Brevet Sergeant Jason Doig: SA Police Commissioner Grant Stevens’ and other victims release full impact statements
SA’s top cop and several other victims were among many who revealed the impact Brevet Sergeant Jason Doig’s death has left on the community. Read their chilling statements in full here.
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Dozens of police and family members filled the Supreme Court on Tuesday morning to tell Brevet Sergeant Jason Doig’s killer the impact his violent crime has had on them.
Among those were Brevet Sgt Doig’s parents, his colleagues who witnessed his death, and the state’s top cop.
Here are their victim impact statements in full.
Police Commissioner Grant Stevens, on behalf of the South Australia Police
“I’m here today to convey the profound impact as a result of the killing of Brevet Sergeant Jason Christopher Doig, and the serious injuries inflicted upon Michael Hutchinson and Rebekah Cass, valued members of the South Australian Police.
The loss of Brevet Sergeant Doig and the harm caused to Michael Hutchinson and Rebekah Cass are still being deeply felt by many SAPOL colleagues, and has had an acute affect on South Australian Police.
The violent death, and serious injury of a police officer amplifies the risk and vulnerability of all enforcement personnel, and impacts the officer’s colleagues, the organisation, the wider community and the officer’s family.
Brevet Sergeant Doig was an experienced and deeply respected member of South Australian Police. A valued colleague and friend, and a trusted member of his local community. After joining in 1989, he dedicated 34 years of exceptional policing service, including the last 12 years in the regional posting of Lucindale.
He was not just a police officer, but a son, brother, uncle, friend and colleague. He had a deep sense of community, showed great compassion and humanity, supporting family and friends and those with vulnerabilities or in need, not only as a police officer, but in his personal life.
Brevet Sergeant Doig personally paid the ultimate price as a police front line responder. With his passing, South Australia Police has lost over three decades of policing expertise from the organisation, of which 25 years were dedicated to the specialised and often hard to fill roles in regional policing. His experience, knowledge, leadership and professionalism are now lost.
Sergeant Michael Hutchinson has been a member of SA Police since 1986. He has predominantly worked as a frontline patrol officer and supervisor across regional locations including Bordertown.
He was the sergeant in Bordertown for 23 years when he attended on duty to the property in Senior. He was present when Brevet Sergeant Doig was violently and fatally injured, and was also himself seriously wounded at the same time.
Michael Hutchinson continues the physical and psychological injuries of this incident and remains absent from work.
Constable Rebekah Cass has been a member of South Australian Police since 2016. She worked as a frontline patrol officer in Elizabeth and has served the Bordertown community since 2021. Rebekah was launching her policing career serving regional communities. She was present when Jason and Michael were violently shot and wounded. Rebekah continues to be injured from this incident and remains absent from work.
Michael and Rebekah immediately responded to the traumatic situation, calling for additional patrols and provided first aid and care for each other. They immediately rendered first aid to Jason and to Mr Stimson.
They put the safety and wellbeing of others ahead of their own emotional and physical injuries. The impacts of this violence are profound and life changing. Together, South Australia Police and the people of South Australia lost the valued experience and knowledge of three members, totalling 82 plus years of policing service.
Prior to Jason's murder, a South Australian police officer has not been killed in a violent incident since 1990.
The most recent death on duty was in 2002. Having a South Australian police officer killed whilst undertaking their duties is both confronting and distressing for all members of the organisation.
Following Jason’s murder, South Australia Police experienced an increase in workplace incident reporting and workers compensations claims linked to critical and traumatic events across the organisation.
The Limestone Coast, which includes Lucindale where Jason was stationed, experienced a 255% increase in the number of work related and mental stress incidents reported in the 2023/2024 financial year.
When compared to the previous year, overall 72 members directly impacted by the incident were provided support by our employee assistance section, and 14 members sought further assistance upon the anniversary of the incident at Senior.
Many members require ongoing support to cope with the impacts of this incident.
Worldwide, critical incidents involving the violent death of a serving police officer are ranked as one of the largest occupational stressors. The response of grief, loss and psychological reactions are felt by the broader organisation, and not just those members who knew or worked with the officer who has died. Those reactions may be temporary, long term or permanent.
