​​Following media reports that quoted Cardinal George Pell's lawyer, Robert Richter QC, as saying in court that his client, Pell, was responsible for “no more than a plain vanilla sexual penetration case where the child is not actively participating”, I wrote to Robert, whom I personally know. Below is  my email correspondence with Robert, and below that is his public apology. I have also spoken to Robert regarding this matter.

Email to Mr Robert Richter QC (27 February 2019):

Dear Robert,

It has been a while - I trust you're well.

I have no doubt that these are very busy times for you, so I'll keep it brief. 

Respectfully, it was shocking to read the comments in court attributed to you regarding Cardinal Pell's conviction - specifically: “no more than a plain vanilla sexual penetration case where the child is not actively participating”.

Of course, everyone is entitled to a defence. And, for what it's worth, I certainly have no issue with you defending Pell (or any other criminal) in court. 

However, to use such language, is deeply offensive to so many on several levels. It has left me and many others shocked and upset. As you could imagine, it would be having a detrimental impact on some.

I urge you to consider your comments carefully and rectify the situation at the earliest opportunity by acknowledging your use of inappropriate language and apologise for it.

Thanks in advance Robert for considering my request. It is coming from the perspective of victims and survivors of child sexual abuse - I know the potential impact of your words on some of them.

Kind regards,
Manny

-- 
(Mr) Manny Waks
Chief Executive Officer
Kol v'Oz

Email response from Mr Robert Richter QC (28 February 2019):

Dear Manny,
 
Thank you for your mail and I too hope you are well.
 
The comment that was seized on was taken out of a context which lawyers and judges well understand.  It was addressed to the judge in an argument seeking to put the conduct, which the judge was obliged to act on because of the verdict, into a comparative context.
 
I accept that the media chose to report it because it sells but it was never intended for them.  In retrospect, I regret using a term well understood by lawyers and judges which is open to misinterpretation by those who do not understand the process of plea making after a conviction when the accused still maintains innocence; I was after all conceding that the conduct required imprisonment rather than arguing for a non-custodial sentence. I was trying to put it within a range which would avoid the kind of excessive number of years for which the crowd is calling.
 
I have since issued a public apology for the words I used because I really should have been aware of the huge context outside the legal process and the fact that what I put to the judge might be misunderstood.
 
Hoping you understand and accept my apology,
 
Robert Richter QC 

Email response to Mr Robert Richter QC (28 February 2019):

Dear Robert,

Thanks for your prompt response.

Thank you also for explaining the context for those offensive words and, more importantly, for apologising for them. 

For what it's worth, I accept your apology.

Kind regards,
Manny

Public apology from Mr Robert Richter QC (28 February 2019):

​​After spending a sleepless night reflecting upon the terrible choice of a phrase I used in court during the course of a long and stressful process, I offer my sincerest apologies to all who were hurt or offended by it. No offence was intended.

It was not intended to evade the seriousness of what had been done.  

The seriousness of the crime was acknowledged at the outset by the concession that it merited imprisonment. In seeking to mitigate sentence I used a wholly inappropriate phrase for which I apologise profusely to all who interpreted it in a way it was never intended: it was in no way meant to belittle or minimise the suffering and hurt of victims of sex abuse, and in retrospect I can see why it caused great offence to many.

I hope my apology is accepted as sincerely as it is meant and I will never repeat such carelessness in my choice of words which might offend.

​Anthony Foster personified goodness in humanity. Pursuing and demonstrating love, kindness, generosity, and a sense of justice. Despite all that he and his beautiful family has endured over so many years, Anthony, together with his incredible wife Chrissie, maintained determination and dignity in their ongoing campaign for justice and reform within the Catholic Church.
 
They became leaders – genuine leaders. Countless victims and survivors looked to them with hope and appreciation. Many of us fellow victims’ advocates turned to them for guidance and support.
 
The Fosters led the way in demonstrating how effective advocacy should be undertaken. Some things can’t be taught. It’s simply a reflection of who you are as a person. In our community it’s referred to as being a mentch, a decent person. The Fosters defined what being a mentch is. And it is mainly because of this that they were so successful.
 
