Born in Fremantle in 1968. Now buried in long-term solitary confinement, which is against all the guidelines for Australian prisons because it drives people nuts and inmates come out even more angry and antisocial. But the guidelines are routinely ignored because this is an age that seeks absolute and total control: this, the supermax era.
I feel a strong need and desire to convey a message to those young enough to be my kids.
To those still very much naïve.
To those caught up in a foolish notion: that jail is a badge of honour.
And to those in government, too, to learn from all the terrible mistakes that have been made.
To these ends, I have removed all egotism.
This is just me. I’m not after folklore status.
So here in these pages I lay myself bare in order to reveal the reality of my life and not to glamorise it in any way.
My story must be a deterrent, and thus a tragic end awaits to drive the point home, and to showcase what the system is generating.
If it must be then I will die for this message to be heard. I will die to warn, to deter, to fuel needed change.
I will die if that helps stop all of us from repeating the stupid mistakes that all have made.
I can’t warn the young enough of the dangers that others, too, will face if they are to follow the path I foolishly lead.
I was considered a hardcore inmate, too, but look at the result: a miserable end.
It all started off with things so trivial and petty – like shoplifting a bit of chewie – but grew and grew and here I am now: an institutionalised, dysfunctional misfit.
If I could be born again, but not again into this life that has been so traumatising and traumatised, and is so wasted and ruined, then I would want that. Yes, I would.
But every choice, every chance, every curse, everything that ever happened leads here to this terrible madness of isolation.
No roads go back.
So please listen, and keep listening even when the stories I tell make you very glad that you don’t know me and never met me and never will.
I’m in Hell.