WHEN tragedy strikes swiftly and brutally, often the first question asked is “why us?”
Why should our loved ones be taken, our family turned upside down — our reactions, our grief — be laid bare for the whole country to see? And sometimes judge.
So when heartbreak and misery returns to stalk the same family again it almost seems too unfair that good people should have to endure a repeat of the worst kind of trauma.
STEPHANIE AND ROBERT SCOTT
But that is exactly what is happening to the Scott family of Canowindra in southwest New South Wales. This week they lost Robert Scott, the father of Leeton teacher Stephanie Scott, whose murder last year horrified Australians.
Mr Scott was crushed to death by a falling tree while he worked on the family farm.
Just three weeks earlier, the 59-year-old stood at the side of his wife Merrilyn as she told the sentencing hearing of Vincent Stanford, her daughter’s killer, how his evil acts had changed their family forever.
“As the weeks and months pass, the darkness persists. The tears have become more private now, deeper and more painful. They are part of who we have become. This is our new life,” she said just three weeks ago in court.
Mrs Scott, in words that tell hauntingly of the difficult road she and her family will walk in the days ahead, explained how simple everyday things had changed forever.
“Every day is a challenge. There was life before and there is life now. A sadness has permeated everything we do, and just existing is hard ... every day is long, and even though I buy my flowers to fill my world with colour, the darkness persists. I am withdrawn, and find going out to do the simplest tasks difficult.”
The Scott’s had been propelled onto the front page, the home page and the national news.
We were an ordinary family happily living ordinary lives, and now we have been set apart,” she said.
Despite the devastation, Mrs Scott expressed her hope for the future, telling the court and her killer they would focus on the positives in life and to “dwell on the good things”.
Mr Scott himself showed the same attitude in the aftermath of Stephanie’s murder. “She had plenty of spirit, so whatever happens, she should be in the best place possible because she had one of the best spirits you’ve ever come across.”
Friends have flooded social media accounts of family members with their support.
“Thinking of you and your family. I know no words can take away your pain but I hope you find comfort that your dad is now with Steph xxx,” wrote Sharon Bailey on the Facebook page of daughter Kim Scott, who changed her profile picture to one of her standing between her parents.
THOMAS AND STUART KELLY
The death of Thomas Kelly changed his family’s life forever. And it also helped change Sydney’s drinking laws, after the one-punch assault that killed him, hardened the resolve of the Baird Government to crack down on drunken violence.
Thomas was 18 when he died after he was randomly punched by Kieren Loveridge as he walked with his girlfriend in Kings Cross. His head hit the concrete and he died in hospital from a traumatic brain injury.
Loveridge was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to at least 10 years and two months in prison, after the original five year and two months sentence was appealed by the DPP on the back of community anger.
His family launched the Thomas Kelly Foundation with the aim of shining a light — and trying to change — young Australians’ attitudes to alcohol.
“When you lose a child, you go through grief and you become angry, especially because it’s a homicide,” father Ralph Kelly said earlier this year. “So I started to meet as many people as I possibly could to work out what had happened to our society to make it so dangerous that you can’t even go out.”
It came with criticism though, as trolls and bullies vented their anger about the lockout laws on the family.
Then came another, unspeakable tragedy.
In July, Stuart Kelly, who was 14 when his brother was killed, was found dead at his Northern Beaches home after taking his own life.*
Madeleine Kelly took to Facebook with her portrait of Stuart, as a baby, with herself and Thomas alongside a message: “My beautiful brothers. I’ll cherish our memories forever.”
In a Facebook post after his death, Ralph Kelly wrote: “The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained.”
At his funeral, attended by both Mr Baird and Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull, mother Kathy Kelly told mourners there were “no words possible” to describe their loss.
“And the pain will never go away.”
She asked people to wrap their arms around her family, as the love and support shown was what would help get them “out of bed in the morning”.
O’BRIEN FAMILY
In May 2011, Adam O’Brien, a fit and healthy young man, died suddenly after suffering an epileptic seizure at his Sydney home. He was just 29.
At the time of his death, Mr O’Brien was living with his girlfriend of four years and had been working as a security guard.
He and the rest of the O’Brien family were just starting to put their lives together after the tragic loss of his father Chris O’Brien, the respected and well-known Sydney surgeon, who started the Lifehouse Sydney Cancer Centre.
His late father was a head and neck cancer surgeon who shot to national attention on the reality television series RPA and was given a state funeral service at St Mary’s Cathedral in June 2009.
Sister Juliette said her brother was by their father’s side throughout his illness “like a soldier”.
She released a book This is Gail, which told the story of her family’s tragic decade from her mother’s perspective.
Of her brother’s death, she said it was “so unexpected”.
“We were still just working our way through the process and really had some faith in the medical system that they had it under control and it was completely out of control.
“I still just don’t quite understand how we fell through this gap, which obviously exists in the treatment of epilepsy, if epilepsy is what he had. There were never any conclusive tests,” she said in an ABC interview.
“Ten years ago we were so normal, we were just your average family. And then it was within five years that our family had been reduced from five to three,” she said.
THE WHELAN FAMILY
The torment for the Whelan family began in 1997 when Kerry Whelan, a wife and a mother, didn’t come home one day.
Within 24 hours, her husband Bernie Whelan received the following ransom note: “Follow all instructions or your wife will die,” — and so began a major kidnap and ransom operation as police tried desperately to find Mrs Whelan.
They never did. To this day, the body of Mrs Whelan has not been returned to her family. Despite Mr Whelan begging for information on television —“I will do whatever they ask and will go anywhere to ensure the safety of my wife” — she never came home.
Police searched the huge Bungonia state forest, which backed onto Burrell’s property, but after several months left empty-handed.
When the home of the prime suspect, Bruce Burrell, was searched police found weapons, a chloroform bottle and notes about a kidnap plan.
Burrell had been made redundant by Mr Whelan some years before.
Police believe Burrell was blackmailing Mrs Whelan or, she may have offered him money.
As the years went on, the family tried to get their lives back in order. But then came the devastating injury to son Matthew. In 2001, while playing rugby, he was injured and became a
quadriplegic.
“It would have been a lot easier if she had been in hospital with me,” Matthew Whelan said of his recovery. “But as she wouldn’t have let me play rugby it probably wouldn’t have happened.”
He told Fairfax he thought of his mum the whole time he was in hospital, which was exactly eight months.
The final twist for this family came late last year. Burrell, who was convicted of Mrs Whelan’s murder and that of a second woman, Dorothy Davis, never did tell anyone where her body was hidden. Mr Whelan, who had been suffering from dementia, died without knowing the resting place of his wife of 17 years.
James Whelan, 29, the youngest son toldFairfax: “Some days I used to just look up to the universe and say, ‘Really, really? Enough’s enough.’
“It’s the old saying, ‘bad things happen to good people’. But we were fighters. That’s one thing we all have and we learnt it from him.
Burrell died in August.
*If you or someone you know is in crisis or needs support, please call Lifeline on 13 11 14 or the Suicide Call Back Service 1300 659 467.
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