The interviewing officer returned to the room and informed me they had only found a "roach" and not the Ounce under the mattress. I chose at that moment to always believe that most cops were really stupid and far more interested in their authority and power than Truth or Justice. I argued the ridiculous nature of such a bust but we agreed I could actually be charged with 0.4 of a gram of Cannabis and detained over night under the neglected child at risk law of the then Labor Govt.
I think my mother was somewhat awkward about the legitimacy of such a claim but she was also well aware of my deep rooted fear of her boyfriend and agreed. As a minor I could not be cell bound at Hurstville Station so I was transferred to a place called Minali for neglected children. I arrived there via a Patrol car from Hurstville. Minali was situated in the Minda Youth Detention complex in Western Sydney, it must have been late when I arrived as there was no one around other than the Superintendent of Minali, he was young guy about 30 with a strong build, and he was friendly with a smile. But this set me off a little into a mode distrust mode. He took me to a neatly kept room and suggested I change into Pajamas so my clothes could be washed for my hearing at Juvenile Court in the morning. I lay loud awake on the bed accelerating thoughts and anxieties into self perpetuating paranoia. I knew there was something wrong with this place, the Super was too nice as if he got his needs regularly met in some dark room with a youthful body to satisfy his lust. All this compounding speculation were only thoughts but the real truth of what happens in these places was all too easy to keep hush after all it was the System of Juvenile Justice of which the "just us" mentality was the code. Watching the shadows of the trees dance across the wall through the light of a barred window until the early morning minor birds broke the silence with their tweeting and the rising light of the sun bought me a calm of recognition that I had survived the night predator that I identified as the Super. A knock on the door a warm face of a middle aged woman delivered my washed and folded clothes from the night before. She invited me to the common room for Breakfast. I dressed myself then headed toward to room where I could hear many voices, young cheeky and mischievous were their tones. I sat down at the table and scoped the faces, then the perimeter of the room. Something was said about me having no shoes and the woman went to find me some to wear. I saw the Superintendent smiling and joking with the other young people in the room whom ranged from 9 to 18 yrs. As looked at their faces I could clearly see the emotional scars of sexual abuse, the conversations in my head twisted and turned with the conversation between the Super and the other kids. I panicked intensely, stood up and started pacing the room. I was in Minda (I was not) the detention center, re-scoping the room I saw there were only two windows that were not barred or embedded with wire gauze. The thoughts and mixed conversation in my head painted a picture of me being gang raped by the Super and some of the older boys, their laughing fuelled my adrenalin and without a second doubt, I ran toward the window diving through with my arms covering my face.... SMASH I rolled over leapt to my feet sprinting bare foot towards the boundary fence.
A standard chain link fence approx 6ft with three rows of barbed wire at the top, I could see another fence equal only parallel with maybe 4 feet between the two with a grass clearing on the other side. I jumped and dragged myself over the fence leaping to the top of the other one and onto the grass, I saw that I was bleeding from my hands and feet quite a lot but yet felt nothing. I kept running until I realized I had actually broke into Minda grounds and not out of Minda or even out of Minali, where I actually was. I just kept running to the other side of the clearing where an even higher fence with more barbed wire was, clawing my way up and over I leapt from the top into breadth of blackberry bushes witch quite severely cut up my feet and legs proper. On the other side was a steep clay embankment that went down to some railway tracks then a several lanes of motor way adjacent.
The energy and strength I felt was phenomenal, like a super being but the voices inside knew I was being hunted, yet again, but this time it was the system, the state, they could not have me on the loose knowing that I knew about the abuse that was happening in that place. I scampered down across the tracks running blindly in front of early morning traffic over another fence and into a golf course. There were several storm water channels with little golf cart bridges throughout the grounds, I jumped down into one running through the water as I knew the dogs they'd unleashed were hot on my trail and maybe the water would help lose the scent of my blood which was seeping out of several locations including my toe which looked almost like it was hanging off. I got to the other side of the Golf course and the edge of inner western suburbia. Rather than staying on the streets I thought it more strategic to corridor through people’s back yards from house to house to avoid capture. In the very first back yard I was approached by a very angry looking German Sheppard,
chased me to the wooden paling fence I perched myself on as the opposite property was also inhabited by an angry mongrel. So with some agility in my torn clothes and bleeding feet I shimmied across the top stud enforcement of the paling fence keep my balance while holding the individual paling that protruded. I continued for at least two properties in this manner with the dogs and sirens growing increasingly louder as I thought just how high up this detention center abuse scandal went. It must have been a big issue for them to assign the whole Sydney Police Swat team with dogs and snipers to try and catch me.