The other main reason for the Fosters’ advocacy successes is because their pain was visceral – it came from a place most have never been. Losing two daughters in such brutal circumstances at the hands of one of the most powerful global institutions, the Catholic Church – and then being bullied by the Church while in pursuit of justice and reform – would prevent most people from functioning.
 
Not only did Anthony and Chrissie continue to function, the impact that they’ve had in Australia (and beyond) has been revolutionary. They have, together with others, ensured a cultural shift in the way our society now addresses the issue of child sexual abuse. Indeed, many of the recent positive developments – culminating in the ground-breaking Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse – may be attributed to some of the tireless work the Fosters have undertaken over many years at great personal cost.
 
On a personal level, Anthony and Chrissie have been my dear friends and colleagues. They have been my inspiration. They have helped guide me through their words and deeds. They both attended the Royal Commission public hearing into Yeshivah to support me, and I travelled to Rome to support them at the public hearing into the Catholic Church. We also met up in Australia and abroad. We discussed both our private and public lives. I felt closely connected. To me they were one of a kind. A unique couple, a unique team.
 
Anthony, your legacy will live on. We will continue to do your important work. I will continue to try to emulate you – both personally and professionally. Thank you for your ongoing support, feedback and love. I always cherished our times together.
 
Chrissie, I and many others are blessed to count you as a dear friend and colleague. We stand with you in this difficult time, and hope you take some comfort in Anthony’s (and your) legacy. As we say in our tradition to those mourning, I wish you and your family a long life.
 
As the ultimate tribute to Anthony, may we all do our bit for the sake of justice and for the safety of children.
 
And may Anthony’s dear soul rest in peace.​

​My mate, Andrew Collins, one of several courageous survivors of Catholic clergy child sexual abuse from Ballarat, wrote a powerful and informative account of his past relating to depression and suicide. It is worth sharing (and I am doing so with Andrew's permission). Below Andrew's account I have provided a few links to relevant articles. It's an issue that needs to be discussed, so thank you Andrew for your important contribution and insights.

Andrew's story (unedited):

I always thought that I would never try to take my own life. That I knew how it would affect my family, and that I was strong enough.

But when my life took a turn for the worst, I became very depressed and started planning how to do it. Of course I told myself that I still wouldn't do it. I now know that this is one of the stages and that if it arises you need to get help straight away. But I thought I was OK.

Then it just happened. It was as if a switch was flicked, and suddenly everything made sense. If I did this everyone would be happy. Nobody would be upset. Of course this is crazy, but at the time it just made sense to me. Having planned how, all I had to do was to follow the plan. I don't think people realise just how hard it is to end your own life.

My first attempt I sped up in my car and ran it into a parked car on the side of the road. I ended up with whiplash and a destroyed car. I felt so embarrassed and told everyone that I had blacked out.

The second attempt I threw a rope over a tree branch in the forest, tied a noose, and stepped off an embankment. The branch broke, and I was left wet and dirty, with another sore neck and was so embarrassed again.

The last time I threw a rope over a beam at home and stepped off a stool. My wife heard the noise and cut me down. I still have problems with my neck and lower back.

I can assure you that I love my family and would never want to leave them this way. But my depressed mind was not thinking properly. No rational thinking person would ever think that this was a sensible thing and that everyone would be happy about it. I have also been in the situation where everything seemed so bad that I just wanted to die. Once again the thoughts are not normal. At those times the world just seemed to close in around me, and I was not seeing anything else.

I fought the urge to throw myself in front of traffic. I lay on the road around a bend, waiting to be ran over. My first attempt in the car was like this as well. But in all of these attempts, the one thing in common was the planning.In the past I have reached the planning stage again, and have instantly called the ambulance. I know that if I let it go that I may enter that irrational zone, and once there I have no control. It may make me feel stupid and weak when I have made that call, but at that time I am in control. I would rather feel stupid than run the risk of damaging my children forever.

So please, talk to children. talk to your friends and family. If anyone is depressed or under a lot of strain, ask them if they have thought about how they would do it. If they have, ask them to get help. Because there is nothing that makes sense about suicide. Its irrational, and the mind plays tricks on you. If you throw in things like alcohol and drugs it makes even less sense.

And for those left behind it leaves questions of why?, was it me?, and what did I do wrong? All of these are valid thoughts, but understand that the person who takes their own life is not thinking that its a bad thing for those who live, if they can think of them at all. Their mind is simply not working properly. Its not selfish, because there are no selfish thoughts at that time.

So please remember, its ok to talk about suicide. Talking about it won't make it happen. And if someone is planning how to do it, then they need help urgently. Like all parts of mental illness, deep depression can be helped. Reaching out and talking, hugging and holding can make a huge difference. There is help out there. We can help to Stop the Deaths.

Please contact your local support services if you need support, advice or assistance.

Relevant articles:

It's time to talk about suicide, The Courier (25 March 2016)

I told the truth in my sister's obituary, so that others might choose to live, The Washington Post (23 March 2016)

We need to stop calling suicide 'selfish', Thought Catalog (12 August 2014)

​​Meet Hilly. One of my new mates and heroes.
 
He only recently learned of his full name, Gordon Hill, and his date of birth. He used to be called Number 29.
 
You see Hilly was placed in the Catholic St Joseph’s orphanage in Ballarat when he was very young. He was just a number to them. And when, in his early teens, they needed to make room for the new-comers, they heartlessly kicked him out. Number 29 was around 14yo at the time, all alone in this world, left to fend for himself. St Joseph’s gave him the meagre sum of two shillings and nine pence, enough money to pay to return by post the suitcase they lent him. Because he couldn’t read, he didn’t realise he was meant to return it. So he kept it. He still proudly has the suitcase.
 
During his years at the orphanage, he was treated with brutal inhumanity, ostensibly by religious people. Individuals who pray regularly to their God, people who believed the rest of us were going to pay gravely for our sins, unless, of course, we joined them.
 
He was deprived of his dignity and basic human rights; no education, food deprivation, mental abuse, brutal physical and sexual assaults, and the like. The nuns used to force him and his peers to cut the whips from the trees with which they would brutally assault them. They even pulled out his teeth with pliers; he was caught eating a carrot he found while working because he was starving. While as an adult he received false teeth, they no longer fit in his mouth due to the damage they caused to his cheek bones when the brutes pulled out his teeth. As you can imagine, Hilly has scars all over his body – not to mention his emotional scars. As he tearfully told me, he never even got a hug. Listening to his harrowing ordeal, I had to wipe away my tears, too.
 
Hilly was constantly on the run. He pretty much ran as far as he could within Australia; from Ballarat (Victoria – Australia’s East) to Western Australia.
 
Despite his brutal introduction into this world, Hilly made a life for himself. He got married, has four children, and several grandchildren. He taught himself to read and write. In fact, he's currently writing a book about his life. He's worked on cattle stations. Most importantly, Hilly has regained his identity. And it's not as if he had it all going for him in his adult life. His dear wife died of cancer a while ago.
 
And he's a caring, loving and beautiful soul. He's even volunteered plenty, earning recognition from the Rotaries – a medal he wears proudly around his neck to prove it.
 
Due to his age and experience, the Ballarat group of courageous survivors, their family members and support staff in Rome – there to attend the Royal Commission public hearing with Cardinal George Pell – referred to Hilly as their shepherd. But as Hilly told me, even a shepherd needs to be looked after. And he feels he has that in this incredible group I was honoured to spend time with in Rome.
 
So next time you're struggling, take inspiration from this incredible human being, Hilly. Indeed, from this entire group of courageous survivors whose stories are no less harrowing. I'll certainly endeavour to do so.
 
I'm proud of my new mate and hero Hilly. In fact proud of the entire courageous Ballarat group. And I'm delighted to call them mates.