This afternoon when Justice John Byrne announced that Gerard Baden Clay had been found guilty of murdering his wife, Allison – her friends and family cheered from their seats in the courtroom. In that moment they were jubilant. And so was I.
‘They bloody got him,’ I thought feeling a flood of relief. Justice had been served.
But the happiness, the satisfaction I felt in those first few moments quickly dissipated and I stood there staring at the TV this afternoon feeling devastated. Hollow. Numb.
And that’s because there are no winners today. Not really. Regardless of the jury’s verdict as welcome as it was – an innocent woman was murdered in her own home at the hands of the man who should have loved her the most. There are no winners because a mother was robbed – snatched – from the lives of her children.
For those girls there are no more walks to the classroom holding mum’s hand. No more of mummy’s soothing arms and comforting voice when nightmares come to call. First dates, first dances, first bras, first heartbreak – those moments when every girl longs just for her mum – they’ll be met no with a mother’s love but with a primal pain at the aching gap that has been left behind.
This afternoon as Gerard Baden Clay was handed a life sentence, his three little girls were handed life sentences of their own.
And tonight and tomorrow and for days and months and years to come they will be left to grapple with the inconceivable notion, that their own father murdered their mother. That she is gone because of him.
And that is a burden no child should ever have to bear. A heartbreak no child should be asked to endure.
Government Steps In On Bid To Squash Penalty Rates
The Quicky
