The tremendous untold story of Tara Brown’s last few days alive
AS soon as Tara Brown had been turned away from the Southport police station, the Gold Coast mother’s young life took the bravest of U-turns.
Crime and Court
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AS soon as Tara Brown had been turned away from the Southport police station, the Gold Coast mother’s young life took the bravest of U-turns.
On September 3 last year, the 24-year-old’s boss, lawyer Jason Hall booked a meeting with police to discuss domestic violence after Tara’s breakup with former partner Lionel Patea.
He recalls what happened after watching her being sent away.
Several blocks further south, at his company’s office at Southport Central Towers, they discuss her options. Mr Hall telephones welfare workers.
On leaving the office, Tara in her Mazda 2 drives north with three-and-a-half year old daughter Aria. Tara’s mother Natalie Hinton and her partner Jonny Gardner are unable to contact her.
Days later, she telephones her parents. By chance, they are staying on the Sunshine Coast.
Can they meet up?
“It’s OK as long as I’m back by night,” Tara tells them.
All sorts of emotions surface on seeing her again at the beach. There’s a sense of pride in her courage and bravery, from her not wanting to tell anyone of her whereabouts.
They are elated and excited too because Tara is so determined to start a new life.
All of them have these big plans which could link up. Natalie and Jonny have just finished a property investment course.
What if a property investment on the north coast might enable Tara to move there?
Tara herself has just received a promotion at work. Mr Hall is eager for her to move on from being his personal assistant and handle more of the financial side of the business.
These were big steps for a young woman who, arriving two-and-a-half years earlier, needed some support to improve her self-esteem.
Tara had become regarded as a solid part of the team who fitted perfectly.
So a lot of balls are up in the air. She wants to study law. She estimates it will take 12 months of savings.
She tells Mr Hall about an idea of developing a new type of car seat restraint for children. As always, the conversation and focus turns to Aria. Everything is about security for her daughter.
On the Monday, Tara returns to the Southport office. Her boss sees her strength. She wants “to live and not hide”.
He catches a look on her face. She seems scared but free and buoyed by the support of family and friends.
Aria is running up and down the boardroom table, nicking lollies from a plate.
“It’s all right Tara,” he tells her. “She will get a sugar hit,” she tells him.
“That’s your problem,” Mr Hall says, as they joke around for a while.
She gives him the widest smile, one which after such a struggle suggests the first glimpse of freedom. Tara walks back for a cuddle before they say their goodbyes.
“Do I still have a job,” she asks. “Of course,” he replies.
“Now get your stuff sorted out. I will see you on Wednesday.”
True to the dedicated worker she is, Tara tells him: “No, I will see you tomorrow.
“You have to drop Aria at kindy,” he tells her.
She leaves and does not return.
Tara drops Aria at child care the next morning as planned, is heading for a day of appointments where she will see her counsellor. Her car is involved in an accident at Molendinar.
In the boardroom, Mr Hall’s mobile telephone rings twice. He does not normally interrupt a meeting but he picks it up and speaks to Mr Gardner.
Could this be real, he thinks, in shock after taking the call.
The police have called the family. They tell them “something bad has happened”.
They do not yet know “how bad it is”.
They are only told she was “in an accident”.
On arrival at the Gold Coast University Hospital they suspect she might have a broken leg, may be “a bump on the head”. Thoughts turn to her recovery.
In a small room at the hospital, they wait for the surgeons. Time passes and they realise this is much more serious than they both first thought.
Tara is brought back from surgery.
“Her injuries are so, so bad,” a doctor quietly tells them.
“She is not going to make it.”
As Natalie Hinton recalls that life-changing moment, her voice breaks, she wipes away the tears.
“You walk into that … I was totally unaware of the full extent of what had happened,” she says.
None of them sleep. Hundreds of friends and members from the wider New Zealand family arrive at the hospital.
“And she fought,” her mum continues.
“She fought for two whole days.”
For the both of them, the stream of visitors helps turn their focus briefly away from the inevitable — that the future that they planned in a moment had been smashed into pieces.
“They didn’t expect her to last more than a few hours. She waited until all the family came through before she let herself go,” Mr Gardner says.
Back at Southport Central, police search the drawers at her work station. A notebook is found. Mr Hall recognises it as the one she uses to take dictation.
At the back of it, police find a page full of numbers. Tara had been doing the math on her future finances.
Underneath the lip balm and other personal items is an A-4 sheet of paper, full of written affirmations.
“Thank you for this life. Thank you for Aria. Thank you for being able to help my family. Bless happy smiles, laughs, hugs, dreams come true,” Tara writes.
The last word on the page is the most important. Her last thankyou is for “family”.