Post by slartibartfast on Feb 22, 2013 22:37:56 GMT 10
Bloody scars of punch-drunk love
SHE didn't see it coming that Melbourne Cup Day. The vicious right hook that smashed into her face as she sat at a crowded table in the friendly bayside bar.
Nor did she see the wine glass clenched in the fist of a man who turned on her for reasons no one can possibly explain.
Simone is one of the lucky ones. The glass cut the eye socket without damaging her sight, hit the chin rather than an artery and slashed her left cheek without slicing a nerve.
Plastic surgery has left only a tiny scar. ''It's along my smile line so not many people notice,'' she says.
Sure, nearly two years later she is yet to recover from the whiplash caused when the savage blow violently snapped her head back.
And the mental scars remain. More than 40 visits to a psychiatrist helped, but Simone is the first to admit she is not the same - a little less resilient, a little less trusting and prone to self-doubt.
There have been unexplained panic attacks and she has had to stop herself from trying to claw her way out of crowded lifts when the claustrophobia kicks in.
Maybe it would have been easier to cope if the attacker was a stranger and the assault random but the man who tried to disfigure her was her boyfriend - a man she had once considered could have become her life partner.
In the stereotype that is domestic violence the victim is often powerless - trapped in a violent relationship due to economic, cultural or family pressures.
To put it bluntly, it is a poor person's crime that doesn't happen to smart people in nice suburbs who own shiny cars and go to top-end restaurants.
But it does, and for a country such as Australia where most of us have not been twisted by generational poverty, civil unrest or corrupt governments it is nothing short of a national disgrace.
Simone is a smart, pretty and, for most of her adult life, driven woman. As an advertising executive in her 30s she pulled a wage of more than $200,000, drove an imported luxury car and bought an expensive Brighton apartment.
It was in January 2010 that she met Tom through an online dating service and they hit it off from the beginning.
''He was quite charming and good looking. We had similar interests and views,'' she says.
She later learnt he had been charged with assaulting a taxi driver and forced to undergo court-ordered anger management but she had no reason to doubt his version that he was an unfortunate victim of circumstance.
After dating for six months he moved into her home. Looking back, she says there were already signs that he was wrestling with demons and the demons were winning.
He was on good money (not as good as hers) in his sales job but felt undervalued. Stressed, he would binge drink.
''When he drank he just didn't have an off switch,'' she explains.
When they were out and he seemed determined to drink himself into oblivion she would quietly head home to avoid a scene. But even that was not enough.
He would ring repeatedly, declaring he was about to drive home drunk and it was her fault for not staying to babysit him. ''There were times when I would head out in my PJs to pick him up.''
He could still be charming and funny and Simone chose to paper over the cracks. While she began to doubt him, she also doubted herself.
Maybe it was her fault, she thought. Maybe she had set her standards too high and had to accept that everyone was flawed. Many of her friends were in solid relationships so maybe it was time to compromise.
But it wasn't her biological clock that was the issue - it was the time-bomb in Tom's head.
In the advertising business she was always determined to go that bit further to make the clients happy or as she puts it, ''I overserviced the hell out of them.''
So she used the same methods in her private life, trying to help Tom in his dark days - ''I thought I could fix him.''
But there were still fun times. They had trips to India and America and while he still got ugly on the drink there were some great shared experiences.
Then back home the rows became louder and more frequent. Simone admits there were times she should have walked away and that in the heat of battle her language could descend to that of a hungover wharfie.
Tom was getting worse - he was happy to live in Simone's apartment but started to resent that she was the major wage earner of the house. When they went on a meat-free diet and he found out she had eaten duck at her mother's birthday celebration he went off tap.
They argued over everything then they argued over nothing - she would throw him out or he would storm off, only for them to decide to try again when they cooled off. Once he threw her keys in bushes at the front of the apartment building and then drove off - leaving her unable to enter her own home.
One night to get away from him she tried to sleep in her car but when she returned to the spare room he dragged her from her bed at 2am, grabbed her by the throat and threw her against the wall.
She knows that when he turned violent that should have been the end of their relationship but this smart, self-assured woman made a stupid decision.
She gave him another chance.
On November 1, 2011, they headed to the local pub to watch the Melbourne Cup races over rose and a couple of schnitzels.
It began well with them joining other locals trying to pick a winner.
Simone doesn't remember where it went wrong. But at one point she can recall screaming and seeing blood on her white top and shoes. Luckily one of the patrons was a nurse, so help was almost instantaneous.
CCTV footage shows her boyfriend standing calmly after the attack, then quietly walking out. He was arrested later that night.
After he was bailed he repeatedly tried to contact her, believing they still had a future.
She sat in the court when a magistrate sentenced Tom to a minimum of 12 months' jail. She was shaking when he was led away feeling, ''The system understood that a crime such as glassing was worthy of a significant penalty.''
