The Children's Court: Words tumbled from the mouth of the exhausted mother in a torrent of anguish and frustration.
"I'm begging," she said. "My daughter will be found dead on the streets. Where do I turn to for help?"
Her 17-year-old daughter, wearing a bright turquoise tracksuit, sat a few feet away, cupping her head in her hands.
"I suffer violence from her," her voice beginning to falter. "I have back injuries. I rang the police on several occasions, but nothing happened."
Her daughter was in court after being arrested earlier in Dublin city centre on a number of charges including theft.
Judge John O'Neill was about to release her on bail pending a hearing at a later date.
The mother had come into the courtroom with her Aldi shopping bags, and sat quietly at the back of the court.
When it became clear little was going to be done on this occasion, she motioned to her daughter's solicitor to allow her to say a few words.
"Your honour," she said. "I've been coming here for three or four years looking for help. She's been through the judicial system.
"She was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder."
The mother's tired, dark eyes were fixed on Judge O'Neill, who sat quietly as her voice began to tremble.
"The social worker put it down to me. She (the daughter) was so intelligent she was able to cover it up. I'm living in a home with domestic violence," she said in grief-strangled tones.
The judge interrupted and politely said there was little he could do, except to deal with the charges facing the girl.
"The only power I have is to release her on bail," he said.
"What you have to say to me is not of relevance.
"If you feel your daughter is at risk and can't stay at home, it's a matter for another body."
The mother, looking dazed, stopped for a moment.
"Who do I turn to for help?" she said.
"It's not for me to tell you," the judge replied.
"I don't think that's good enough," she said in wounded tones. "I'm pleading."
"She's my only child. I don't want to find her dead on the street ... I've had the door on my face. I'm begging for help. You are the law."
"I can't help," the judge said regretfully. "I can only decide if your daughter is guilty or not."
The mother let out a tortured sigh.
"Who can help me?" she said. "I'm refusing to take that as an answer."
The judge completed some paperwork, releasing the girl on bail, and looked up at the mother who was still standing at the back of the courtroom.
Her pretty daughter with wavy brown hair, wearing a T-shirt beneath her tracksuit which read "go with the flow", strode out of the courtroom.
Her mother remained.
A female garda walked over to the woman and discreetly asked her to leave.
The woman looked around her. There were no tears in her empty eyes.
Picking up her shopping bag, she walked out quietly, looking for her daughter in the crowd of other young people milling outside the courtroom.
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