disorder) who was, at that time, living with the Slocombes. The assessments were ordered to take place by 21 May 2024, and permission to appeal that order was refused.
The defendants, Mr Jim Slocombe and his wife Mrs Tess Slocombe, are alleged to have breached these orders by not permitting professionals to assess P – by preventing him from attending an appointment, and by refusing professionals access to P in the home.
The December hearing, which was heard in person at Burnley County Court[1], was the outcome of a series of attempted committal hearings, (previously blogged here: A committal, a closed hearing, and forced removal of P). Mrs Slocombe was unwell and left the proceedings, but Mr Slocombe admitted that he had disobeyed court orders but said that he considered it the morally right thing to do.
The public bodies bringing this committal application were Cheshire West and Cheshire Council, and Cheshire and Merseyside Integrated Care Board. They were represented by Ian Brownhill of 39 Essex Chambers.
The defendants, those accused of being in contempt of court, Mr Jim Slocombe and Mrs Tess Slocombe, were unrepresented, notwithstanding the fact that all defendants in committal hearings in the Court of Protection are entitled to free (non-means tested) legal representation.
This blog has five sections.
- Background.
- Court interpreter (and departure of one defendant)
- Application for adjournment and admission of contempt of court.
- A suspended sentence.
- Reflections.
1. Background – earlier hearings
In 2022, P was an “informal” patient in a psychiatric hospital, having been detained pursuant to section 3 of the Mental Health Act 1983. Against medical advice, though it is important to note that in theory there is no power by which an informal patient can be kept in hospital, the defendants – Jim and Tess Slocombe – took him home.
As P had been detained under section 3, he was entitled to funded aftercare under section 117 of that same Act. However, since discharge, public authorities have tried (without success) to assess him.
In July 2023, proceedings were brought under the inherent jurisdiction of the High Court seeking access to P. Then in March 2024, a judge (HHJ Burrows) made declarations that P lacked capacity in all domains. He ordered that the assessments take place by May 2024. Mr and Mrs Slocombe appealed this order but the Court of Appeal dismissed it as without merit.
The assessments did not take place. The public bodies made a “without notice” application (i.e. one Mr and Mrs Slocombe didn’t know about) for an order that P be conveyed to hospital for the purpose of facilitating the assessments. HHJ Burrows dismissed that application but made another order (endorsed by a penal notice) for P to be assessed, and for Mr and Mrs Slocombe not to interfere with that assessment. The Slocombes’ application to appeal was dismissed by Mrs Justice Theis (the Vice-President of the Court of Protection). Still, they did not allow professionals to have access to P, meaning that their non-compliance with the order of the court spanned May 2024 to October 2025.
Thus it came to be that a committal application was made. It was alleged there were two breaches of two court orders. Both had the purpose of ensuring P would have his needs assessed by professionals. Both made it clear that Mr and Mrs Slocombe would not, “interfere with the assessment process” (quote from the hearing of 3rd December 2025).
The committal application was first listed for hearing on 30th July 2025. On that occasion, the defendants did not attend court – for reasons some of which also arose in the hearing on 3rd December 2025:
I understand that they wanted the hearing to be adjourned on medical grounds – and also that they were asking for reasonable adjustments to support their involvement in proceedings, given their own disabilities (for which the judge stated they have not provided medical evidence). Neither defendant is legally represented because (they say) “we dislike the idea of needing to involve more lawyers in P’s confidential information and increasing the number of people we have to communicate with – verbally or written” (quoted from the position statement of counsel for the public bodies). The defendants clearly feel victimised: they have accused two solicitors for the local authority of bullying them and threatened to report one to her professional body.
(Quote from: A committal, a closed hearing, and forced removal of P)
Having satisfied himself that he should neither continue in the absence of the defendants, nor issue a bench warrant that would compel their presence in court, the judge converted the hearing to an ex-parte hearing (a hearing from which a party is excluded and is not informed is happening)[2]. At this ex parte hearing, the judge ordered that P should be located (it wasn’t clear quite where he was) and removed for the purpose of assessment. The police attended a caravan, and removed him to hospital using powers pursuant to a warrant issued under §135 of the Mental Health Act 1983[3], from where he was detained under section 2 of the Mental Health Act and transferred to a Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit.
