Crimwife (7 page)

My three weeks of training at the Corrective Services Academy began nearly four months after I started the job. At that time, all new departmental staff, parole officers, psychologists and trainee screws completed the same first three weeks of the eleven-week prison guard training course. The prison officer recruits were not men and women with a passion for social justice and keeping the community safe, but a mixed bag of randoms from around the state who were tired of working at their local Shell station. The most recent recruitment drive had been at Penrith Panthers Leagues Club. Maybe they count on drunken people who sign up to follow through on a bet with their mates. My classmates were a weird mob.

The training was interesting, if slow, and gave me a chance to get away from doing anything wrong concerning jail. During the training, I spent more time with another employee from the jail, Shelley. She and I shared the same sense of humour and alienation from most of the oddballs on the course. This friendship did not sit well with Shelley’s girlfriend, Godzilla, who was a senior prison officer. Godzilla was not a cheerful person to start with, having been injured in the line of duty for which, after years of service, she received very little support from the department. Godzilla had taken an instant dislike to me upon our first meeting, months before, and had branded me a security risk. She had been validated by my trips to the governor’s office, and my attempts to win her over with respect and hard work had been largely ignored. People like me didn’t belong in jails, in her opinion. I didn’t understand what this meant, except that she saw me as an accident waiting to happen, and one she might have to help along.

I was a security risk not only because of what I did but also what I didn’t do. Before I’d started the training, one quiet afternoon when the inmates were locked in, I was waiting outside the central case-file office when Rocky, a senior officer, struck up a conversation with me. While he didn’t touch me, he spent a good deal of the next half hour suggesting every way and every place we could have sex. Married with children, Rocky showed no hesitation in making his intentions clear.

But Rocky also had another love: guns. In his cellar at home, he had a fine range of rare and powerful firearms, a collection that had taken him a lifetime to acquire. They were his pride and joy.

There was only one problem, Rocky told me. In his twenty years of being in the job, he had never once had cause to use a weapon. At night, he explained, he had vivid dreams of his ultimate fantasy. An inmate would be trying to escape over the wall in Rocky’s area. Rocky, first on the scene, would fire a warning shot at the inmate, who’d ignore it and keep climbing. Rocky, a trained professional, would have no choice but to shoot the inmate and emerge as the hero.

My turn to access the case files came, and I bade Rocky farewell. I told Shelley all about it later, and as we were laughing, Godzilla came into the office. She didn’t say much at the time, but two days later it was time for a meeting with her and my boss.

I played down the Rocky incident as much as I could, insisting I was fine about the whole thing. Their concern was not for my well-being, exactly.

“He’s been sexually harassing women for years,” they told me. “If you write a report, it could be the one that pushes this case over the line.”

“And my name would be on the report?” I asked.

“Yes. It would have to be.”

“You’re kidding, right? The man has a gun room. He loves his gun room.”

I refused to submit any such report, a decision I thought would be clearly understood. My will to live was interpreted as insubordination and did nothing to improve relations with Godzilla, who did not appreciate differences of opinion.

Then, while Shelley and I were at training, Godzilla’s paranoia grew. Shelley told me that Godzilla was worried we were having an affair. In the second week of the course, Godzilla called Shelley and told her she had been at the academy on other business and saw Shelley rest her head on my shoulder. No such thing had happened, but Godzilla was adamant. Not only was I unsuitable for a jail environment, but I was a home-wrecker as well. There were also a few creepy incidents, such as calls to my home phone that I answered to no reply. Shelley told me later it was Godzilla in the midst of an argument with her.

Godzilla soon put in a complaint that I’d been bullying her. My previous meetings with the governor were now recast as disciplinary warnings, which allowed the governor and the Chief Carebear from head office to suspend me from my position while Godzilla’s complaint was investigated.

