Looking back, Alanna says that while she sees the Marin family courts as her undoing, she sees the L.A. Juvenile Courts as her savior.
"In the L.A. Juvenile Courts, that's where I got some faith in the system restored," Alanna adds. "Juvenile court is about kids, it's not family court. The [juvenile court] judge would say, "OK, parents, I don't know what you guys are doing, but what's in the best interest of the kid?'"
Courtesy of Alanna Krause
Alanna (center, as a toddler) became "property to be
divided" during her parents' contentious child custody
battle in 1993.
Robert Davis
Alanna believes her $135 million lawsuit will send the
message that children need a voice in family courts.
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Alanna emerges from her dorm room bundled up in a colorful patchwork jacket and a thick wool scarf. In her gloved hands, she carries a recent fashion acquisition from the local drugstore -- electric-blue earmuffs, which she dons with considerable pride. She steps out into the brisk evening to make the 10-minute walk to the student center.
If there are demons lurking from her childhood, Alanna is good at hiding them. She presents herself as well-balanced, smart, and even cheery. She chatters happily about her role in the dorm and her love of dancing. Once inside the center, she greets several students with a wave.
Despite all this forward momentum, Alanna can't forget her experience with the family courts. There's still audible anger and frustration in her voice when she talks about the custody battle. She remains so indignant that last month she filed the $135 million lawsuit against her father, attorney Sandra Acevedo, and therapist Lana Clark because she believes it will bring her closure and offer her a sense of justice.
"I want to right a bunch of wrongs," she says.
In the suit, she accuses all three defendants of "intentional infliction of emotional distress," "conspiracy to deprive plaintiff of access to the courts," and "tortious interference with mother-child relationship." In addition, she accuses her father of assault and battery, and claims that both Lana Clark and Sandra Acevedo committed malpractice.
Krause says that he is "saddened" by the lawsuit. "I would like Alanna to get on with her life and not get bogged down with this," he says. "There's no point in all of this except to injure me. And they [Alanna and Simone-Smith] have. They've injured me."
Alanna's case is unique for many reasons. "Clients have sued lawyers and therapists before, children have sued parents before," says Alan Scheflin, a tort law professor at Santa Clara University. "What makes this case significant is that, putting aside the nature of the theories in the complaint, this is really a way of saying that the family court system is screwed up. And just because [one person] does something wrong doesn't mean the whole system is screwed up, but this case signals the idea that we need to look more closely at how [minor's counsels] function, and whose interest they are serving."
The case is certainly not a sure win. It will be especially difficult, some legal experts say, to make the case against Alanna's attorney, since a minor's counsel often acts with great discretion. "To have so many professionals go the wrong way here is unusual in the sense that we usually have checks and balances," adds Vivian Holley, a San Francisco family law attorney. "You can't always believe everything a child says."
But Alanna's attorney, Richard Ducote, believes Alanna's case shines a spotlight on how some family courts fail to listen to children. "What we're doing with this case is we're holding [the defendants] to the same standards as everyone else," Ducote says. "If we forgot Alanna was a child, and we put her in this situation as an adult, she would be suing someone who beat her up and who denied her a relationship with her mother, and an attorney and a therapist who sold her out. The same [legal] standards should be applied to kids. There is this illusion that we are protecting kids, while we're actually doing so much damage to them."
It is an expensive form of therapy, but Alanna says the lawsuit will help her heal. "I had no rights," Alanna has written of her experience in Marin family court. "I felt like I was witnessing the proceedings from the wrong side of soundproof glass. Children are not parties in divorce proceedings -- we are property to be divided. Yet children are people, too. As citizens, we must be afforded our human and legal rights. And when those adults who are supposed to speak for us fail, we need some recourse."
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