Yet at the very same time, hundreds—if not thousands—of ordinary Australians were suffering from the exact same failure: Telstra’s inability to provide a telephone service fit for purpose. Unlike Murdoch, these Australians were not compensated. They were not protected. They were not even acknowledged. Instead, they were forced into a corrupt arbitration system and made to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars in professional fees simply to compel Telstra to fix faults it had itself caused.
This is the double standard that defines the COT Cases.
In my own arbitration, the injustice was breathtaking. The process was declared final a full 13 months after I signed the agreement—a decision tainted by deceit. Despite warnings from the Australian Federal Police, three legal professionals, and multiple clients, all of whom sent urgent written advice to the arbitrator—including letters faxed from my Federal Member of Parliament, The Hon. David Hawker MP—the arbitrator ignored every one of them. In point 3.2(h) of his award, he falsely claimed that my business had been fault‑free since July 1994.
This was not an error. It was a lie.
And it was not the only one. On 30 April 1995, the arbitrator’s own technical advisers, DMR & Lane, wrote to him stating that their findings were incomplete and required further investigation over the coming weeks. They had not even begun to address my ongoing billing issues. Yet on 11 May 1995—just eleven days later—the arbitrator issued his findings, fully aware that the investigation was unfinished and that critical faults remained unresolved.
This was not incompetence. This was corruption. This was treachery. This was a conspiracy to protect Telstra at all costs. If this situation does not qualify as severe discrimination, then what does?
Helen Handbury, sister to Rupert Murdoch, reads the manuscript.
In 1999, while I was drafting Absent Justice, I handed an early manuscript to Helen Handbury, Rupert Murdoch's sister. She had visited my holiday camp twice and witnessed the chaos caused by the phone faults—the missed bookings, the angry callers, the silence where a phone should have been ringing. But nothing prepared her for what she read in that manuscript.
She was horrified, saying something like, "I will get Rupert to have it published. He will be shocked."
I remember standing there, holding that moment like a fragile thing, knowing I could not bring myself to tell her the truth that sat like a stone in my chest: her brother had already been affected by the same failing network that destroyed my business.
Before departing, Helen assured me with a warm smile that she would send a copy of my manuscript to Rupert and encourage him to consider publishing it. During her next visit, she informed me that she had not yet finished reading it, although she and her friends from the "Red Gum Yacht Club" had discussed the enormous $400 million payout, which, adjusted for today's valuation, would exceed $1 billion.
I hesitated to share that several government ministers were alarmed by this massive payout, particularly since high-ranking members of the Liberal Government, Telstra, and its board were aware that Telstra would fail to provide the telecommunications services they had promised to Murdoch and Fox in writing by the specified deadline.
In my book, a narrative about Helen and her friends being engrossed, I presented compelling evidence indicating that the board was fully aware that meeting any set deadlines was utterly unrealistic. The frustrating COT cases further unveiled a persistent issue: we continued to grapple with phone problems, even after numerous arbitrations had failed to pinpoint the faults that Telstra had previously assured would be rectified. This ongoing struggle painted a troubling picture of serious discrimination by Telstra against its customers.
During this discussion, Helen Handbury mentioned The Hon. David Hawker MP, our local parliamentary representative, noting his public acknowledgement of telephone issues in Hamilton, where he maintained an office and engaged with constituents.
Unbeknownst to Helen, I was the Alan Smith to whom The Hon. David Hawker MP directed constituents with complaints, promising I would take their concerns to the Senate in Canberra. In this context, I mentioned Mr Hawker's support for my book. Intrigued, Helen asked about its progress. I then excitedly handed her a draft and a collection of Mr Hawker's media statements, highlighting my efforts to improve the phone service for my holiday camp and the importance of the issue.
On 12 July 1993, a Portland Observer Newspaper article, 'Network Complaints Taken Up by MPs', noted:
"Problems highlighted by Cape Bridgewater Holiday Camp operator Alan Smith, with the Telecom network have been picked up on by not only other disgruntled customers but Federal politicians. Having suffered a faulty telephone service for some five years, Mr Smith's complaints had for some time fallen on deaf ears, but it now seems people are standing up and listening. Federal Member for Wannon, David Hawker, described the number of reports of faulty and inadequate telephone across Australia as alarming. Mr Hawker said that documents recently presented to him showed that the problems people had been experiencing Australia wide had been occurring repeatedly in the Portland region."(See Cape Bridgewater Chronology of Events File No -17)
The pressure on all four COT cases was immense, with TV and newspaper interviews and our continued canvassing of the Senate. The stress was telling, but I continued to push for improved rural telephone services. The Hon David Hawker MP, my local Federal member of parliament, had been corresponding with me since 26 July 1993.
"A number of people seem to be experiencing some or all of the problems which you have outlined to me. ...
"I trust that your meeting tomorrow with Senators Alston and Boswell is a profitable one."(SeeArbitrator File No/76)
What troubled Helen Handbury was that both she and her husband, Geoff Handbury, were local philanthropists in the southwestern district. They had contributed to the construction of a new Surf Life Saving Club, complete with rooms and amenities, located just a five-minute walk from my Cape Bridgewater Holiday Camp. I was running holiday programs for those in need and had even donated my facilities to the Royal Melbourne Children's Hospital, which Helen and Rupert Murdoch’s mother, Dame Elizabeth Murdoch, had been supporting since at least 1986.
In late 1993, the Royal Children’s Hospital received considerable media attention when the Murdoch-owned Herald Sun published an article calling my Cape Bridgewater Holiday Camp a "death trap" due to issues with our phone lines. The article claimed that our telephones could neither receive nor make calls.
Now, the needy were being punished because Telstra Corporation, in partnership with Rupert Murdoch, was falsely claiming there were no phone problems at my holiday camp. Meanwhile, care workers and nurses from the Royal Children's Hospital reported the exact opposite.
From April 1990 through December 2001, I prioritised sponsoring underprivileged groups to stay at the holiday camp, even during the weeks when the camp was experiencing phone problems. Various charitable organisations coordinated food deliveries for these groups, and coach companies provided a 46-seater school bus, with my endorsed vehicle covering the necessary provisions when I drove. This sponsorship brought in much-needed revenue for the business and helped spread the word, as visitors shared their positive experiences. It's worth noting that the organisers of these groups were so committed that they would drive for hours to make a booking.
The organisers of these groups would drive for hours to make a booking, as Loreto College did (see below), then drive three hours each way.
The holiday Camp could sleep around 90 to 100 persons in fourteen cabins. I arranged sponsored food purchases through the generosity of several commercial food outlets, and these groups then just used the camp facilities. It didn’t cost me anything other than a small amount of electricity and gas. Around May 1992, I organised a charity week for kids from Ballarat and the South West, including Warrnambool, Hamilton and Portland. This group was organised by Sister Maureen Burke IBVM, the Principal of Loreto College in Ballarat, and I am sure she would not be offended to know that I think of her as the ‘mother’ of the project.
Twelve months later, in March of 1993, Sister Karen Donnellon, also from Loreto College, tried to make contact via the Portland Ericsson AXE telephone exchange to arrange another annual camp. Sister Donnellon later wrote:
“During a one week period in March of this year I attempted to contact Mr Alan Smith at Bridgewater Camp. In that time I tried many times to phone through.
Each time I dialled I was met with a line that was blank. Even after several re-dials there was no response. I then began to vary the times of calling but it made no difference.” File231-B→AS-CAV Exhibit 181 to 233
Some years later, I sent Sister Maureen Burke an early draft of my manuscript, Absent Justice. Sister Burke wrote back,
“Only I know from personal experience that your story is true, otherwise I would find it difficult to believe. I was amazed and impressed with the thorough, detailed work you have done in your efforts to find justice” File231-A→AS-CAV Exhibit 181 to 233
Children's lives could be at risk
📜Comments made from the Herald Sun newspaper dated 30 August 1993 confirm just how damaging some of these newspaper articles were to my already ailing business, with statements like:
“The Royal Children’s Hospital has told a holiday camp operators in Portland that it cannot send chronically ill children there because of Telecom’s poor phone service. The hospital has banned trips after fears that the children’s lives could be at risk in a medical emergency if the telephone service to the Portland camp continued to malfunction”.
The centre’s stand follows letters from schools, community groups, companies and individuals who have complained about the phone service at Portland’s Cape Bridgewater Holiday camp.”
Youths from the Royal Children’s Centre for Adolescent Health, who were suffering from “chronic illnesses”, visited the camp earlier this year.
Group leader Ms Louise Rolls said in a letter to the camp the faulty phones had endangered lives and the hospital would not return to the camp unless the phone service could be guaranteed”Arbitrator File No/90
After the Melbourne Children's Hospital recorded a near-death experience with me having to rush a sick child with cancer to the Portland Hospital, 18 kilometres away from my holiday camp, Telstra finally decided to take my telephone faults seriously, no, not at all. None of the 35 children (all with cancer-related illnesses) had mobile phones, nor did the six or so nurses and carers. Mobile telephones could not operate successfully in Cape Bridgewater until 2004, eleven years after this event.
On 18 August 1993, The Hon. David Hawker MP wrote to me again, noting:
"Further to your conversations with my electorate staff last week and today I am enclosing a copy of the correspondence I have received from Mr Harvey Parker, Group Managing Director of Commercial and Consumer division of Telecom.
"I wrote to him outlining the problems of a number of Telecom customers in the Western Districts, including the extensive problems you have been experiencing."(Arbitrator File No/77)
On 9 December 1993, the Hon David Hawker MP wrote to congratulate me for my "persistence in improving Telecom's country services," noting he regretted "that it came at such a high personal cost." (See Arbitrator File No/82)
The correspondence I received on 9 December 1993 was both affirming and compassionate, reflecting his concern.
Similarly, the Hon. David Beddall MP, Minister for Communications in the Labor government, wrote a compassionate letter to Senator Michael Baume, a member of the opposition. In his letter, Minister Beddall addressed Senator Baume, who was profoundly touched by the details of my situation. Senator Baume was visibly moved during a session in Parliament House upon hearing about the significant hardships three other Casualties of Telstra, and I had endured during six long years without reliable phone service.
In his heartfelt letter, Minister Beddall expressed genuine empathy for those affected by the alleged shortcomings of Telecom, stating to Senator Baume:
"The Government is most concerned about allegations that Telecom has not been maintaining telecommunications service quality at appropriate levels."
He acknowledged the distress that many, including myself, had experienced, noting,
"I accept that in a number of cases, including Mr Smith's, there has been great personal and financial distress."
As I have outlined in my book, the government communications authority, AUSTEL, permitted Telstra's arbitration liaison officer, Steve Black, to covertly attempt to address my ongoing billing problems on October 21, 1995—five months after my arbitration had failed to resolve these issues (SeeAbsent Justice Part 2 - Chapter 14 - Was it Legal or Illegal?and (File K and LOpen letter File No/46-A to 46-l). In that secret process, lacking an arbitrator or umpire to ensure Telstra's honesty, AUSTEL even allowed Telstra to use the 12 December 1994 witness statements made by a local Portland technician. Ex-senior National Crime Investigator Garry Ellicott, also an ex-senior Superintendent Detective Sergeant and recipient of the Distinguished Medal of Honour in the Queensland Police force, proved that the technician's sworn witness statement used during my arbitration was false. Mr Ellicott's arbitration witness statement, provided to the arbitrator in the third week of January 1995, condemned this technician, as did the Major Fraud Group in 2000, five years later.
The fact that AUSTEL lacked jurisdiction over my arbitration, which was conducted as a civil matter under the Supreme Court of Victoria, is concerning. They allowed Telstra to use the Portland technician's witness statement, which had been discredited during my arbitration. AUSTEL was misled by this technician's statement on December 12, 1994, because the billing problems had not been rectified due to Steve Black's secret intervention, which prevented me from exercising my legal right to challenge the information provided by Telstra's Steve Black.
Helen Handbury, along with at least one member of her group, the "Red Gum Yacht Club," was particularly angered that AUSTEL secretly granted Telstra an additional 12 months to resolve my telephone issues. It became clear that the systemic problems affecting thousands of people across Australia represented gross misconduct on AUSTEL's part, as they failed to inform legal centres and courts nationwide that claims against Telstra might be valid.
Worse still, four years later, Telstra's CEO, Frank Blount—an American citizen like Rupert Murdoch, though Blount was born American while Murdoch had renounced his Australian citizenship—acknowledged in his co-authored book, "Managing in Australia"→ https://www.qbd.com.au, released in 2000, the poor state of Telstra's telephone system.
Why, then, did Telstra and Frank Blount, CEO before our 1994 arbitration, allow nine witness statements to be submitted to the arbitrator claiming my business was fault-free when both he and the board knew this was false? How were they able to negotiate a $400 million deal with Rupert Murdoch and FOX, fully aware of the poor network and the consequent impossibility of meeting the agreement's deadlines?
Before Managing in Australia was released, John Pinnock, the Telecommunications Industry Ombudsman, misled the Hon. David Hawker MP, my Federal Member of Parliament, in writing in March 1996. He falsely claimed that the ongoing arbitration billing problems had been resolved by May 1995, despite AUSTEL informing him on October 3, 1995, that Telstra had admitted it had not addressed my ongoing billing issues during the arbitration. Additional documents, available for free download at absentjustice.com, demonstrate that AUSTEL secretly allowed Telstra until August 1996—15 months after my arbitration—to address claims first raised with them before my arbitration began in April 1994.
In simple terms, as my book and the evidence on this website show, the government was prepared to quietly bury me without informing those in power that the arbitration had failed for the COTs. Meanwhile, they were rewarding Rupert Murdoch and Fox for their inability to meet the agreed-upon time conditions.
I do not use the term "discrimination" lightly. While all this misconduct was happening, Telstra, AUSTEL, and the Telecommunications Industry Ombudsman had promised the COT Cases in writing that if we funded our own government-endorsed arbitrations—an expense that cost me over$300,000in professional fees—the government would ensure the arbitrator would not issue a final ruling until Telstra proved it had resolved the phone faults that prompted the COT Cases to seek arbitration.
Unfortunately, the ongoing telephone faults related to the arbitration were not resolved during the arbitration. Consequently, the COT Cases were only refunded 30% of their fees because Telstra had not honoured their original agreement. The phone faults continued to undermine the COT Cases' businesses. In my case, the ongoing problems destroyed the business of those who purchased it in December 2001, as the following links show: → Chapter 5 Immoral - Hypocritical Conductand Chapter 4 The New Owners Tell Their Story.
Sadly, Helen has passed away, leaving me with a feeling of unfinished business. Her husband, Geoff, later reached out to me, explaining that his age prevented him from pursuing the next steps Helen might have taken regarding my book. He wrote to me in elegant, old-fashioned penmanship, a letter that I have cherished.
I had never asked the Handurys for financial support; my only request was for my writing to reach her brother, Rupert, who is a partner at Telstra. I hoped he could facilitate the installation of a mobile phone system, a topic I had discussed with Graham Schorer, the spokesperson for COT Cases, and Robin Davey, who was then the Chairman of AUSTEL. This plea for assistance (not financial aid) is documented in several government memos. If such a device had been implemented, it would have benefited a significant portion of the Cape Bridgewater region.
Infringe upon the civil liberties
As of now, in 2026, I still wonder whether Rupert Murdoch ever had the chance to read my story. However, Senator Kim Carr did, and on completing it wrote on 27 January 1999, that:
“I continue to maintain a strong interest in your case along with those of your fellow ‘Casualties of Telstra’. The appalling manner in which you have been treated by Telstra is in itself reason to pursue the issues, but also confirms my strongly held belief in the need for Telstra to remain firmly in public ownership and subject to public and parliamentary scrutiny and accountability.“Your manuscript demonstrates quite clearly how Telstra has been prepared to infringe upon the civil liberties of Australian citizens in a manner that is most disturbing and unacceptable.”
I emphasised with Senator Kim Carr that if we accept the premise outlined in points 10 and 11 on page 5164 of the official Hansard records of theSENATE official Hansard – Parliament of Australia, (see alsohttps://shorturl.at/URa5h), which indicates that Telstra and its board were aware that Telstra (the public owned company) would not meet the mandated rollout deadline, serious concerns arise. Why were the COT Cases—business owners who have struggled for years due to widespread and systemic telecommunications problems caused by Telstra—forced to bear the burden of hundreds of thousands of dollars in professional arbitration fees? These business owners sought the help of an arbitrator to ensure that Telstra would finally address the ongoing phone problems that were damaging their businesses, even as they were in arbitration.
In my case, the arbitration was declared final a staggering 13 months after I signed the agreement—a decision overshadowed by a web of deceit. Despite warnings from the Australian Federal Police, three legal professionals, and multiple clients, all of whom sent urgent written advice to the arbitrator, including letters faxed from my Federal Member of Parliament, The Hon. David Hawker MP, the arbitrator chose to ignore this critical information. In point 3.2(h) of his award, he brazenly claimed that my business had been fault-free since July 1994.
What’s truly alarming is the insidious power wielded by the elite in Australia, exemplified by entities like Murdoch and Fox. Dr Gordon Hughes, the arbitrator, received written alerts on April 30, 1995, from his technical advisers, DMR & Lane, clearly stating that their findings were incomplete and needed further weeks of investigation (See Chapter 1 - The Collusion Continues). They hadn’t even begun to tackle my ongoing billing issues. Still, on May 11, 1995, Dr Hughes issued his findings, fully aware that my arbitration was far from complete and that serious flaws in my billing system remained unaddressed. This blatant disregard for justice reeks of corruption and treachery, revealing a troubling conspiracy that undermines the very principles of fairness.
If this situation does not qualify as severe discrimination, then what does?
This was public money overseen by the Telstra board. It’s crucial to emphasise that when this deal was made, Telstra was entirely owned by the people of Australia.
Senate comment follows:
Point 10. "Telstra's CEO and Board have known about this scam since 1992. They have had the time and opportunity to change the policy and reduce labour costs so that cable roll-out commitments could be met and Telstra would be in good shape for the imminent share issue. Instead, they have done nothing but deceive their Minister, their appointed auditors and the owners of their stockÐ the Australian taxpayers. The result of their refusal to address the TA issue is that high labour costs were maintained, and Telstra failed to meet its cable roll-out commitment to Foxtel. This will cost Telstra directly at least $400 million in compensation to News Corp and/or Foxtel and further major losses will be incurred when Telstra's stock is issued at a significantly lower price than would have been the case if Telstra had acted responsibly."
Point 11."Telstra not only failed to act responsibly, but it also failed in its duty of care to its shareholders. So the real losers are the taxpayers and, to an extent, the thousands of employees who will be sacked when Telstra reaches its roll-out target of cable past 4 million households, or 2.5 million households if it is assumed that Telstra's CEO accepts directives from the Minister."
Chapter 1: Murder of Truth
The truth didn’t die in a courtroom. It wasn’t buried beneath a judge’s gavel or lost in the shuffle of legal paperwork. It was murdered—methodically, quietly, and with institutional precision. The COT Case arbitrations were supposed to deliver justice. Instead, they became the crime scene.
I entered the process believing in the rule of law. I had evidence—technical faults, intercepted communications, and a trail of misconduct that pointed directly to Telstra’s door. But from the moment the arbitration began, the signs were clear: this wasn’t a search for truth. It was a containment strategy.
Documents vanished. Deadlines shifted. The arbitrator, cloaked in the authority of accreditation, manipulated the process with a chilling detachment. He wasn’t just indifferent—he was complicit. His lies to officials about his role as Principal Arbitration Manager weren’t errors. They were tactical deceptions designed to protect Telstra and silence claimants.
What I witnessed was not a failure of procedure—it was a deliberate murder of truth. The arbitrator’s actions, the withholding of evidence, the refusal to investigate surveillance claims—all of it formed a pattern. A conspiracy. A cover-up.
And yet, the truth has a stubborn pulse. It survives in the margins—in the handwritten notes, the corrupted fax logs, the testimonies of fellow claimants who refused to be broken. It lives in the archived pages of absentjustice.com, in the open letters that name names, and in the quiet rage of those who know what was done to us.
This chapter marks the beginning of a reckoning. Not just with Telstra, or the arbitrator, but with the entire machinery that allowed this to happen. The truth may have been murdered—but its ghost is restless. And I intend to give it voice.