We know that members also experience reduced moral, increased stress and anxiety, absences and reduction in productivity directly as a result of the death of a police officer on duty, particularly in violent circumstances.
Families of serving or aspiring police officers also experience fear and anxiety, due to the dangers and risks of frontline policing. It is a reality that the origination experienced a financial impact following the violent death or serious injury of an officer on duty, including costs associated with training, covering the loss of impacted members, including lost time through absences and any associated support and injury management. The ability of police agencies to attract and retain quality officers may be impacted due to the public’s and perspective future employee’s perception of the level of danger and traumatic exposures experienced by frontline police.
The violent death of a police officer in the course of their duties has a significant impact on the public and community we serve.
South Australia Police has responsibilities to keep the community safe and maintain law and order. In regional communities the connection between local police officer and their community amplifies this impact.
These communities invariably demonstrate higher levels of support, a consequence of which is higher levels of loss and grief that is felt and shared with their local police over long periods of time.
A police officer’s sense of public service in providing a safe community and supporting local community members can lead officers to deny themselves the opportunity to grieve and manage the psychological and emotional impacts of their fellow officer’s death.
South Australia Police have over 5000 sworn officers who willingly and diligently serve the community of South Australia.
Police officers carry their obligations 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Many officers who perform frontline operational roles start their shift not knowing what their day will entail, or possible dangers they may face during this service.
They perform their duty without the certainty that they will safely finish their shift and return home to their family and friends.
On the 16th of November, 2023, Brevet Sergeant Jason Doig was denied the opportunity to return home to his family and friends. Some of his closest colleagues witnessed his violent and senseless death, but still rendered aid to Mr Stimson.
Other colleagues professionally performed their duties to restore safety to the community whilst leaving their own shock and emotions aside.
The murder of Jason Christopher Doig in the line of duty while serving South Australia community severely impacted his family, friends, colleagues, the local community and South Australia Police.
The impact of a police officer being killed in the execution of their duties is far reaching. As I said, the impacts are felt by their family, friends and colleagues, as well as every other officer, not just in South Australia, but nationally. It deeply affects the families of every officer who fears for the safety of someone they care about when they leave for work each shift.
This statement not only reflects the operational and organisational and cultural loss, but also the deep respect and admiration held by all who worked alongside Jason Doig. His name will live on forever, and be memorialised as a hero. South Australia Police will remain united in our commitment to carry forward his legacy with honour and purpose.”
Sergeant Michael Hutchinson
“Jaydn, I’m here to speak to you today about the murder of Jason, and the attempted murder of myself, on the night of the 16th of November, 2023.
I have known you since the age of five. I know all your family. I have helped you with several personal issues. You used to come to the Bordertown Youth Centre, which I was involved in.
The last time I spoke to you was when you came to the Bordertown Police Station, and I gave you some assistance with a legal matter which you were going to court for.
In all the time I have known you, we have never had a cross word between us, our interactions have always been cordial and polite.
When I attended your house on the night of the 16th of November, 2023, my primary concern was for your welfare. I remember saying that a number of times aloud as I entered the house looking for you.
Earlier that day, you were involved in a fight with your brother. This happened in your dad’s house and afterwards, you left. Later you returned for your firearms only to find your brother and father had left. You shot your brother’s dog.
I honestly believe that if your brother and father were home, you’d have used your firearms on them, and they could have been murdered.
We attended your house primarily to check on your welfare. At this time, Jason and I were searching for you and you ambushed us. You shot me twice and murdered my partner Jason.
I received two gunshot wounds. One to my torso, one to my head. I tore the meniscus in my right knee while trying to take cover.
You are guilty of this.
I still can’t sleep on the left side of my body. I still experience issues while eating, which can cause nausea and trigger pain in my left side.
I can’t rest objects like books or iPads on my stomach anymore, because this causes discomfort.
Sitting down in normal chairs causes pain, and I struggle to stand for more than one hour.
I cannot travel more than an hour in a motor vehicle without having to stop and stretch.
