Bed at daybreak, but Darrius’ dreams are true

Darrius Watson spends his nights hiding from police with his mates, only to return home ‘early’ at sunrise – but refuses to be sucked in by the demons haunting Alice Springs.

Darrius Watson with his mates in Alice Springs. He’d like to work in Youth Patrol when he grows up. Liam Mendes / The Australian

It’s 10pm in Alice Springs and the night has just begun for 13-year-old Darrius Watson and his mates, who are playing a game of cat and mouse with police along the main streets of the CBD.

The town is on tenterhooks waiting for a new alcohol ban plan from the Albanese government’s central Australia co-ordinator, Dorrelle Anderson, and the police are out in force.

The teenagers hide behind trees and signs, constantly on alert for the police, who are patrolling in cars, motorbikes, on foot and on horseback ready to take anyone underage home to their families.

They’re not having much luck tonight: the kids know the town better than the cops.

Darrius is wary at first, talking to a stranger. He says he usually goes to sleep “early”. What does “early” mean?

“Daybreak,” he says.

He says he “doesn’t know” why he stays out late with his mates, just that he likes “playing and running around with friends”.

Darrius Watson, 13, before the first day of school for 2023. Picture: Liam Mendes

Over the next few days our paths cross several times as The Australian joins paramedics and community workers in their night shifts around this troubled town.

It becomes clear Darrius wasn’t joking. He’s on the streets most nights until the early hours, hanging with his mates.

He gradually opens up. He tells me he wants to work on the “Youth Patrol”, a program looking out for Aboriginal kids such as himself who roam the streets late at night.

“I want to cruise around … pick up kids and take them home,” Darrius says.

He says he believes it’s important for kids to stay at home.

“They might be killed, or get raped,” he says. “I’ll tell them, ‘Let’s go back home’.”

Darrius lives with his father, Lawrence, mother, Charmaine, and little brother Shamus, 5, in a small house in Hidden Valley, one of many town camps on the outskirts of Alice Springs.

Lawrence used to work in the mines in Yuendumu as a truck driver; Charmaine used to paint and clean the nearby jail. Neither works now.

The first day of school is coming up and Darrius says he’ll be there. He hasn’t been going to school much recently, his mother says, because of the rain and because they were travelling.

Darrius and Shamus Watson. Picture: Liam Mendes

They’re not worried that their son could be drinking alcohol.

“He’s not doing that,” Ms Watson says. “We’re non-smokers, non-drinkers.”

With his parents’ permission, we go to McDonald’s, and Darrius orders a double cheese burger meal with a Coke Zero.

I ask him whether he fights sometimes. He shakes his head.

“When you fight, that’s the devil,” he says.

He’s acutely aware of the problems with alcohol in his town.

“Do you drink?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“Will you drink ever?”

“Nope,” he said. “It’s bad for your family life.”

He seems completely sincere.

For their first day of school for 2023, his parents have agreed to let Darrius and Shamus be in a photograph.

On Tuesday morning, two buses drive past Darrius’ house. The first is empty. The second is also empty except for one passenger, who appears to be a teacher holding a clipboard.

Darrius and his little brother still haven’t emerged.

Darrius Watson, 13, and his brother Shamus Watson, 5, before the first day of school for 2023. Picture: Liam Mendes

At 8.45am they emerge with their mother. They’ve missed the bus but they’re still determined to go to school.

Darrius is in uniform after going to bed early – 8pm according to his mother - and waking up at a time he would often be going to sleep.

We drive to school. Darrius is grinning. How is he feeling?

“Happy,” he says, and heads into class.