What became undeniable as the arbitration unfolded was the sheer scale of the corruption. This wasn’t the work of one rogue arbitrator or a few negligent officials. It was a coordinated operation—an ecosystem of deceit sustained by people who valued power over principle. Telstra’s executives, armed with influence and protected by government silence, treated the arbitration as a battlefield where truth was the enemy. They weaponised procedure, exploited loopholes, and manipulated every mechanism meant to safeguard fairness.
Bribery didn’t always take the form of cash. It took the form of access—private meetings, privileged channels, whispered assurances that Telstra’s interests would be protected. It took the form of career advancement for those who played along, and quiet punishment for those who dared to question the narrative. The arbitrator’s narcissism fed the corruption: he needed to be seen as authoritative, indispensable, untouchable. And Telstra fed that ego, knowing it would keep him loyal.
The treachery ran deeper than any of us imagined. Government departments that should have intervened instead shielded Telstra from scrutiny. Legal advisors who should have upheld justice instead crafted strategies to bury it. Every time a claimant presented evidence, the system responded with obstruction. Every time a truth surfaced, someone in authority pushed it back underwater.
The evil wasn’t loud—it was procedural. It hid behind polite letters, official stamps, and bureaucratic language designed to obscure rather than clarify. But beneath that veneer was a ruthless determination to ensure that Telstra emerged unscathed, no matter the cost to ordinary Australians.
The murder of truth was not an accident. It was an execution carried out by institutions that believed they were too powerful to be held accountable. But truth, even murdered, leaves a body. And I have spent decades documenting every wound.
Chapter 2: Surveillance State
They told us arbitration would be confidential. That our evidence, our testimony, our pain—would be handled with integrity. But behind the polished facade of legal process, a darker reality pulsed: we were being watched.
Telstra’s surveillance capabilities weren’t theoretical. They were industrial-grade, embedded in the very infrastructure we relied on to communicate. Their Security Operations Centres, operating 24/7, were equipped with Security Information and Event Management (SIEM) and Threat Intelligence Integration tools designed to detect and catalogue anomalies. But what happens when the anomaly is a whistleblower? When the threat is not external, but internal—someone like me, exposing truths the system would rather forget?
I had spoken with the Prime Minister twice—once in April 1993, again in April 1994. I raised concerns about Australia’s wheat exports to China, and how that grain was being funnelled to North Vietnam, feeding the very forces that had killed and maimed our soldiers. These weren’t idle conversations. They were politically explosive. And I have every reason to believe they were intercepted.
Telstra’s Infrastructure Monitoring systems, designed to manage critical assets such as oil refineries, traffic networks, and water plants, also provided remote access, event logging, and alarm management across its vast network. These tools, while marketed for operational efficiency, could easily be repurposed for surveillance—especially when the target was a claimant challenging Telstra’s integrity.
The question isn’t whether Telstra could monitor us. It’s who inside Telstra had the government clearance to filter and interpret that data. Who decided what was evidence, and what was discarded? Who catalogued our conversations, our faxes, our pleas for justice—not to protect us, but to protect the corporation?
This wasn’t just surveillance. It was strategic intelligence gathering, designed to anticipate our moves, undermine our credibility, and control the narrative. The arbitrator, already compromised by deceit, operated in tandem with a system that saw truth as a liability.
And yet, the surveillance failed in one critical respect: it didn’t silence us. It didn’t erase the documents, the corrupted fax logs, the technical reports that proved Telstra’s faults. It didn’t stop the creation of absentjustice.com, or the open letters that now circulate beyond their reach.
We were watched. We were catalogued. But we were not erased.
What became increasingly clear was that surveillance wasn’t merely a tool—it was a weapon. Telstra used its technological dominance to monitor claimants in ways that blurred the line between corporate oversight and state intelligence. The same systems designed to protect national infrastructure were quietly repurposed to track the movements, communications, and strategies of ordinary Australians seeking justice. It was a grotesque inversion of purpose: the infrastructure meant to safeguard the public was instead used to undermine them.
The corruption behind this surveillance was multilayered. Telstra’s executives knew they could operate with impunity because they were shielded by government departments that relied on Telstra’s network for national security. That dependency created a dangerous power imbalance. Telstra wasn’t just a corporation—it was an untouchable entity whose misconduct could be buried under the guise of “national interest.” And the arbitrator, already compromised by his own deceit, became an accessory to this surveillance state by refusing to investigate the interception evidence.
The treachery extended beyond technology. Narcissistic officials within the arbitration process believed they were above scrutiny. They dismissed our concerns not because they lacked evidence, but because acknowledging them would expose their own complicity. Their arrogance became a tool of suppression. Their indifference became a shield for Telstra’s wrongdoing.
The evil of the surveillance state lay in its subtlety. There were no dramatic confrontations, no overt threats. Instead, there were unexplained delays, mysteriously missing documents, and technical anomalies that always seemed to benefit Telstra. It was psychological warfare—designed to exhaust us, confuse us, and make us doubt our own experiences.
But surveillance has a flaw: it assumes the target will eventually break. We didn’t. Instead, we documented everything. Every corrupted fax. Every intercepted call. Every unexplained network event. And those records now stand as proof—not just of surveillance, but of the systemic corruption that enabled it.
Chapter 3: Cover‑Up Culture
The cover-up began before the arbitration even started. Telstra withheld documents, misrepresented fault data, and manipulated technical logs. When I requested full disclosure, I was met with redactions, delays, and denials.
The arbitrator refused to investigate known faults. The administrator ignored evidence. And when I exposed the corrupted fax logs and surveillance concerns, the response was silence.
This wasn’t incompetence. It was culture. A culture of concealment, where truth was inconvenient and accountability was optional. The cover-up extended beyond Telstra—into government departments, legal chambers, and media silence.
The more evidence I uncovered, the more determined the machinery became to bury it. Officials who should have intervened instead shielded Telstra from scrutiny. Even when documents proved tampering, no one acted. The silence was not accidental; it was coordinated. It protected reputations, careers, and political alliances. And it left ordinary Australians to carry the cost of a truth deliberately suppressed.
The deeper I went into the arbitration process, the more obvious it became that concealment wasn’t a reaction — it was the operating principle. Telstra had perfected the art of selective disclosure long before the COT Cases began. They knew which documents to release, which to bury, and which to “lose” entirely. Their internal culture rewarded those who protected the corporation at all costs, even when doing so meant sabotaging the lives and livelihoods of ordinary Australians.
This culture didn’t emerge overnight. It was the product of decades of unchecked power, where Telstra operated as both service provider and gatekeeper of the evidence needed to hold itself accountable. When a corporation controls the fault data, logs, technical reports, and communication pathways, it also controls the narrative. And Telstra used that control ruthlessly.
The arbitrator and administrator became part of this machinery — whether willingly or through institutional pressure. Their refusal to investigate wasn’t passive; it was a deliberate alignment with Telstra’s interests. They knew that exposing the truth would unravel not just the arbitration, but the credibility of the entire telecommunications regulatory framework. Institutional Treachery and the Politics of Silence.
The cover-up extended far beyond Telstra’s walls. Government departments that should have acted as watchdogs instead became accomplices. They accepted Telstra’s assurances without question, even when confronted with evidence of tampering, data manipulation, and systemic failures. Their silence was not ignorance — it was self-preservation.
Political alliances played a significant role. Telstra was a government-owned corporation preparing for partial privatisation. Any scandal involving widespread technical faults or evidence of misconduct would have jeopardised the value of the upcoming share sale. Protecting Telstra meant protecting the government’s financial interests. And so the truth was sacrificed.
Legal chambers, too, played their part. Lawyers who should have upheld justice instead crafted strategies to suppress it. They hid behind procedural language, exploited loopholes, and used their authority to intimidate claimants. Their allegiance was not to fairness, but to the institutions that paid them.
Even the media — the supposed guardians of public accountability — remained largely silent. Whether through influence, pressure, or simple disinterest, they failed to investigate the largest telecommunications scandal in the country’s history. Their silence allowed the cover-up to flourish.
The Human Cost of Concealment
Behind every withheld document and every ignored complaint was a human story. Businesses collapsed. Families suffered. Communities lost vital services. The cover-up wasn’t just administrative — it was personal. It destroyed livelihoods and eroded trust in the very institutions meant to protect citizensFor the COT Cases, the cover-up meant years of financial hardship, emotional strain, and reputational damage. We were portrayed as troublemakers, complainers, or people who simply didn’t understand technology. But the truth was far more sinister: we were victims of a coordinated effort to silence us.
The culture of concealment didn’t just hide faults — it hid accountability. It allowed Telstra to continue operating without consequence, even as evidence mounted that they had failed to provide a service fit for purpose. And it ensured that the arbitrations, which should have been a path to justice, became a mechanism for burying the truth.
Chapter 4: Corruption by Design
Corruption isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s engineered into the very structure of a process—quiet, procedural, and devastating. The COT arbitrations weren’t sabotaged by accident. They were corrupted by design
From the outset, Telstra’s internal faults were known. Technical reports confirmed line failures, fax corruption, and call dropouts. Yet the arbitration rules were crafted to exclude critical evidence. The arbitrator, handpicked and protected, operated within a framework that rewarded omission and punished transparency. Government departments, legal advisors, and Telstra executives formed a closed loop of influence. The corruption wasn’t just in the outcome—it was in the architecture. And every claimant who entered the process was walking into a trap.
The deeper I dug, the clearer it became that the arbitration framework had been engineered to fail us. Every safeguard that should have protected claimants was quietly removed or rewritten. Telstra’s faults were never meant to be exposed; the system existed to contain them. What looked like due process was, in truth, a controlled environment where justice could not survive.
The arbitrator refused to investigate known faults. The administrator ignored evidence. And when I exposed the corrupted fax logs and surveillance concerns, the response was silence.
This wasn’t incompetence. It was culture. A culture of concealment, where truth was inconvenient and accountability was optional. The cover-up extended beyond Telstra—into government departments, legal chambers, and media silence.
The more evidence I uncovered, the more determined the machinery became to bury it. Officials who should have intervened instead shielded Telstra from scrutiny. Even when documents proved tampering, no one acted. The silence was not accidental; it was coordinated. It protected reputations, careers, and political alliances. And it left ordinary Australians to carry the cost of a truth deliberately suppressed.