Vikram Sachdeva KC (at that point representing the council) had told the court that “[Mr Slocombe] was, uhm, not pleased to have them visit”. Indeed, at the hearing on 3rd December, it was clear that this “visit” had a lasting impact on Mr Slocombe and, I rather imagine, on P himself.
2. Court interpreter
The hearing of 3rd December 2025 was listed to begin at 11am but I was told it wouldn’t start until 11:30 due to “technical issues”. In actual fact, the hearing didn’t start until around 12:15 because there were further issues with acquiring court interpreters.
When I joined the link, I could see the barrister for the public bodies, who was wearing the traditional wig and gown that most people think of when they think of British courts. I only got one good look at the judge but it looked like he was wearing his judge’s robes and a wig. This level of formality in dress is unusual for Court of Protection hearings but, to symbolise the gravity of such applications, it is standard in committal applications and Serious Medical Treatment cases. In fact, the Court of Protection rules dictate that “Advocates and the judge shall appear robed in all hearings of contempt proceedings, whether or not the court sits in public.”
I could also see a row of people sitting directly opposite the camera (so sitting horizontal to, rather than looking directly at, the judge’s bench). As the hearing got under way, and the issue of court interpreters was raised almost immediately, I came to realise that one of the people I was looking at was Mrs Slocombe.
The court was told that Mrs Slocombe had a bad headache. She did not want to continue because she was unhappy with the interpreter provided by the court. Instead, she wanted a specific interpreter from the British Deaf Association.
In response, the judge was saying, “well he’s not here so you’ll have to make do with what you’ve got. We’ll carry on”. Mrs Slocombe, with the assistance of the court-appointed interpreter, pressed the point, but unfortunately the interpreter she wanted was busy on the day of the hearing and therefore unavailable (to which the judge said, “well there we are. You can’t have what you can’t have”).
This was uncomfortable to watch. Mrs Slocombe was visibly distressed, and the judge was clearly of the view that there had been reasonable adjustments to ensure her involvement in the proceedings.
At some point after this brief exchange, I saw a woman (who I later learnt was Mrs Slocombe) stand up and leave the courtroom. I also later learnt that she’d produced a note (I think from a doctor) that said she was not fit to work and (this was handwritten) that she would not be fit to attend court until February 2026.
At the end of the hearing, the judge expressed concerns about the application that related to her.
Counsel for the public bodies agreed: “We would invite you to adjourn until a date in February 2026, at which point Mrs Slocombe can file evidence from the person in her note today. And in the intervening period the local authority and ICB will take the view whether it is in the public interest to pursue the application”.
The judge thanked counsel for this approach, and adjourned the application until the end of February.
But all this came after hearing the application concerning Mr Slocombe.
3. An application to adjourn becomes an admission of contempt of court
After hearing from Mrs Slocombe, the judge turned to Mr Slocombe who had made an application to adjourn. Unfortunately for Mr Slocombe (who I’ll refer to as “the defendant” from now on), this application to adjourn turned into him admitting that he had been in contempt of court.
I should say at the outset that I never once got the impression that judge intended for this to happen, and indeed at various stages he tried to steer the defendant away from that. The judge was also concerned about the defendant’s welfare. For example, when the defendant told the court that he was “feeling a little overwhelmed” the judge, in a friendly tone, said “let’s try and make this as underwhelming as possible”.
The application to adjourn was premised on Mrs Slocombe’s health (which I won’t say any more about because the judge essentially put aside the application relating to her) and the fact that both defendants wanted, but hadn’t acquired, legal representation. Defendants in committal proceedings in the Court of Protection are entitled to free legal representation.
The judge had some concerns: “why is it, all these months later, and in fact nearly two months after the last hearing, that you have still yet to get legal representation? […] you get legal representation for that free of charge. You have known that since May. What I don’t understand is why you told me yesterday, in your application [to adjourn], that you’ve now decided to take legal representation”.
To this the defendant responded that the issue wasn’t just about acquiring legal representation: “from our point of view, we found ourselves in a position where we had to breach orders”.
