Final Report - Volume 1, Voices of people with disability (Auslan)

Volume 1 – Voices of people with disability

Aviva, Sidney, Quentin and Reyna

Background

The Disability Royal Commission’s Final report tells the Australian Government what changes need to be made to prevent violence against, and abuse, neglect and exploitation of, people with disability.

We recommend change so people with disability can enjoy all human rights and freedoms fully and equally.

Our Final report has 12 volumes.

Volume 1 – Voices of people with disability – contains stories that people have shared with us.

This video presents some of those stories.

These stories help the public better understand issues facing people with disability. They provide an insight into their daily lives.

Content warning and privacy

These stories are about violence, abuse, neglect and exploitation and contain graphic descriptions.

They may be distressing. For details of support services, please see the ‘Contact and support’ page on our website.

To protect the identity of people who have shared their story with us, we have used pseudonyms.

We may have left out, or changed other details to further protect the identity of people involved.

Aviva

This story is about a young Deaf woman and her experience giving birth to her first child.

She was not provided full access to an interpreter while in hospital which resulted in severe communication barriers. As a result, her newborn child was removed from her care.

This is her story.

Aviva is in her early 20s. Not long ago, she went to her local public hospital to give birth.

‘I was scared. I was a first-time mum.’

Aviva told staff she needed an interpreter so she could understand what was going on. Staff said they didn’t know how to book an interpreter.

‘When hearing people don't understand how important interpreters are to help us communicate with everyone, it's just frustrating,’ Aviva said.

Aviva spent most of her labour without an interpreter.

‘I didn't get access the way I should have when I was in labour,’ she told the Royal Commission.

Soon after delivery, someone contacted child protection, questioning Aviva’s ability to look after her child. Child protection officers came to the hospital and removed the baby from Aviva.

‘They said it was because I couldn't hear my baby, and so I couldn't possibly look after him.

‘I said, "I've got a flashing light that flashes when the baby alarm goes off. The light flashes. So I will know when my baby cries because I don't need to hear him.”’

Aviva had to prove to child protection she could look after her baby.

After two months, they admitted the report was false and returned the baby.

Three months later, child protection removed the baby again without any warning.

Aviva asked the officers for an interpreter but they told her to use her National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) funding and get an interpreter herself.

She told them that’s not how the NDIS works. She needs to book interpreters in advance.

Officers pressured Aviva to sign paperwork.

‘I didn't have an interpreter there, so I didn't understand what they were getting me to sign,’ she said.

‘Later, I realised that it was official paperwork, but I didn't understand what any of it meant until much later.’

Child protection allowed Aviva to see her son once a week but never booked an interpreter.

‘I felt like I was being threatened and discriminated against, and that I just had to continue putting up with it because I wanted contact with my son.’

Legal Aid helped Aviva find an interpreting service and a support worker. They also helped her go to court to get her baby back.

‘I told the judge how I was feeling and how people were threatening me because I was Deaf.

‘And how people were refusing to book an interpreter. And how people were discriminating against me because I was Deaf.’

Sidney

Sidney is in his 60s and is deafblind.

‘Deafblind people communicate differently,’ Sidney told the Royal Commission. ‘It's always a problem because we don't have enough interpreters who can understand me and I understand them.’

Sidney recently had to fly to another city but couldn’t find anyone to go with him so he had to travel alone.

At the airport, an airline worker took his cane away.

This is his story.

‘Deafblind people communicate differently. There are not enough interpreters.

‘People regularly push me, and if I have a support person to guide me through the trains that's so much safer, so much better.

‘After taking my cane, an airline worker grabbed me and told me “You've got to be led by the arm.” And the lady took my cane and I couldn't see where my cane was.

‘I had to try to follow to see the seats as to where to go. I really didn't know where I was going to go.’

Sidney said they put him at the back of the plane and when the plane landed no-one helped him.

‘I didn't know where to go, how to get out, what to do, and everything was just so wrong. And the exit sign is really small so you can't see the exit sign …

‘You can't see where to go to walk and I kept on bumping into things.’

Sidney said he injured himself on an escalator and struggled to collect his luggage.

When he returned to the airport terminal to catch his flight home, security officers took him into a room and took away his cane.

‘They actually cut my cane up and the man punched me in the arm and then, yeah, I kept getting bumped into because of the way they were walking [me] through the airport,’ Sidney told the Royal Commission.

‘I said to them, look, I'm deafblind. I'm not a murderer. I'm deafblind. I just can't see. I'm not going to kill anybody. I'm not going to hurt anybody.’

Sidney said being deafblind is like being in solitary confinement and ‘leads to paranoia’ because it’s so difficult to communicate and understand what’s going on.

Police once arrested Sidney and took him to a hospital mental health unit.

‘I said I'm deafblind. They [said] I was mentally ill and I said no, I'm not … I'm deafblind.

‘If I'm [only] deaf it might've been a different story, but I feel like I'm in jail.’

Sidney said the hospital didn’t provide an interpreter. They put him in a room alone where he ‘got really angry’.

‘The boss of the hospital said, “This is the right place for you and you have to have medication. It will help.” I said, “I'm not mentally ill. I'm not mentally ill. I'm just deafblind.”’

Quentin and Reyna

Reyna is in her 60s and has mild intellectual disability. Her partner, Quentin, was a Deaf man in his 70s. The couple had been together for nearly 20 years.

Quentin relied on Reyna to be his interpreter and carer. She was ‘by his side all the time’.

Reyna told the Royal Commission their lives were destroyed when, without their knowledge or consent, the public trustee took control of Quentin’s health decisions and financial affairs.

‘He was an independent man ... [who] wanted me to look after him. That’s what he said.’

Quentin had lived in a retirement unit for several years. He was ineligible for (National Disability Insurance Scheme) NDIS supports, so he applied for an Aged Care Support Package.

The GP who assessed his eligibility told Reyna that Quentin would need a brain scan ‘to see if he’s okay’.

‘He was going all right,’ said Reyna. But then he had a vomiting episode and had to be rushed to hospital.’

Reyna arrived at the hospital the next day to visit him. She was surprised to find that staff were moving Quentin to ‘the ninth level’.

She didn’t understand what that meant. As he approached the ward’s entrance, Quentin spotted signs on the wall. He asked, ‘Are we in the dementia ward, [Reyna]? Why am I in the dementia ward?’

Reyna was also confused. ‘[Quentin] did not have dementia,’ she said. ‘He had hearing loss.’

The couple were unaware a social worker at the hospital had contacted the public trustee.

Quentin stayed in the dementia ward for more than two months with no interpreter to help him communicate with medical staff.

One day, they received a visit from an administrative tribunal officer, who introduced herself as Quentin’s ‘new guardian’. Without having consulted either of them, she told Quentin he would be moving into a nursing home.

Quentin responded, ‘I want to go home.’ Reyna said the officer ‘didn’t take any notice’.

‘[Quentin] didn’t have any say at all ... They just dumped him in a nursing home with the dementia residents.’

Reyna learnt much later that the public trustee did not consider her suitable to be Quentin’s full-time carer.

Reyna says staff at the nursing home were ‘not much better’.

They did not assist him to shave or arrange for him to get a haircut. ‘Just left it long, that’s the nursing home for you. And they’re telling me I can’t look after him!’

Reyna went back to Quentin’s unit to collect some of his personal items. But when she opened the door ‘all his stuff was all gone’. ‘All empty!’

Neither the public trustee, nor the nursing home, had consulted Reyna or Quentin. Reyna is certain she knows why. ‘[It’s] because he’s Deaf. That’s how they treat Deaf people. They don’t care about them.’

On one occasion, Quentin gave Reyna his ATM card and asked her to withdraw money from his bank account. ‘What’s the good of [that]?’ asked Reyna. ‘You’ve got no money in it. The public trustees have taken it.’

Quentin responded, ‘That’s not fair, that’s my money.’

Reyna said that the intrusion of the administrative tribunal, the public trustee and the nursing home in his life left Quentin feeling ‘useless’. ‘Everything was taken from him.’

After a year of residing at the nursing home, Quentin had a stroke. He died a few days later. ‘[Quentin’s] rotting ... in the cemetery now ... I miss him so much,’ said Reyna.

More information

For more information about our Final report, and to access all volumes, visit our website. Go to the ‘Publications’ section and click on ‘Final report’.

www.disability.royalcommission.gov.au

Volume 1 – Voices of people with disability

Diana, Kieren, Amiah

Background

The Disability Royal Commission’s Final report tells the Australian Government what changes need to be made to prevent violence against, and abuse, neglect and exploitation of, people with disability.

We recommend change so people with disability can enjoy all human rights and freedoms fully and equally.

Our Final report has 12 volumes.

Volume 1 – Voices of people with disability – contains stories that people have shared with us.

This video presents some of those stories.

These stories help the public better understand issues facing people with disability. They provide an insight into their daily lives.

Content warning and privacy

These stories are about violence, abuse, neglect and exploitation and contain graphic descriptions.

They may be distressing. For details of support services, please see the ‘Contact and support’ page on our website.

To protect the identity of people who have shared their story with us, we have used pseudonyms.

We may have left out, or changed other details to further protect the identity of people involved.

Diana

This story is about a woman who is deaf and uses a cochlear implant. During interactions with the police, she was not allowed her to replace her flat cochlear implant batteries. She was arrested and denied access to communication.

It happened about two years ago. Diana was in her car with a friend, returning from their lunch break to a facility where they were doing some training.

Randomly, Diana says, they were pulled over by police to a location where there were about a dozen officers and a K9 unit.

The officers told Diana and her friend that they had been pulled over on suspicion of carrying drugs with intention to sell. The police asked Diana’s consent to search her car with the police dog.

Diana said she wanted to talk with her lawyer first because she did not understand why she had been targeted.

While on the phone to her lawyer, the batteries in Diana’s cochlear implant went flat.

She showed the officers the flashing orange light that indicates a failing battery and explained that she needed another rechargeable battery – in her bag in the classroom – in order to talk with her lawyer or the officers further.

The officers, however, accused Diana of lying about being deaf.

Diana’s friend overheard the officers teasing her behind her back about her ‘made up disability’.

They thought Diana’s lawyer had told her to pretend to be deaf so she didn’t have to answer questions. Diana’s friend told them several times that Diana was ‘110% deaf’ to no avail.

Diana’s friend described the scene. ‘I noticed that she was confused, embarrassed, upset and didn't know what was going on.’

‘Diana was desperate to get her batteries out of the classroom and wanted them to go get it so she could hold the conversation properly with the police officers but they wouldn't listen to her.’

Diana and her friend were then handcuffed and taken to the police station. Diana was fingerprinted, strip searched, photographed and had DNA taken all while she was ‘in deaf mode’.

‘I had no idea what was going on, and had a massive panic attack. The police kept questioning, talking to me and trying to force me to read their lips but I am Deaf and I don't communicate without my working cochlear implant!

‘This was unprofessional misconduct, discrimination and unlawful treatment against me, to be forced to somehow verbally “communicate effectively” with them without my hearing means.’

Diana said it took ‘several requests and arguments’ to get officers to write down their questions or answers.

She wanted to talk with her lawyer again, but the police had seized her phone.

The only way she could get her lawyer’s contact details would have been to give the officers the passcode to her phone – and she did not trust them with that.

Furthermore, the police would not provide a video phone to allow communication with her lawyer, and at no point did anyone offer Diana interpreting services.

‘The legal process can be overwhelming but for deaf people like me … it was confusing, dehumanising, isolating, humiliating and treacherous,’ Diana said.

‘Aside from the shame and humiliation associated with searches, disproportionate stop and search practices can also cause people with a disability to feel a diminished sense of belonging, fear, insecurity, disempowerment, anxiety, intimidation, helplessness …’

‘From scary, misunderstanding and dangerous arrests, to lack of access to re-entry services, our justice system fails deaf Australians every step of the way.’

Diana hopes that all those involved in the administration of justice will be given appropriate training to ensure effective access to justice for people with disability.

She would also like to see a diversity of people working in the justice system at every level – ‘You know, deaf police, deaf judges, deaf attorneys, deaf prison officers.’

Kieren

Kieren is in his 30s and lives with a spinal cord injury from an accident more than a decade ago.

He uses a wheelchair and catheter, and relies on well-trained support workers.

‘There are carers that have been in the industry for many good reasons – they have an understanding, they have family with a disability that they can relate to – but yeah, it’s really sad to see them just drop off like flies.’

Kieren told the Royal Commission that during the COVID-19 pandemic service providers sent him untrained staff.

‘There’s just more random people coming through my doors and people who aren’t trained, who are inexperienced,’ Kieren told the Royal Commission. ‘And apart from the care support [there are] safety concerns.’

