Civil Protection Orders (CPOs) empower targets of domestic violence to enlist the state as an ally. Streamlined procedures enable plaintiffs to avert abuse that public institutions might otherwise be unable to address. In contrast to criminal remedies, civil remedies focus on protecting victims rather than punishing abusers, rely on robed magistrates rather than armed officers, and require proof by a preponderance of the evidence rather than beyond a reasonable doubt. Despite creating only a parchment barrier, CPOs often have sufficient gravitas to deter abusers. When deterrence fails, CPOs facilitate arrest and prosecution.
Inadequate public knowledge about CPOs blunts their utility. Virtually all victims of domestic violence know that they can dial 911. Fewer know that they can apply for a CPO. Reformers seeking to protect victims while reducing dependence on the criminal justice system have therefore considered how to expand awareness of civil remedies.
Lisa Martin’s The Importance of Civil Pathways to Protection Orders provides valuable insight into the underuse of CPOs. The article reports the results of an empirical study reviewing nearly every CPO application filed in South Carolina’s family courts in 2019. Martin analyzed more than 3,400 files from forty-five of the state’s forty-six counties, coding for more than forty variables.
Martin uses her data to explore the causes and consequences of inadequate access to civil remedies. She offers three observations that support a striking conclusion about how resource disparities between urban and rural counties shape civil litigation.
First, plaintiffs often seek CPOs after interacting with police officers. This correlation seems obvious but is not consistent with the aspirations of CPO regimes. States developed CPOs in part to accommodate victims of domestic violence who do not want to contact the police. Prior studies show that many victims fear the consequences of contacting the police and that many victims who contact the police regret doing so. Yet Martin observes that CPOs are often not a viable alternative to calling 911 because victims do not realize that CPOs are available. Victims must contact the police to learn how to avoid the police. This is a Kafkaesque regression of the innovative CPO remedy.
Second, a corollary to relying on police is that CPO applicants often lack support from other community resources. Several counties in South Carolina have no legal aid offices and no domestic violence advocacy groups. Residents often lack access to private counsel, public transportation, and the internet. Case files in these counties confirm that guidance about CPOs comes primarily from police departments because there are few, if any, alternative sources of information. Victims in these counties who did not contact the police did not receive civil protection.
Third, a stark urban/rural disparity explains county-level variations in use of the CPO remedy. Educational and support resources are more abundant in urban areas than in rural areas. Urban victims of domestic violence generally know more about CPOs and receive more guidance than rural victims. In contrast, rural victims depend on the criminal justice system to point them toward the civil justice system. Statewide, only 20% of CPO case files contain police incident reports. The rate is much higher in rural counties; in five rural counties the rate is 100%. The 20% statewide figure underestimates the level of engagement with police because some plaintiffs do not file their incident reports. Nevertheless, the data suggests that urban victims routinely access civil remedies without police involvement while rural victims rely on police assistance.
The urban/rural divide in access to CPOs correlates with demographic disparities. The affected rural counties in South Carolina have a disproportionate number of residents who are impoverished, African American, or both.
The article’s analysis of the urban/rural divide relies on the metaphor of a “pathway” to civil protection. In urban counties, the pathway runs through several community resources; in rural counties, it runs primarily through police departments. Mitigating this disparity requires creating new pathways in rural counties. Martin therefore proposes government funding of rural advocacy resources. In particular, she suggests reorienting the U.S. Department of Justice’s Rural Domestic Violence, Dating Violence, Sexual Assault, and Stalking Program to emphasize civil rather than criminal remedies.
Martin’s study provides a powerful reminder that designing effective civil remedies requires considering the resources available to potential claimants. As she observes: “It is not enough to enact the remedy and assume people who can benefit will find their way to it.” Yet policymakers and scholars often work in urban environments. They can easily observe urban courtrooms, converse with urban judges, and canvass urban lawyers. These interactions shape their perception of problems and solutions. Rural communities confront problems that are less familiar and require solutions that are more robust. Analyzing disparities in access to CPOs highlights the limits of a one-size-fits-all approach to civil remedies.
