I was among this disgraced judge’s victims. Attempts to honour him are an insult

I was High Court judge Dyson Heydon’s Canberra associate in 2005. With growing concern, I’ve watched efforts to recast him as a victim and downplay what remains one of the most damaging stains on the High Court and the integrity of Australian legal conservatism.

Illustration: Dionne GainCredit:

In March, Heydon released a self-published book on contract law. Eminent legal figures attended the launch. A month later, The Australian published a commentary by Janet Albrechtsen minimising the allegations of sexual harassment against him.

In August, Heydon is scheduled to speak at the Samuel Griffith Society conference alongside High Court judge Simon Steward. That platform lends him a credibility he no longer deserves.

Heydon isn’t merely accused of harassment. A Herald investigation revealed he was alleged to have committed indecent assault – an allegation Albrechtsen does not mention in her piece. His behaviour was alleged to be systematic and predatory. Shielded by the constitutional authority of his High Court appointment, he was alleged to have harassed multiple subordinates – including me.

A formal investigation commissioned by the High Court found that Heydon engaged in a “pattern of conduct of sexual harassment”, which included attempting to kiss female associates, touching them, and luring them into his hotel rooms. As young women, we were professionally dependent on him. The judge-associate relationship is unlike any other: he had unchecked authority over us and the power to shape – or obliterate – our careers.

This wasn’t gossip or politics – the findings were accepted by the judges of the High Court in their capacity as an employer. Chief Justice Susan Kiefel issued a public apology on their behalf, acknowledging the harm done.

Back then, Albrechtsen was critical of the way Kiefel worded her apology but conceded that “the need for an investigation was obvious” and the “findings deserved to be made public”.

Heydon denied the allegations but didn’t sue for defamation and he quietly resigned his Order of Australia medal. Three of us, me included, received historic settlements from the Commonwealth – based at least in part on the strength of our claims and the government’s desire to avoid litigation. Some of the worst allegations remain undisclosed – and perhaps that’s for the best.

Albrechtsen now claims Heydon didn’t “take part” in the investigation. That’s misleading. His lawyers negotiated its terms. He consented to the process. He just chose not to be interviewed.

Others point out there was no trial or judge, as if that undermines the outcome. But this was a workplace investigation, not a criminal one. And the findings – accepted by the institution to which he was appointed – were damning.

Yet Albrechtsen now writes: “For how long is he to be punished by other self-appointed wardens of morality? … One wonders whether a murderer who later contributes to society might be treated better than Heydon has been.”

As chief justice of the High Court, Susan Kiefel issued an apology on the court’s behalf.Credit: Andy Baker

There was no political conspiracy. Heydon’s associates, myself included, were often conservative. I’m a lifelong, faithful Catholic and conservative constitutionalist. Speaking out felt like a betrayal, not just of a man, but of the broader movement.

Of course, I confided in a few people. One of them was Albrechtsen. I had brunch at her home in August 2005 – just days after Heydon gave me champagne and asked to kiss me. I told her what had happened, trusting she would handle it with discretion. The two were friendly and she was unlikely to reduce it to political fodder. She responded, I felt, with a dismissive but not unkind shrug of the shoulders. And we never spoke of it again.

I gave Albrechtsen’s name to the High Court investigator, Dr Vivienne Thom. She was one of the few people who knew about Heydon – way back in 2005 – before several other women were harassed. Which is why her column was so galling. I deliberately kept her name out of the press when the story broke. Albrechtsen should have done the same and remained silent.

Albrechtsen’s dilemma, though, is genuine and worth considering: how do we reckon with a man who made meaningful intellectual contributions while also abusing his position? It’s an important question, but not a complicated one.

Heydon is a very smart man and his academic work is meticulous. But his conduct was indefensible. His writing may be publishable, but that doesn’t entitle him to public rehabilitation – or a speaking slot at an event where he’ll again have access to alcohol and young women: a cocktail that’s already gotten him into trouble.

Failing to censure his actions sends the message that sexual harassment will be tolerated – so long as the offender is connected or ideologically convenient. As such, it invites future abuse. If Heydon is lauded even after the findings against him, why should any judge with a wandering hand fear accountability?

It is deeply ironic that Heydon is now being re-embraced by a society that claims to defend the Constitution. He benefited from the Constitution’s separation of judicial powers and the inability to remove a High Court judge without a majority vote from both houses of parliament. His conduct exposes serious flaws in our constitutional framework, particularly the limits of judicial independence and accountability when judges engage in unacceptable behaviour. Sexual harassment is unlawful and indecent assault, if proven, is criminal.

The men now working to rehabilitate Heydon – many of them the same ones who once drank in his chambers after hearings – never saw his predation. They weren’t his targets. His charm and wit never came with a proposition. That behaviour was reserved for young women like me.

Those scrambling to restore Heydon’s reputation aren’t defending constitutionalism – they’re protecting a mate. They confuse intellect with integrity and loyalty with principle. In doing so, they betray conservatism. True conservatism demands accountability, not excuses. When we shield our own and condemn only our opponents, the rule of law becomes a tool of convenience – not a standard of justice. That’s not integrity. That’s hypocrisy.

Rachael Patterson Collins is an author and attorney admitted to the NY Bar. She attended Princeton University with the James Madison Program in American Ideals and Institutions and served as a High Court of Australia associate in 2005. She later studied law at Columbia University and Oxford University.

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