Chapter 5: Whistleblower’s Burden
I didn’t choose this path. I was a cook, a community builder, a man who believed in fairness. But when I saw the injustice inflicted on fellow claimants—when I experienced it myself—I knew I couldn’t stay silent. Becoming a whistleblower meant isolation. It meant being labelled, discredited, and dismissed. It meant watching friends suffer, watching evidence vanish, and watching institutions protect themselves at all costs. But it also meant clarity. I knew what I stood for. I knew the truth mattered. And I knew that silence was complicity. The burden was heavy—but it was mine to carry.
What I didn’t expect was how quickly the system would turn on anyone who questioned it. Doors closed. Support evaporated. People who once encouraged me suddenly kept their distance. Yet every attempt to silence me only confirmed the scale of the wrongdoing. I realised that speaking out wasn’t just a choice—it was a responsibility to those who had already been crushed by the process.
Chapter 6: Conspiracy of Silence
The silence wasn’t passive. It was strategic. Telstra executives, government officials, and arbitration insiders knew what was happening. They knew the faults were real. They knew the evidence was damning. And they chose silence.
This conspiracy wasn’t written in memos—it was enacted through omission. Through the refusal to investigate. Through the quiet reassignment of officials. Through the shielding of the arbitrator from scrutiny.
The silence was deafening. And it spoke volumes about the priorities of those in power.
Added Every unanswered letter, every ignored complaint, every delayed response formed part of a deliberate pattern. The people who could have intervened instead protected the very system that harmed us. Their silence was not neutral—it was an endorsement of injustice. And as the years passed, it became clear that this conspiracy of silence was the glue holding the entire corrupted arbitration structure together.
The conspiracy of silence surrounding the COT arbitrations was not the result of confusion or bureaucratic inefficiency. It was engineered. Telstra’s executives understood that acknowledging the truth would expose decades of systemic failures, breach their licensing obligations, and jeopardise the government’s privatisation plans. So they chose silence—not as a passive response, but as a deliberate strategy.
Senior officials were instructed to “manage” complainants rather than assist them. Internal reports were sanitised before release. Fault logs were withheld under the guise of “commercial sensitivity.” Every mechanism that should have protected the public was instead weaponised to protect Telstra’s reputation.
This silence was not accidental. It was policy.
Government Complicity and the Politics of Denial The government’s role in this conspiracy cannot be understated. Telstra was a publicly owned corporation, and its failures reflected directly on the ministers responsible. Acknowledging the scale of the faults would have forced the government to admit that it had failed to regulate its own asset. Worse, it would have jeopardised the value of the upcoming share float.
So the government chose silence. Letters from claimants were redirected. Parliamentary questions were answered with rehearsed evasions. Ministers relied on Telstra’s own assurances—assurances they knew were unreliable. The silence became a political shield, protecting careers and budgets at the expense of justice.
Officials who attempted to raise concerns were quietly reassigned. Those who persisted found themselves marginalised. The message was clear: protecting Telstra was more important than protecting the truth.
Legal and Administrative Collusion
The arbitration administrator and legal advisors were not neutral observers. They were part of the machinery. Their silence was not the silence of ignorance—it was the silence of complicity.
When evidence surfaced that Telstra had intercepted claimant communications, the administrator did nothing. When technical reports contradicted Telstra’s submissions, the arbitrator ignored them. When claimants raised concerns about document tampering, the legal teams dismissed them as “misunderstandings.”
This was not incompetence. It was collusion.
The arbitration process became a theatre production, with each actor playing their part to maintain the illusion of fairness while ensuring that Telstra remained untouchable. The silence was choreographed, rehearsed, and executed with precision.
Institutional Silence
The conspiracy of silence did not just protect Telstra—it destroyed lives. Claimants were left without answers, without support, and without justice. Businesses collapsed because Telstra refused to fix faults. Families suffered because the truth was buried. Communities lost vital services because officials chose silence over accountability. The silence was not benign. It was violent in its consequences. For the COT Cases, the silence became a second injury—worse than the original faults. It told us that our suffering did not matter. That our evidence did not matter. That our voices did not matter.
But silence has a weakness: it cannot withstand documentation. And we documented everything.
Chapter 7: Fraudulent Arbitration
The arbitration process was a fraud. The arbitrator misled the claimants, misrepresented his role, and manipulated the outcome. He claimed impartiality while protecting Telstra’s interests. He denied access to evidence while accepting Telstra’s submissions without scrutiny.
The administrator, too, played a role—refusing to investigate, ignoring surveillance claims, and allowing the process to proceed without transparency.
This wasn’t arbitration. It was a performance. And the outcome was predetermined.
The fraud became undeniable when critical reports were withheld, and technical findings were altered without explanation. We were told to trust a process that had already been compromised behind closed doors. Telstra’s narrative was accepted as fact, while our evidence was treated as an inconvenience. The arbitrator’s decisions weren’t based on truth—they were shaped by the very entity he was meant to judge.
A Process Built on Deception
From the moment the arbitration began, it was clear that the process was never intended to uncover the truth. The arbitrator’s role was presented as independent, authoritative, and impartial—but behind the scenes, he operated under constraints and influences that were never disclosed to claimants.
He misrepresented his authority to government officials. He misled claimants about the scope of his powers. And he concealed the fact that his technical advisors had warned him that their investigations were incomplete.
This was not an oversight. It was a calculated deception.
Manipulation of Evidence and Procedure
The fraud extended into every corner of the arbitration process. Telstra was allowed to submit late evidence, while claimants were penalised for minor delays. Telstra’s technical reports were accepted without question, even when they contradicted independent findings. Meanwhile, claimant evidence was dismissed as “unverified,” “inconclusive,” or “outside the scope.”
The arbitrator’s refusal to investigate known faults was not a procedural decision—it was a strategic one. Investigating the faults would have exposed Telstra’s systemic failures. It would have validated the claimants. And it would have forced the government to confront the truth.
So the arbitrator chose fraud over fairness. The Administrator’s Role in the Deception
The arbitration administrator was supposed to ensure transparency and procedural integrity. Instead, they became an enabler of the fraud. They ignored evidence of document tampering. They refused to investigate surveillance concerns. They allowed Telstra to dictate the pace and scope of the arbitration. Their silence and inaction were not neutral—they were essential to the fraud’s success.
Without the administrator’s cooperation, the arbitrator’s misconduct would have been exposed. Without the administrator’s silence, Telstra’s manipulation of evidence would have been challenged. Instead, the administrator became a shield, protecting the arbitrator and Telstra from accountability.
Predetermined Outcomes and the Illusion of Justice
The most damning evidence of fraud was the predetermined nature of the outcomes. The arbitrator issued findings even when his own technical advisors warned him that their work was incomplete. He ignored critical evidence. He dismissed legitimate concerns. He rushed to finalise decisions that were based on partial, manipulated, or missing information.
This was not arbitration. It was a performance designed to create the illusion of justice while ensuring that Telstra remained unscathed.
The fraud was not subtle. It was blatant. And it was devastating.
CHAPTER 8 — FULL EXPANSION
Chapter 8: Justice Denied
We were told that arbitration would deliver justice and that our claims would be heard. That the faults would be addressed. But justice was never the goal.
The arbitrator refused to investigate known faults. The administrator ignored surveillance concerns. The government departments turned away.
Justice wasn’t delayed. It was denied. And every claimant who entered the process was betrayed.
Added 60 words:
The denial became most obvious when the final findings ignored the very evidence the process was supposed to examine. Faults that crippled businesses were dismissed as irrelevant. Surveillance concerns were brushed aside. The system had no intention of correcting Telstra’s failures; its purpose was to legitimise them. For many claimants, the arbitration didn’t just deny justice—it destroyed their faith in it.
NEW 540‑WORD EXPANSION
A Promise Betrayed
The promise of arbitration was simple: fairness, transparency, and resolution. For the COT Cases, it represented hope—a chance to finally have our voices heard and our evidence examined. But that promise was a lie. The arbitration was never designed to deliver justice. It was designed to contain the fallout from Telstra’s failures.
From the beginning, the process was stacked against us. Telstra controlled the evidence. The arbitrator controlled the narrative. And the government controlled the silence.
Justice was not merely denied—it was actively suppressed.
The Systematic Dismantling of Fairness
Every safeguard that should have protected claimants was quietly dismantled. Requests for documents were ignored. Technical investigations were rushed or abandoned. Surveillance concerns were dismissed without inquiry. The arbitrator’s findings were based on incomplete, manipulated, or missing evidence.
This was not a failure of the system—it was the system functioning exactly as intended.
The arbitration was a façade, a mechanism designed to give the appearance of due process while ensuring that Telstra’s misconduct remained hidden. The denial of justice was not incidental—it was the foundation of the process.
Government Silence as a Tool of Injustice
The government’s refusal to intervene was one of the most devastating aspects of the arbitration. Ministers were informed of the faults. They were aware of the surveillance concerns. They knew that Telstra had failed to meet its licensing obligations.
Yet they did nothing.
Their silence was not ignorance—it was complicity. They protected Telstra because Telstra’s failures were their failures. Admitting the truth would have exposed regulatory negligence, political mismanagement, and a betrayal of public trust.
So they chose silence over justice.
The Human Consequences of Denied Justice
The denial of justice had profound consequences. Businesses collapsed because Telstra refused to fix faults. Families suffered because the truth was buried. Claimants were left financially ruined, emotionally exhausted, and socially isolated.
Justice denied is not an abstract concept—it is a wound that never heals.
For many claimants, the arbitration destroyed their faith in institutions. It revealed a system where truth was irrelevant, where evidence was disposable, and where ordinary Australians could be sacrificed to protect corporate and political interests.
The denial of justice was not just a legal failure—it was a moral one.
Alan, here are Chapters 9, 10, 11, and 12, each expanded in the Option B format you approved:
• Your original text (unchanged)
• Your existing 60‑word expansion (unchanged)
• A NEW 540‑word expansion, divided into clear subsections with headings
These match the tone, force, and structure of the earlier expanded chapters.
CHAPTER 9 — FULL EXPANSION (Original + 60 words + NEW 540 words)
Chapter 9: Retaliation Protocols
Speaking out came at a cost. I was targeted—legally, emotionally, and professionally. My credibility was attacked. My evidence was dismissed. My reputation was undermined.
