The Watchhouse may be tough. What victims of crime go through is far tougher

Think the Southport Watchhouse is tough? There’s a far worse place to find yourself - and it’s an ordeal being suffered by far too many people. Keith Woods writes.

DO you know where hell is, what it looks like? Some gentle souls appear to think it’s the Southport Watchhouse.

Apparently, room service standards at the Gold Coast’s grub hotel are on the slide.

Get charged with rape, murder, drug dealing or stealing in this city and it’s a fair bet that before long you’ll be visiting this venerable Southport institution.

But you may want to think again before police transport you there. According to reports, there’s a shortage of toothbrushes. You may only get to shower once a day. And getting your underwear laundered can be bothersome.

It’s no wonder the facility only gets 2.2 stars out of five from the tongue-in-cheek reviews posted on Tripadvisor.

People charged over minor offences won’t spend long there. If they are shocked by the conditions during their few hours locked up, all the better – there could hardly be a better warning about the perils of straying from the straight and narrow.

Even those ultimately found guilty of the most heinous offences will spend no more than three weeks at the watchhouse.

The Southport Watchhouse is not a place anyone would want to end up.

For victims of such crimes however, the pain endures far longer.

Nathan Teece was one of the thousands who have passed through the watchhouse in recent years. Teece was found guilty last year of raping a woman while she slept in a bedroom during a party at Burleigh.

Following his conviction, the statement made in court by the woman he raped must rank as the most powerful and compelling speech ever heard in a Queensland courtroom. It deserves to be read in full.

Among other things, it gives a shocking insight into what victims go through, putting concerns about the service at Southport into proper perspective.

“I walked through the hospital in a huge blue Hazmat suit as if I was carrying a contagious virus,” she said. “It was humiliating. Everyone was looking at me. It felt like an eternity walking through corridor upon corridor. We went up the stairs and turned a corner. We were here. No one had to tell me that we were here. I saw the sign, in bold, capital letters above the doors — SEXUAL ASSAULT VICTIMS UNIT.

A rape victims outlined in court the ordeal she faced in hospital after the attack.

“I cried, I felt like I was going to collapse right where I was. I had managed to keep it together for the hour car journey, but now I’d seen it in writing. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe any more. I was now a victim of sexual assault.

“Even that wording sounds too light. I was a victim of rape.

“I was handed a small toiletry bag to use and keep. It contained a shower cap. I didn’t use it. I wanted to scrub off any trace of you, your breath on my head, your saliva or hair in mine. I felt sick.

“There was mouthwash, a comb and a bar of soap. I think a jug of disinfectant would have been more appropriate. The bag made me angry. It was sort of like a goodie bag. Why would I want to keep any of this stuff? I stood there under the running water. I didn’t cry. I just stood there.”

Family and friends of Tara Brown at a protest against domestic violence. Picture: Annette Dew

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Consider the devastation caused by the murder of Tara Brown, at the hands of Southport Watchhouse veteran Lionel Patea, as outlined by her mother Natalie Hinton.

“The impact of Tara’s murder has had far reaching effects,” she told a court. “The pain in my heart from the enormous hole Tara has left, the pain is indescribable. We shared a special and close mother-daughter relationship, talking to each other every day without miss.

“The reoccurring thoughts of my failure as a mother and protector of my daughter are crushing my soul. This horror has also impacted my relationship ... We now have a life changing reality of accommodating and nurturing a parentless child. Seeing and dealing with the distress of our three other children ... needing immediate counselling and therapy.”

Hylton Miller never recovered after being shot in Surfers Paradise. Picture: Adam Head

There’s so much more hurt out there, so many broken lives.

The 16-year-old boy who stopped sleeping, lost 15kg, became paranoid, angry, depressed and suicidal, after having half an ear sliced off with blunt scissors by a man he had just met.

The story of Hylton Miller, who was in a coma for four months after being hit by a stray bullet while walking along the Surfers Paradise beachfront, and later took his own life, having never recovered from the impact of the incident. The shooter was never identified.

Or the woman who was brutally raped and attacked in her own home by serious violent offender Bradley McLeod, later saying: “There is always going to be a part of me that was lost that day and a part that will never recover from what happened.”

I read the stories of these victims and many more and I think I know where hell is. It’s not the Southport Watchhouse, and it is endured for far longer than three weeks.