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I had a brother, and he was murdered when he was 23 in 1987. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My brother was living up north in Kununurra and was out camping with his fiancée and one of his mates. He, his fiancée and his friend were gunned down by a German tourist, actually, who went on a killing spree and killed 5 people. The gunman started shooting at the police and so was killed by them.
I can clearly remember it. I was at home with my parents. We got a call from the police to say that he was missing. The gunman had already killed a few people up there and we knew it was highly probable that he had been killed as well. We didn’t know for around 48 hours, we had to wait. One of my brother’s friends was a pilot and he went out on his own to find them. He found the camping spot and found that his vehicle had been burnt out so let the police know. Miraculously my brother’s body was found as it had been thrown in the river.
There is a choice I think, with anything that you are dealt with. You choose to be a survivor or a victim. I like to think that I have tried very hard to be a survivor. And I’ve been given some very special moments since then.
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