I still see a psychologist to deal with my ongoing issues and PTSD. Despite all my efforts to save Jason, he died in my arms. The guilt I carry that Jason died on my watch is something I will live with for the rest of my life.
To see what I had to see, and to do what I had to do that night will be with me until the day that I die.
I rarely sleep through the night. I’m awake 2-3 hours a night. I go to bed in pain and in extreme nights I curl up in the fetal position, waiting for the pain medication to kick in.
I have taken more medication in the last year and a half than I have in my whole life.
Often this is the first thing I think of when I go to sleep at night. I’ve seen first hand the devastation you caused to Jason Doig’s family.
I have extreme reactions to the dark and sudden flashing lights. I used to love thunder and lightning storms. I now wear eye masks and ear masks to reduce their affect upon me.
I have sad days. I call them my funk days. These days I wish to be alone with my thoughts and not communicate with anybody.
Your actions have caused a ripple affect through our families, the police and the community.
My wife must now support me. We were about to approach my retirement and enjoy the autumn of our lives together.
You have robbed me of this as I am still recovering from my physical and psychological injuries.
My daughters are living through the hardship of watching their dad suffer and become more vulnerable. I am unable to chase and play with my grandchildren as I should. I was about to renovate a house that I own and now I am unable to do this. I have paid contractors to do what I should have been able to do myself.
I love renovating, it’s been a hobby of mine for many years. It is another financial burden of my injuries.
I have been a police officer for 39 years - 23 years as the officer in charge of Bordertown.
I have been transferred from this job and township that I love. I wanted to retire on my terms. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time as a police officer until the last hour of my professional career.
Regretfully, people will remember me for the shooting and not for the countless hours I spent protecting the community.
You are guilty of this impact on me.
I hope one day you are sorry for the pain you have caused. I don’t hate you.
You are nothing to me now. My only hope is that if you are released, there are measures put in place to ensure you never harm anyone else again.
Goodbye and I hope I never see you again.”
Constable Rebekah Cass
My life was changed the night you shot my colleague Brevet Sergeant Jason Doig, and wounded Sergeant Michael Hutchinson.
It has been suggested that I escaped this event easily, because I was not physically injured. But the emotional injuries, the guilt, the grief, have changed my life forever.
That night, I was inside the house when I heard the gunshots. I had no idea where the sounds were coming from, no idea where my colleagues were, no idea if someone had been shot, or if I was next.
It turns out, if I had just taken two extra steps, I would have been in that room, possibly shot, possibly dead.
Two steps. That’s all it took to change everything.
The chaos, the disorientation is burned into my memory. I entered that room to a scene that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
A body was lying at the far end. Sergeant Hutchinson was hunched over saying ‘I’ve been shot.’
I saw that the body on the ground was Jason. Jason was still alive, struggling to breathe. There was blood - so much blood.
I applied pressure on the wound, but the blood was pouring out over my hands, coating the backs of them.
I told him over and over, ‘I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re not going anywhere, help is on the way’.
I was on the radio desperately trying to get help, for an ambulance, for anything, and then he stopped. He stopped breathing. He stopped trying to talk.
He was gone. Murdered by a man who waited with a loaded weapon. By a man who knew what he was doing. A man, I have no other words to say, than to call a monster.
I haven’t been the same since that night. I’m not as quick to laugh anymore.
I can’t return to the job I loved, the one I trained for, and was proud of. I became a shell of the person I once was.
I struggle to sleep unless I am medicated. I relive that night over and over. Even during every day tasks, the flashbacks would come.
Suddenly I would be back there in that room, with Jason.
For the first few months, I saw a psychologist weekly. The financial burden is enormous, but the cost to my life is beyond measure.
It has taken 18 months to crawl my way out of constant fight, flight or freeze. 18 months of fear, rage, and I am still not the person I used to be.
But it wasn’t just me hurt.
You traumatised my parents, who, for nearly a year, didn’t want to let me out of their sight.
You traumatised my friends, who no longer see the person I once was.
You changed how I live, how I move throughout this world.
