On some days, the domestic-abuse caseload on O'ahu can be so heavy that a judge has as little as 20 minutes to conduct a restraining-order trial and make potentially life-and-death decisions about two people whose relationship has soured, often to the point of violent outbursts. The judge regularly apologizes to the parties for not being able to devote the time their cases deserve.

In some communities around the state, so few transitional homes are available that some battered women, trying to escape violence at their residences, end up living temporarily on the beach. Sometimes, children are fleeing with them.

Several times a year, so many abused women seek legal help from the Domestic Violence Action Center on O'ahu that it has to stop taking new cases. It simply doesn't have the staff to handle all the requests.

Welcome to the overwhelmed, underfunded, frayed safety net for Hawai'i's domestic-abuse victims.

And with budgets expected to tighten in the months ahead, some fear the situation will only get worse, creating even more gaps at a time when demand for services likely will increase.

"It's a tsunami waiting to happen," said Joe Bloom, program director for Catholic Charities Hawai'i's therapeutic services.

As Hawai'i muddles through another bad year for domestic violence, some are questioning whether the safety net is adequate and the community is doing enough to make a difference.

Those are not academic questions, given how widespread the problem is and how far-reaching the consequences.

A 2006 report by the Hawai'i State Coalition Against Domestic Violence estimated that more than 22,000 adults are victims of domestic abuse each year. Some believe the estimate is low.

Another report by the University of Hawai'i and the attorney general's office said as many as 44,000 local children are exposed to family violence annually.

The costs from such abuse are substantial, and not just in the medical arena. Lost work time and productivity, more crime and behavioral problems, lower quality of life and other consequences also come into play, adding to the burdens on the community.

While no figures are available for Hawai'i, various national studies have estimated the annual cost of intimate-partner violence at roughly $5 billion to $8 billion.

And if one in four women experience domestic violence in their lifetimes, as some studies suggest, the problem touches a huge chunk of the state's population, either directly or indirectly. The victims may be spouses, relatives, neighbors, friends or co-workers. You may not even know they are victims, given the tendency of many battered women to keep such abuse secret.

"This is something we all should care about," said Annelle Amaral, a former police officer and legislator who helped strengthen Hawai'i's domestic-violence laws. "We have a responsibility to take care of one another."

Hawai'i generally gets good marks for helping victims who need emergency shelter and perhaps a restraining order when they are leaving an abusive relationship, according to advocates, attorneys and others familiar with the safety net.

The gaps, however, become significantly more pronounced after that. Programs funded by the government, nonprofit agencies and others provide lots of help, but not nearly enough to match demand.

"We're asking a woman to give up her old life, and we do very little to help her start the new life," said Carol Lee, the coalition's executive director.

One of the biggest gaps is transitional housing, which survivors need if they can't find a permanent home after they leave their abuser. Stays at an emergency shelter usually are limited to 90 days.

"There are never, ever enough of these (transitional homes)," said Helena Manzano, a Domestic Violence Action Center program manager.

On O'ahu, there are about half a dozen facilities, and each of the Neighbor Islands has even fewer options.

"We have a wait list a mile long," said Mary Scott-Lau, executive director of Women in Need, a Wai'anae-based nonprofit that operates two transitional homes.

If battered women can't find affordable housing, they sometimes end up on the beach or go back to their abuser, believing they have no other option.

The lack of transitional housing reflects an underlying problem that contributes to virtually all the gaps in the domestic-violence safety net. Funding and staffing are inadequate to handle the high volume of cases, putting a growing strain on the network of services.

That is evident each time the action center stops taking new cases and refers the women to private lawyers. Those lawyers also get overwhelmed by the demand.

Attorney Lynne Jenkins McGivern, who is on the center's referral list, said her phone calls increase whenever the nonprofit stops taking new cases. As a result, she usually has about half a dozen pro bono cases at any given time.

"That's just a drop in the bucket," McGivern said. "I feel bad about not being able to return all the phone calls."

