Prisons officer breaks silence on the night he shot dead escaping inmate Dwayne Johnstone

A shot rings out, an indigenous man is dead and a law enforcer is making headlines. In his only interview, the now cleared law enforcer explains why two men’s lives ended that fateful night.

Dwayne Johnstone died while escaping custody.

Exclusive: Officer A looks around anxiously, wipes his brow and lowers his shaking head.

“It started as just a normal day, but you are one second away from a life-changing event and you are never the same again,” he said, as tears and emotion threaten to spill.

“It’s just one second, whether that be a car accident or hearing some life-changing information, or something happens or you get told something and that’s it. One second event.”

His “one second event” saw him shoot a man dead, be charged with first degree murder and make national headlines, caught in a swirl of Black Lives Matter condemnation.

Officer A, who cannot be named for legal reasons, was a career NSW Corrective Services guard when on March 15, 2019, he was tasked with transporting Dwayne Johnstone – a 43-year-old indigenous man and criminal who once stabbed a female Victorian police officer – from Lismore Base Hospital back to a jail cell.

Officer A with his wife has been cleared of murder charges. Picture: Sam Ruttyn

The prisoner, who had an E1 maximum security designation, having previously attempted a custody escape, was handcuffed and shackled, but he made a break.

He was warned verbally, had a warning shot fired, then a second shot before the fatal third rang out and he was dead. His last words uttered were: “You got me chief”.

Officer A was cleared for his actions by a Corrective Services review and a later NSW Police investigation, but he was pursued by the NSW Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP) who initially charged him with manslaughter, then weeks before the trial added a second charge of first degree murder as the issue was deemed an Aboriginal death in custody.

Police cars outside Lismore Base Hospital.

The first trial in 2022 ended with a hung jury; Officer A’s lawyers arguing one might not like the law but he dealt with the escape by the book that rules lethal force can be used as a last resort to prevent an escape. But 12 months later and last week a second trial found him not guilty of both murder and manslaughter.

Such was the evidence at both trials, Mr Johnstone’s mum, proud Wiradjuri mob woman Kerry Crawford, supported Officer A’s version of events – and so too did most of the Crown’s 20-plus witnesses of health staff and bystanders who saw or heard the sequence of events.

Mr Johnstone’s death was tragic but in a way two men died that night, with Officer A only this week able to start rebuilding his life. The DPP declined to answer a series of written questions about the case, said to have cost the defence side alone more than $2.4 million.

Officer A with his wife. He is trying to rebuild his life after the ordeal. Picture: Sam Ruttyn

MARCH 15, 2019

“I woke up on that day, it was a normal day. They (NSW Corrective Services) wanted me to go in early because they needed more hands on deck and so I did that, went in early. I went for a walk, had a shower, got dressed and went to work.

“It started as just a normal day. I first joined the job in 1986 so I had done thousands and thousands of escorts. I never had to draw a weapon … Never had something like this.

“I wish it could have ended differently of course but I just did my job, what I was trained to do. That was it.

“I rang (my wife) and I said ‘I’m going to be late’. She said ‘Why what’s happened?’ and I just said ‘I will tell you later’. I didn’t get home till the early hours of the next morning and then I told her. She was … (shakes his head). The next day my mum heard about it on the news or on Facebook or whatever her media is, and she said, “Oh what happened last night at the hospital?’

“I told her: ‘Well actually that was me’.”

DWAYNE’S WORLD

Dwayne had had a difficult upbringing and spent most of his life in and out of jail. His rap sheet ran to some 20 pages: there was assaulting police, larceny, possessing weapons, possessing drugs, assaults occasioning actual bodily harm, escaping custody, tampering with evidence, attempted robbery, wounding, drug dependence and the list goes on.

He had been taken into custody at Lismore Court cells after being denied bail on an assault charge before it appeared he had had a fit and was taken to hospital.

Dwayne Johnstone, who was shot dead by prison officers at Lismore Base Hospital in 2019. Picture: Tim Hunter

He was unhappy after being checked and cleared by medical staff to return to custody.

He aggressively abused a nurse and threatened to anally rape her in front of her children while to another nurse he offered $10,000 if they helped him in his escape.

As he was being led back to the prison van, handcuffed and in leg shackles, one passing paramedic noticed he appeared aggressive before he elbowed one guard who was holding him, and took off across the road from the hospital toward the public car park. It was 7.30pm, dark and lightly raining, and Officer A took chase.

THE FALLOUT

“I obviously had no intent to kill anyone, there was no doubt it was a tragedy. I rang triple-0, police, as soon as it happened. I told them ‘I wish I could have tackled him from behind … the distance was getting wider,’” Officer A recalls.

“The whole event lasted 11 seconds. He was moving quick, four metres per second is what they calculated (from CCTV). The irony is if I didn't do what I did I would have been charged for not taking all measures necessary and available.

“Murder, first degree murder though, I was charged with.”

“It’s been four and a half years and it’s taken its toll on me. I’ve had psychologists and psychiatrists, I’ve been admitted into a mental health clinic, which was good, I’ve done a number of programs through mental health clinics … there was one run for first responders.

We’ve changed our lifestyle, we’ve become reclusive, withdrawn from everything, it’s taken its toll personally, our private life, just everything.

“I loved gardening and fishing … I don’t do that anymore.

