I was born and raised in Brisbane and like many my family had been plagued by alcoholism and domestic violence. As I grew up, the police were regular visitors to my home and I got used to running down to the phone box to call 000 when my parents were in full swing. I left home as soon as I could and joined the army and trained as a young officer. I didn't realise what support a family could have been until I left the army and found myself homeless. I survived a short time sleeping in parks, embarrassed about my fall from grace, eventually sleeping in an abandoned car and camping on friend’s couches until I could afford an unfurnished unit. I slept on the floor whilst I struggled to get back on my feet. I remember cooking and eating out of the same pot, endless dinners of rice and tuna, too ashamed to ask for any help.

I had met some friends from school who had joined the police and whilst my family experience with the police was far from positive for some reason it seemed a natural choice. I got a job pumping gas and then as an assistant in a legal firm whilst I committed myself and set a goal of entering the police service.


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