The heavy volume of cases also puts a strain on Family Court on O'ahu, where Judge Michael Broderick says he can spend only an average of 20 to 45 minutes on each trial for a protective-order request. If he were presiding over a money dispute in a civil lawsuit, the trial could last days.

At the restraining-order trial, Broderick has to decide whether two people involved in a domestic dispute must sever all contact for months or even years.

Broderick doesn't make those decisions lightly, but he often apologizes to both sides because he is unable to spend the time he believes their cases warrant. Typically, neither side brings witnesses to the trial, a saving grace given the time pressure. "But if they do bring them, I'm in real trouble," Broderick said.

The heavy caseload also strains Family Court facilities on O'ahu, where alleged abusers and the abused sit in cramped quarters, sometimes just a few feet from each other. Judiciary officials repeatedly have told legislators and others that the lack of sufficient space is untenable, creating unnecessary tensions and heightened security concerns.

Here's what Chief Justice Ronald Moon said in his State of the Judiciary address to lawmakers in 2007:

"The waiting area for court users on the second floor of the First Circuit court building — on any given day of the week — makes the waiting area of a hospital emergency room seem like an oasis. People are packed together. You can definitely feel the emotions and hostility in the room. And the noise level might lead you to think you're in a train station rather than a courthouse.

"And once the parties enter the courtroom, things aren't much better as parties are literally just a few feet away from each other and no more than five to six feet from the judge."

The state took a major step in improving the situation when legislators approved $95 million in 2005 to build a new Kapolei court complex, which is scheduled to be completed late next year. The Judiciary also received authorization last year for two judges and six staff positions for O'ahu's Family Court.

Recently retired Sgt. Ronald Tamanaha of the Maui Police Department's domestic-violence unit faced similar caseload pressures. He was the only full-time officer assigned to the unit, which oversees hundreds of investigations for the entire county, including Moloka'i and Lana'i.

Tamanaha also conducted training and gave community presentations about domestic violence.

Until his retirement at the end of November, he said he operated solo for more than two years because budget constraints left two other positions vacant, although a detective occasionally assisted him.

"A lot of people can't handle this," Tamanaha said in an interview before his retirement.

Staffing shortages and turnover also come into play at some nonprofit agencies and government agencies that deal with domestic violence. Because of relatively low pay and other issues, some have trouble keeping experienced attorneys and other types of workers, creating continuity problems.

Joy Lacanienta, a domestic-violence survivor, discovered that firsthand. As her restraining order and divorce case unfolded, she said she dealt with three social workers, three advocates and five lawyers over several years.

Minnesota resident Donna LaDuke said she and her husband dealt with six different social workers over a 14-month period as the pair tried to get their grandson, Elijah, out of a foster home in Hawai'i so he could live with them. The LaDukes' daughter, Felicia, was killed in 2005 by her ex-boyfriend, Jeffery White. Donna LaDuke said the system seems to be underfunded and its employees overworked.

"This little boy became a folder, and it was passed from desk to desk," she said. The LaDukes eventually got "foster custody" of Elijah.

Gov. Linda Lingle did not respond to repeated requests for comment for this series.

But one of her Cabinet members, Lillian Koller, director of the Department of Human Services, which funds programs to help domestic-violence victims, noted the progress being made in improving services to victims.

"Our expanded federal funding of community-based programs to strengthen families is having a positive impact, including reduction of child abuse and neglect and domestic violence," Koller said. "But there is always room for improvement."

Koller launched an initiative last year that assists domestic-abuse victims on welfare so they can get jobs and achieve self-sufficiency and safety for themselves and their children, according to her office. The initiative also resulted in improvements for tracking the level of services received by victims and barriers to those services.

Staffing shortages, lack of housing (especially for women with special needs, such as a drug addiction) and various court issues were among the gaps mentioned in a recent survey done by Charlene Baker, a University of Hawai'i-Manoa assistant professor in the psychology department.

Baker and her assistants interviewed roughly 275 people who provide services to intimate-partner victims.

Other gaps the respondents mentioned: