My story

Long version of my (life) story: Link

Short version of the story is basically like this. In 2013, I was messed with and betrayed by my best friend, over a girl who means the world to me, a girl I dedicated my life to changing the world for. As a result, she will never speak to me again, and I've done nothing wrong. I had an emotional meltdown (not a mental breakdown). I wrote down my life story and put it on facebook, to let everyone know what had happened. That included my secret life as an underground coder and anonymous activist, and also mentioning horrible things my family did to me growing up. My family decided to call the police on me and paint me as a mental case (a bully tactic to keep the past buried). The police came over, told me that I wasn't allowed to post things on facebook, and repeatedly told me that they wanted to take me away to a mental hospital. I stood up for my rights, and they eventually stopped threatening me and left. I had several police visits since, to the point where I began recording the abuse in self defence.

Months later, a friend decided to put the story back up on facebook, at a time when I was so upset over her never speaking to me again that I stopped eating for a couple of days. He wanted everyone to know what I was going through, what my friend did to me, what my family did to me, and for someone to make things right. My family called the police again. They tried to take me away again, and when I tried to state my rights and defend myself, they told me to 'fuck of' and left. I recorded the incident and uploaded the footage to am unlisted youtube playlist that my family had already given to the police. The same police officers came back a couple of hours later, and tried breaking into my home before even knocking. They threatened to shoot me with a taser, and I called the 000 emergency line. I told them what had happened, but they wouldn't help me. The most they did was follow through with my request of sending the local Seargeant down to speak to me. He eventually came down, after a crowd of police officers had already swarmed around my home, trying to get in. I told him through a window what had happened and that one of his officers threatened to shoot me. He put his face up to me through the window and said with a smirk, 'Didn't happen'. He backed up and stood there for a moment with the same cocky smirk, and left. The police eventually brought in a negotiator, who lied to me and belittled me repeatedly, trying to provoke me into un-barricading my door. After I told them that I was recording and uploading the siege, they pulled a 'section 22'. I kept asking them for hours to quote me section 22, or at least state what crime I've committed. After hours passed, they finally printed me a copy of 'section 22'...

section 22 wrote:

(1) A police officer who, in any place, finds a person who appears to be mentally ill or mentally disturbed may apprehend the person and take the person to a declared mental health facility if the officer believes on reasonable grounds that:
(a) the person is committing or has recently committed an offence or that the person has recently attempted to kill himself or herself or that it is probable that the person will attempt to kill himself or herself or any other person or attempt to cause serious physical harm to himself or herself or any other person, and

(b) it would be beneficial to the person’s welfare to be dealt with in accordance with this Act, rather than otherwise in accordance with law.

(2) A police officer may apprehend a person under this section without a warrant and may exercise any powers conferred by section 81 on a person who is authorised under that section to take a person to a mental health facility or another health facility.

I asked them to show me the police officer who made the claim, the claim itself, and to validate it with some kind of reason or evidence. More time passed, and they failed to do any of that, even though I said I would open my barricaded door if they did. After an all day siege, they finally broke my door down. I placed my hands in a peaceful position where they could see them. Half a dozen police officers stormed in, told me to put my hands up despite them already being up. They assaulted me, mocked me, touched me in inappropriate places, cuffed me, took me outside and paraded me in front of my neighbors before taking the cuffs off, and put me in an ambulance.

I was taken to (censored) hospital, where I eventually spoke to an immigrant doctor and two nurses, all with poor English skills. She asked me a series of questions regarding things like allergies, my childhood and my eating habits. I explained that I hadn’t eaten much the past week because I was upset about something. Then she dissapeared for a while. She came back in and called me a liar and tried to use my eating habits as a feeble excuse to label me insane. Unable to understand much of her broken English, I tried to approach things from a different perspective. I referred to the Assylum seeker incident that set a precedent in Australian law. I mentioned how they stopped eating in protest of how they were being treated, and how the government tried and failed to use their eating habits as grounds for labelling them mentally ill, and hence discrediting their complaint and force feeding them in violation of human rights laws. I finished by makng it clear that while the situation set a precedent, I’m not in support of the assylum seekers themselves, nor any immigration for that matter. And there I was, surrounded by immigrants. She said, ‘Oh! So that’s how it is, is it? You have a delusion!’. I immediately said, ‘What is my delusion?’. She just stood there awkwardly for 10 seconds. So I asked her again, ‘What is my delusion?’. She said, ‘I can’t tell you, I have to go’. And that was how I was put in there.

The next day, I spoke to a man who had been designated as my ‘doctor’. Before even meeting me, he had already planned out what to do with me. He accused me of having delusions, but couldn’t tell me what they were. He had a drug plan all prepared for me. He told me that he wanted me to stay there for 2 weeks to assess me, and then he left. Knowing my rights, I immediately applied for a tribunal. It was supposed to take three days, but it took ten. During that time, I was locked up in a maximum security area with nothing but a shared television. Most of the staff treated me like dirt. On my second day, I asked for a copy of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and for the location of my wallet. For the trouble, I was drugged. I met other patients there who were frequently lied to, messed with, bullied and drugged by the staff if they complained about it. In the two weeks I was there, I wasn’t offered a single change of clothes. My Psoriasis flared up severely. I told the staff about it, but they mocked me for the trouble and didn’t do anything about it for a while, until my legs were so unsightly that they brought in another doctor who gave me the wrong cream, which was later confiscated anyway. I was also put on anti-psychotics (Risperidone), which caused intense side effects that almost killed me. They were replaced with another anti-psychotic (Paliperidone) with less side effects. As soon as a date for my tribunal was set, my ‘doctor’ countered with an application to have me stay longer.

At my tribunal, I was supposed to have a legal representative to talk to for two hours before the hearing. She turned up at the last minute, giving me no time. But since I had nothing to do but sit in a prison environment for two weeks, I had already prepared a speech.

I wrote:

Since the first moment I spoke to Mister S, he has pushed a psychiatric drug on me. After a week, he still hadn’t gone through my witnesses and evidence, and said he didn’t need to. All he has to go on, is a story I wrote on facebook last year, and an alleged threat of killing myself. His uninformed perspective has been the same since I met him; that he doesn’t believe my story and is adamant that I am having delusions. If he had bothered to check, he would have found witness accounts verifying my story. He and his peer (a female Indian doctor) have consistently misinterpreted what I said out of context, and twisted it into something it isn’t. At first, I gave them the benefit of the doubt and patiently tried to clarify their misunderstandings. But at this point I find it very clear that Mister S is not genuine and simply looking for excuses to force me on a psychiatric drug. I have no history of drug use and no police record of crime. I came to the hospital in good condition and well dressed. I have been patient and well mannered throughout my stay, and have shown no sign of psychotic behavior. All Mister S has are very far reaching interpretations of part of a story, which is backed up by witnesses and video evidence that I’m not allowed to access. I am no threat to myself nor anyone else, and I am deeply traumatised by this detainment and forced use of psychiatric drugs. I asked for a tribunal on the 10th, and it’s taken all this time. I have been messed with and delayed every step of the way, and as I write this on the 17th, I have yet to receive any specific reason for my detainment, and reason for being accused of delusions. I have been repeatedly misquoted, and this has been the basis, a very vague basis, to support this delusion nonsense. The only thing wrong with me is that I’m broken hearted over my best friend betraying me and meddling with my personal life. What purpose does keeping me here serve, other than to traumatise me and violate me when all I need is to be left alone. I’ve never done anything to anyone. If I’m legally forced to take a drug, why can’t I do it at home? I am a law abiding citizen and have no intention of violating a community treatment order. Nor have I displayed any behavior suggestive of doing so. I will however be seeking legal aid to get the order revoked. If I was such a threat to myself and/or others, then why have I only been put on one nightly anti-psychotic and not frequently tranquilised like other patients here. Yet here I’ve been in the maximum security area all this time. The conditions of my initial diagnosis were very unprofessional. I was brought here over concerns about me not eating, even thought I was eating an apple when the doctor arrived.

I began going through what happened and referred them to the evidence, and the judges became awkward until they made me stop talking. They gave Mister S another chance to speak. He accused me of doing all kinds of horrible things. That I was going around attacking people and stalking Emma. That she feared for her life and took out an Apprehended Violence Order on me. The panel asked him if he thought a forensics team should be brought in to sort out the facts, and he said no. They took his word for it, turned down my appeal and sided with him to keep me there for another four weeks.

