Time To Be Heard

I grew up in a tiny, sweet, rural catholic* settlement named Maryknoll, Victoria, Australia, some 76km/50miles East of the Melbourne GPO. A big trip in the 1960s. Mum and Dad had purchased the block of land for their family home sight unseen from the plan, the only stipulation being “the closest to the church” before the township began. On the main corner is the Holy Family Church (where my husband and I married in 1985), my primary school/now Hall, St Joseph’s Square/general store/shop and our house. It’s like something out of Milly Molly Mandy books still today. Anyway Mum had twelve pregnancies resulting in seven children who lived, we are all still going strongly. I was the youngest; my only sister being the oldest. Yes, that means five boys in between. Day to day life was holy, hard and gentle early on. Then Dad became ill and succumbed to a brain tumour when I was six. Life was to get way harder for the Elliott’s. Mum got sick and went to the hospital. My Dad had been the youngest of nine siblings, but none were living close by. Gran, who was Mum’s Mum, had only had my mother and so she was ill equipped to deal with all of us children.

I was to be taken by a family to stay for a holiday. I didn’t know these people who arrived in a big, dark car. Gran was 84, now l realise and I was 7. When they came, I felt ill at ease, a lady with three youths. I’ve always cautioned our children to never ignore your gut instinct, as I was right, but of course had no say in the matter. I was sexually abused starting the first night and escalating when I didn’t speak up. It was terrifying going from night to day time abuse. I was the “honeymoon child” for two lads who, at 14, were BOTH twice my age. The end was a gang rape under a bridge when we’d all been sent to the beach by the mother on bikes. With all three present, that night at the dinner table, I spoke up and was swiftly relocated to a nearby suburb to be rejoined with my older, beloved brother Bill. He never knew what had happened to me until recently.

When we returned home, Mum said we won’t talk of what “those” boys had done. She termed it “interfering” with me. I know now that it was rape, digitally, with a stick and a gang rape. This is how these things were dealt with in the old days. But there is a problem and, if it’s not ever addressed, there is still a problem. I know that for a fact. Putting a band-aid on a boil won’t heal it; it just festers away out of sight. My bad behavioral issues were about to start! Nightmares, rages totally unbefitting to a small child, that would leave me completely broken, huge uncontrollable sobs that I couldn’t control. Criminal and murderous intent, ridiculous! Hacking of my hair, wanting to be a boy as a grew and developed and so bad at two secondary schools a College and a High that I dropped out completely at age 12, only months into my second year. Mum was university educated herself. Need I say more with my need for healing and help? That wasn’t to come until I reported to the Police at age 52!

From a week to ten days as a seven year old, and with very little help from me (who reported like a seven year old), they had all three. Then I’m like a little dog chasing a bus who caught one, now what do? Two have criminal records, when identified arrested and interviewed all three said nothing happened. Then the fight for justice really began, and it’s been like a fulltime job for five years. I met the main one face to face at a meeting his lawyer called, when I got too close. After an hour, his lawyer threatened me, so I started legal proceedings. That resulted in me paying HIM over one hundred thousand dollars via the Court in Melbourne when three court of appeal judges (all men) overturned upon his appeal over turning a prior ruling by a County Court WOMAN judge that my case proceed to trial. This can be Googled as “Marita Murphy Court case” of course there wasn’t one. Now I feel the need to change such a silly unjust legal system, as they weren’t even charged. I believe now that actually the reporting of the serious crime of rape just creates jobs for the boys. Feeds a chain of so-called helping and healing processes, counselling, investigating, judges wages etc. Those male judges, who rendered me voiceless never the less “set aside” $50k for me. Hello? I hope that they don’t think its SHUT UP money, as I’m going to really disappoint them.