I winced at this. In the course of applying for an adjournment the defendant had, with no prompting from the judge, admitted the breach of orders. That being said, I’m not sure whether the defendant was ever going to say he hadn’t been in breach of court orders – his position was more that this breach was justified, and both defendants had previously said in writing that they intended to refuse access to P and to “contravene the order”.
The judge reminded the defendant of his right to remain silent, and said he wanted to remain focussed on the application to adjourn.
The defendant told the court that he had made some attempts to contact solicitors but had no luck. But the judge had little sympathy: “in the normal course of events I might be sympathetic to that. But you’ve had six months since these proceedings have started to get legal representation for which you won’t have to pay. And I want to know why [you haven’t got legal representation]”.
Owing to difficulties with oral communication, the defendant prefers to write. But “I write too much, I put down too much, and that’s been my problem. It’s not been for want of trying but I’ve been trying to write the wrong thing. It’s been so much going on in this case. In some ways it’s very simple but in other ways there’s so much of it.”
The judge, however, had seen some of the defendant’s writings, and described them as being “very clear, they’re very learned, they’re not always on the point but they do make a point”. He did however acknowledge that, since P was detained under the Mental Health Act, the defendants will be “devoting your resources to dealing with that. But that’s got nothing to do with you not complying with the order that this court, and before that I think the High Court, made to allow him to be assessed so he wouldn’t end up in a psychiatric hospital”.
Defendant: And that’s the tragedy of what’s happened.
Judge: On the face of it, the tragedy is that if he’d had the assessment two years ago, he wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital.
Defendant: If he was assessed in the right way.
Judge: This is the problem. The court said what needed to be done. You disagreed. You’re entitled to disagree but you’re not entitled to disobey the court order which is what you’re alleged to have done.
Defendant: That’s the difficulty. Trying to explain why we haven’t engaged a solicitor – it’s because, on the one hand, there’s so much to bring a person up to speed on. From our point of view the situation is not as simple as you’d put it. Because we had difficulty explaining it… we kept believing our best – because to us it seems relatively simple, we thought the best thing to do was try…
Judge: But you’ve made your comments. You’ve made your case in the past in front of me in a way that has been very easily comprehensive to me. I have understood your case all the way along and your case is that you want the people you want to assess [P], rather than the professionals put in by the local authority and ICB. The court said they are appropriate. They must do it. That’s where the disagreement was. It’s been resolved by the court. An order was made on behalf of [P]. The Official Solicitor, who was representing [P], was in agreement with that. It’s simple. You do what the court tells you to do. Where’s the complexity?
Defendant: Unfortunately, the complexity is – We understand that we are legally obliged to obey court orders. Unfortunately, we are morally obliged to do the best for [P]. And regrettably we found it impossible to explain the difference. So we find ourselves in a position … all we can ask is you take into account our mitigating circumstances.
Judge: Sorry. I don’t want to get ahead of ourselves. You’re asking me for adjournment. You’ve now said, without me asking you a question, you’ve got no defence to the application for committal because you know you should have obeyed the orders but haven’t. And you say you have a moral obligation. I don’t understand the moral obligation.
Again, I felt myself wincing during this exchange. Whether he realised it or not, and whether he intended to or not, the defendant’s application for an adjournment had turned into admitting the breaches of court orders and (at least in the eyes of the court) that he had no defence for doing so.
After this exchange, the judge carefully went over the history of the case, from when P was first admitted to hospital right up to his current detention. Mr and Mrs Slocombe were making an application (before a different court) to challenge that current detention but that had been adjourned.
Just as I was starting to wonder why the judge was going down this path, it became clear: the judge wanted to understand “what is going on in the background [that] has prevented you from instructing a solicitor to represent you in these proceedings”.
But no explanation was forthcoming.
For the defendant, there are two aspects: a legal aspect, which was the judge’s position, and the moral aspect, which was the position of the defendants. The defendant appreciated that “from a legal point of view” he can’t decide not to comply with court orders. But his position was that he can (and should) from a moral point of view.
The reason for this is that the defendant wants the assessments to be carried out in accordance with the Department for Health’s manual for good social work practice: Supporting adults who have autism. This manual gives (in the words of the defendant) “great detail how these sort of assessments should be carried out. It uses phrases such as ‘fail to plan, plan to fail’. Phrases such as, ‘if the person prefers written communication, that should be carried out as much as possible’”.
