What Happened When I Filed for an Order of Protection in St. Louis City Civil Court
On June 24, 2021, I attended what would be the final hearing for an order of protection my ex-boyfriend had petitioned against me. When he failed to appear, Judge John McCarthy dismissed the case. Just a week earlier, on June 16, Judge McCarthy had asked him to provide evidence to support his claims—evidence he had failed to offer from the start. Our first hearing was held two weeks prior, on June 2, and the case had already been continued twice. This was one of the most stressful times of my life, as my ex was accusing me of a series of false and fabricated claims—including the extreme allegation that I wanted to kill him.
I never told my ex-boyfriend anything of the sort, but the accusation was consistent with the kind of treatment I endured throughout our relationship. I spent most of our time together trying to prove I wasn’t a terrible person. Everything I did or said was overly scrutinized, and—needless to say—I was grateful the courts were finally involved. For the first time, I had a valid reason to stop trying to appease him. Unfortunately, I had to go through hell to get there—and like many victims of domestic violence, I promised myself I’d never go back.
Over the past few years, I’ve educated myself on abuse and proudly entered what experts call the documentation phase. When dealing with a high-conflict personality, lawyers and psychologists advise you to stop reacting emotionally and start documenting every single interaction. Although my ex failed to prove his case, I assumed he wanted nothing more to do with me. But in November 2021, I noticed he had unblocked me on Instagram and Facebook—a familiar tactic he used during our relationship. This time, I didn’t fall for it. I simply did the responsible thing: I blocked him and said nothing.
Despite two unsettling incidents of strangers harassing me on St. Louis highways—one honking and mouthing something unintelligible, the other speeding past and shouting expletives—I’d been working to reclaim a sense of normalcy. But on July 8, 2023, I noticed my ex-boyfriend viewing my Instagram stories from a new account. I documented it immediately, but it left me with more questions than answers. Just a month earlier, I had met with an attorney about pursuing a civil trial against him for abuse of process. At that moment, I wasn’t sure what steps to take next.
Six months passed before I realized that doing nothing was likely the wrong choice. Until then, the only official documentation between my ex and I was his false allegations. If something were to happen to me, no one would know the full story. So I decided to use this piece of evidence as the foundation for my own petition for an order of protection against him.
I filed with the intention of creating a paper trail—and to make it clear to my ex that I was no longer in survival mode. He couldn’t play with me anymore. So when my petition wasn’t granted ex parte, I wasn’t surprised. And when Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway scheduled a hearing, that didn’t surprise me either. I planned to show up, not just for myself, but to ensure the filing would be searchable in case networks. Too many domestic violence victims do their abuser a favor by staying silent—and I wasn’t about to do that.
On March 27, 2024, Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway swore us in and allowed me to speak. I asked to read from a prepared statement, knowing the trauma made it easy to lose my train of thought. I had already condensed the story to stay on track, and I didn’t want to risk getting derailed.
It seems this request caused her to roll her eyes and Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway replied, “Just tell me how you're in immediate danger.”
I was caught off guard and began to explain that he had been emotionally abusive. Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway nodded, but before I could lay out my points clearly, I started with, “We met…”
Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway cut me off sharply, stating she didn’t care how we met. Her tone grew increasingly exasperated—bordering on rude—so, feeling anxious and flustered, I blurted out that he was using a second Instagram account to watch me online. What I had wanted to say was that we met in kindergarten—because the depth of our history (which she was privy to) made her demeanor feel especially dismissive, as if the situation didn’t warrant the context it deserved.
After hearing my response, Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway said, “I don’t have social media. But whatever you post is whatever you post. So how are you in immediate danger?”
Despite the clear bias in her statement—none of this was about her—I continued and began to reference events from 2021. But Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway abruptly cut me off, shouting that she didn’t care about what happened in 2021.
I raised my voice and cut Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway off, saying, “We were here in 2021!”
As soon as I said it, Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway’s demeanor shifted. I believe her urgency to silence me was an attempt to prevent me from revealing that, in my original filing, I had submitted evidence showing the mistreatment from my ex was so distressing that I called the crisis hotline in 2021—long before he ever filed false claims against me. I also informed Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway that he had knowledge of this which further proved elements of harassment.
