PERSONAL PROTECTION ORDERS More than 'just a piece of paper'

May 7—KALKASKA — On Nov. 8, 2022, a Rapid City woman filed a petition for a personal protection order, explaining how her husband of 22 years kept a rifle hidden in their basement, would bring the gun upstairs, take it out of its case and "cock" it behind her as a threat.

"He's never been this bad," the woman wrote on the petition. "I honestly am worried about how he will snap."

Less than 24 hours later, Kalkaska County District Court Judge Lynne M. Buday approved the ex-parte petition — meaning an order was entered without a hearing — which set in motion the standard procedural actions.

The court clerk filed the order with the Kalkaska County Sheriff's Department, a staff person there entered the information into LEIN — the state's computerized law enforcement information network — a process server located the respondent, in this case the husband, and "served" him with the judge's order.

For the next year, Terrence VanOchten was barred from stalking, calling, mailing or emailing his wife, approaching her in public, confronting her at work or showing up at their home.

"This is exactly how the process is designed to work," said Kalkaska County Prosecutor Ryan Ziegler.

UN Women, the United Nations entity focused on gender equality, calls the increase in domestic violence during the COVID-19 pandemic "The Shadow Pandemic," with incidences rising worldwide.

A University of Michigan study found that, while reports of domestic violence in the state did not significantly increase during this timeframe, the severity of the abuse did.

Officials see use of personal protection orders increasing as well.

A civil court tool

"PPOs are largely a civil matter," Ziegler said, "cases that haven't risen to a criminal charge, but where someone clearly needs protection. PPOs fill that gap."

Officials like Ziegler say there is a lot of misinformation and confusion about PPOs, what they're for, how long they last, how well they work and how easy — or challenging — they are to acquire.

For example, county prosecutors in Michigan don't enforce PPOs; that's the responsibility of police and, perhaps more surprisingly, the person who filed the petition.

That's because, while they're the one in potential danger, they're also the one most likely to witness violations.

Carl Mormann, a former police officer and current director of advocacy for the Women's Resource Center, has been working to educate the public and WRC clients about PPOs as a tool to curb and prevent domestic violence.

Not everyone seeking a PPO can afford to hire an attorney, Mormann said, and a petitioner may find the court intimidating, be unfamiliar with the process, where to get the right forms or know what information will be helpful to a judge.

This sense of confusion can be exacerbated by the stress of a break-up, a possible divorce proceeding and child custody issues.

"They get into a lot of detail about the relationship that is irrelevant to a PPO," Mormann said. "It's very important to them. They feel a need to explain it in great detail, while, in actuality, the court doesn't want to read a book. The court wants the facts."

The judge's role

A judge will also look to see whether the petitioner has documented allegations of threats, stalking or violence that are recent and specific, said retired 13th Circuit Court Judge Thomas Power.

Power, who was first elected in 1993 and retired last year, said he views PPOs as an effective tool, although one that carries a risk of being applied unfairly.

"Originally, it was thought this was just a piece of paper, it wouldn't mean anything, it wouldn't make any difference," Power said. "But in actuality, I think it has been very effective. You have an order signed by a judge, there's a knock on the door and it's served by a uniformed sheriff with a badge and gun."

These displays of authority convey a necessary seriousness, although ex-parte petitions, like the one filed in the VanOchten case, require a judge to basically take the petitioner's word for it that the allegations are true.

"As a judge, you're being presented with a statement by one side," Power said. "You don't have any way to test the truthfulness. You don't hear from the other side because this is hypothetically an emergency that needs immediate action."

A judge can issue the order, as Judge Buday did, they can deny the petition or they can require a hearing, in which case it's likely that a few days would elapse when the petitioner could be harmed.

Power said these decisions weigh heavily on judges who understand their gravity.

"It's risky to issue an order against someone without even allowing them have their say as to what happened," Power said. "On the other hand, if it's really terrible sounding and you don't issue that order, you fail to protect someone and something bad happens. . . It's a very difficult thing for the judge."