From the court’s perspective, the underlying submission – that P be assessed appropriately – had already been dealt with. Indeed, the judge said he’d previously found that the people who would be assessing P “were adequately trained to do so”.
At this point, discussion turned to the circumstances by which P was removed in October 2025. As was reported in the previous blog post, counsel had told the court that Mr Slocombe “was, uhm, not pleased to have them [the police etc] visit”. Here’s what the defendant said about that day:
Defendant: […] He [P] had an autistic meltdown. And that was when he was being assessed for his mental health. That is an exact example of why we have been sticking out against the wrong assessments. He gets misunderstood and ends up back in hospital. That’s why we wanted the right people to assess him, using the reasonable adjustments in that Department of Health document. What happened in that s135 arrest as we call it – we were in his caravan. You know the arrangement. On a quiet afternoon…it was the day after my wife collapsed in the waiting area so she was still resting from that. Fortunately, very fortunately, she was in the other caravan fast asleep. Because [P] and I have problems with visual disturbances, we have the venetian blinds. So I wasn’t aware that there was a throng of people gathering. Knock on the door. And the AMHP, she starts to explain who she is. Then I suddenly see this crowd of people….a transit van parked, blocking the road. That is the exit. Now the police car, blue lights flashing. So anyone leaving the caravan park had to find a different way, the wrong way round a one way system. So it was obvious to everyone in the park that something was going very wrong at our caravan.
Judge: Well someone was attending to execute a s135 order.
Defendant: We have to live there. They were humiliating [P].He was led out in handcuffs. Hugely humiliating. So anyway, I jumped forward – I opened the door, two policemen, two doctors as it turned out, the AMHP, about half a dozen people to do with this secure transport as far as I can remember. And bearing in mind you never see anything like that taking place in that park. And I almost had a meltdown. But realising the seriousness of the situation I managed to talk about it, try to explain there was a misunderstanding.
Judge: To who?
Defendant: To the AMHP. I was concerned our son would come to the door to see what was happening so I tried to step out but the policeman said I couldn’t do that. So I stayed in the doorway, it was a discussion of 20 minutes. After the first 10 minutes, I would guess, [P] came to the door, and first thing he saw was a policeman. He’s had a number of difficult situations like that. So very quickly he became concerned about that. He could immediately see what was going to happen. As far as I know that wasn’t mentioned anywhere because the psychiatrist at [Hospital] explained the detention in very similar words you used, which sounds like people just walked in, had a chat – there’s no mention of an autistic meltdown. To me that’s dishonesty. And that’s the type of concern we’ve had throughout because we’ve seen it before. And we feel so strongly to it that we were prepared to disagree on the legal point because we feel strongly.
To be clear here, what the defendant was saying is that the reason they had not obeyed court orders was because they were concerned the assessments would not take place in an appropriate manner. In the defendant’s view, in October 2025, that’s exactly what happened and his worst fears came true – P found the situation exceptionally challenging, and he was detained under the Mental Health Act.
The exchange continued:
Judge: You’re not disagreeing. You’re disobeying. People can say they disagree. No judge takes offence at that. But not obeying it is a serious matter for which you could be sent to prison.
Defendant: We do understand that. Why do you think my wife collapsed last time? We find this very upsetting. [P], for the last 18 years, has been very badly affected purely by misunderstandings in 2007. That’s half his working life. And we’re not going to do anything that allows the next 18 years of his working life be thrown in the bin. Even if it means we end up in prison. If we’ve done everything we can to recover his life, get his life back on the rails – we certainly don’t enjoy this situation. But we couldn’t forgive us. The last thing we wanted for [P] was to end up hospital. The last thing we wanted, we tried everything we could to prevent that. But through misunderstanding –
Judge: You keep saying misunderstanding You keep saying you’ve done everything you could. What you could have done is allow the professionals to assess [P]. It wouldn’t have been the same situation as the 135 [warrant]. They would have attended wherever it was, they would have used their professional judgement to decide how far they could go with their assessment. If there was a meltdown they could have responded appropriately. Why didn’t you just let that happen?