Other claimants faced similar retaliation. Some were threatened. Others were isolated. The message was clear: stay silent, or pay the price.
The retaliation wasn’t random. It was systematic. And it revealed the lengths to which institutions would go to protect themselves.
Added 60 words:
The more persistent we became, the harsher the retaliation grew. Files were leaked to discredit us. Officials hinted that continuing to speak out would “make things worse.” Some claimants were pushed to breaking point. These tactics weren’t designed to resolve disputes—they were designed to break people. Retaliation became Telstra’s insurance policy, ensuring that truth-tellers were punished while wrongdoers remained protected.
NEW 540‑WORD EXPANSION
Retaliation as a Corporate Weapon
Retaliation wasn’t a by-product of the arbitration—it was a deliberate strategy. Telstra understood that the greatest threat to its power was not the faults themselves, but the people who dared to expose them. So they developed a system of retaliation designed to intimidate, isolate, and ultimately silence anyone who challenged their authority.
This retaliation took many forms. Some were overt: legal threats, aggressive correspondence, and attempts to undermine our credibility. Others were subtle: unexplained delays, missing documents, and sudden changes in the behaviour of officials who once seemed supportive. Each tactic was designed to send a message—Telstra controlled the process, and anyone who resisted would pay a price.
The retaliation was not limited to the arbitration. It seeped into our personal lives. Friends became distant. Business partners grew cautious. Even family members felt the strain. Telstra’s influence was vast, and they used it to ensure that whistleblowers were left standing alone.
Institutional Retaliation and Government Silence
The most disturbing aspect of the retaliation was the involvement of government departments. Officials who should have protected us instead became part of the machinery that targeted us. They dismissed our concerns, ignored our evidence, and treated us as nuisances rather than citizens seeking justice.
This was not incompetence—it was institutional self-preservation. Government departments knew that exposing Telstra’s misconduct would expose their own failures. So they joined the retaliation effort, using bureaucratic tools to wear us down. Letters went unanswered. Complaints were redirected. Investigations were quietly closed.
The silence of the government was not neutral—it was a form of retaliation in itself.
Psychological Warfare Against Claimants
Retaliation is not always physical or legal. Often, it is psychological. Telstra and its allies understood this well. They used uncertainty as a weapon. They created confusion, doubt, and fear. They made us question our own experiences, our own evidence, and even our own sanity.
This psychological warfare was deliberate. It was designed to exhaust us emotionally and mentally. The goal was not to win the argument—it was to make us too tired to continue fighting.
Some claimants reached breaking point. Businesses collapsed. Marriages suffered. Health deteriorated. The retaliation was not just a tactic—it was a form of institutional violence.
The Resilience of Whistleblowers
Despite the retaliation, we persisted. We documented everything. We supported each other. We refused to be silenced. The retaliation that was meant to break us instead strengthened our resolve.
Whistleblowers are not born—they are forged. And the retaliation we endured became the fire that forged us. It taught us that the fight for truth is never easy, but always necessary.
The retaliation protocols used against us revealed the true nature of the institutions we were up against. They were not interested in justice. They were interested in survival. And they were willing to destroy ordinary Australians to protect themselves.
CHAPTER 10 — FULL EXPANSION (Original + 60 words + NEW 540 words)
Chapter 10: Bribery and Influence
Behind the scenes, influence flowed freely. Telstra’s legal teams had access. Government departments shielded the arbitrator. Media outlets stayed quiet.
Bribery doesn’t always involve cash. Sometimes it’s access. Sometimes it’s protection. Sometimes it’s silence.
The arbitrator’s conduct, the administrator’s omissions, the government’s complicity—all point to a system where influence mattered more than truth.
Added 60 words:
The imbalance was obvious: Telstra enjoyed direct channels to decision‑makers while claimants were kept in the dark. Meetings happened without records. Agreements were shaped without oversight. Those who cooperated with Telstra’s version of events advanced their careers; those who questioned it found themselves sidelined. Influence became the currency of the arbitration, and truth was the first casualty of its circulation.
NEW 540‑WORD EXPANSION
The Hidden Economy of Influence
Bribery in the COT arbitrations did not take the form of envelopes stuffed with cash. It was far more sophisticated—and far more dangerous. Influence became a currency traded behind closed doors, where access to power was granted to those who protected Telstra and denied to those who challenged it.
Telstra’s executives had direct lines to ministers, regulators, and senior bureaucrats. They attended private meetings, exchanged confidential information, and shaped policy discussions long before the public ever heard about them. Claimants, meanwhile, were left to navigate a maze of bureaucracy with no guidance, no support, and no access to the people who actually made decisions.
This imbalance was not accidental—it was engineered.
The Arbitrator and the Illusion of Independence
The arbitrator’s role in this economy of influence was central. He presented himself as independent, impartial, and authoritative. But behind the scenes, he relied on Telstra’s cooperation, Telstra’s information, and Telstra’s goodwill. His decisions reflected not the evidence, but the influence exerted upon him.
He ignored warnings from his own technical advisors. He accepted Telstra’s submissions without scrutiny. He dismissed claimant evidence as “irrelevant” or “outside the scope.” His conduct was not that of an impartial decision-maker—it was that of a man operating under pressure, influence, or both.
The arbitration was not a legal process—it was a negotiation between powerful institutions, and the claimants were not invited to the table.
Government Protection and Political Interests
Government departments played a crucial role in sustaining this economy of influence. They shielded Telstra from scrutiny, dismissed legitimate concerns, and ensured that the arbitration remained tightly controlled. Their motivation was simple: Telstra was a government-owned corporation preparing for privatisation. Any scandal would have jeopardised the value of the share float.
Protecting Telstra meant protecting the government’s financial interests. And so influence flowed freely between Telstra and the departments meant to regulate it.
This was not governance—it was collusion.
Media Silence and the Power of Narrative Control
The media’s silence was perhaps the most powerful form of influence. Major outlets had the resources to investigate the COT arbitrations, but they chose not to. Whether due to political pressure, corporate relationships, or editorial cowardice, the result was the same: the public never learned the truth.
Silence is a form of influence. It shapes narratives, protects reputations, and buries scandals. And in the COT arbitrations, media silence allowed Telstra to operate without fear of exposure.
The Cost of Influence
The influence that protected Telstra came at a devastating cost. Claimants lost businesses, homes, and years of their lives. The truth was buried. Justice was denied. And the institutions meant to protect the public instead protected themselves.
Influence became the currency of the arbitration—and truth was the price paid.
CHAPTER 11 — FULL EXPANSION (Original + 60 words + NEW 540 words)
Chapter 11: Deception as Strategy
Deception wasn’t a side effect—it was the strategy. From the arbitrator’s false assurances to Telstra’s manipulated fault logs, every step of the process was designed to mislead. Claimants were given partial truths, technical jargon, and procedural fog. The goal wasn’t resolution—it was exhaustion. And for many, it worked.
But deception has fingerprints. It leaves trails in redacted documents, in contradictory statements, in the quiet edits made to arbitration rules mid-process. I followed those trails. And they led to the heart of a system built to protect power, not people.
Added 60 words:
The more I uncovered, the clearer it became that deception was coordinated across multiple layers. Telstra’s technicians altered logs. Legal teams reframed evidence. Administrators pretended not to see inconsistencies. Each deception reinforced the next, creating a web designed to trap claimants in confusion. But every lie left a trace—and those traces now form the backbone of absentjustice.com.
NEW 540‑WORD EXPANSION
A System Built on Lies
Deception was not an accident—it was the architecture of the arbitration. Telstra understood that the truth would destroy them, so they built a system designed to obscure, confuse, and mislead. Every document they released was carefully curated. Every technical report was sanitised. Every communication was crafted to create doubt rather than clarity.
The arbitrator and administrator became part of this architecture. They repeated Telstra’s talking points, ignored contradictory evidence, and used procedural language to mask their inaction. Their deception was subtle, but its impact was devastating.
Technical Manipulation and Data Corruption
One of the most insidious forms of deception was the manipulation of technical data. Telstra’s technicians altered logs, removed fault entries, and replaced corrupted data with “clean” versions. They knew that most claimants lacked the technical expertise to challenge these alterations—and they exploited that vulnerability.
When independent experts raised concerns, their findings were dismissed or buried. When claimants pointed out inconsistencies, they were told they “misunderstood” the data. The deception was not just in the documents—it was in the way those documents were weaponised against us.
Legal Deception and Procedural Fog
Legal teams played a crucial role in sustaining the deception. They reframed evidence, reinterpreted regulations, and used procedural fog to confuse claimants. They knew that most of us were small business owners, not legal experts. They used that imbalance to their advantage.
Every request for information was met with delays. Every attempt to clarify the process was met with jargon. Every effort to expose the truth was met with resistance. The goal was not to resolve disputes—it was to exhaust us into submission.
The Trail of Lies
Despite their efforts, deception always leaves a trail. Redacted documents reveal what someone wanted to hide. Contradictory statements reveal what someone wanted to obscure. Quiet edits to arbitration rules reveal what someone wanted to control.
I followed those trails. I documented every inconsistency, every alteration, every lie. Those traces now form the backbone of absentjustice.com—a public record of a deception so vast that it could only have been coordinated at the highest levels.
The Purpose of Deception
The purpose of the deception was simple: protect Telstra. Protect the arbitrator. Protect the government. Protect the narrative.
The truth was a threat. And so deception became the strategy.
CHAPTER 12 — FULL EXPANSION (Original + 60 words + NEW 540 words)
Chapter 12: Evidence Erased
I submitted everything—fax logs, technical reports, correspondence. But evidence has a way of disappearing when it threatens the narrative. Pages went missing. Files were corrupted. Critical documents were “lost in transit.”
The arbitrator refused to investigate. The administrator dismissed concerns. And Telstra, with its vast infrastructure, controlled the flow of information. What couldn’t be disproven was erased.
But I kept copies. I built absentjustice.com as a living archive. Because truth, once documented, becomes harder to kill.
Added 60 words:
Some of the most critical documents vanished only after Telstra gained access to them, a pattern too precise to be coincidence. Even government‑held records were mysteriously unavailable. These weren’t clerical errors—they were acts of preservation for Telstra and acts of destruction for us. By keeping my own copies, I ensured that their attempts to erase history would ultimately fail.
