Submission 32

Never Too Old for Accountability: My Journey Through Disclosure and the Legal System

The National Centre for Action on Child Sexual Abuse has been doing incredible work in the space of disclosure. For many of us who have carried the weight of silence for decades, their work has opened doors that once seemed permanently locked. It has given victims and survivors permission to speak — to be heard, to be believed, and to begin the long, complicated journey toward justice.

But what happens after you disclose is something few people truly understand. Everyone’s experience is different, and those differences can completely change the path you take. For me, it has been a journey through the legal system — one that’s been both empowering and deeply confronting. It has also shown me that while there has been progress, there are still significant gaps in how our systems respond to victims and survivors.

The Civil Path: When Justice Depends on Wealth

For those who pursue a personal civil claim, the system can feel cold and transactional. Many lawyers charge hefty fees or will only take on a case if the alleged perpetrator has more than $1 million in assets, making the path to justice dependent on the abuser’s financial position.

Even when a lawyer agrees to take the case, victims and survivors often face emotional exhaustion alongside the financial risk of pursuing justice. The process becomes not only about proving what happened, but also about whether it’s “worth it” — as if a person’s trauma could ever be measured in dollars and cents.

A major barrier remains the exclusion of superannuation from the defendant’s asset pool. This means that even if the perpetrator has substantial funds in their superannuation, it cannot currently be accessed to compensate victims. There is strong advocacy underway to change this, and rightly so. For many victims and survivors, that exclusion feels like another layer of injustice — another way the system protects perpetrators rather than those who were harmed.

The Criminal Process: Layers of Complexity

When I decided to report my abuse to police, I didn’t know what to expect. One of the first things to understand — something no one tells you — is that your report may be handed over to detectives in the area where the abuse took place. This can be incredibly confronting, particularly if it means revisiting a place that holds traumatic memories.

Because of that, I contacted my local police station instead. I needed to feel safe. To my relief, I was met with compassion and understanding. The detective who took my call listened without judgment. Later, I met with him in person to give my statement.

That meeting was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. You’re asked to relive everything — every sound, every smell, every detail you’ve tried so hard to bury. You have to find the strength to speak your truth while keeping your composure. The detective, to his credit, recognised how difficult that was. He contacted his area command and received approval to retain carriage of my case, even though the offences occurred elsewhere. That act of understanding gave me a rare sense of safety and stability in an otherwise unpredictable process.

Then come your witnesses. They too give statements, but once they do, you can’t talk to them about the case. The rules are there to protect the investigation, but it also cuts off a vital source of support.

Later, I was asked if I’d be willing to participate in a recorded phone call or even wear a wire. The thought of having a device attached to my body while speaking to my perpetrator filled me with dread. The anxiety was overwhelming. It doesn’t matter how old you are — nothing can prepare you for that. And you don’t get to hear the recording until the trial. You just have to trust that it’s enough.

Waiting for the System to Move

Once the case was referred to the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP), the waiting began. The DPP has up to six months to certify charges, but time moves differently when you’re waiting for justice. Solicitors change, communication breaks down, and updates can be inconsistent or unclear.

Witness support officers do their best, but they’re stretched thin — acting as intermediaries between victims and survivors and the legal team. You’re told the matter has been listed, then adjourned, then listed again. Months pass with little progress. The silence becomes its own kind of pain.

After more than a year, my case reached a major turning point: a charge carrying a life sentence was finally certified. My perpetrator is over 85 years old, and yes — I’ve wrestled with guilt about whether someone of that age should face prison. But then I remind myself: are you ever too old to be held accountable for what you’ve done?

The trauma of childhood abuse doesn’t fade with time. It lives inside you — shaping your relationships, your confidence, your sense of safety. If I have to live with it for life, then he can face accountability for life.

Becoming a Witness in My Own Story

What has struck me most is how, once charges are laid, you stop being a person in your own story. You become a witness — evidence in a process that no longer feels like yours. The DPP focuses on legal strategy, negotiations, and early pleas, but the victim or survivor is often left outside that circle.

You rarely get updates unless you ask. You don’t get to control how your story is presented. The defendant doesn’t even have to take the stand — the law allows it. For a process built around justice, it can leave victims and survivors feeling invisible.

Where We Need to Do Better
Allowing historical abuse charges to be laid is an important step forward, but recognition alone isn’t enough. Victims and survivors need comprehensive, trauma-informed support not just emotional counselling, but practical guidance through every stage of the legal process.

Because disclosure isn’t the end of the story. It’s the beginning of another — one that takes courage, patience, and an enormous amount of resilience. My journey is still ongoing, but if sharing it helps even one victim or survivor feel less alone or more prepared for what lies ahead, then it’s worth it.