Favor and Familiarity: When Court-Appointed Professionals Aren’t Neutral

When a family enters the courtroom, they often expect that court-appointed professionals—like guardians ad litem, amicus attorneys, or custody evaluators—are neutral, well-trained, and acting solely in the child’s best interest. But in too many cases, these professionals become powerful, unregulated voices whose recommendations go unquestioned—even when they are based on incomplete investigations, bias, or personal alliances.

Unlike judges, who are subject to judicial conduct boards, or attorneys, who must answer to bar associations, many court-appointed professionals operate in a gray area. There is no standard training across jurisdictions. Some evaluators are therapists; others are not licensed in mental health at all. Their reports vary widely in quality and content. Yet their word carries enormous influence—sometimes more than any witness or piece of evidence in the case.

What happens when a guardian ad litem meets with a child for five minutes and writes a glowing report about a parent the child has privately feared? What if the evaluator is friends with one of the attorneys? What if they ignore documented abuse and recommend “reunification” based on surface-level impressions? These aren’t hypothetical concerns. They are realities reported by countless parents who have seen their child’s fate decided by someone who never truly listened—or who listened selectively.

The illusion of neutrality is dangerous because it shuts down questioning. Judges often defer to these professionals as if their word is gospel. When a parent pushes back—asks for a second opinion, points out contradictions, or challenges the thoroughness of the report—they are branded as combative or uncooperative. And so, the cycle continues: biased or negligent evaluations shape court orders, while families suffer the fallout in silence.

This lack of oversight becomes a breeding ground for systemic failure. Some professionals recycle templates, delivering nearly identical recommendations across cases. Others rely on outdated psychological theories or ignore cultural and trauma-informed considerations. In the worst cases, money plays a role. Wealthier parties can afford more evaluations, private experts, or better access to these professionals, creating an uneven playing field masked by the guise of fairness.

Rebuilding trust in court-appointed professionals requires structural change. These roles must come with clear qualifications, required training in trauma and child development, and consequences for neglecting ethical standards. Families should have the right to review and challenge evaluations. Judges should be required to independently assess—not rubber-stamp—recommendations. And above all, the child’s actual lived experience must take precedence over polished paperwork.

A guardian ad litem or custody evaluator is not supposed to be the judge behind the judge. They are supposed to help uncover truth, not obscure it. Until these roles are reformed and held to account, too many children will continue to have their futures shaped by people who never truly saw them.