unEXPECTED NEWS…
“Happy Birthday Miss Khhaaaaannn!” my students chorused that morning as I stopped by before school to greet them before they headed to their specialist lessons and I went for a planning day. I grinned, it was always so sweet of my students to get excited for my birthday. A few even had some heartfelt gifts and cards made. I looked at their excited, little faces as they gathered around me, cheering, jumping and cheering. I took the time to thank them sincerely and wish them a wonderful day. I promised that we’d celebrate together the very next day since many of them were disappointed to be heading off to specialist lessons and wouldn’t get to spend the day with me.
I waved goodbye and picked up my laptop and notebook, eager to make some headway as I worked to finish marking and reporting for that semester. I managed to grab my coffee and found a quiet place. Tapping away on my laptop and working away through the large pile of paperwork I had set in front of me.
After a while, I sipped my coffee and stretched. I looked over the work I had done and was happy with the progress I had made so far. I then made mental notes over the list of things I wanted to finish before the end of the school day. I got stuck into marking math assessments, wanting to knock that over as soon as I could. About halfway through, my phone rang. I looked down at the private number. I figured I was due a break anyway and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, I’m from the Victims Register. I just wanted you to know that your rapist has applied for parole.”
Time seemed to stop. My ears rang. My stomach flipped and I instantly felt sick. I took a deep breath and asked about the process. She talked me through it. I would have to file paperwork for the parole to take into consideration. I would also have to indicate the areas I lived and worked in if I wanted him to avoid those areas as part of his parole conditions.
I was surprised. For the past ten years I was under the understanding that he would be deported at the end of his sentence. I asked about his deportation, but she said that in some instances the parole board may choose to override that on the basis that offenders may not have the support needed to reintegrate in society properly (would that not be a clear indication that they are not ready to be released then?). I asked if highlighting where I lived/worked or most likely were to be located on a parole form was like waving a red flag to a bull. She was non-committal in her response and suddenly, I could see why so many women were in immediate danger upon the release of a former spouse after a domestic violence charge. With women in Australia dying at the hands of a man at the rate of at least one a week, this was a very likely and dangerous reality for me if he were to be released back into Australian society.
“Well, this is awful news to get on my birthday…” I muttered dryly.
“Oh. Ohhhh!” I heard the shuffle of papers that would have had my details scrawled across it. A sheepish “I’m sorry.” I reassured her that I understood that this was a job to be done and these sorts of things aren’t taken into consideration when making these calls.
The rest of our conversation washed over me. My mind was swimming with emotion. We ended the call and I sat back in my chair.
Fuck.