I think my mother was somewhat awkward about the legitimacy of such a claim but she was also well aware of my deep rooted fear of her boyfriend and agreed. As a minor I could not be cell bound at Hurstville Station so I was transferred to a place called Minali for neglected children. I arrived there via a Patrol car from Hurstville. Minali was situated in the Minda Youth Detention complex in Western Sydney, it must have been late when I arrived as there was no one around other than the Superintendent of Minali, he was young guy about 30 with a strong build, and he was friendly with a smile. But this set me off a little into a mode distrust mode. He took me to a neatly kept room and suggested I change into Pajamas so my clothes could be washed for my hearing at Juvenile Court in the morning. I lay loud awake on the bed accelerating thoughts and anxieties into self perpetuating paranoia. I knew there was something wrong with this place, the Super was too nice as if he got his needs regularly met in some dark room with a youthful body to satisfy his lust. All this compounding speculation were only thoughts but the real truth of what happens in these places was all too easy to keep hush after all it was the System of Juvenile Justice of which the "just us" mentality was the code. Watching the shadows of the trees dance across the wall through the light of a barred window until the early morning minor birds broke the silence with their tweeting and the rising light of the sun bought me a calm of recognition that I had survived the night predator that I identified as the Super. A knock on the door a warm face of a middle aged woman delivered my washed and folded clothes from the night before. She invited me to the common room for Breakfast. I dressed myself then headed toward to room where I could hear many voices, young cheeky and mischievous were their tones. I sat down at the table and scoped the faces, then the perimeter of the room. Something was said about me having no shoes and the woman went to find me some to wear. I saw the Superintendent smiling and joking with the other young people in the room whom ranged from 9 to 18 yrs. As looked at their faces I could clearly see the emotional scars of sexual abuse, the conversations in my head twisted and turned with the conversation between the Super and the other kids. I panicked intensely, stood up and started pacing the room. I was in Minda (I was not) the detention center, re-scoping the room I saw there were only two windows that were not barred or embedded with wire gauze. The thoughts and mixed conversation in my head painted a picture of me being gang raped by the Super and some of the older boys, their laughing fuelled my adrenalin and without a second doubt, I ran toward the window diving through with my arms covering my face.... SMASH I rolled over leapt to my feet sprinting bare foot towards the boundary fence.
A standard chain link fence approx 6ft with three rows of barbed wire at the top, I could see another fence equal only parallel with maybe 4 feet between the two with a grass clearing on the other side. I jumped and dragged myself over the fence leaping to the top of the other one and onto the grass, I saw that I was bleeding from my hands and feet quite a lot but yet felt nothing. I kept running until I realized I had actually broke into Minda grounds and not out of Minda or even out of Minali, where I actually was. I just kept running to the other side of the clearing where an even higher fence with more barbed wire was, clawing my way up and over I leapt from the top into breadth of blackberry bushes witch quite severely cut up my feet and legs proper. On the other side was a steep clay embankment that went down to some railway tracks then a several lanes of motor way adjacent.
The energy and strength I felt was phenomenal, like a super being but the voices inside knew I was being hunted, yet again, but this time it was the system, the state, they could not have me on the loose knowing that I knew about the abuse that was happening in that place. I scampered down across the tracks running blindly in front of early morning traffic over another fence and into a golf course. There were several storm water channels with little golf cart bridges throughout the grounds, I jumped down into one running through the water as I knew the dogs they'd unleashed were hot on my trail and maybe the water would help lose the scent of my blood which was seeping out of several locations including my toe which looked almost like it was hanging off. I got to the other side of the Golf course and the edge of inner western suburbia. Rather than staying on the streets I thought it more strategic to corridor through people’s back yards from house to house to avoid capture. In the very first back yard I was approached by a very angry looking German Sheppard,
chased me to the wooden paling fence I perched myself on as the opposite property was also inhabited by an angry mongrel. So with some agility in my torn clothes and bleeding feet I shimmied across the top stud enforcement of the paling fence keep my balance while holding the individual paling that protruded. I continued for at least two properties in this manner with the dogs and sirens growing increasingly louder as I thought just how high up this detention center abuse scandal went. It must have been a big issue for them to assign the whole Sydney Police Swat team with dogs and snipers to try and catch me. 
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