< back to Sandra's blogDay 1093 – No end - 9 March 2007

I haven't written since sentencing. I thought it would finish there, but I was wrong. I seemed to have been wrong about a lot of things and the mess sadly continued. After sentencing I called Andrea. I rang twice, because the first time she didn't answer. When she answered she asked if I'd called earlier. She was worried she would have got busted for not being home. She told me she was outside saying goodbye to her father. She told me to call her the following week when the time for appeal was over and we would arrange to meet and discuss the film.

 

            I called the following week as she had asked. She answered the phone and I said, “Hi. How are you?” “Fine,” she replied and followed it up with a deathly silence. It was a small thing, but it bothered me that she didn’t ask how I was. Eventually she said it wasn’t a good time, it was late afternoon so I excused her. Maybe in the afternoon she has greater pain… She told me to call Friday.

 

            At the time I was working on a kids show so I rang her in breaks. On Friday, I rang maybe four times but she didn't answer the phone. She had to be at home because she was on home detention.

 

The following day was a Saturday and I knew her Mum would answer the phone so I called again. Apparently Andrea was in the bath. She said she'd call back. I wasn't willing to wait. This was too important to me, I wanted to finish my film; I needed to interview her on camera. Our funding hinged on her telling her story, I had put so much work into it and it was important for me to tell this story. I could handle the legal process because I knew I would eventually get the chance to have my say. I knew she wouldn't call me and I didn’t want to spend my weekend waiting for the phone to ring so I called back in an hour. Andrea said I didn't give up easily and we arranged to meet the next day.

 

            I’ve done all sorts of strange in my life, but this was taking it to another level. We met at their house. We sat in the lounge room facing each other on opposite sofas. Her mum sat in the room to the side at a table reading the newspaper. I felt like a five year old who was being supervised by a friend’s parent. Andrea took me of guard; she pretended she had no idea what I was talking about, as though she had never heard the word documentary before. Before I’d even finished explaining, she said she wouldn’t have anything to do with it. Period.

 

She said she’s had enough, been prodded and poked by doctors, lawyers and the media. She told me that I didn’t know what she had been through; she said first she’d been dragged through the courts and now she had to stay at home for six months, and she was sick of it. I pretended those words had little affect on me. I told her the film was about how the legal process affects everyone, including her - her story is important too.

 

She was stubborn and unwavering and started to walk out the room. I asked her as she reached for the door – “Don’t you want to make it better, for yourself?” Her mum told her to sit down. I felt that her mum had been saying that for years and that she felt that Andrea had more chance of listening if it came from me. Andrea’s mum started to talk about an audio interview, Andrea told her mum to shut up.

 

All of a sudden Andrea changed, she started listening, she started to get it, or pretended to. I thought she was getting the bigger picture, if she spoke in the film her voice could reach thousands, rather than going to school after school and talking to each group. She asked me to send her a list of questions. When I left she hugged me.

 

The day after the meeting I spoke to Debbie. My elation at being understood by Andrea started to crumble when the first thing she said was; “You put her nose out of joint.” Andrea had told Debbie that I was harassing her, calling her four times on a day and that I wouldn't take no for an answer.

 

After I sent her the questions I left it a week or so before I rang. Her only words were, “I’m writing you a letter”. Again, there was no “How are you?”, but I was past expecting much. When I asked what was in the letter, she hung up on me.

 

            So the letter arrived. It was bland; basically a list of the things I had asked of Andrea and the things that she had done for me. “You asked me to participate in restorative justice, I did. You asked me to drop the appeal, I did. You asked me to meet you to discuss your documentary, I did.” It was basically a list of all the selfless and wonderful things she had done for me followed up with “I want nothing more to do with you”. I threw the letter away. She sat in that room saying she'd do anything to help us. What a joke.

 

            Somewhere in that time Andrea refused to give my family access to her correctional services officer. My family obviously wanted to know if she was doing what she said she would in regards to community service. To get that kind of information she needed to give permission. Ironically, if she had gone to prison we would have automatically had the right to access that information. Obviously because of Restorative Justice my family supported her not going to prison it was important that we knew she was keeping up her side of the bargain. I can’t believe she blocked my family. We are not lawyers asking something of her, or the media badgering her, or surgeons prodding her, we are the family whose lives she tore apart, who helped her get out of prison.

 

            The family is livid at Andrea. So am I. If she had been in front of me, I would have screamed at her, “How dare you see yourself as a victim. Dad's the victim here, not you.” The thing that angers me the most is that she feels sorry for herself, and yet she won’t do anything make the situation better for herself or anyone else. In my eyes, that means that she killed my father for nothing, and that is such a waste.

 

I am also angry with myself. She took my family for a ride. But I gave her the car. I regret not speaking my mind in Restorative Justice and pushing her more about rehab or alternatives. I think I made the whole experience worse for my family. I was trying to help her, give her an avenue to make a difference and she was nasty to me, trying to get rid of me because I'm an inconvenience, a hassle. We gave her so much empathy, understanding, opportunity and kindness. What have I done? What was I thinking?

 

            On our behalf Michael O'Connell spoke to her correctional services officer to find out what community service she had been doing. She can't talk in schools because of legal reasons, and they're worried about what she will say. Because of her chronic pain it is difficult to find the right kind of community service for her. Michael himself organised for her to put together suicide kits, which are given out to families who face this tragedy. He is a busy person; this is not his job. He does this because he believes people like us need help.

 

Debbie is unimpressed; this is making a mockery of Restorative Justice. It seems that Debbie is also powerless here, she wrote a letter to Andrea, her lawyer and the corrections officer. Her lawyer agreed that it was inappropriate and unfortunate, but Andrea wasn’t wavering.

 

Oddly enough, I’ve also met with Dr Buttfield. He believed that if Andrea helped me with my film and did what she said she would in Restorative Justice, it would greatly help her emotional recovery. He greatly cares for Andrea’s well being. He explained that Andrea is very fragile and said he would encourage her to rethink her behaviour. By that time I wasn't really holding onto high hopes that Andrea would come around.

 

Obviously it was odd going to his clinic and parking where Andrea would have parked and waiting in reception where Andrea would have waited. He let me film him asking him questions about morphine. He said I could show the footage to my family and if they had any more questions he would be happy to answer them. He said he had racked his brain to consider whether he had played a part in this. His conclusion was that he hadn't. 

 

So where did that leave my film?

 

1.             If I wanted to make a happy film, perhaps I should make one about puppies.

2.             So what if a heartless person killed Dad; what difference does it really make?

3.             Something good (other than my film) has come out of Dad’s death; I’ve learnt to appreciate his qualities. I can’t explain why Dad was such a frustrated person. But I can say with complete confidence that he did the best he could with the tools that he had. Like everyone, if he had his time again I’m sure he would attempt to do some things differently. I’m sure he did love me, he just didn’t show me in the way I would have liked or interpreted to mean love. I would not be who I am today or lived such an interesting life full of adventure if it had not been for him. My rebellion against him showed me that I’m a strong, resilient and determined person. I can choose whatever life I want and I take full responsibility for it.

4.             I quit.

 

By the way, Nanna’s quit smoking.

Written on 08 Mar 2007
Over 8 years since incident
Tags: driver

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