''You can imagine my surprise when I learnt via social media that he wasn't actually in custody. In fact, he'd been bailed to appeal his sentence. No one - not the courts or police - told me that he had been released. I felt let down and at risk.''
It would only get worse. Late last year in the County Court his jail term was erased and replaced with a $3500 fine.
Simone has spent more than four times that amount on medical bills from the attack and is yet to receive any crime compensation.
''I was not present in court. I have had to make countless phone calls to learn the outcome, which I finally received from the Office of Public Prosecutions some 10 days after the court case.
''I am at a loss as to why a crime such this can be corrected by the court system with a minor fine.
''My life changed forever in the split second it took for the glass to come crashing towards me. His life will carry on with a conviction, but without any real penalty that proves his behaviour was unacceptable.''
Once authorities tended to treat family violence as a low priority but that has long changed.
This column does not adhere to the slavish view that longer jail terms are the answer to every crime problem.
But when it comes to domestic violence it is time to send a message.
The offender, who invariably claims to have lost control, commits an act of violence in the secure knowledge he is attacking someone he can physically dominate.
In short, most people don't want to fight someone who can beat them up.
So it is up to the criminal justice system to stare down the bully, who usually arrives in court in a sober suit to explain what he did when drunk. Usually his lawyers will tender a self-serving psych report that paints the offender as a victim - needy rather than nasty.
Women bashers need to know there will be dire consequences for their actions.
And jail should be the rule, not the exception.
Earlier this week, Premier Ted Baillieu launched a community-based project promoting a zero-tolerance to violence.
''The Go For Zero campaign is about the collective responsibility of everyone to speak out and reject violence in any form - particularly family violence and violence against women,'' he said.
''Violence against women and children is unacceptable in any form and under any circumstances.''
The campaign includes social media messages and television ads involving police and well-known Melburnians. (Strangely, your correspondent was invited to be part of the original shoot but a most sensible film editor left us on the cutting room floor to avoid frightening children, small animals and passing rodents.)
We met Simone in a city coffee shop after she finished work. No longer in advertising, she now works in less pressured business on well under half her previous income.
As we chatted she kept checking the time on her phone - she didn't want to be late for a mystery St Valentine's date with her new boyfriend.
All she was told was to have a hat and sunglasses with her when she was to be picked up. It was fish and chips on the beach, an evening of conversation while sharing a bottle of wine and a summer sunset. ''He's totally different. He's really down to earth and protective.''
Read more: www.theage.com.au/victoria/bloody-scars-of-punchdrunk-love-20130222-2ewqp.html#ixzz2LdAyn6Km
SHE didn't see it coming that Melbourne Cup Day. The vicious right hook that smashed into her face as she sat at a crowded table in the friendly bayside bar.
Nor did she see the wine glass clenched in the fist of a man who turned on her for reasons no one can possibly explain.
Simone is one of the lucky ones. The glass cut the eye socket without damaging her sight, hit the chin rather than an artery and slashed her left cheek without slicing a nerve.
Plastic surgery has left only a tiny scar. ''It's along my smile line so not many people notice,'' she says.
Sure, nearly two years later she is yet to recover from the whiplash caused when the savage blow violently snapped her head back.
And the mental scars remain. More than 40 visits to a psychiatrist helped, but Simone is the first to admit she is not the same - a little less resilient, a little less trusting and prone to self-doubt.
There have been unexplained panic attacks and she has had to stop herself from trying to claw her way out of crowded lifts when the claustrophobia kicks in.
Maybe it would have been easier to cope if the attacker was a stranger and the assault random but the man who tried to disfigure her was her boyfriend - a man she had once considered could have become her life partner.
In the stereotype that is domestic violence the victim is often powerless - trapped in a violent relationship due to economic, cultural or family pressures.
To put it bluntly, it is a poor person's crime that doesn't happen to smart people in nice suburbs who own shiny cars and go to top-end restaurants.
But it does, and for a country such as Australia where most of us have not been twisted by generational poverty, civil unrest or corrupt governments it is nothing short of a national disgrace.
Simone is a smart, pretty and, for most of her adult life, driven woman. As an advertising executive in her 30s she pulled a wage of more than $200,000, drove an imported luxury car and bought an expensive Brighton apartment.
It was in January 2010 that she met Tom through an online dating service and they hit it off from the beginning.
''He was quite charming and good looking. We had similar interests and views,'' she says.
She later learnt he had been charged with assaulting a taxi driver and forced to undergo court-ordered anger management but she had no reason to doubt his version that he was an unfortunate victim of circumstance.
After dating for six months he moved into her home. Looking back, she says there were already signs that he was wrestling with demons and the demons were winning.
He was on good money (not as good as hers) in his sales job but felt undervalued. Stressed, he would binge drink.
''When he drank he just didn't have an off switch,'' she explains.
When they were out and he seemed determined to drink himself into oblivion she would quietly head home to avoid a scene. But even that was not enough.