Kieren said support workers turn up without identification. ‘I don’t know who the stranger is, it’s just a name given to me by a text message.

‘Yet I’m having a stranger in every time enter my house from an agency. That plays on my mind and is a major concern as well.’

Kieren said service providers often promise the workers they’re sending are ‘well-trained or have spinal specific training’, but he feels ‘like they’re just walked off the streets into this industry to take care of people’.

‘No qualifications, no training, no nothing.’

For example, a service provider recently sent him support workers who failed to drain his catheter bag and nearly killed him.

As a result of that incident, Kieren developed post-traumatic stress disorder.

‘They have no bowel care training, nothing.

‘If you ask them, “Where do you usually do all this? Who’s the majority of your clients?” they come across like, “I worked with people with intellectual disabilities.” It’s a common thing I hear.

‘So, you know, there’s no transparency with companies and agencies.’

Kieren said his last service provider withdrew its support because it sent an untrained worker who injured himself lifting Kieren.

‘There was no training prior to them commencing, he was thrown into the deep end, no [occupational health and safety] training, no manual handling, no training at all. He was just chucked in hands-on.’

Kieren said service providers seem to be losing the better-trained, experienced workers because good workers often aren’t paid any better than bad ones.

‘They’re not acknowledged for their hard work that they put in, not only for the organisation but for the client, and they’ve just gone.’

Amiah

Amiah is blind and uses braille. She grew up in a refugee camp with no access to special education or technology.

Amiah told the Royal Commission she never felt like she had a disability because her father encouraged her to do everything her siblings did.

‘My family and community were very supportive, and they have actively helped and assisted me to be independent … This has made me very capable of living by myself and managing my needs.’

Amiah came to Australia in her late teens. Since then, she said, she has ‘felt discriminated against’.

‘The cultural differences and the isolation in school started to make my life stressful. I was more aware, conscious and anxious about being a blind person.’

Following school, Amiah started a relationship with a man who has vision impairment. Amiah and her partner decided to start a family. Their GP referred them to an IVF clinic because ‘there were issues having a baby naturally’.

‘The consultations with the IVF clinic helped me make an informed decision. Several tests including genetic testing were done, and all tests came out good.’

Amiah was able to self-administer hormone injections by listening for the clicks the injection device would make. She said it would have been safer and easier if the instructions and markings on the device were in braille.

IVF was successful, but Amiah’s joy was crushed by people’s negative attitudes to her pregnancy.

People saw only a ‘blind lady who is pregnant’ instead of a person who wished to be a mother.

‘I have been discriminated against, judged and questioned by many people. I had to always say, “This is not an accidental baby.”’

She said health professionals were the worst.

They constantly questioned her capacity, asking if she was physically and mentally prepared to look after the baby.

One person demanded to know who was going to stay awake and take care of the baby at night.

‘I want to be that person, I wanted to be a mother.’

Another person told her she had ‘other options’ and could find someone else to look after the baby.

‘I wonder if they would ask the same of any parent who is in the same situation.’

Amiah’s baby was born a few weeks premature.

‘I was not able to hold the baby for 10 days, which was traumatising for me.’

Amiah’s partner overheard health professionals discussing whether Amiah would be able to care for the baby. Another asked him whether he or Amiah would cope.

Amiah said people often treated them as if they were invisible, talking about their capacity in front of them.

‘As a blind person and a person with a disability, my whole life turns into a constant journey of proving self-capacity to everyone,’ Amiah said.

‘Everyone has a right to have a family and a baby.’

Amiah said that instead of feeling ‘harassed and constantly questioned and coming home being anxious about fear of losing [her] baby’, she would have liked practical support.

For example, instructions for baby products, medications and supplies in braille would have been helpful.

Now Amiah’s child is a preschooler, people constantly express their surprise at how well he is cared for.

Amiah would like to have more children and hopes people’s attitudes will be more positive.

‘I believe I also have a right to be heard, have an opinion and have the same dignity as any other person.’

More information

For more information about our Final report, and to access all volumes, visit our website. Go to the ‘Publications’ section and click on ‘Final report’.

www.disability.royalcommission.gov.au

Volume 1 – Voices of people with disability

Emme, Romeo & Sonia, Iain and Sherry

Background

The Disability Royal Commission’s Final report tells the Australian Government what changes need to be made to prevent violence against, and abuse, neglect and exploitation of, people with disability.

