Carolyn Hirsh - Politics, Death and Addiction: A Powerful Story of a Mothers Reaction to Her Daughters Suicide

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POLITICS, DEATH & ADDICTION

CAROLYN HIRSH

Published by Brolga Publishing Pty Ltd

ABN 46 063 962 443

PO Box 12544

ABeckett St

Melbourne, VIC, 8006

Australia

email:

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior permission from the publisher.

Copyright 2013 Carolyn Hirsh

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

Author:	Hirsh, Carolyn
Title:	Politics, death and addiction : a powerful story of a mothers reaction to her daughters suicide
/ Carolyn Hirsh.
ISBN:	9781922175458 (paperback) 9781922175762 (eBook)
Subjects:	Hirsh, Carolyn.
Politicians--Australia--Biography.
Mothers of suicide victims--Australia--Biography.
Mothers and daughters--Australia--Biography.
Dewey Number:	324.2092

Cover design by Chameleon Print Design

Typeset by Wanissa Somsuphangsri

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

FIRST TRANSGRESSION

A s I topped the crest of the hill, almost home, my windscreen framed a confusion of blue and red lights. I braked. Ahead of me was a massive van, lit like Christmas. Orange witches hats directed traffic into the right lane towards a row of police officers. There was so much light I could even see the white tubes sticking out of their breathalyzers. My stomach knotted and I began to shake. Was I over the legal limit of .05? I spotted a side street and made a nifty left turn. Safe, I thought. I was wrong. A siren and an offshoot of the lights pulled up beside me, forcing me to a stop.

I pressed the automatic window opener, turned off the ignition, and sat, tears spilling. The media would love this. I could already see the headline, Member of Parliament caught drink driving. Why had I driven myself home? Why had I not caught a taxi? Why had I gone to the lower house chook house party after the upper house finished? I hid my face in my hands, like a small child who thinks that by covering her face, she is invisible.

I heard a voice, a male voice.

Do you have a reason for turning into this street maam?

I shook my head. Didnt lift it from my hands.

Blow into this please maam.

I sensed the presence of an arm through the window. I looked up. The police officers face was blurred through my tears, but the breathalyser didnt move; the white cardboard tube gleamed in front of my lips.

Please blow into this, the voice repeated.

I placed my lips around the tube, blew feebly.

Harder, please maam.

I cant blow any harder, I have asthma.

I reached into my handbag and pulled out my Ventolin inhaler. Perhaps itll lower the reading, I thought irrationally. I sucked in two long puffs, held my breath, trying to postpone the inevitable. The copper was still there, holding the tube in front of my face.

Would you blow into the tube now, please maam, he said.

I blew again. The machine beeped and the police officer pulled it out of the car window and peered at it. The arm was replaced by a face at the window.

Could I see your licence please maam?

I scrabbled in my bag and handed it over. Now theyll know who I am. I watched the police officers face as he read the name. Impassive? Maybe a slight lift of an eyebrow? He walked to the other side of the car, checked the registration label, and headed to his own Christmas light-decked car. I sat still, feeling sick. Why hadnt I thought about drinking, about the law? I chaired the Drugs and Crime Prevention Parliamentary Committee after all. Where did my judgment go? What have I done?

It was Wednesday 2 June 2004, the second last sitting day of the Autumn session, 10.00 pm. I was about eighteen months into a third term as a Member of the Victorian Parliament. I had served two terms between 1985 and 1992 in the Legislative Assembly, and had lost the election when Jeff Kennetts Liberal government swept into power. Ten years later, I was back in Parliament, in the Legislative Council, riding another tidal wave Steve Bracks Labor Government. While my election was a surprise, I was soon immersed again in the role of a Member of Parliament, undertaking policy and committee work, representing constituents, and participating in Parliament.

Although the upper house had risen for the night, the Legislative Assembly was sitting late. As I headed for my car, I saw a group of lower house Members having drinks on the verandah of the chook house, which housed most of their offices. They were celebrating the end of the Autumn Parliamentary session. Someone waved; that was all I needed, and I headed over to join them. This group of Labor Party Members was different from my Legislative Assembly colleagues of the nineteen eighties and early nineties. There were many more women and they were generally a much younger cohort than we had been. Some of the women even had young children. I enjoyed their company, and I relished their respect for me as an elder stateswoman. I joined them for a drink and stayed too long.

Would you step out of the car please, Ms Hirsh? The police officer was back at the car window, still polite, face expressionless. I couldnt step out, osteoarthritis in my left hip meant I clambered from the car, hanging onto the door, like an elderly hippo. He probably thinks Im too drunk. The police officer shepherded me to the bright caravan from which I had tried to flee.

He ushered me to a chair beside a table on which sat some technical looking equipment a computer? A printer? Another officer took a second breathalyser test, and the equipment spat out a printed reading. It showed me the worst, a blood alcohol concentration (BAC) of .07, .02 above the legal limit. The two officers were very kind.

I guess you know who I am? I asked.

Yes, the senior one said. We have access to all registered cars on the internet.

Please dont tell the media. My tears started again. I didnt realise that a twenty-four hour news cycle meant media outlets had constant access to police activity.

Youll be given a set penalty, the officer said. Youll receive a letter telling you when you have to stop driving and when you can start again.

Can I go now?

No, he said. Youre over the limit. Well take you home.

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