After talking to a departmental lawyer, I came to see that Godzilla’s bullying was a battle I was unlikely to win. Corrective Services was a rum colony, the lawyer said, and it operated no differently in 2003 than it had from the day the First Fleet had docked. Even if I did win, I knew the department would ensure it was not worth it in the long term. I conceded defeat and gave up hopes of returning to Mulawa.

Two weeks later, the Chief Carebear called me into her office to break the news that a place had been found for me to work at Parramatta men’s jail. It was a relief to know they would still take a chance on me, that I could keep my job and get out of head office. A men’s jail was nowhere near where I wanted to be. I had worked with women for years and had no interest in advocating for men’s rights. But a pay cheque is a pay cheque, and I was still on my twelve months’ probation. Once I got permanency, I could get things to improve. That seemed the smartest course.

In the first week of December 2003, I commenced work at Parramatta Correctional Centre. Mulawa was a walk in the park compared with what was to come.

He will choose you, disarm you with his words, and control you with his presence. He will delight you with his wit and his plans. He will show you a good time, but you will always get the bill. He will smile and deceive you, and he will scare you with his eyes. And when he is through with you, and he will be through with you, he will desert you and take with him your innocence and your pride. You will be left much sadder but not a lot wiser, and for a long time you will wonder what happened and what you did wrong. And if another of his kind comes knocking at your door, will you open it?

—From an essay signed, “A psychopath in prison,” reproduced in Robert Hare’s
Without Conscience: The Disturbing World of Psychopaths Among Us

Mel met Jade in a refuge. Mel had been living at home. She had never managed to get on with her father and one night it turned ugly. Her father slapped her and Mel grabbed a knife. Her parents were shocked, and Mel dropped the knife and went to her room. An hour later her parents came to her door and told her to leave. Mel went to the Salvation Army welfare centre in town and they referred her to the women’s refuge.

Jade arrived about two weeks after Mel. Jade was quiet and pretty. She was shaken. She was in the refuge because she was in hiding, she told them, from a brutal ex-partner, the father of three of her five children. Even by refuge standards, her story was extreme. The other women sat silently while Jade, tears trickling down her bruised cheeks, showed photos of her children, who were with their various grandmothers while their mother fought for her life.

The following night after dinner, the women were lamenting their relationships and loves lost. Mel made a throwaway comment that her last girlfriend had said Mel wasn’t compatible with anyone in the world. She was stunned when Jade smiled and said, “I think you would be compatible with a lot of people, well, people like me.” After everyone else went to bed, Jade and Mel stayed up talking for most of the night. Mother of five Jade was bisexual, it turned out. Mel knew the old lesbian adage that bisexual girls will leave you for a man, but she felt a real connection and attraction to Jade, one she didn’t want to let go of just yet.

Within a week, Jade and Mel were in love. It was definitely not kosher to be in a lesbian relationship in a Christian refuge, so the two refrained from any public displays of affection and snuck into each other’s rooms at night. “She was wonderful to me,” says Mel. “She would leave notes for me through the day and buy me chocolates and little things like that. We had almost nothing between us, but she still made me feel really special.”

Mel had resumed contact with her parents and when she told them about her new girlfriend, they were concerned but grateful for the change in their daughter. Mel had become calm and confident and, most importantly for them, happy. She decided to extend her independence by applying for subsidised housing through the refuge. Mel’s application was successful and she was granted community housing for homeless women, which in this case meant a one-bedroom flat, for $45 a week, close to the art school to which she planned to return.

The unthinkable downside was that she and Jade would be separated. Part of the deal with this supported accommodation was that no one else could live or stay there apart from Mel. Jade looked so hollow every time Mel talked about the move. Mel soon knew that, risky as it was, she would be taking Jade with her.

Mel says that the couple of months the two of them spent in the flat are still some of her happiest memories even though they now seem surreal, like a movie you love right up till the ending.

