'I was Miss Australia. Then I became the woman everyone wanted dead.'

Before everything changed, Felicia Djamirze wore a crown and sash.

She represented Australia on the international beauty pageant stage as Miss Australia International, and would go on to win Miss Australia three times.

Her lifestyle became one filled with glamour and luxury.

But she didn't start off with such lavish riches.

Growing up in 1990s Blacktown, she was no stranger to crime and was surrounded by addiction.

When life offered her a way out, she took it, and quickly became enmeshed in the clubbing scene, the bikie scene.

It would eventually come to a crashing, and traumatic, halt.

Listen to Felicia Djamirze on Mamamia's True Crime Conversation podcast. Post continues after video.

As a teen, people started noticing Felicia for her looks and she was encouraged to get involved in beauty pageants.

The modelling scene offered a way out of Blacktown that she had been looking for. But Felicia soon found herself in another Sydney postcode with some unsavoury characters.

Felicia fell in with the "bad boys" of the Kings Cross nightlife scene, finding comfort in people who reminded her of her father's history of addiction and crime.

"I feel comfortable around people that have grown up rough, like I have," she told former homicide detective Gary Jubelin in the latest episode of his I Catch Killers podcast.

"We're not only in the same book, we're on the same page."

But these problematic associates had dark sides.

Felicia said she soon found herself in a relationship with a bikie nominee, whose violent side was brought out by an addiction to ice. It nearly cost the young model her life.

"I was strangled. I was shot at... being chased around a house with a loaded shotgun," she said.

After escaping the violence, Felicia found love again with another alleged bikie associate, enjoying the riches that came with it.

But with the luxury came serious risk, and it wasn't long before her lavish life fell apart.

The night it all came crashing down.

The morning of February 9, 2016, started like any other.

Felicia was sleeping next to her boyfriend in their Queensland home, but just before 5am, she woke to an intense burning sensation.

A grenade had blown up in her face.

Masked police then stormed the property. The "no-knock" raid, would result in the 28-year-old being charged with drug trafficking alongside her boyfriend — an alleged Rebels associate.

She would be handed a three-year sentence, to be served in the community.

Now, Felicia is a passionate advocate for women's justice and is sharing her story in an effort to help other former criminals re-enter society.

Felicia Djamirze was crowned Miss Australia three times. Image: Instagram/@feliciadjamirze.

Felicia told Mamamia about the night everything changed.

"I woke up and I could just feel my face, and my hand was just on fire, and I actually thought that I had been shot in the face," Felicia told True Crime Conversations.

"I thought it was home invasion. And I'm laying there and I'm thinking, f—k, I've been shot in the face, but I'm still alive, so I'm just gonna lay here for a bit and pretend to be dead and just see what happens.

"I started crawling towards the walk in robe to get some kind of shelter, because I didn't, in a million years, think that they were throwing grenades. I had no idea what was actually going on. I was very disorientated because there's smoke and there's also a sound that is emitted that disorientates you.

"And the first grenade that they threw through the window was actually a military-grade deaf tech grenade. And the ones that came after were flash bangs.

"So I'm crawling to get into the walk in robe to get some kind of shelter, and on my way into the walking robe, that's when a tactical officer steps through the bay window and puts the gun to my head, and he's demanding to see my hands."

Felicia Djamirze on how she navigated the pagent world. Post continues after video.

Felicia explained she was "badly injured" in the raid, and suffered third-degree burns.

When the ambulance arrived, she remembers the paramedics were "pissed" by the fact her treatment had been delayed.

"I was not given any burns first aid," she said, explaining police originally said ambulance would only be called should they unlock their phones.

"We didn't unlock the phones. More than 40 minutes went by. I was in immense pain. Finally, they decided to call the ambulance.

"It just was all a big f—g balls up, ridiculous situation.

"And when I was wheeled out to the ambulance, I could see that there were military tanks in my front yard and on my property, and there were diggers digging up the ground. And I was just like, 'Well, this morning gets more and more bizarre', you know."

Felicia suffered third-degree burns in the raid. Image: Supplied.

She was rushed to hospital.

Then the death threats started.

"If you injure a drug dealer, (the) social perception is 'f—k them. They deserved it'," she reflected.

"When I was in hospital, I actually got a lot of death threats, to the point where they had to change my name to an 'X' in the system because people were calling up and threatening me.

"And I really didn't care, at the time I was on that much medication.

"I just thought you bunch of f——g losers who know nothing about life and nothing about society, and who are very narrow minded. So yeah, that was a pretty hectic experience."

Felicia described her recovery as "horrific". She had to undergo multiple surgeries to treat the damage done to her hand and eye.

"I remember looking at my hand and feeling like it didn't belong to me, like it didn't belong on my body, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it," she said.

"But I felt like it was this foreign entity on the end of my arm, and I just, I couldn't reconcile that it belonged to me.

"It was so bizarre."

Life on the straight and narrow.

But slowly, Felicia's wounds would heal, and she decided to study to be a social worker.

As her counselling practice took off, she resolved to become an advocate for women's justice — driven by the discrimination she experienced post-conviction.

"It was honestly terrible. There is so much discrimination that goes on," she said.

"You are not valued for the skills that you have gained post-conviction, you are seen as your worst mistake forever.

"And I think that women are disproportionately affected by this because we go into more caring roles. So there's a lot of checks."

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Felicia Djamirze (@feliciadjamirze)

Felicia would "like to see that change."

"I had to lie. I had to change my name. I had to hide my past, even though I had done all the work that I needed to do to move forward, and all I wanted to do was be welcome back into the community," she said.

"I wanted to give back. I wanted to work, and I wanted to pursue an education, and I wanted to have meaningful employment.

"You shouldn't have to lie and hide your past because you fear being judged or discriminated against."

When her partner was released in February 2024 after being reformed in prison, they rekindled their relationship — albeit with one big caveat; no crime.

Felicia's book, Accessory

Feature image: Supplied.