We recommend change so people with disability can enjoy all human rights and freedoms fully and equally.

Our Final report has 12 volumes.

Volume 1 – Voices of people with disability – contains stories that people have shared with us.

This video presents some of those stories.

These stories help the public better understand issues facing people with disability. They provide an insight into their daily lives.

Content warning and privacy

These stories are about violence, abuse, neglect and exploitation and contain graphic descriptions.

They may be distressing. For details of support services, please see the ‘Contact and support’ page on our website.

To protect the identity of people who have shared their story with us, we have used pseudonyms.

We may have left out, or changed other details to further protect the identity of people involved.

Emme

Emme is a proud Deaf and First Nations woman. Auslan is her main language.

Growing up, Emme wasn’t allowed to sign. She used hearing aids, which didn’t always work, and tried to lip-read.

If people didn’t face her and speak slowly she couldn’t understand them. Emme struggled to learn in Auslan or English.

In early primary school, the principal moved Emme to a special needs class because she was so far behind her peers. Emme couldn’t communicate with the Deaf children in the class because she couldn’t sign.

In high school there were no interpreters. Sometimes a teacher from the primary school interpreted for Emme.

‘They forced me to be oral by depriving me of food until I said words correctly,’ she told the Royal Commission.

‘I was bullied by the Deaf kids and bullied by the hearing kids.

‘It was so stressful and tiring to communicate … I had to struggle every day. I didn't want to go to school.

‘My interpreters were not qualified and had only a basic level of signed English.’

At 14, Emme was raped. Her mother took her to hospital.

Police took Emme’s statement without interpreters.

In court, the teacher from Emme’s primary school interpreted for her.

‘Throughout the process, my mum had to interpret for me. It meant that my mum was talking to the doctor, and I had no idea what the process was in the hospital.

‘I had to undergo a full physical examination so that the hospital and the police could obtain the forensic evidence. There was no interpreter at that time, only my mother.

‘They wrote questions down. I had no understanding of what they were asking, so I had to try to lip-read.

‘I had to try and answer my questions that way, and through my mother as well … I just signed the statement because my mum said, “Sign.”’

In court, ‘An unqualified interpreter became my only voice.’ There was no conviction. Lawyers told her mother it was because ‘the case was very weak’.

‘I started on drugs and abusing alcohol. I actually became a problem child from that time on because of those rapes.’

Emme started living on the streets.

Once, police arrested her for being drunk and took her to the watch house.

Police left Emme in a cell with no hearing aids. She yelled and yelled. When no-one came she tried to suicide. Police took her to hospital and released her without charge.

‘The police knew I was Deaf, and that I relied on hearing aids. I asked the police, “Please can you speak slowly so I can understand what you're saying?”’

Police told her they didn’t like her attitude and she had to stay overnight.

‘I had to remove the hearing aids, and my rings, and all personal items, and they put them in a property bag.’

‘Then they said, “Follow!” I had to follow, and we had to walk quite a long distance to the cells. I started to panic. I was … really young … I started to scream, and I asked for help.

‘I work with the police a lot, and the police never think about their responsibility to provide an interpreter for a Deaf person.

‘The police think it's a Deaf person’s responsibility. Or the police think that writing words down on paper – to communicate with a Deaf person – is good enough. It's not good enough.’

Emme said the courts are still poor at providing access to interpreters.

‘Adequate access to interpreters depends on where you are or where you live,’ she said.

‘Access to independent interpreters should be given to Deaf and hard of hearing people in all circumstances, and lack thereof should be made illegal.’

Romeo and Sonia

Sonia’s son, Romeo, is in his early teens. He is autistic and has an intellectual disability and epilepsy. He doesn’t speak.

‘He used to love school. There’s pictures of him really happy and engaging and doing things that are different, but now he doesn’t have that, and his life is very enclosed. It’s really crap.’

Sonia told the Royal Commission that when he was in primary school, a teacher physically assaulted Romeo.

‘In one instance, he was pushed into the toilet stall and kicked in the shins, which is horrific.’ Romeo developed a fear of bathrooms. ‘He didn’t bathe for like six months.’

Sonia said the school didn’t tell her what had happened.

‘We didn’t get any information, apart from the principal told me on another occasion that it occurred numerous times, the physical assault, and in front of several staff members.’

Sonia told the police, who said there was nothing they could do.

