at the very least, should be able to self-represent.
In these circumstances, how can we possibly have faith in the OPP to be a fair gatekeeper in determining which victims of crime have a chance at getting justice? The current 'Lawyer X' scandal illustrates just how corrupt and corruptible the police and members of the legal profession are – no one could fairly accuse them of being paragons of virtue. And these people largely determine the outcome of your justice path, less a defence lawyer, judge or jury. It’s the internal politics and decision making at the local police station and the OPP that knocks out most sexual assault cases and that goes on unchecked by anyone.
Moreover, why do most reports to police of sexual assault not even reach the OPP office and those that do often return with an advice from the OPP not to prosecute? What is going on in the OPP office and at our local SOCIT Units, I wonder? Why aren’t they passionately determined to prosecute sex offenders through to a conviction? Why is the OPP spending money commissioning self-serving studies like that from the Centre of Innovative Justice to find new ways to give themselves a pat on the back even when there’s no conviction, relying on the idea that for some victims, justice isn’t about a conviction. Oh please! Come on!
I am here to say that no victim I know would be upset about their perpetrator being convicted because once you report, your expectation is for a conviction, of course it is. If the result is something other than a conviction, and a victim needs to find a way to be partially satisfied with less due to the process or outcome, that is different. The OPP is there to prosecute crime, not to find new innovative ways to justify their 1% conviction rate in sexual assault matters by commissioning reports and providing small, select victim samples to skew the results to show a desired conclusion. In a study done by the CIJ, commissioned by the OPP, positive conclusions about the OPP were based on what just 18 victims felt about their experience with the OPP, a sample size overwhelmingly invalid statistically speaking. Victims deserve to know the truth and deserve the right to legal representation. It’s Law 101. If you have a separate legal interest in a case, you need a separate lawyer. Currently the law says the State’s interest and the victim’s interest in a sexual assault case is the same thing.
Are our legal and political leaders, mainly fathers and grandfathers, in Australia doing anything about the poor trajectory of their female kin when it comes to sexual assault, particularly if the girls and women they love wish to seek justice? The answer is a resounding ‘No.’ Increasing funding for the victim’s survival path, such as increasing the number of women’s refuges, crisis lines and support agencies is commendable but where is the legislative commitment to the right to justice for sexual assault at the police station, at the OPP and in the courts? Arguably, sexual assault is the worst crime to a surviving victim as with murder the victim is dead. And once again it’s our fathers and grandfathers sitting in powerful positions in the law and politics who create this legal havoc for women and children.
Women keep dying in Australia from family violence.4 In 2019 four women had been murdered by men in inner Melbourne alone in under 12 months; Eurydice Dixon, Aiia Maasarwe, Natalina Angok and Courtney Herron. These murders are so very personal to me. I don’t live very far from Melbourne, and my son attends university there. In my university days, I used to run around Princess Park where Eurydice was murdered. The “Cardigan Street rapist” made my pub crawls starting at the Clyde Hotel frightening. I drive to the zoo with my children on the road near where Courtney was murdered. My stepdaughter went to university in Bundoora where Aiia was murdered. I eat out in Chinatown where Natalina was murdered. Everyday women doing everyday things get murdered by men; young men, old men, psychiatrically unwell men, and by perfectly sane men. Men have made a habit of murdering women and children and that has become something we bemoan but nothing happens legally to deter these rapists and murderers. Moreover, we seem to be getting further with justice for sexual harassment than for sexual assault.
I have always cared about the welfare of others from when I was a young girl. Growing up, I was acutely aware that I was a white, educated, privileged girl of educated parents, with a labor party heart, whose pale skin and freckles tended to excuse my wog surname. I remember knocks on the door of my childhood home from school students of my teacher parents, handing in high school essays and work as late as 9.30 pm at night on the due date. My teachers at Ballarat Grammar would never have allowed anything like it. I remember my dad making numerous phone calls to parents about the welfare of the student, less about the student’s work. At the schools where my parents taught, their job was a social worker as much as, if not more than, a teacher. Their students were self-harming, smoking, experimenting with drugs and the new ‘goth’ culture - I recall kids coming to our door wearing skinny black jeans, black Dr Martens boots, plenty of black hair dye and heavy black eye make-up, further dramatizing their pale, white faces. Although radical to young conservative me, the appearance of one particular goth girl didn't worry my father, but her accompanying drug abuse, cutting and hair pulling certainly did. She was on the brink of being taken in by a dangerous cult and dad supported her parents to help her. My wonderful dad was a lifeline to many. Similarly, mum would decry that the parents who did turn up to parent teacher interviews were the ones who least needed to.
Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I accept calls from my clients at all hours too including on weekends. I go through safety planning with them, call agencies to assist them with other pressing matters, such as Centrelink about their payments and Anglicare about food vouchers, and I refer them to agencies for an urgent change of house locks. I write to DHHS about their housing needs. Sometimes I meet clients in cafes according to their wishes, where they are often more comfortable to talk, and I obtain my instructions in this more relaxed and informal setting. How can a client possibly listen to legal advice when they are worrying about when they will eat next, where their child currently is, consumed with fear wondering if their ex is following them? If you don’t advise holistically with a victim-sensitive approach and are there in your shiny office and fancy suits with your proforma-style legal advice, then family law is probably not for you.
It is well accepted that a child is unable to learn in the classroom if they are stressed about their home environment, haven’t eaten and are in trouble at school for behaviour like smoking or vandalising the wall with graffiti; at least, those were the ‘naughty things’ back in my school days in the 1980’s. My parents provided their students with specialised books and other resource materials that their own parents either couldn’t or wouldn’t. Some schools now provide breakfast programs for this very reason – sadly, many home environments are counter-productive to children learning and thriving.
About 5 years ago, a friend of mine got a job as an in-house lawyer at a public school in Melbourne’s west; an Australian first. He loves his job because he understands, from his own experience, that family violence creates school-aged victims and child clients. Lawyers who truly ‘get it’ have usually experienced family violence themselves. I think you can almost always tell. And so, he went on Australian Story to tell his own childhood story to help others and his lawyer girlfriend is just as inspiring and was a true asset to our law firm. These are the special people with integrity who you meet on your life journey that you never forget but I have found lawyer colleagues holding these qualities to be exceptionally rare to the point of near extinct.
INTRODUCTION
In 2001 I was invited to visit my old school, Ballarat Grammar, to witness the raising of the “Time Capsule.” I proudly took my husband and our first born, baby William, in his sparkling new pram to this exciting event, recalling when the big white capsule was buried back in 1981, when I was in grade 2 and only eight years old. One of my classmates was the son of a brick maker, who donated the bricks used to cover up what looked like a gigantic white tic-tac.
Thanks to my parents, I still have my old brick. Back in 1981, while the clay was still wet, I carved my name into it and drew a picture of a girl, me, with a big happy smile and round oversized cheeks standing next to a flower and a butterfly. There were many precious things uplifted that day; a cassette tape of me playing