“I called myself Forrest Gump. I just walked and walked and walked, I was doing 25 to 30 kilometres in the dark before dawn and the sun came up because I couldn’t sleep so I just walked.

“Walked wherever … I just walked. I listened to motivational stuff.

“You go through every emotion from anger to suicide ideation; you go through everything. I don’t think there is an emotion I didn’t feel.

“When it comes to the political side of things, in the workplace some stand by you without a problem, but you quickly work out who your friends are. Not that you lose them but you distance yourself from some and gravitate to others.”

THE EVENT

“Yes I replayed it in my mind, that night. I see logic in things but unfortunately the world doesn’t always see logic. I think when it was portrayed as a racial thing, it had nothing to do with race at all, and you don’t even think that, but for people to suggest it you take that as a hit against your character. People make out you are something that you are not. It’s something you don’t want to talk about. ‘What have you been up to?’ You can’t say.

“I don’t know how I can go back to work or if I can go back to work. In the criminal world I will have a bit of a tag on me.

“Everyone has been supportive. (My wife) has been a huge strength but it’s taken a toll on her and mum, they’ve had to have psychologists that they see and things like that. I have two boys and my sons, obviously they think about dad and ask questions … I mean murder?

“I couldn’t give them any logic to the events. Again you don’t tell people why, because people are going to judge and I think it became worse when they upgraded to murder because I think it’s that word and the connotation. Suddenly (family) work people are saying ‘oh they are related to that bloke who has been charged with murder’. The whispers. We live in a small community and you are never going to, you know... even acquitted they are going to go ‘Oh well he got away with it’. Small town talk, everyone is going to have an opinion or a thought and you cannot change that.

“It is something I will never escape from, I can’t change.

“I don’t mind being questioned and held accountable for your actions but not the way they did it. Being investigated and making sure you’ve complied, that’s not the issue but then once that happens and not one body but two bodies – professional standards and the NSW police force – come to the same conclusion and clear you, and then they (the DPP) say well that doesn’t matter we are going to do this anyway and then upgraded to murder and never even told me why.”

NEW START

“I’ve seen everything now from every angle, I know what it is like for this and that, I can relate to a prisoner’s frustration, prisoner self harm, violent actions – they are trapped in a bottle and can’t say anything.

“Maybe there could be law changes, as long as we can ensure they can keep the public safe. Others will look at that I’m sure.

“For me I’ve done two murder trials. I feel like I’m on a merry-go-round and I’m still on it. I haven’t had control of my life, I haven’t had my life as I used to have it … and I’m still spinning and it will take a bit of time to slow down.

“I’ve lost a bit of faith in the justice system … I will never get back to where I was, I’m not sure I can work anymore … but I will rebuild. We (wife) have our strains and stresses, we will take time out to reconnect. We’ll get there.”

‘I DIDN’T HOLD IT AGAINST HIM’

Outside the bank of elevators in the foyer of level 6 of the Downing Centre Courts in Sydney’s CBD, a scene unfolded that veteran lawyers described as rare if not unheard of.

A prison guard standing trial for murder after shooting dead an escaping prisoner walked toward the deceased’s mother Kerry Crawford in the midst of the trial to try to offer his heartfelt condolences.

The jury had yet to reach a verdict and the guard – who legally can only be identified as Officer A – didn’t know how she would react but felt it was the right thing to do.

The Crown prosecution had opposed the move when advised earlier of his intent.

“He come up to me and stuck his hand out and said he was so sorry. I looked at him and I just said ‘come here and give me a hug’ and he did and we were that way, in the hug for a bit,” the aged care worker and proud Wiradjuri woman, originally from Dubbo in the NSW central west, recalled of the moment.

“Yeah it was emotional. I wanted him to know he did what he did but I didn’t hold it against him.”

Kerry Crawford gave the man that shot dead her son a hug. Picture: Tim Hunter

That was during the first murder trial in 2022 which ended with a hung jury and by last week when a jury came back with a not-guilty verdict, Ms Crawford had not changed her mind.

“I want the law to change, no guns, bring a taser or something like that, not a gun so no-one else has to go through something like this. But I am glad they (the jury) made the right decision because he didn’t go to work that day and decide he was going to shoot someone and Dwayne should not have done what he did, you know what I mean.

“I loved him (Dwayne), loved my son, he was my son but he did the wrong thing, maybe more people should take an honest view of it all and maybe society would be better off with all these drug addict kids or whatever. They (law enforcement) are only doing their job.

“No-one wins in this, there really are no winners. His family have had to live all of this and nothing is going to bring Dwayne back. I want closure, for me and them. I lost two sons out of this, my other son doesn’t agree with my view but we knew what he (Dwayne) was like.

“He was safe when he was in jail, that was all he ever knew really. I loved him with all my heart but … Some people wanted to make a thing, you know Black Lives Matter and all that, but it wasn’t that.

“I have had a tough life, always have, travelled around a bit, never had much money and that, and things don’t always go my way. But I do my best, look after me family and teach (grandson) to do the right thing and be honest about the way you see things. That’s what I do. I wouldn’t wish my life on anyone but that’s the way it is. I accept that, that’s life.”

Originally published as Prisons officer breaks silence on the night he shot dead escaping inmate Dwayne Johnstone