Adaam and Henrie
Content Warning: These stories are about violence, abuse, neglect and exploitation and may include references to suicide or self-harming behaviours. They may contain graphic descriptions and strong language and may be distressing. Some narratives may be about First Nations people who have passed away. If you need support, please see Contact & support.
‘We say that we're trying to normalise the people with disabilities like the rest of the community, but it's not happening.’
Henrie is the father of Adaam, who’s in his 40s. Adaam is autistic and lives with intellectual disability, epilepsy and post-traumatic stress disorder. He uses a wheelchair and can’t speak.
‘My son is not able to defend himself. And when [he feels threatened] what he does is he hurts himself,’ Henrie told the Royal Commission. ‘That's his sort of way of showing to people that, “I don't like that.”’
About 20 years ago, Adaam was living in a government-run group home. Another resident sexually assaulted him, but Henrie said nobody told him until after the police tried unsuccessfully to question Adaam.
‘That is my biggest concern at that time, that they didn't call me in time to help my son to communicate with the police and with the other people involved in the incident.’
Henrie said staff tried to downplay what happened.
‘I didn't get any help from them. They were trying to tell me that nothing really happened, which I didn't agree with.’
The government department running the home investigated, but closed the case after finding no evidence of sexual assault. Henrie moved Adaam to another group home but, several years later, another resident assaulted Adaam.
‘That particular resident had my son in a headlock, and he was punching him in his head. And another time he threw three chairs against him, and most luckily missed him. That situation was going on for a long, long time.’
Henrie said Adaam began self-harming. The service provider took no action against the other resident.
‘Most of the people I complained to were sympathetic. The only thing is that it seems they didn’t have the power to intervene.’
Henrie said the same resident assaulted him a decade later when he went to Adaam’s rescue.
‘He smashed the door in my face. Closed the door. So, I had to call the police. So, I called the police and they arrived in about 15 minutes, and they helped me … to go inside the house and get my son out of his room.’
Henrie applied for a court order to protect Adaam, but the magistrate denied it. He told Henrie, ‘These people do not know what they are doing.’
‘So, I'm just thinking that if we are trying to sort of say that disabled people should live normal lives as the rest of the community, what would happen in a normal house if there were family violence? The police will be called [and] they will take the person away.’
Henrie said Adaam is not receiving that same level of protection.
‘My son is being abused, being intimidated, he is being physically assaulted, and he still has to live with the person, and even sit on the same table to have dinner with him.’
Adaam still lives in the same house, but currently with only one other resident.
‘I am hoping that the next person who steps in is not the same as the other two that I described before, because that would be devastating for everyone concerned.’
Disclaimer: This is the story of a person who shared their personal experience with the Royal Commission into Violence, Abuse, Neglect and Exploitation of People with Disability through a submission or private session. The names in this story are pseudonyms. The person who shared this experience was not a witness and their account is not evidence. They did not take an oath or affirmation before providing the story. Nothing in this story constitutes a finding of the Royal Commission. Any views expressed are those of the person who shared their experience, not of the Royal Commission.