The law states: “A person commits the offense of harassment in the first degree if he or she, without good cause, engages in any act with the purpose to cause emotional distress to another person, and such act does cause such person to suffer emotional distress.” Mo. Rev. Stat. § 565.090
At that point, I was having an anxiety attack in the courtroom. As I attempted to explain that we had appeared before Judge McCarthy and that my ex had lied in his filings, Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway cut me off before I could mention that he had presented falsified evidence during the hearing. Specifically, he had deleted the text messages he sent me after our breakup, making it appear as if I had contacted him unprovoked. That’s when Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway asked, “What was the outcome of that case?” I told her the case had been dismissed, and Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway seemed almost pleased by the response—cutting me off again just as I began to explain why as if the case being dismissed makes it irrelevant.
But it does make a difference. It matters that the case was dismissed because he failed to show up when Judge McCarthy asked him to provide evidence. It matters that we had a total of three hearings—something Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway should have known had she done the proper research. I included all of this information in my original filing. So I wasn’t telling Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway anything new, which made her dismissive tone all the more jarring.
Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway asked me once more, “How are you in immediate danger?”
I responded, almost sarcastically, “He’s watching me.”
At that point, her behavior only reinforced why I needed support. What began as a responsible effort to document and hold him accountable had taken on a deeper urgency. After just five minutes of going back and forth with Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway, I realized I was feeling the same way I had during my entire relationship—with my voice minimized, my concerns dismissed, and the power dynamic entirely in someone else’s favor.
My ex still has an interest in me—and if someone entrusted with protecting others can’t recognize how dangerous that is, then neither will he. And if he sees no boundaries, then nothing will stop him—not even me.
Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway then addressed his attorney stating, “Have you advised your client to stop watching her?”
His attorney replied, “Yes.”
And Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway then said with what I feel was the most condescending tone, “Good. Hopefully he will have the self-control not to look at you anymore.”
I don’t think Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway can relate to this, but I am not flattered by a man’s attention. At that point, though, she gave me what I needed: a warning directed at him. I couldn’t say it myself—if I did, he’d just accuse me of wanting to kill him again. So, in that moment, I was actually grateful she said it for me.
Then she stated, “The order of protection can only be granted if you’re in immediate danger.”
She followed it with a low growl: “And you’re not.”
But I didn’t take it personally—because just seconds later, Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway’s tone shifted completely. With a strange perkiness, she said, “But I just like to invite people in to hear what they have to say.”
I said something at that point that prompted her to respond, 'We don’t do prevention.' The irony wasn’t lost on me—these hearings exist precisely to prevent harm before it escalates.
Then she asked, “Is your social media private?” I replied, “No.”
Which, again, felt absurd—because I had already made it clear that I blocked him, and he was using an entirely different account to watch me.
The law states: “Stalking is defined as when any person purposely behaves two or more times in a way that serves no legitimate purpose; and causes you, or someone else who lives with you, to reasonably fear that either you or someone who lives with you is in danger of being physically harmed. The behaviors could include when a stalker does any of the following things, either directly, indirectly, or through another person (a third party) follows you; monitors, observes, or spies on (surveils) you; this includes if the stalker uses a device, such as a GPS tracker or other technology; threatens you; communicates with you using any action, method, or device; or other similar behaviors.” MO ST § 455.010
If I were in immediate danger, I would call the police. I don’t believe that someone who has the clarity and capacity to go to the courthouse, file paperwork, and have it legally served is in immediate danger—not in the way Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway seemed to require. And I don’t believe a civil hearing should be treated like a criminal case.
But Judge Nicole Colbert-Botchway should also know this: on August 3, 2024, around 5:30 p.m.—about three hours after I posted on social media that I was at a nearby park—a white, four-door Chevy sedan approached me while I was walking through my neighborhood. (I walk frequently.) The car was newly purchased, without plates, and rolled up slowly with tinted windows partially down. The encounter felt intentional, calculated, and deeply intimidating. I am almost certain it was my ex. And moments later the vehicle left the same way it came in, back to the main road. I have since moved out of state.
I understand that domestic violence cases are complex, which is why I hesitated to speak out for so long. But until these cases are handled with the respect and urgency they deserve, victims will remain silenced by fear and forced to endure their suffering. If someone has the power to help, I hope they choose to. And if they don’t know how, I hope they take the time to learn.