‘They said, “Well … it’s a school matter. We can’t interview [Romeo], he’s non-verbal. The school has to deal with it.”’

The teacher lost his job.

Another time, teaching staff left Romeo alone while he repeatedly banged his head on the floor. The school told Sonia they couldn’t intervene because that would be a ‘restrictive practice’.

A few years ago, Romeo developed severe epilepsy. The school couldn’t provide a full-time support worker to monitor his seizures. Sonia tried another school – they also couldn’t help.

‘That’s the only reason why he can’t access education … you lose complete faith in the education system.’

Romeo developed a fear of school that remains with him. ‘You drive him past the street with the school and he gets really anxious in the car.’

When Romeo first developed epilepsy, Sonia took him to hospital. The hospital appointed a psychiatrist to treat him.

‘She ignored his seizures and saw that he was a child with high anxiety levels, and her recommendation was … to trial him on stimulants.

‘He was beside himself … If [Romeo] had been referred to the neurology team, he would have had access to better treatment, but he instead unnecessarily suffered for eight months.’

Sonia found a private neurologist, who gave him an implant to control the seizures. The implant caused an infection, and the hospital admitted Romeo to treat sepsis.

‘[The neurologist] said to me, “Do you really want to do this? Do you really want him to go through this?” and I thought, “Yes.” …

‘Then later on I thought maybe he was giving me the decision to end [Romeo’s] life, and I just thought that’s so wrong. If he had not had an intellectual disability, then they wouldn’t have given someone that choice.’

Sonia said earlier and better-resourced medical and educational interventions would have prevented many of the challenges Romeo now lives with.

‘In the long run, if [people with disability] had sufficient support in the beginning, it means that there’s so much less needed when they’re adults.

Iain and Sherry

‘[Iain] … was loved and his life was valued. And it has been a long time, but I still miss him very, very much, very, very much.

‘And people with disabilities are important and they deserve to be happy and safe and cared for.’

Iain was born in the 1960s with brain damage.

‘They decided that they needed to induce my baby’s birth because we were both in a very critical way,’ his mother Sherry told the Royal Commission.

‘They told us, “Look, [Iain] has suffered severe brain damage during his birth process and he is going to be pretty severely disabled both physically and also intellectually.’

Iain developed slowly, and doctors told Sherry he would eventually need professional care. ‘I said, “No, no, he’ll stay with us for as long as we can,” you know. And I used to worry a lot about that.’

Iain lived at home and started school ‘surrounded by the most wonderful group of caring, loving, beautiful people’.

Eventually, Sherry and her husband moved him into residential care.

‘With much fear and trepidation, we took him out on his first day, brand-new clothes and a whole brand-new wardrobe so he didn’t look like he was uncared for …

‘It was four individual villas with permanent staff, well-trained, some nursing staff.’

Iain continued to go to school and ‘the care was just phenomenal’. ‘You could walk in at any time and [Iain] was happy and laughing and you could see he was perfectly cared for.’

During de-institutionalisation in the 1980s and 90s, Iain moved into a smaller group home.

‘This was a very worrying time for us because we had heard about group homes, you know … but we had no choice.’

Sherry found a home with wheelchair access that was ‘bright and sunny’ with ‘fully-trained disability staff’. Iain settled in.

But then, said Sherry, the residential care system started to deteriorate.

‘[Service providers] started using a lot of casual, untrained staff. A lot of them, without being negative, a lot of them were from overseas and didn’t have good English, and that really worried me in terms of communication.’

One day after a weekend at home, a new support worker turned up to take Iain back to the group home.

‘I said, “Have you read [Iain’s] care program?” And he sort of looked at me and he said, “It’s only the first day I have been in the house.”

‘And I said, “Okay … Well, I suggest you go back and you read his plan.”’

Sherry stressed to the worker that Iain, who was unable to sit unsupported, had to be supervised around water.

‘We said, “Never ever, ever leave him alone.”’

An hour later a manager at the group home called her. Iain had drowned. Sherry raced to the hospital.

‘[Iain] was surrounded by this wonderful team of nursing staff who didn’t leave us alone for one minute, who asked what his favourite song was. So we sang [it] until we could sing it no longer.’

Soon after, the doctor switched off his life support.

More information

For more information about our Final report, and to access all volumes, visit our website. Go to the ‘Publications’ section and click on ‘Final report’.

www.disability.royalcommission.gov.au