Chester
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.
‘Every day that I'm in here I've been crying out for help and yet I still get no help. It's like I'm not even there.’
Chester is a First Nations man in his 30s with an acquired brain injury.
‘I have been in custody now for about four years, yeah, and the first year I came in off the streets.’
Chester told the Royal Commission some of his family members died not long after he went to prison, but the prison did not provide any counselling.
‘I was waiting to talk to some counsellors, like for grieving, like I have no counsellor talking to me yet. So, they said I had to go to another jail. And when I went [there] they said, "You didn't get your counsellor down there?" I waited for counsellors to come see me there and no-one came to me.’
Chester was receiving NDIS support before he went to prison. Since being in custody he’s had no contact with the NDIS, until recently when someone came to visit him.
‘She's saying, “NDIS has been trying to find you, but this is the only place where they found you.” So, all that time I was locked up they did not know where I was. And I'm thinking, how can that be, you know? I'm in custody … They should know where I am … I mean, I waited almost four years.’
Chester said because of his brain injury, he can’t read or write. He struggles to understand what some of the prison officers tell him because ‘they just like to talk over me, big words’.
‘One of the [prison] officers put paper in front of me for NDIS … he didn't explain what that money was for or … where is that money going, you know what I mean? He just made me sign it because he came up to my cell and, like, he's standing in front of me, like pressuring me into signing it because he knows I can't read.’
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.