You made me scared of the dark, scared to go outside at night, scared of being alone. Worst of all, you destroyed my community.
While you grew up in Bordertown, I made this place my home. My friends, my job, my church, the people, I made a life there. And your actions tore through that place like a storm.
You didn’t just kill a police officer, you shattered countless lives that night.
You left a small town grieving, confused, and asking themselves how they missed the signs. You’ve never apologised or taken responsibility.
You’ve never said sorry, and that silence is deafening.
Jason wasn’t just a colleague, he was our brother too.
You took him from us. You stole him from us too soon.
How dare someone like you be given a firearms licence. How dare anybody lend you their firearms. How did no one stand up and say, this man is not safe, this man is not mentally fit to carry a weapon.
This didn’t have to happen. This was entirely preventable, if just one person had spoken up, had the courage to say what needed to be said. Jason might still be alive. I might still be in uniform and doing a job that I loved. Your access to those firearms wasn’t just a failure of the system, but a failure of the people. People who looked the other way. People who stayed silent. People who knew better. And that silence cost a good man his life.
How does someone so unwell, so lost in psychosis they can’t tell what’s real, end up with a firearms licence?
How is it possible that someone who was hearing voices detached from reality legally carried a firearm and used it with the intention of killing?
You were found mentally incompetent, and that was just another kick in the guts. Just another system failing us.
We live with it every day. I know my value, and I know who I am, and I proved that without question that night.
I rendered aid to Jason, doing everything I could to keep him alive. I stayed with him and I spoke with him until his last breath to make sure he knew he wasn’t alone.
Even after all of that, I still checked on you. I made sure you were okay until help arrived, because that is who I am.
I do not regret how I acted that night. I don’t regret showing humanity. I do live with one regret - that I asked Jason and Michael to attend this job with me. That I unknowingly led them to a nightmare.
If I went alone, I would not be standing here today.
That thought lives with me every single day. What makes it so much harder is that you have never apologised. Never said sorry, never taken responsibility.
Not for Jason’s death, not for the trauma you caused, the destruction you left behind.
You didn’t just kill a police officer, you destroyed countless lives in your senseless moment of violence.
And the worst part, I don’t think you understand the depths of what you really did. How permanent, how devastating.
You will walk free, and get to rejoin the community, rebuild your lifestyle. But we, those of us left behind, we carry the weight of your actions for the rest of our lives. We don’t get to walk away from this. We live with it, every single day.”
Brett Doig, Brevet Sgt Doig’s brother, read by Martin Hinton, DPP
“It is times like these that words can fail us. Our grief and fear consume, it is ultimately so difficult to describe the impact that this event had on my life, and my family’s lives. I am however grateful to have the opportunity to express this brief statement to the court.
I relive the morning, the early morning knock on the door. Two local detectives. A house call that their eyes couldn’t hide the devastating reason for their presence.
Every other day, I remember it as if it was yesterday. My young son crouched behind the couch as I cried, struggling to comprehend reality. Calling my mother, my younger brother, to speak the news that no one should ever have to deliver.
Knowing immediately that my and their lives would be, and have changed irrevocably. Jason’s life had been taken.
Our future is something that we take for granted. Our future will be there. There’s time. I’ll tend to that tomorrow. My tomorrows are different. I never imagined they would be this different, meaning, I never imagined this acute loss. I thought we’d grow old. Jason’s nurturing nature would blossom with his nephew as the years passed. We would be able to share all manner of milestones. The usual birthdays, projects like his new home in Robe. Or the simple things like discovering a new coffee house, or even each dreaming of an Italian holiday.
My brother’s future has been cut off and in turn my family’s futures have been scarred beyond healing.
During the last 18 months, I have heard numerous stories of Jason’s dedication, kindness and commitment from his colleagues in the community. These stories have only served to re-enforce what I already knew of the character and person who is brother. I had a conversation only a week or so ago, where I was told how much my pride and respect for my brother was evident in the way I spoke and responded.
I miss him.
I’ve had the opportunity to meet some wonderful people at SAPOL and the AFP, who have reminded me of how honourable, caring and dedicated people can be. I know none of these amazing people would feel hurt when I say I wish we had never met. Not in these circumstances anyway.