From the perspective of the court, the actions of the defendant in frustrating access of professionals because it may be distressing to P was something of a self-fulfilling prophecy. In attempting to avoid what they thought would be distressing, the actions of the defendants had caused that situation come to fruition – something the court felt was avoidable.
Indeed, earlier in the hearing, the judge had said: “You say you prevented that [the assessments] from happening, for reasons that you say are good ones. And lo and behold, on 7th of October of this year [2025], he is back in a section, in a psychiatric hospital, and it seems that the tragedy there is that might have been avoided if there had been compliance with the order at an earlier stage. “
It was quite clear that the events at the caravan in October 2025 had a lasting effect on the defendant: a traumatic event compounded by the further trauma of a committal application. At times, the explanation for why the defendant did not comply with previous orders was subsumed into discussion of what happened in October. For example: “Even those last orders started off incorrectly and what would happen to us if an assessor turned up at a caravan and [P] wasn’t expecting them, and he wasn’t happy, he would have a meltdown”.
The judge had little regard for this: “But this is different. What happened on 7th Oct was exactly what everyone wanted to avoid. And your behaviour made it happen”.
It was fairly obvious at this stage that the gap between the view of the defendant and the view of the court was too great to be overcome. The judge gave a brief ex tempore judgment on the question of the defendant’s application to adjourn. Having satisfied himself that the defendant “doesn’t have any difficulty understanding what’s going on in court”, he said this about the defendants’ lack of legal representation:
“You would probably be better off with a solicitor or counsel representing you because they would be able to give you expert but also dispassionate advice about your situation. However, I do not consider that after all this time, and for a person of your intelligence and understanding of the proceedings, that it is appropriate, necessary, or proportionate for me to adjourn these proceedings in order for you to try to find legal advice. I am doubtful as to whether you consider you need to have legal advice and I’m very doubtful that your application to adjourn is anything other than, I’m afraid, a delaying tactic. Something that will cause delay to the court and for no good reason. I consider it’s appropriate to carry on without you being legally presented even though I recognise the seriousness of these proceedings.”
The charges (the breaches of the court orders) were then formally read out to the defendant. As he had already done so, the defendant again admitted the breaches.
4. Sentencing
A defendant in committal proceedings has the right to offer mitigation, and the defendant in this case had already offered much of it by the time he formally admitted the breaches.
In the defendant’s mind, there are two “lines”: the legal and the moral. For the defendant, it was the moral side that needed to take precedence. As the judge summarised, “Because of [P’s] autism, and perhaps because of your own experience, you have a particularly strong sense that you need to protect him notwithstanding anything the court said […] and my problem is, you would do it again?”
And, indeed. the defendant had made it clear he would do it again.
Having heard the defendant say he preferred to deal with things in writing, the judge confirmed that the defendant would prefer the sentencing decision in writing.
The judge then turned to Counsel for the public bodies, who reminded the judge of the judgment of the Court of Appeal in Re B (a child) (Sentencing in contempt proceedings). In that case, the mother had breached court orders three times. When considering the committal application, Ms Justice Henke declined to order a term of imprisonment because “sending you [the mother] to prison is not going to change your mind” and would “have no effect on the mother’s attitude or secure future compliance”.
The Father appealed to the Court of Appeal. In its judgment, the Court of Appeal remitted the case for rehearing before a different judge, and said: “It cannot be the case that a parent can repeatedly refuse to comply with orders made in the best interests of their child, knowing that a judge may well in those circumstances dismiss the committal proceedings as serving no purpose. To do so would undermine the authority of the court and have significant implications for other cases. Punishment for breach of court orders serves as an essential aspect of upholding judicial authority as well as ensuring compliance”. (§40 (Re B (A child) (Sentencing in contempt proceedings) [2025] EWCA Civ 1048). When the case was re-heard, by Mrs Justice Lieven, she (very reluctantly) sentenced the mother to a term of imprisonment (“sentencing in contempt proceedings”).