This is exactly what happened in Roscommon County last summer.

When things go wrong

Tirany Savage, 35, of Houghton Lake, on June 24, 2022, petitioned the court for a PPO against her husband, Bo Savage, 35, court records show, stating he was threatening to kill or injure her, had threatened suicide and recently purchased a firearm.

The petition was denied by 34th Circuit Court Judge Troy B. Daniels who said there was insufficient evidence of immediate danger and Tirany Savage could request a restraining order as part of her divorce case.

Two weeks later, county law enforcement was called to the couple's home and found Tirany Savage, her teenage son, her mother and Bo Savage dead from gunshot wounds. Police labeled the deaths a murder-suicide, confirmed the gun had belonged to Bo Savage and that he'd purchased it legally.

Cases like this give judges, police and prosecutors nightmares, Ziegler said.

Ziegler, who was appointed prosecutor in 2021, said, at one time, a grant paid for Women's Resource Center staff to be in his office part-time, assisting residents with court issues — like filling out PPO applications.

When the grant ended, Ziegler and his staff took over the task. Mormann said he and WRC staff offer this same service in Traverse City and will even draft the petition and file it with the court on the client's behalf.

If a judge signs the petition, the respondent is promptly served and if everyone obeys the law, the PPO can be allowed to expire after a year or whatever term the judge has applied, and this is the end of the process.

That's not, however, how it always works.

The VanOchten case

Less than two weeks after her PPO was signed by a judge, VanOchten's wife came home from work to find his truck in the driveway and VanOchten inside the house. She called the sheriff's office, VanOchten was still there when deputies arrived and there was a copy of the PPO on the dining room table.

An arrest report states the officer read the PPO out loud before taking VanOchten into custody.

Kalkaska County Undersheriff Dave Wagner said this is a good example of how a PPO has power.

"Yes, it is just a piece of paper, but if the protected party gets contacted, we can arrest on that," Wagner said. "We don't have to go through the process of getting a warrant."

Federal agents later indicted VanOchten for possession of unregistered destructive devices — pipe bombs — indicted him in federal court and sought to revoke his bond.

A judge disagreed, U.S. Attorney Mark Totten's office vowed to appeal and, on Friday, VanOchten's attorney, Sean Tilton, filed a motion requesting that his client's bond be revoked.

A judge agreed and VanOchten self-surrendered at the Newaygo County Sheriff's Office in White Cloud on Saturday, court records show.

Civil representation

It was the PPO that set this chain of events in motion. VanOcten's wife stated in court documents her husband had become "radical."

Advocates say they've seen a correlation between extremist views and domestic violence. Among them is Traverse City attorney Mary Kavanaugh.

Kavanaugh works for Legal Services of Northern Michigan, a nonprofit with offices in Traverse City, Alpena and Gaylord, whose attorneys are knowledgeable about family law and provide civil services to low-income people and seniors.

"Most of our clients come to us with them already in hand," Kavanaugh said of PPOs. "It's when the opposing party files a motion to terminate that we will represent our client. We will step in and defend the PPO."

Petitioners may be surprised to learn a judge may not automatically grant their petition, but has the option of holding a hearing where the respondent — the person being served — can argue against the petition, as is their right.

Civil court does not provide a court-appointed attorney the way criminal courts do, leaving low-income people to fend for themselves — if not for organizations like Legal Services of Northern Michigan.

Kavanaugh echoed observations from Ziegler, Wagner and Mormann that petitions for PPOs are increasing in the region.

"During COVID, the DV (domestic violence) cases shot up and, post-pandemic, they have not receded," Kavanaugh said. "It's on an upward trend, that's for sure."

Kavanaugh said the "blowback" resulting from calling the police about a domestic violence incident is so severe, many of her clients simply don't make that call.

"But they do have other ways — like a PPO — to maintain their safety, for themselves and their children," Kavanaugh said.