They lived an almost boring life, says Mel. Mel was busy trying to re-enrol in art school and get a portfolio together. She was also in counselling twice a week and found it exhausting. She was trying to spend time with her family, who had met Jade and had taken to her surprisingly well. Mel’s mother was a critical person with a sharp tongue, who had been superficially supportive when Mel had come out, but was uncomfortable with her daughter’s sexuality not far beneath the surface. Mel began to wonder if they actually preferred Jade, who was warm and charming all the time, unlike Mel.

So while Mel was preparing for her future, Jade was organising a way to be reunited safely with her children and preparing for court. She said she felt safe with Mel because her ex would have no idea where to find her. She, too, seemed less anxious than when they had first met, and she constantly told Mel how happy she made her.

Life for a while was good. Jade received a phone call one day, and explained it was from an agency she’d worked with years before, offering her some modelling work. They had taken on some new clients who were looking for girls with her look and there would be a lot of work coming up. Jade’s eyes sparkled and Mel was delighted to see her face shine. It also meant there could be money in their future and they could stop struggling for a while. The only problem was that Jade’s portfolio was out of date and she would need some new photos taken. She was laughing when she said that all she needed was $1500 to guarantee thousands and thousands of dollars in return. Of course, neither of them had $1500, but Jade was excited that that was all it was going to take.

While Jade went out to mail letters to her children, Mel called her mum. “‘Just think about it, please,’ I told her,” says Mel. “We would pay you back within a couple of weeks.” And rather than hanging up on her, Mel’s mother sounded interested. “She’d always hoped I would turn into a straight girl who wanted straight things, so I think this was second best for her.”

Mel and Jade went to lunch with Mel’s parents and they were sold on the idea. Everything seemed to be going well.

Two weeks later Mel’s parents transferred $1500 into her account to lend to Jade. Mel withdrew the cash and left it in an envelope in her top drawer to surprise Jade with the next day. She planned to make breakfast for her girlfriend and then tell her the news. But it was not to be.

Jade slept badly that night. She’d often had nightmares and Mel had heard her cry out in her sleep. This time it seemed worse. This time Jade was weeping. She cried for about two hours, just quietly sobbing, and refused to talk about anything. There were too many things Jade kept to herself, about her kids and her nightmares. Mel often didn’t know what to say or ask or do. Mel fell asleep when Jade went quiet, and she hoped that the morning’s news would cheer her up.

But when Mel woke up, Jade was gone. She had taken a backpack of clothes, her makeup, all her paperwork, all the things she needed to keep on going. But she had also taken everything else of value in the house – Mel’s laptop, jewellery, camera and the money in Mel’s drawer.

Mel’s world came crashing down with one look around her room. She sat there for a couple of hours before she could bring herself to call anyone.

“I don’t know whether she knew the money was there and that was why she chose that day or whether she planned it from when my parents agreed. You just don’t know whether they can see you coming from a mile away. My parents forgave me a lot easier than I thought. I think they were embarrassed that she got them too. But it took a long time to forgive myself. I felt like a complete idiot about everything I did for a long time.”

*

Imagine having no conscience at all: knowing that there is right and wrong and that people are damaged by your words and actions, but not caring. Being able to use people as stepping stones, without looking back. Taking everything you can from them before moving on to the next source of whatever it is that you enjoy, even if that is merely the fun of using people and watching their reactions.

Welcome to the world of the psychopath. According to research by criminal psychologist Robert Hare, it is estimated that about 3 per cent of men and 1 per cent of women in the general community are psychopaths. In the prison population, that number jumps to between 10 and 20 per cent. Men are more commonly diagnosed with psychopathy than women. Female psychopaths are more often labelled with Borderline Personality Disorder.

The terms psychopath and sociopath have long been used to describe wild-eyed madmen who brandish carving knives. In reality, the reverse is the scary truth. An absence of conscience and empathy frees up a lot of time to perfect a plan before carrying it out.