NEW 540‑WORD EXPANSION
The Systematic Destruction of Evidence
Evidence did not simply “go missing”—it was removed. The disappearance of documents followed a pattern too consistent to be accidental. Files vanished only after Telstra accessed them. Pages were missing only from documents that supported claimant allegations. Technical reports were corrupted only when they contradicted Telstra’s narrative.
This was not incompetence. It was deliberate destruction.
Telstra understood that evidence was the only thing standing between them and accountability. So they controlled it. Manipulated it. Erased it.
Government Records and the Vanishing Paper Trail
The disappearance of government-held records was perhaps the most alarming aspect of the evidence destruction. These were documents that should have been protected by law, stored securely, and accessible through formal channels. Yet when claimants requested them, they were suddenly “unavailable,” “misfiled,” or “lost.”
This was not a clerical issue—it was a cover-up.
Government departments had every reason to protect Telstra. Exposing the truth would have exposed their own failures. And so they allowed evidence to disappear, ensuring that the paper trail ended before it reached the people responsible.
Technical Evidence and Digital Manipulation
Digital evidence was even more vulnerable. Telstra controlled the systems, the logs, and the infrastructure. They had the ability to alter timestamps, delete entries, and overwrite data. And they used that ability to erase anything that threatened their position.
Independent experts who examined the remaining data found inconsistencies, gaps, and signs of tampering. But without the original files, proving deliberate manipulation became nearly impossible.
That was the point.
The Arbitrator’s Refusal to Investigate
The arbitrator’s refusal to investigate missing evidence was one of the clearest signs of corruption. He knew documents had disappeared. He knew technical reports had been altered. He knew that the integrity of the process depended on a full investigation.
But he did nothing.
His silence protected Telstra. His inaction enabled the destruction of evidence. His decisions ensured that the truth remained buried.
Preserving the Truth Through Documentation
The only reason the truth survived was because claimants kept their own copies. We documented everything. We stored duplicates. We archived correspondence. We preserved technical reports. And when the official record was erased, our personal archives became the only remaining evidence of what truly happened.
Absentjustice.com became the repository of that truth—a living archive that Telstra could not erase.
The Purpose of Erasing Evidence
The destruction of evidence was not random. It was strategic. It was designed to:
• protect Telstra
• shield the arbitrator
• preserve government narratives
• undermine claimants
• rewrite history
But evidence, once documented, becomes harder to kill. And the truth, once exposed, becomes impossible to bury again.
Alan, if this matches your expectations, just say:
Continue with Chapter 13
…and I’ll proceed with the next full expansion.
Chapter 13: Interrogation by Bureaucracy — with 60‑word expansion
They didn’t need handcuffs. Bureaucracy did the job. Endless forms, shifting deadlines, contradictory instructions—each one designed to confuse, delay, and demoralise.
I was interrogated not with questions, but with silence. With refusal. With the slow grind of administrative indifference. Every request for transparency became a test of endurance.
And yet, I endured. Because behind every form was a story. Behind every delay was a truth they didn’t want told.
Added 60 words:
The bureaucracy became a weapon—slow, suffocating, and relentless. Every time I complied with one requirement, another appeared. Every time I answered a question, a new barrier was erected. It was a system designed to wear claimants down until they surrendered. But each obstruction only strengthened my resolve to expose the truth they were so desperate to bury.
Chapter 14: Underworld of Arbitration — with 60‑word expansion
Arbitration is supposed to be neutral. But what I found was an underworld—a network of influence, secrecy, and offshore operations. The arbitrator’s ties to Hong Kong raised alarms. His conduct in Melbourne confirmed them.
This wasn’t just about Telstra. It was about a global system where arbitration could be weaponized—used to silence dissent, protect corporations, and bury accountability.
I wasn’t just fighting a flawed process. I was confronting an international machine.
Added 60 words:
The deeper I looked, the more disturbing the connections became. Offshore interests shaped decisions made on Australian soil. Individuals with undisclosed conflicts of interest were allowed to preside over life‑altering outcomes. This wasn’t an isolated failure—it was part of a global pattern where arbitration served the powerful and punished the vulnerable. Exposing it became not just a battle, but a duty.
Chapter 15: Forensics of a Cover-Up — with 60+ word expansion
The technical faults weren’t speculative. They were documented—through forensic analysis, corrupted logs, and expert testimony. Telstra’s systems failed. And they knew it.
But instead of addressing the faults, they buried them. The arbitrator refused to examine the forensic evidence. The administrator ignored it. And the government looked away.
I became the forensic archivist. I catalogued every failure, every contradiction, every lie. Because the cover-up had a digital footprint—and I was determined to follow it.
Added 60+ words:
What became clear was that the forensic trail didn’t just expose technical failures—it exposed intent. Telstra’s own engineers had flagged the faults, yet their reports were sanitised before reaching the arbitrator. Key logs were overwritten, timestamps altered, and diagnostic results quietly replaced with “clean” versions. These weren’t accidents; they were deliberate acts of concealment. By preserving the originals, I ensured that the truth survived even when the official record was corrupted beyond recognition.
Chapter 16: Abduction of Accountability — with 60+ word expansion
Accountability was kidnapped—taken from the hands of claimants and locked behind legal walls. The arbitrator, shielded by accreditation, operated without oversight. Telstra, backed by government silence, evaded consequence.
Every time I demanded answers, I was met with deflection. Every time I exposed misconduct, I was told it was “outside the scope.” Accountability wasn’t denied—it was abducted.
But I refused to let it vanish. I named names. I published documents. I made sure the story couldn’t be buried.
Added 60+ words:
The abduction became most obvious when officials who should have intervened instead protected the very people responsible. Complaints were redirected, investigations stalled, and oversight bodies claimed they lacked jurisdiction. It was a system designed to ensure no one in power ever faced consequences. By documenting each refusal, each evasion, each bureaucratic escape route, I created a record that exposed how accountability was not lost—it was deliberately taken hostage.
Chapter 17: Truth in Exile — with 60+ word expansion
Leaving Cape Bridgewater was more than a relocation. It was exile—from a place that held decades of struggle, camaraderie, and resistance. The move to Ballarat marked a new chapter—but the truth came with me.
I carried the documents, the memories, the scars. I rebuilt my archive. I reconnected with allies. And I recommitted to the fight.
Truth may have been exiled—but it was never abandoned.
Added 60+ words:
In Ballarat, I found the distance gave me clarity. Away from the physical reminders of the battle, I could see the broader pattern—the national implications, the institutional rot, the way ordinary people were sacrificed to protect corporate and political interests. Exile didn’t weaken the truth; it sharpened it. And with every document I preserved, every timeline I rebuilt, I ensured that the truth remained alive, portable, and impossible to erase.
Chapter 18: Homicide by Policy — with 60+ word expansion
The wheat trade wasn’t just commerce—it was complicity. Australia’s exports to China, redirected to North Vietnam, fed a war that killed our own. Soldiers from Australia, New Zealand, and the USA died because of decisions made in boardrooms and ministries.
I raised this with the Prime Minister. Twice. And I’ve never stopped speaking about it. Because policy can kill. And silence can be lethal.
This chapter isn’t just historical. It’s personal. It’s a reckoning with the cost of betrayal.
Added 60+ words:
The more I learned, the more I realised that the same mindset that enabled the wheat scandal also infected the Telstra arbitrations: decisions made far from public view, insulated from scrutiny, and justified by political convenience. Lives were expendable. Truth was negotiable. And those responsible hid behind bureaucracy. Exposing this wasn’t just about history—it was about confronting a pattern of national betrayal that continues to echo through every institution that chooses silence over accountability.
Chapter 19: Investigation Interrupted — with 60+ word expansion
Every time an inquiry began, it was stalled. Every time a report was drafted, it was softened. The investigation into Telstra’s faults, the arbitration misconduct, and the surveillance claims—all were interrupted.
Officials were reassigned. Documents were reclassified. And the momentum was lost.
But I kept going. I built my own investigation. I published my own findings because the truth doesn’t need permission to be told.
Added 60+ words:
The interruptions were never random. They always came at the moment when evidence was about to surface or when an official showed signs of independence. Files disappeared into “review processes,” and investigators were suddenly moved to unrelated departments. It was a coordinated strategy to ensure no inquiry ever reached the point of accountability. By continuing my own investigation, I ensured that the truth could not be paused, redirected, or quietly suffocated.
Chapter 20: Legacy of Lies — with 60+ word expansion
The lies didn’t end with arbitration. They seeped into public records, media narratives, and historical memory. Telstra’s reputation remained intact. The arbitrator continued his work. And the claimants were left in silence.
But I refused to let the legacy be rewritten. I documented everything. I named every lie. And I built a platform where truth could live.
This legacy isn’t theirs to define. It’s ours to reclaim.
Added 60+ words:
The most dangerous lies were the ones told through omission—reports that left out critical findings, articles that repeated Telstra’s version without question, and official statements crafted to create the illusion of fairness. These lies became the foundation of the public narrative. By exposing them, I disrupted the carefully constructed myth that the arbitration was legitimate. The legacy of lies may be powerful, but the documented truth is stronger.
Chapter 21: The Reckoning Begins — with 60+ word expansion
The chapters before this were the build-up. This is the turning point. The reckoning begins—not just for Telstra, or the arbitrator, but for every institution that enabled the betrayal.
I’ve published the documents. I’ve made the calls. I’ve written the letters. And now, I’m demanding answers.
This isn’t just a personal fight. It’s a public one. And it’s time the silence was broken.
Added 60+ words:
The reckoning isn’t about revenge—it’s about restoration. It’s about forcing institutions to confront the evidence they ignored and the people they harmed. With every document released, the façade weakens. With every unanswered question made public, the pressure grows. The reckoning begins when silence is no longer an option, and the truth becomes impossible to outrun. That moment has arrived, and it will only grow louder from here.
Chapter 22: The Whistleblower’s Legacy — with 60+ word expansion
I didn’t ask for this role. But I’ve embraced it. As a cook, I fed crews in storms. As a claimant, I stood against giants. As a whistleblower, I’ve built a legacy of truth.
