Wilf and Meriam
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.
‘I have jail workers who say to me, "He is the most beautiful boy, he is so gorgeous, he shouldn't be here" and yet, that is what we seem to allow. We have to protect these people better.’
Meriam is the mother of Wilf, who’s in his 30s, is autistic and has an intellectual disability.
When Wilf was born, he couldn’t breathe for several minutes.
‘He was left like a stroke victim … he has dyspraxia and autism, as well as in IQ of only 59. However, he was brought up to be the most beautiful soul. That's what he is.’
Meriam said that after Wilf’s birth, her doctor told her to ‘put him in a home and get on with [her] life’.
‘That was my first contact … with what we do to people who are disabled. We pretend that they don't exist. We put them away. So, that is the beginning.’
Meriam said Wilf ‘will never be more than a 5-year-old’. He was bullied at school and people still take advantage of him.
One time a woman approached Wilf, telling him to sign a contract for a new phone or she would ‘start making a noise here and now’. Wilf did as he was told and printed his name. ‘My 5-year-old grandson writes better,’ Miriam said.
‘I went down the very next day to the shop and said, “How could you have someone like this sign a contract?” And they said, “No, it's nothing to do with us, that's a management decision,” and so it just went on and on and on.’
Meriam says the telephone company is still demanding payment for a telephone Wilf never used.
One day, someone Wilf knew accused him of touching a child’s bottom. Meriam said Wilf was innocent, but the police interviewed him.
‘He couldn't speak for himself, because he wouldn't be able to cope with the stress or pressure or understand the language that they put on him. He wasn't able to speak, but they wouldn't let anybody else speak for him.’
Wilf was charged and appeared in court. The court procedure confused him. ‘The intellectually disabled … can't play that game. So we need something different within a court system,’ said Meriam.
Wilf was ‘judged guilty without any look at who he was, without any understanding [of his disability]’.
The judge sentenced him to several years in prison.
Meriam said Wilf was transported to prison ‘handcuffed in the back of the van, not understanding what was going on’.
‘[But he] heard the two police making a joke as they found potholes, went over speedbumps to see his head smashed, to see him thrown around in the back of the car. When I first saw him, he was broken.’
Meriam said she’s been unable to see Wilf since because of COVID-19 lockdowns. The prison system removed his support network.
‘In a justice system where someone has not so much as had a littering fine in their whole life, because he is an innocent, and lives by what he is taught, that that person can end up incarcerated is quite horrifying.’
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.