A few days later, I was finally released from maximum security and into the main area. A moment before moving me, two staff members came in to tell me that Mister S found a cyst on my brain. I was told that I had to do more tests. After a week or two of being left in the dark, those tests were done and they showed nothing. I stayed for another four weeks of hell, being messed with and tormented by the staff, being drugged and watching as others are messed with to the point where they break down, at which point they would be forcibly drugged and messed with even more. At one point, I quoted from the Universal Declaration of Human rights, on a white board. The staff told me over the speaker that doing so would guarantee I stay there longer. I told the officials who visited the hospital about what was going on, and they didn’t seem to care or do anything about it. The horror and trauma of what happened to me in that place is so bad that I cannot summon the words to describe the details. A few times, I was taken away into a private room and, for lack of a better word, interrogated. They would ask me the same questions each time, and accused me of all kinds of horrible things I’ve never done. They twisted every single thing I said, trying desperately to paint me as mentally ill. They eventually had me answer 800 questions in a psychology test, which they gave up on when they couldn’t find anything to pin on me. I repeatedly asked for details on what they claimed was wrong with me, and all they would give me was ‘delusion disorder’, never offering any details. Eventually they did, and according to them I am delusional because I thought that a girl MIGHT have had feelings for me. That was the best ammunition they could come up with, after spending a month in there. At the end of the four week order (on top of 2 weeks already spent in there), I went to another tribunal in regards to a Community Treatment Order, where they applied for a legal order to force me on anti-psychotic injections for at least 6 months, perhaps the rest of my life. And the man who was to be in charge of drugging me, just happened to the be same ‘warden’ who violated me in 1999. They made up more stories about me to paint me as mentally ill. I wasn’t even given a chance to say what I had prepared. The tribunal was adjourned, because the doctor made claims of a so called document showing that I had been previously diagnosed with a mental illness and refused to take their psychiatric drugs. I told them that no such document exists, and that they had in front of them two release papers showing that I do not have a mental illness. A new hearing was set for a later date, keeping me for even longer than the first order was allowed to keep me there. When it came time for the hearing, two new doctors I had never seen before, came in another doctors name with wild claims about my mental state and behavior. They also made claims of a previous diagnosis that never happened, contradicting the real documents that they had in front of them. The judges accepted the word of the doctors unquestionably. After pushing for a chance to speak, I quoted my prepared speech.

I wrote:

Forcing injections on people is meant for situations where a person poses a serious risk to the community. I have never posed a threat to anyone and I have no criminal record whatsoever. I have never touched drugs. I have always been a model citizen. I have spent my life trying to make the world a better place. I was drugged here because the doctors didn’t want to believe my story and labelled me delusional. Then this mysterious document appears out of nowhere claiming a diagnosis of schizophrenia. The claims made by the doctors here, change on a daily basis, I have two discharge papers stating that I have no mental illness. I have no idea where the mysterious document came from, but here I have two discharges claiming otherwise. I have stated from day one that if you want me to take these drugs, I will take them if you prove mental illness or make a CTO. But for what real purpose does such a CTO serve? My family were only concerned that I would never eat again after the horrible things done to me last year. The doctors here have spun that into something completely out of sync with reality.  I was so upset over new years, that I didn’t eat for only two days. I was eating again before I came here. I came here a healthy weight, I have shown no sign of mental illness over the past five or six weeks I’ve spent here. What justification is there to have kept me here for so long and force me on a CTO? Since I’ve always been a law abiding citizen, I have no intention of violating a CTO, and have stated that since day one. But I ask you to consider its validity and effectiveness. The drugs haven’t done a thing for me, because there’s nothing wrong with me. All I have are debilitating side effects. But if a CTO is the only way I can go home, then so be it. But why injections? Two discharge papers don’t lie. This mysterious document should be thrown out. I have never been diagnosed with a mental illness and I have never refused treatment. I understand that I have little hope of the law protecting me here, because of the extent of power given to psychiatry. I understand that the three hours of footage proving my innocence of the many claims made against me by the doctors here, will likely go unseen. I have a copy of them on this USB stick right here. I understand the poetic injustice of the man who violated me a long time ago at (censored), and whose hospital ward was closed down due to the death and injury of his patients, just happens to be the same man in charge of this CTO nonsense when I get out, all through a mysterious document that goes against two discharge papers. I ask you to end this mental health charade and do the right thing. Set me free. In light of my discharge papers, my lack of drugs and crime, and the sudden mysterious document claims, give me the benefit of the doubt. I’m begging you. At the very least, contact my witnesses for a character reference, and thoroughly examine my story and evidence. Understand that anti-psychotics take away the very things I hold dear. My ability to experience intense love and compassion, and my unusually high intelligence. Without psychiatric drugs, I’ll be fine. With them, I won’t be. I guarantee it.

The judges sided with the doctor without even flinching. They showed no interest in anything I said and quickly approved the CTO. I went home later that day. I was supposed to be given a script and valium for the pain and other side effects of the anti-psychotic, but I wasn’t given anything.

My horror story obviously continues after I got home. I'll by updating the story as time goes on, from the wordpress link at the top of this post.