In summing up the options for the court to choose from, Counsel wore two hats: one as the representative of the public bodies who brought the application, and another as if he were representing the defendant. Here’s what he said:
Counsel for the public bodies (Ian Brownhill): Your Honour has the three options. First is sentence of immediate imprisonment. Second is suspended sentence. Third is a fine. Because of the court Your Honour sits in, it is an unlimited fine. I would point out, mindful of the fact Mr Slocombe isn’t represented, two things I would say if I were his counsel. The first is that he has accepted the contempt and you should reflect that in your sentence. The other thing I would likely do if I were representing Mr Slocombe is point out that the sentencing council does produce guidelines for sentencing people with mental disorders [the defendant had told the court about some difficulties he had, which I don’t reproduce out of respect for his privacy] …and in respect of that guidance I think it is something Your Honour can look toward. Paragraph 22 says where an offender is on the cusp [of imprisonment], the court may consider whether the disorder [makes a term of imprisonment disproportionate] … Equally I would submit to you, again as if I were standing up for Mr Slocombe, that he is a man of good character, who has caring responsibilities, and I would invite you to take into account all of those things. Putting my wig back on for the public bodies, there has been a lot of correspondence. They are not going to follow court orders. Mrs Slocombe said she was prepared to go to prison because she had the opportunity to read there. This is long-standing non-compliance.
In a brief ex tempore judgment, which will be developed in writing and then published, the judge found that “a custodial sentence is appropriate and necessary”. However, because of the defendant’s age (he’s in his 70s) and other mitigating factors, he made the sentence of 28 days imprisonment, suspended for 12 months. That means, if the defendant does not breach any orders in the next 12 months, nothing further will happen. But if there are further breaches, “you will be back here, and you may well be sent to prison”. We will add a link to the judgment at the beginning of this blog post when it becomes available.
5. Reflections
It’s not unusual for defendants in the Court of Protection to defend themselves against a committal application on the basis that they breached court orders on moral grounds, or even that the orders themselves were immoral.
In what is said to be the first publicly known case of a person imprisoned by the Court of Protection for breach of court orders, Wanda Maddocks disagreed with decisions made with regards to her father’s care. She removed him from the care home at which he resided, and fled with him to Turkey. She was given a sentence of five months imprisonment, though only served five weeks after apologising to the judge. She told the Daily Mirror, “he was really depressed in there” and “Dad improved 100% in Turkey. He was so normal. I knew only I could look after him”. In other words, Wanda Maddocks breached court orders because she felt it was her duty to do so.
More recently, Lioubov (Luba) Macpherson persistently breached courts that prohibited her from publishing information about her daughter, who is a protected party in Court of Protection proceedings. In a judgment upholding Mr Justice Poole’s sentence of three months imprisonment[4], the Court of Appeal captured one of the grounds of appeal as being based in the belief that the orders were “arbitrary and disproportionate injunctions” that “failed to protect [her daughter’s welfare” (§28(7)). Indeed, “Ms Macpherson said that she had been entitled to act in the way she had because no one was listening to her and publishing information online was the only step she could take to protect her daughter” (§31).
Like HHJ Burrows in this case, the Court of Appeal found this an unconvincing defence:
§33. […] The fact that she profoundly disagrees with the order does not entitle her to disregard it. There is nothing to support her repeated assertions of professional misconduct. Her very strong views have been aired on many occasions in the proceedings, but for the most part have been rejected by judges on the evidence. There is no merit in her assertion that the orders were unlawful. The straightforward position is that she was obliged to comply with the orders and deliberately chose not to do so.
Moral objection to court orders is also a recurrent theme in committal proceedings in the Family Court. In Re B (a child), cited above, the reason for the Mother’s non-compliance with the court’s orders was that complying with them would cause harm to the child (see §9 of the judgment).
It is perhaps unsurprising that the court finds defences such as these unconvincing. When a court order is made, particularly one with a penal notice attached, it is highly likely that somebody will have to do so something (or allow something to happen) with which they disagree. Disobeying that order undermines the authority of the court. Failing to enforce court orders, including choosing not to bring committal proceedings in the face of persistent non-compliance, makes the orders essentially worthless. And as this case demonstrates, P can be harmed by a failure to comply with court orders.