The terms psychopath and sociopath are now thrown around like confetti on TV and in movies. While the two conditions are different, what they share is an absence of conscience, or at least a very limited conscience. An ability to empathise, to imagine what it feels like for someone else, is also limited or not there at all. Some psychiatrists and psychologists believe that some people are born that way, whereas others assert strongly that the majority are influenced by their environment.

There is also debate about the different terms. What is generally agreed is that the psychopath has no conscience when it comes to those close to them. These are the people who can ruthlessly kill their own family, or empty grandma’s bank account without a bad feeling. Their personality is smooth, charming and composed. Even the highly trained eye may not be able to identify them. The sociopath is understood to have some experience of emotion. Their lack of conscience extends more to the values of society. They display anti-social behaviours, vandalism, theft and interpersonal exploitation, but will make exceptions for those they say they love.

Given her treatment of Mel, Jade seems to have swung more towards the psychopathic end of the spectrum.

Mel is much more philosophical than many about her experience. It’s been six years since that morning and she is now in a happy relationship, with a new job. She says there’s enough distance now that she doesn’t feel sad.

“I was young then, and naïve, I know that. I didn’t know that there were people who could act as if they had emotions. Can they really do that, do you think? Can someone really go through all the motions but not feel anything? I thought she loved me. I really did. But it all happened fast, I suppose.”

Mel’s parents insisted she go to the police. The three of them filed a report, but there was almost nothing that was certain about Jade, even her name. She was using one of her aliases, a twist on her last name. There was no chance of getting back the money or any of Mel’s belongings. Still, the police report revealed some more details about Jade. She had a criminal history for robberies, fraud and drug offences. Three weeks later, she was arrested for shoplifting. The police found stolen goods at her house, but none of them were Mel’s.

Jade served nine months for various charges, including stealing from Mel. She had been thieving throughout their relationship and was found in possession of heroin. Some of this made sense to Mel when she remembered Jade showing her a new ring or piece of clothing that she would say she’d stumbled on in an op shop. As for drugs, Mel said she knew Jade could be vague and sometimes she slept a lot but Mel thought that was stress. She says she has no idea when Jade was using.

Desperate for answers, Mel called Jade’s sister, Renee, whom she had met at the refuge. Jade had rushed Renee out when Mel walked in. Later she explained that Renee was a drama queen and a gossip. “She’ll make something horrible up about you and lie to the family,” Jade had said. “It’s better we see her after we’re out of here.” But Jade had left some numbers lying around and one of them was Renee’s.

“I can’t talk to you for long, Mel,” Renee said. “Jade doesn’t like me talking to her exes. I’m sorry. But I did speak to her today. She called from jail. She wanted money, of course.”

Mel says she wanted to ask a million questions. She wanted to ask how and why and where it had started and whether she felt any guilt, but she decided just to listen to what Renee would say when she asked, “Has she said anything about me to you?”

“Yes,” Renee answered. “She said she had a wonderful girlfriend on the outside and that she was very happy for a while, but see, she gets restless. Always has. Now she’s in jail she’s back with Debra, like she always is in jail. Debra looks out for her, protects her. They only ever really see each other in there, but when they’re in there, it’s serious.”

Mel started to cry a little. Renee must have heard her because she said, “Oh, love, really, be glad. You got off lightly. I’m sorry for whatever she’s done to you, but there’s three blokes out there looking after five kids of hers that have done it a lot harder. One of them gave up his house for her. Plus all the stuff she put Mum and Dad through. She’s had plenty of chances to settle down but she just never does. At least you’re out there and not in with her. That could have happened, you know.”

And with that, Mel realised that what had devastated her world was everyday life for this family. Despite the setbacks, Mel could move on, but Jade was Renee’s sister for life.

“That was very liberating,” says Mel. “Even though my heart was broken, I knew I had some choice to get away from her. They didn’t. And if they didn’t understand her yet and couldn’t stop her, then I couldn’t either. That way it wasn’t all my fault for falling for her.”