He would ring repeatedly, declaring he was about to drive home drunk and it was her fault for not staying to babysit him. ''There were times when I would head out in my PJs to pick him up.''
He could still be charming and funny and Simone chose to paper over the cracks. While she began to doubt him, she also doubted herself.
Maybe it was her fault, she thought. Maybe she had set her standards too high and had to accept that everyone was flawed. Many of her friends were in solid relationships so maybe it was time to compromise.
But it wasn't her biological clock that was the issue - it was the time-bomb in Tom's head.
In the advertising business she was always determined to go that bit further to make the clients happy or as she puts it, ''I overserviced the hell out of them.''
So she used the same methods in her private life, trying to help Tom in his dark days - ''I thought I could fix him.''
But there were still fun times. They had trips to India and America and while he still got ugly on the drink there were some great shared experiences.
Then back home the rows became louder and more frequent. Simone admits there were times she should have walked away and that in the heat of battle her language could descend to that of a hungover wharfie.
Tom was getting worse - he was happy to live in Simone's apartment but started to resent that she was the major wage earner of the house. When they went on a meat-free diet and he found out she had eaten duck at her mother's birthday celebration he went off tap.
They argued over everything then they argued over nothing - she would throw him out or he would storm off, only for them to decide to try again when they cooled off. Once he threw her keys in bushes at the front of the apartment building and then drove off - leaving her unable to enter her own home.
One night to get away from him she tried to sleep in her car but when she returned to the spare room he dragged her from her bed at 2am, grabbed her by the throat and threw her against the wall.
She knows that when he turned violent that should have been the end of their relationship but this smart, self-assured woman made a stupid decision.
She gave him another chance.
On November 1, 2011, they headed to the local pub to watch the Melbourne Cup races over rose and a couple of schnitzels.
It began well with them joining other locals trying to pick a winner.
Simone doesn't remember where it went wrong. But at one point she can recall screaming and seeing blood on her white top and shoes. Luckily one of the patrons was a nurse, so help was almost instantaneous.
CCTV footage shows her boyfriend standing calmly after the attack, then quietly walking out. He was arrested later that night.
After he was bailed he repeatedly tried to contact her, believing they still had a future.
She sat in the court when a magistrate sentenced Tom to a minimum of 12 months' jail. She was shaking when he was led away feeling, ''The system understood that a crime such as glassing was worthy of a significant penalty.''
''You can imagine my surprise when I learnt via social media that he wasn't actually in custody. In fact, he'd been bailed to appeal his sentence. No one - not the courts or police - told me that he had been released. I felt let down and at risk.''
It would only get worse. Late last year in the County Court his jail term was erased and replaced with a $3500 fine.
Simone has spent more than four times that amount on medical bills from the attack and is yet to receive any crime compensation.
''I was not present in court. I have had to make countless phone calls to learn the outcome, which I finally received from the Office of Public Prosecutions some 10 days after the court case.
''I am at a loss as to why a crime such this can be corrected by the court system with a minor fine.
''My life changed forever in the split second it took for the glass to come crashing towards me. His life will carry on with a conviction, but without any real penalty that proves his behaviour was unacceptable.''
Once authorities tended to treat family violence as a low priority but that has long changed.
This column does not adhere to the slavish view that longer jail terms are the answer to every crime problem.
But when it comes to domestic violence it is time to send a message.
The offender, who invariably claims to have lost control, commits an act of violence in the secure knowledge he is attacking someone he can physically dominate.
In short, most people don't want to fight someone who can beat them up.
So it is up to the criminal justice system to stare down the bully, who usually arrives in court in a sober suit to explain what he did when drunk. Usually his lawyers will tender a self-serving psych report that paints the offender as a victim - needy rather than nasty.
Women bashers need to know there will be dire consequences for their actions.
And jail should be the rule, not the exception.
Earlier this week, Premier Ted Baillieu launched a community-based project promoting a zero-tolerance to violence.
''The Go For Zero campaign is about the collective responsibility of everyone to speak out and reject violence in any form - particularly family violence and violence against women,'' he said.
''Violence against women and children is unacceptable in any form and under any circumstances.''
The campaign includes social media messages and television ads involving police and well-known Melburnians. (Strangely, your correspondent was invited to be part of the original shoot but a most sensible film editor left us on the cutting room floor to avoid frightening children, small animals and passing rodents.)
We met Simone in a city coffee shop after she finished work. No longer in advertising, she now works in less pressured business on well under half her previous income.
As we chatted she kept checking the time on her phone - she didn't want to be late for a mystery St Valentine's date with her new boyfriend.
All she was told was to have a hat and sunglasses with her when she was to be picked up. It was fish and chips on the beach, an evening of conversation while sharing a bottle of wine and a summer sunset. ''He's totally different. He's really down to earth and protective.''
Read more: www.theage.com.au/victoria/bloody-scars-of-punchdrunk-love-20130222-2ewqp.html#ixzz2LdAyn6Km