It goes without saying that you can’t change the past. We all secretly wish we could.
I have my family and my friends, but I still feel isolated. Jason’s very public funeral, the media attention, the memorial services. I feel an unpayable debt to my brother to do him proud. To ensure that his contribution to his community is never forgotten. I cannot get over or forget what has happened. I can only learn to live with it. To learn to live with losing my older brother is harder than you can ever imagine. Than I could ever imagine.”
Faye Edwards, Brevet Sgt Doig’s mother, read by family friend Sean Evans
“To the person who took my son’s life on the 17th of November, 2023. When Jason Doig was killed, my world was torn apart.
Since that moment, I have lived every day with pain I cannot describe, and a deep unrelenting sorrow that never goes away.
No parent should ever have to bury their child, and yet, that is a reality that you forced upon me and his family. Jason was not just my son, he was full of life, potential and love. He was kind, funny, very generous with his time and money.
He had dreams for his retirement, and a future. A future you stole from him in an instant. He will never grow older, never experience the life he deserved. And I will never again hear his voice, see his smile, or feel his embrace.
The impact of your actions do not end with his death. I live with ongoing stress that affects every part of my life. The trauma has manifested. I experience anxiety, and that never lets up.
There are days I can barely function under the weight of this grief. My sleep is broken, my health has suffered, and my peace of mind has gone. Every time I close my eyes, I see Jason.
Every day, I relive what happened. You just didn’t kill my son, you destroyed the life I once knew. You took away my sense of safety, my ability to feel joy. I find social events difficult and I do not entertain friends as often as I used to.
The emotional and physical toll has been overwhelming, and it continues, every single day. As his family we have endured many events in his honour, all amazing, but emotional, which has taken a toll on our grief. The time, outpouring of love and support that has been a testament to his life, of always being there for people in need. His love and compassion, he carried a big heart.
I often wonder if you truly understand what you have done. If you think about Jason, if you think about the people left behind who will never recover from this, I hope one day you fully grasp the weight of your actions and feel the burden of that for the rest of your life.
I will never forget Jason, I will never stop loving him, and I will never stop grieving. What you took from us is beyond…but I speak his name, I honour his memory, and I carry him with me always. Jason Doig was my son, and he mattered.”
Robert Edwards, Jason Doig’s step-father, read by Sean Evans
“Since the day of Jason’s death, I have not had a decent night’s sleep. I find it hard to focus on chores to be done on our property.
The stress has caused noticeable health issues for me, including losing large chunks of my hair and stress induced eczema, all signs of emotional trauma I have endured.
Beyond my own suffering, the emotional impact was deeply felt by every member of Jason’s family and friends. As his family, we’ve lost a son, a brother and an uncle. Jason was a great family man who came into our life after Faye and I met in 2003.
He became my stepson when we were married in 2005, but it was more than that. He became the son I didn’t have, so much that he used to introduce me as his dad. We had a wonderful working and social relationship.
We worked on lots of projects, households, renovations, painting, paving, renovating a kitchen, building sheds. There were lots of things we did together. He was our property overseer.
Jason was someone you could always rely on. His generosity and support were at times overwhelming.
He had enjoyed helping and giving, not only to his family, but also to his friends and their families. Of his work colleagues and organisations. This has been taken away from everybody.
Devastation best describes what happened after the death of Jason. We will never forget the day, 17th November, 2023, when our son Jason Christopher Doig lost his life.
Yes, anger, sadness, and the ability to understand how and why Jason was killed. He was one of the most caring country police officers.
I find it hard to focus and enjoy hobbies and gardening. Travelling like we used to do and socialising.
I got struck with grief before, with the loss of my 45-year-old daughter, who suddenly died with a deep veins thrombosis eight years ago.
But the loss of Jason is very difficult grieving. It was highly unexpected, and unnecessary being killed at work.
I will never forget the 17th of November 2023 when our son Jason Christopher Doig had his life taken away from us, simply while doing his job.
The perpetrator will never be forgotten. Jason’s life mattered.
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