Domestic abuser back in court, charged with threatening mother of his children
Domestic abuser back in court, charged with threatening mother of his children
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A 38-year-old man from Żabbar, already convicted in 2021 for grievous bodily harm against his former partner, was hauled back before Magistrate Marse-Ann Farrugia on Wednesday after allegedly breaching a protection order just metres from the primary school their two children attend. The case, unfolding in Malta’s busy Valletta courthouse, has reignited debate over how effectively the island’s legal system shields victims once the gavel falls.
According to Inspector Sarah Zerafa, the accused—whose name is withheld to protect the identity of the victim—was spotted at 8:15 a.m. on Monday loitering outside the St Francis School gates in Cospicua. Teachers alerted the police after the mother, a 34-year-old dockyard worker, reported receiving a volley of threatening WhatsApp voice notes while waiting to pick up her seven-year-old twins. One message, played in court, chillingly warned: “It’s not over. I’ll find you, even if the priest himself hides you.”
The incident is the third alleged breach of the three-year protection order issued in March 2022. Prosecutors told the court the man had already served 18 months of a suspended sentence for fracturing the woman’s cheekbone in a 2020 assault that occurred in front of the children. “This is not a one-off lapse,” Inspector Zerafa stressed. “It is a pattern of intimidation that continues to terrorise a Maltese mother trying to rebuild her life.”
Malta’s Domestic Violence Act was overhauled in 2018 to give courts the power to impose electronic tagging, compulsory perpetrator programmes and immediate eviction from the family home. Yet NGOs argue implementation remains patchy, especially in tight-knit harbour communities where “ħbieb tal-familja” can tip off abusers to police movements. “We still see perpetrators using children as messengers or exploiting feasts and village band marches to corner victims,” explains Dr Maria Camilleri, legal advisor at the Women’s Rights Foundation. “A protection order is only as strong as its enforcement.”
Wednesday’s arraignment drew a small knot of protestors waving placards reading “Stop the Silence” and “Tfal f’Paci, Ommijiet f’Sikurezza” (Children in Peace, Mothers in Safety). Among them was 67-year-old Maria Bezzina, a retired teacher who taught the victim in secondary school. “I remember her as a bright, curious girl who loved Maltese literature,” Bezzina told *Hot Malta*. “Now she’s afraid to attend parish bingo in case he’s there. That’s not the Malta we want.”
Cultural undercurrents complicate the response. In a country where 87% of the population identifies as Catholic, separation is still whispered about in confessionals rather than discussed openly. “Some priests tell women to forgive for the sake of the children,” notes Dr Camilleri. “But forgiveness should never be confused with exposure to harm.” Meanwhile, Facebook groups like “Qalbna Għal Nisa” (Our Heart for Women) have become underground bulletin boards where mothers swap safe-house locations and lawyer recommendations.
The economic stakes are high too. With rents in the Three Cities soaring—driven by foreign investment in converted palazzos—many victims cannot afford to flee abusive partners who control household finances. Government subsidies for emergency accommodation cover just 30 nights, after which women must join long social-housing queues. “We need longer-term solutions,” insists Labour MP Rosianne Cutajar, who attended the hearing. “If we want Malta to be a modern, European country, we must put our money where our mouth is.”
Magistrate Farrugia denied bail, citing the risk of further offences, and ordered the accused to undergo psychiatric evaluation before the next sitting on 27 June. Outside the courtroom, the victim—clutching her children’s school bags—exhaled visibly. “I just want to watch them grow up without fear,” she whispered before disappearing into a waiting support-van operated by Dar Merħba Bik, a local shelter.
For now, the twin school bells of Cospicua will continue to ring at 8:30 a.m. sharp. Whether their mother can answer that call without looking over her shoulder depends on what happens next—not just in the hushed corridors of the law courts, but in the pews, the piazzas and the family kitchens where Malta’s real conversations take place.