After the law firm took a cut for all their hard work, I’ve ended up out of pocket to date about $70k and have turned into a professional CSA awareness and loud advocate. A company is sponsoring me and business cards are now being printed. I’ve started a petition of 100k signatures for my $100k going online mid year. I’ve self-funded a justice journey documentary that is waiting to be edited. This includes one of my perpetrators who was a ward of the state staying in a private home that coincided with my visit. We have had a #metoo forgiveness moment 50 years in the making, a beautiful thing. He has shown genuine remorse for his actions and is supporting me to get my money back. As an aboriginal first Australian native, his life’s journey has been most difficult also and I have the maturity and the life skill now to see and overcome the damage that was done to my Mum (R.I P. 2008) and I as we were struggling along. She was a good woman.

Being a lone wolf all my life, it was finally time to emerge from the shadows and test the system armed with only the truth and I’m here to say it’s rubbish. It’s shown that it is a system run by men for other men and I’m going to demand change with my personal journey. Yes 50 years is a long time, however, I was entitled to be heard and rest and test my case. To make me pay for the privilege of NOT being heard after what I’ve been through is simply NOT on. I will not rest until there is system change, I’ve told no lies and I’m a credible citizen who is entitled to, at the very least, be heard. My husband of over 34 years and my sister made Police statements. She is a mother of seven, nurse and “Mother of the Year” in Western Australia in 1994. Mum had confided in two of my brothers and they made statutory declarations. Over 100 decent people from all walks of life had provided character references. I am the only witness, but there are three others. I was even accepted by the Magistrates Court here in Ballarat as a Victim of Crime early this year. How stupid. If I applied, I received back $160 dollars of my own money spent on counselling! What a silly situation.

So, as various states in America push for a change in the Statute of limitation law, I temper any excitement by asking will the law then “work”? As, apparently, I was a test case here, with the law only changing in 2015. So nothing actually changed. Being a private person, hiding a big “dirty secret” all my life, I’ve now done a compete turnaround. Our children now know and understand why their Mum was ultra cautious when they were growing up, no school camps, sleepovers, day care or even kindergarten. I trusted NO ONE. It was a subconscious protection and it was all documented, ready for Court. My hour has not come as yet, but I’m sure it will, as the telling of the truth is pretty easy. I understand now, living here in Ballarat over half my life, that protecting our sons was as important as protecting our daughters. The catholic church sexual abuse scandal was/has been as big and ugly here in this Australian town as Boston; we are just a smaller scale as not as big a city. It’s soul and childhood destroying behavior when a child is molested. Sadly I know.

I love America and Canada living and working my way around with racehorses when I was single and am so grateful for you all hearing my voice in a number of formats. First Facebook, please find me. In a #metoo book of true stories of abuse published in New York by your author Jyssica Schwartz and new book just released by survivor Jennene Christine Obremski, who is a brilliant selfie artist and poet, this book that arrived last week is called “HELP THE CHILDREN.” Your beautiful “Nursing The Wound” warriors in Mississippi, Dawn & Amanda. They put my testimonial online and last, but not least, NAASCA, who had me on as a guest speaker on a special day in the USA 2018 Independence Day for 1+1/2 hour show, they then gave me credence as a member. All this world awareness work has to be done by sexual abuse survivors, as it’s difficult to understand if you haven’t experienced this firsthand. We have Bravehearts in Australia and other groups like “Lifeboat” started by a Geelong priest.

Thank you, Samantha, for allowing me to be heard and for the good work you do. As our children need me less, I hope to enter this field, as I’m a firm believer that you must “Live for something or you will die for nothing.” What’s better than saving innocent children from being sexually exploited before they are ready? I say my virginity was exactly that—MINE—not someone else’s to take away. Rape is a very serious criminal offense and should be treated as such. Incest is still a bit of a taboo. Let’s change that. Who would risk a “six figure amount” on a lie? How does an innocent vulnerable seven year old stand up and defend herself against something she knows nothing about? (Knowledge is power.)

When will I be heard? Every day. Thank you, Samantha.

*no capitol, no respect.

Author: Marita Murphy

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