It is not just family members who breach court orders. Public bodies also fail to comply with court orders[5] though I don’t suggest that happened in this case: these public bodies have been unable to comply with the orders as a result of non-compliance by the defendants. That being said, such is the frequency of non-compliance by public bodies that Senior Judge Hilder sets aside time each month to hear these cases, summoning public bodies before her to explain their non-compliance. I’ve observed Senior Judge Hilder on a number of occasions. She’s an impressive judge with an unparalleled attention to detail. Suffice to say, I can’t imagine these non-compliance hearings are a pleasant experience for the professionals involved.
But, aside from this, the court is somewhat toothless in its response. Judges complain about public body non-compliance, and they’re clearly often very cross about it, but I am unaware of any Court of Protection case in which committal proceedings were brought against professionals employed by a public body. That’s perhaps because the threat of a penal notice is enough to finally push a public body into action.
But the fact remains that there is an asymmetry of power and influence between family members and public bodies involved in court cases. Committal applications are the sharp edge of that asymmetry.
It would be easy for me to sit here and pronounce on how important it is, not least to the rule of law, that court orders are complied with. But what if it was my relative who was the subject of Court of Protection proceedings? What if a judge, who had never met them, made orders that I felt were entirely contrary to their best interests?
Of course I’d appeal first – if I could afford it, and that’s a big if. Leaving aside the costs for lawyers, and assuming I represent myself, I’d have to find £265 to appeal to a more senior Court of Protection judge. What if a High Court judge had heard the initial application? Well if I had permission to appeal to the Court of Appeal, I’d have to pay £1,466. If I didn’t have permission to appeal, and needed the Court of Appeal to grant that, I’d have to pay £646 (with £1,466 to follow if permission to appeal was granted).
In addition, I’d need to recognise that an appeal isn’t an opportunity for re-hearing, and that I’d have to demonstrate a procedural deficit in the judge’s reasoning. What if I couldn’t? What if the decision was legally sound but morally wrong? What if I thought the decision was legally wrong but I couldn’t put together the money for an appeal? Would I simply go along with what I thought was a disastrous decision?
The truthful answer is that I don’t know. And I rather suspect that nobody else does either.
Daniel Clark is a member of the core team of the Open Justice Court of Protection Project. He is a PhD student in the Department of Politics & International Relations at the University of Sheffield. His research considers Iris Marion Young’s claim that older people are an oppressed social group. It is funded by WRoCAH. He is on LinkedIn, X @DanielClark132 and Bluesky @clarkdaniel.bsky.social.
[1] To represent the gravity of committal applications, they are almost always heard in person. Sometimes we have observed these cases in person but, as we often don’t know about them until the evening before, we usually have to ask for a link. For examples of committal applications we’ve observed and blogged about see:
Committal hearing: Struck out and dismissed for procedural defects by Celia Kitzinger
Committal and sentencing with a possibly incapacitous contemnor by Celia Kitzinger
A committal hearing to send P’s relative to prison – and the challenges of an in-person hearing by Claire Martin
‘No Entry’ – A committal hearing at the RCJ by Daniel Cloake
[2] Unusually (for closed hearings), the judge permitted Celia to observe and also report on the hearing. Her blog demonstrates the great care the judge took in reaching his decisions. While another judge has permitted me to observe a series of ex-parte hearings, he did not give me permission to report on the content of the hearings. When those proceedings have concluded, I’ll publish a blog about that experience.
[3] Section 135 of the Mental Health Act 1983 gives the police powers to enter any premises, including a home, in order to locate the person and, if necessary, remove her or him to a place of safety. These powers can only be exercised following the grant of a warrant by the court. Such a warrant can only be issued if “there is reasonable cause to suspect that a person believed to be suffering from mental disorder—
(a)has been, or is being, ill-treated, neglected or kept otherwise than under proper control, in any place within the jurisdiction of the justice, or
(b)being unable to care for himself, is living alone in any such place,
[4] For an observer’s account of that hearing, see Serving a prison sentence for contempt of court: Luba Macpherson by Amanda Hill and Celia Kitzinger
[5] See, for example:
Renal Failure Case Returns: Dialysis problems and Barnet’s non-compliance with a court order by Claire Martin
Non-compliance: What happens when public bodies don’t obey court orders? by Celia Kitzinger.“I’m making these orders not for my own amusement, but for P”: Judge admonishes professionals over “disappointing” failures by Gill Loomes-Quinn
Promoting Open Justice in the Court of Protection 