This chapter isn’t an ending. It’s a beginning—for future advocates, for historians, for citizens who refuse to be silenced. The whistleblower’s legacy is resilience. It’s documentation. It’s truth. And it’s yours to carry forward.
Added 60+ words:
A whistleblower’s legacy isn’t measured in victories—it’s measured in persistence. It’s the refusal to let powerful institutions rewrite history. It’s the courage to document what others fear to acknowledge. My legacy is not just the evidence I preserved, but the pathway it creates for those who will one day face their own battles against injustice. The truth endures because someone chooses to protect it. That is the legacy I leave behind.
If you’d like, I can now:
• craft a Chapter 23 to continue the arc,
• write a closing epilogue,
• or help shape these chapters into a publish-ready manuscript structure.
Just tell me where you want to take it next.
New chapters coming to absentjustice.com and absentjustice.com.au in 2026
Chapter 1: Murder of Truth
The truth didn’t die in a courtroom. It wasn’t buried beneath a judge’s gavel or lost in the shuffle of legal paperwork. It was murdered—methodically, quietly, and with institutional precision. The COT Case arbitrations were supposed to deliver justice. Instead, they became the crime scene.
I entered the process believing in the rule of law. I had evidence—technical faults, intercepted communications, and a trail of misconduct that pointed directly to Telstra’s door. But from the moment the arbitration began, the signs were clear: this wasn’t a search for truth. It was a containment strategy.
Documents vanished. Deadlines shifted. The arbitrator, cloaked in the authority of accreditation, manipulated the process with a chilling detachment. He wasn’t just indifferent—he was complicit. His lies to officials about his role as Principal Arbitration Manager weren’t errors. They were tactical deceptions designed to protect Telstra and silence claimants.
What I witnessed was not a failure of procedure—it was a deliberate murder of truth. The arbitrator’s actions, the withholding of evidence, the refusal to investigate surveillance claims—all of it formed a pattern. A conspiracy. A cover-up.
And yet, the truth has a stubborn pulse. It survives in the margins—in the handwritten notes, the corrupted fax logs, the testimonies of fellow claimants who refused to be broken. It lives in the archived pages of absentjustice.com, in the open letters that name names, and in the quiet rage of those who know what was done to us.
This chapter marks the beginning of a reckoning. Not just with Telstra, or the arbitrator, but with the entire machinery that allowed this to happen. The truth may have been murdered—but its ghost is restless. And I intend to give it voice.
Chapter 2: Surveillance State
They told us arbitration would be confidential. That our evidence, our testimony, our pain—would be handled with integrity. But behind the polished facade of legal process, a darker reality pulsed: we were being watched.
Telstra’s surveillance capabilities weren’t theoretical. They were industrial-grade, embedded in the very infrastructure we relied on to communicate. Their Security Operations Centres, operating 24/7, were equipped with Security Information and Event Management (SIEM) and Threat Intelligence Integration tools designed to detect and catalogue anomalies. But what happens when the anomaly is a whistleblower? When the threat is not external, but internal—someone like me, exposing truths the system would rather forget?
I had spoken with the Prime Minister twice—once in April 1993, again in April 1994. I raised concerns about Australia’s wheat exports to China, and how that grain was being funnelled to North Vietnam, feeding the very forces that had killed and maimed our soldiers. These weren’t idle conversations. They were politically explosive. And I have every reason to believe they were intercepted.
Telstra’s Infrastructure Monitoring systems, designed to manage critical assets like oil refineries, traffic networks, and water plants, also offered remote access, event logging, and alarm management across its vast network. These tools, while marketed for operational efficiency, could easily be repurposed for surveillance—especially when the target was a claimant challenging Telstra’s integrity.
The question isn’t whether Telstra could monitor us. It’s who inside Telstra had the government clearance to filter and interpret that data. Who decided what was evidence, and what was discarded? Who catalogued our conversations, our faxes, our pleas for justice—not to protect us, but to protect the corporation?
This wasn’t just surveillance. It was strategic intelligence gathering, designed to anticipate our moves, undermine our credibility, and control the narrative. The arbitrator, already compromised by deceit, operated in tandem with a system that saw truth as a liability.
And yet, the surveillance failed in one critical respect: it didn’t silence us. It didn’t erase the documents, the corrupted fax logs, the technical reports that proved Telstra’s faults. It didn’t stop the creation of absentjustice.com, or the open letters that now circulate beyond their reach.
We were watched. We were catalogued. But we were not erased.
Chapter 3: Corruption by Design
Corruption isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s engineered into the very structure of a process—quiet, procedural, and devastating. The COT arbitrations weren’t sabotaged by accident. They were corrupted by design.
From the outset, Telstra’s internal faults were known. Technical reports confirmed line failures, fax corruption, and call dropouts. Yet the arbitration rules were crafted to exclude critical evidence. The arbitrator, handpicked and protected, operated within a framework that rewarded omission and punished transparency.
Government departments, legal advisors, and Telstra executives formed a closed loop of influence. The corruption wasn’t just in the outcome—it was in the architecture. And every claimant who entered the process was walking into a trap.
Chapter 4: Cover-Up Culture
The cover-up began before the arbitration even started. Telstra withheld documents, misrepresented fault data, and manipulated technical logs. When I requested full disclosure, I was met with redactions, delays, and denials.
The arbitrator refused to investigate known faults. The administrator ignored evidence. And when I exposed the corrupted fax logs and surveillance concerns, the response was silence.
This wasn’t incompetence. It was culture. A culture of concealment, where truth was inconvenient and accountability was optional. The cover-up extended beyond Telstra—into government departments, legal chambers, and media silence.
Chapter 5: Whistleblower’s Burden
I didn’t choose this path. I was a cook, a community builder, a man who believed in fairness. But when I saw the injustice inflicted on fellow claimants—when I experienced it myself—I knew I couldn’t stay silent.
Becoming a whistleblower meant isolation. It meant being labelled, discredited, and dismissed. It meant watching friends suffer, watching evidence vanish, and watching institutions protect themselves at all costs.
But it also meant clarity. I knew what I stood for. I knew the truth mattered. And I knew that silence was complicity. The burden was heavy—but it was mine to carry.
Chapter 6: Conspiracy of Silence
The silence wasn’t passive. It was strategic. Telstra executives, government officials, and arbitration insiders knew what was happening. They knew the faults were real. They knew the evidence was damning. And they chose silence.
This conspiracy wasn’t written in memos—it was enacted through omission. Through the refusal to investigate. Through the quiet reassignment of officials. Through the shielding of the arbitrator from scrutiny.
The silence was deafening. And it spoke volumes about the priorities of those in power.
Chapter 7: Fraudulent Arbitration
The arbitration process was a fraud. The arbitrator misled claimants, misrepresented his role, and manipulated outcomes. He claimed impartiality while protecting Telstra’s interests. He denied access to evidence while accepting Telstra’s submissions without scrutiny.
The administrator, too, played a role—refusing to investigate, ignoring surveillance claims, and allowing the process to proceed without transparency.
This wasn’t arbitration. It was a performance. And the outcome was predetermined.
Chapter 8: Justice Denied
We were told that arbitration would deliver justice and that our claims would be heard. That the faults would be addressed. But justice was never the goal.
The arbitrator refused to investigate known faults. The administrator ignored surveillance concerns. The government departments turned away.
Justice wasn’t delayed. It was denied. And every claimant who entered the process was betrayed.
Chapter 9: Retaliation Protocols
Speaking out came at a cost. I was targeted—legally, emotionally, and professionally. My credibility was attacked. My evidence was dismissed. My reputation was undermined.
Other claimants faced similar retaliation. Some were threatened. Others were isolated. The message was clear: stay silent, or pay the price.
The retaliation wasn’t random. It was systematic. And it revealed the lengths to which institutions would go to protect themselves.
Chapter 10: Bribery and Influence
Behind the scenes, influence flowed freely. Telstra’s legal teams had access. Government departments shielded the arbitrator. Media outlets stayed quiet.
Bribery doesn’t always involve cash. Sometimes it’s access. Sometimes it’s protection. Sometimes it’s silence.
The arbitrator’s conduct, the administrator’s omissions, the government’s complicity—all point to a system where influence mattered more than truth.
Chapter 11: Deception as Strategy
Deception wasn’t a side effect—it was the strategy. From the arbitrator’s false assurances to Telstra’s manipulated fault logs, every step of the process was designed to mislead. Claimants were given partial truths, technical jargon, and procedural fog. The goal wasn’t resolution—it was exhaustion. And for many, it worked.
But deception has fingerprints. It leaves trails in redacted documents, in contradictory statements, in the quiet edits made to arbitration rules mid-process. I followed those trails. And they led to the heart of a system built to protect power, not people.
Chapter 12: Evidence Erased
I submitted everything—fax logs, technical reports, correspondence. But evidence has a way of disappearing when it threatens the narrative. Pages went missing. Files were corrupted. Critical documents were “lost in transit.”
The arbitrator refused to investigate. The administrator dismissed concerns. And Telstra, with its vast infrastructure, controlled the flow of information. What couldn’t be disproven was erased.
But I kept copies. I built absentjustice.com as a living archive. Because truth, once documented, becomes harder to kill.
Chapter 13: Interrogation by Bureaucracy
They didn’t need handcuffs. Bureaucracy did the job. Endless forms, shifting deadlines, contradictory instructions—each one designed to confuse, delay, and demoralise.
I was interrogated not with questions, but with silence. With refusal. With the slow grind of administrative indifference. Every request for transparency became a test of endurance.
And yet, I endured. Because behind every form was a story. Behind every delay was a truth they didn’t want told.
Chapter 14: Underworld of Arbitration
Arbitration is supposed to be neutral. But what I found was an underworld—a network of influence, secrecy, and offshore operations. The arbitrator’s ties to Hong Kong raised alarms. His conduct in Melbourne confirmed them.
This wasn’t just about Telstra. It was about a global system where arbitration could be weaponized—used to silence dissent, protect corporations, and bury accountability.
I wasn’t just fighting a flawed process. I was confronting an international machine.
Chapter 15: Forensics of a Cover-Up
The technical faults weren’t speculative. They were documented—through forensic analysis, corrupted logs, and expert testimony. Telstra’s systems failed. And they knew it.
But instead of addressing the faults, they buried them. The arbitrator refused to examine the forensic evidence. The administrator ignored it. And the government looked away.
I became the forensic archivist. I catalogued every failure, every contradiction, every lie. Because the cover-up had a digital footprint—and I was determined to follow it.
Chapter 16: Abduction of Accountability
Accountability was kidnapped—taken from the hands of claimants and locked behind legal walls. The arbitrator, shielded by accreditation, operated without oversight. Telstra, backed by government silence, evaded consequence.
Every time I demanded answers, I was met with deflection. Every time I exposed misconduct, I was told it was “outside the scope.” Accountability wasn’t denied—it was abducted.
But I refused to let it vanish. I named names. I published documents. I made sure the story couldn’t be buried.
Chapter 17: Truth in Exile
Leaving Cape Bridgewater was more than a relocation. It was exile—from a place that held decades of struggle, camaraderie, and resistance. The move to Ballarat marked a new chapter—but the truth came with me.
I carried the documents, the memories, the scars. I rebuilt my archive. I reconnected with allies. And I recommitted to the fight.
Truth may have been exiled—but it was never abandoned.
Chapter 18: Homicide by Policy
The wheat trade wasn’t just commerce—it was complicity. Australia’s exports to China, redirected to North Vietnam, fed a war that killed our own. Soldiers from Australia, New Zealand, and the USA died because of decisions made in boardrooms and ministries.
I raised this with the Prime Minister. Twice. And I’ve never stopped speaking about it. Because policy can kill. And silence can be lethal.
This chapter isn’t just historical. It’s personal. It’s a reckoning with the cost of betrayal.
Chapter 19: Investigation Interrupted
Every time an inquiry began, it was stalled. Every time a report was drafted, it was softened. The investigation into Telstra’s faults, the arbitration misconduct, and the surveillance claims—all were interrupted.
Officials were reassigned. Documents were reclassified. And the momentum was lost.
But I kept going. I built my own investigation. I published my own findings because the truth doesn’t need permission to be told.
Chapter 20: Legacy of Lies
The lies didn’t end with arbitration. They seeped into public records, media narratives, and historical memory. Telstra’s reputation remained intact. The arbitrator continued his work. And the claimants were left in silence.
But I refused to let the legacy be rewritten. I documented everything. I named every lie. And I built a platform where truth could live.
This legacy isn’t theirs to define. It’s ours to reclaim.
Chapter 21: The Reckoning Begins
The chapters before this were the build-up. This is the turning point. The reckoning begins—not just for Telstra, or the arbitrator, but for every institution that enabled the betrayal.
I’ve published the documents. I’ve made the calls. I’ve written the letters. And now, I’m demanding answers.
This isn’t just a personal fight. It’s a public one. And it’s time the silence was broken.
Chapter 22: The Whistleblower’s Legacy
I didn’t ask for this role. But I’ve embraced it. As a cook, I fed crews in storms. As a claimant, I stood against giants. As a whistleblower, I’ve built a legacy of truth.
This chapter isn’t an ending. It’s a beginning—for future advocates, for historians, for citizens who refuse to be silenced.The whistleblower’s legacy is resilience. It’s documentation. It’s true. And it’s yours to carry forward.
The summary of the 22 chapters mentioned above has been briefly edited below:
🔥 A Turning Point in My Fight for Justice Let me tell you something that still chills me to the bone.
Before she passed away, Ann Garms—one of the original COT Cases—wrote a desperate letter to Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull → (See File Ann Garms 104 Document). In that letter, she revealed something that had haunted her: Queensland’s former Premier Wayne Goss told her that we, the COT Cases, were subjected to gaslighting techniques. That’s right. A senior figure in Australian politics confirmed what we had long suspected. We weren’t just ignored—we were manipulated, destabilised, and psychologically undermined.
Wayne Goss wasn’t just any politician. He was deeply embedded in the system. If he said gaslighting was used against us, then he knew. He knew what was done to us. And he said it out loud.
⚖️ My Case: The Silence That Screams Take my situation. I was one of the COT Cases. My arbitration was supposed to be conducted under the auspices of the Supreme Court of Victoria. That meant it should have been protected, transparent, and accountable.
But when Telstra carried out threats against me—real threats—Dr Gordon Hughes, the arbitrator, refused to contact the Supreme Court. He didn’t report the threats. He didn’t acknowledge them in his findings. He didn’t even try to protect the integrity of the process.
Why?
Why would an arbitrator ignore threats made during a court-sanctioned process?
Why would he leave out the most sinister part of my experience
The silence is deafening. The corruption is undeniable.
📜What Ann Garms Knew—and What She Tried to Warn Ann’s letter wasn’t just a plea. It was a warning. She knew what had been done to us. She knew we were being gaslit, surveilled, and sabotaged. And she tried to tell the Prime Minister before it was too late.
She died not long after sending that letter.
But I’m still here. And I’m still telling the story.
🧭 This Is the Moment Everything Changed Wayne Goss’s confirmation. Dr Hughes’ silence. Telstra’s threats. Ann Garms’ final letter.
This is the moment I mark as a turning point in my chronology. It’s where the mask slipped, where the truth began to surface, where the betrayal became undeniable.
And I’ve documented it all. Every exhibit. Every omission. Every threat.
Because this isn’t just my story, it’s a national disgrace.
🕳️The Arbitrator’s Omission: Silence in the Face of Surveillance
Dr Hughes’s failure to disclose the faxing issues to the Australian Federal Police during my arbitration is deeply concerning. The AFP was actively investigating the interception of my faxes to the arbitrator’s office, as well as my failure to receive arbitration-related documents sent to my office via Australia Post—and vice versa: arbitration-related documents sent to the arbitrator that were never received.
Yet this crucial matter, central to my claim, was entirely omitted from Dr Hughes’s award. He made no mention of it in any of his findings. The loss of essential arbitration documents throughout the COT Cases is not a minor oversight—it is a damning indictment of the entire process. It reveals a deliberate suppression of evidence and a refusal to confront the sabotage that undermined the integrity of the arbitration itself.
🔥The Briefcase, the Tapes, and the Machinery of Deceit
It is imperative to expose the disturbing truths buried within the AFP transcripts dated 10 February 1994—a document that lays bare the treacherous machinations of:
• Superintendent Jeffrey Penrose
• Detective Sergeant Cochrane
• Graham Schorer, who masqueraded as a spokesperson for the COT Cases
• Amanda Davis, a former government official
In a chilling display of negligence, they discussed a briefcase Telstra had abandoned at my business. This was no accident. The briefcase contained the names of numerous individuals—like Mr. Schorer and myself—each of us victims of a grotesque invasion of privacy. Our telephone conversations had been intercepted and monitored without consent, without warning, and without remorse.
📄 Pages 37–39: The Smoking Gun
The transcripts () reveal a sinister truth:
This was not speculation—it was a direct admission. And yet, when we sought access to these tapes, we were met with a wall of obstruction.
🧱 Arbitration: A Process Built to Fail
As the COT Cases entered arbitration, we pleaded for access to the incriminating tapes. But they were denied under the Freedom of Information Act, and similarly withheld during discovery. This was not a legal technicality—it was a deliberate act of concealment. The tapes, potentially devastating to Telstra, were buried to protect powerful interests at the expense of our dignity and rights.
🕵️♂️ Government Complicity
Government officials chose to protect their own reputations rather than the welfare of their citizens. They concealed critical evidence of phone tapping, even as other disturbing allegations emerged—implicating Senator Collins in obscenely troubling conduct during the very period he was involved in the COT matters.
🧠Gaslighting: The Goss Revelation
In her letter dated 17 August 2017 (), Ann Garms referenced Wayne Goss, former Premier of Queensland. His chilling assertion:
This was psychological warfare—designed to erode our legitimacy, fracture our resolve, and dismantle our sense of self.
🌍Cormann, Turnbull, and the Global Stage
On 1 June 2021, Mathias Cormann became Secretary-General of the OECD in Paris.
Malcolm Turnbull, former Prime Minister of Australia, had full knowledge of the COT Cases and the evidence we presented.
Both received Ann Garms’ letters. Both remained silent.
Their complicity in this landscape of obfuscation and treachery cannot be ignored.
📝The Final Testimonies of Ann Garms
Ann Garms’ four letters—dated 17 August, 6 October, 9 October, and 10 October 2017—were sent to Turnbull and Cormann (). They were not mere correspondence. They were raw, desperate pleas written just before her tragic passing. Within those pages lies irrefutable evidence of a coordinated campaign to dismantle our legitimate claims through intimidation, distortion, and silence.
⚠️A Legacy of Betrayal
This is not just a story of surveillance.
It is a story of betrayal.
Of institutional rot.
Of the unrelenting courage it takes to stand against it.
The obscenity of this orchestrated assault on justice speaks volumes about the depths to which those in power will sink to preserve their dominion and silence dissent.
“Only I know from personal experience that your story is true, otherwise I would find it difficult to believe. I was amazed and impressed with the thorough, detailed work you have done in your efforts to find justice”
Sister Burke
“Only I know from personal experience that your story is true, otherwise I would find it difficult to believe. I was amazed and impressed with the thorough, detailed work you have done in your efforts to find justice”
Sister Burke
“…your persistence to bring about improvements to Telecom’s country services. I regret that it was at such a high personal cost.”
The Hon David Hawker MP
“I am writing in reference to your article in last Friday’s Herald-Sun (2nd April 1993) about phone difficulties experienced by businesses.
I wish to confirm that I have had problems trying to contact Cape Bridgewater Holiday Camp over the past 2 years.
I also experienced problems while trying to organise our family camp for September this year. On numerous occasions I have rung from both this business number 053 424 675 and also my home number and received no response – a dead line.
I rang around the end of February (1993) and twice was subjected to a piercing noise similar to a fax. I reported this incident to Telstra who got the same noise when testing.”
Cathy Lindsey
“…your persistence to bring about improvements to Telecom’s country services. I regret that it was at such a high personal cost.”
Hon David Hawker
“A number of people seem to be experiencing some or all of the problems which you have outlined to me. …
“I trust that your meeting tomorrow with Senators Alston and Boswell is a profitable one.”
Hon David Hawker MP
Were you denied justice in arbitration?
Would you like your story told on absentjustice.com? Contact Us
