Name Antony Dalton-Wilson
Hometown Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland
Age when entered care 10 years old
Year of birth 1967
Time in care 1977–1980
Type of care facility Hospital – Ward 12 at Auckland Hospital, Māngere Hospital; residential school – Mount Wellington Residential School in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland, Bucklands Beach Residential School (Waimokoia Residential School) in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland.
Ethnicity Samoan and Gypsy
Whānau background Antony grew up the eldest of four children, with two brothers and one sister. His mum is English and his dad is Samoan. Samoan culture was important in his family. Antony also feels a strong connection to tikanga Māori through his stepdad, who he also called ‘Dad’. Antony’s Gypsy and Samoan side were the pinnacle in his upbringing.
Currently Antony married Jaitoon in 1997 and they had lots of happy times together. She passed away in 2019. He lives in Royal Oak, in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland.

When I was 7 years old, I was crushed by a truck at my dad’s work. I don’t really remember the accident, but I know that I slipped, and a stock truck was backing up and hit me. The truck crushed my head and parts of my body.

My brain got really hurt and I couldn’t walk, talk or write any more. I can’t see anything out of my left eye and I’m 90 percent blind in my right eye.

After I left hospital, I got physical and speech therapy at the Wilson Home. When I went back to live with my mum and my dad, I started going to school again, but I didn’t stay there very long because they couldn’t help me after my accident.

Before my accident, I went to Balmoral Seventh-Day Adventist School. I liked going there because I really like learning. I had lots of fun with my brothers and sister. I liked playing, reading, drawing, watching TV, playing soccer and swimming. Religion was important in our family. We went to church every week and I also learnt about God at school.

When I was 9 years old, I moved to Mount Roskill Primary School for a trial in the physically handicapped class – I didn’t like the name of that class. The work wasn’t hard but I needed help with writing. Sometimes I asked the teacher for help lots of times but she wouldn’t come and help me.

Sometimes I wasn’t allowed to go outside and play with the other kids. Nobody told me why I had to stay inside, and I would get frustrated and angry – I would misbehave and sometimes I would hit people.

I didn’t stay at Mount Roskill for very long because I didn’t like it and they couldn’t support me. I moved back to the Seventh-Day Adventist school for a very short time but I had the same problems as before, so it didn’t work out.

When I was 10 years old, I went to Ward 12 at Auckland Hospital and it was very scary. The nurses gave me more medication than I was on when I went in. I didn’t like it – they were drugging me up. The male nurse said mean things to me.

I was sometimes locked in a time out room, even if I didn’t do anything wrong. It was a room that had no beds or blankets, and it was freezing cold. I had to go there for about an hour if the staff thought I was being annoying or naughty. It happened more than once.

I was in Ward 12 for about five months and when I left, my mum and dad had split up. I stayed at home with my dad, my brothers and my sister.

I went to the adjustment class at Ruapōtaka Primary School. The teachers were alright, but I got very tired so I went home and slept in the afternoon. Mrs Clare was my favourite teacher.

I sometimes went to Māngere Hospital in the holidays but I’m not sure why. I hated it and was treated really badly there. The staff called me handicapped even though I asked them not to. I don’t like that word – it undermines me.

When I first went there, they put me straight in time out and told me to wait. I was yelling for somebody to get me out. I didn’t have any food or drink. The staff didn’t come until night-time.

Then I was sent to foster care. The foster father was a bastard and his care was really bad. I was placed there for a long time and I didn’t get to go outside and play with my friends. Nobody ever told me what was happening, so I was worried about what would be next.

After Ruapōtaka, when I was 11, I went to Mount Wellington Residential School and then Bucklands Beach Residential School (Waimokoia). My records say that I was a ‘special admission’ because I was different from the other kids.

One of the things I really remember is that the teachers were very mean. Lots of them would call me ‘bung-eye’ and some would put their cigarette butts out on me. I think they liked to harass me. They called me names, laughed at me and gave me the fingers.

Some of the other kids at the school would call me names. The teachers knew about the bullying, but never did anything to stop it.

The teachers wouldn’t let me sleep in the afternoon even though my mum told them I needed to. They sometimes even made me stay awake at night. Sometimes the teachers wouldn’t let me have food. They said it was because I was naughty.

One of the teachers was a bloody bastard who physically hurt me. He took me to the doctor in the school van, pulling my collar to get me in and pushing me out of the van. During one trip, he was so rough with me when I was already hurt, I called him a “fat bloody bastard”. He left me in the time out room with no food and no bedding all night.

The headmaster at Mount Wellington made me pull my pants down and he hit me with a belt. It would really hurt. He did this to me many times – sometimes it would be a few times in one week. He also told me that the staff didn’t like me and I cried.

Another teacher physically hurt me too. He made me sit on a chair and tap my finger on the desk. He then pushed the back of my chair and I fell to the ground. Then he made me go in the time out room for the whole night. This happened about four times.

I was put in the time out room nearly every day. I remember there was one time out room at Mount Wellington and two at Bucklands Beach. All of the rooms were really scary because they were very dark. The room at Mount Wellington was the worst because there were no windows and I could hardly breathe.

I didn’t feel good when I had to go in the time out room. I felt scared and I felt like I wasn’t loved. Sometimes the teachers would tie my hands behind my back with rope before they threw me in there. Sometimes I had to stay the night in the time out room and one time I had to stay there for the whole weekend.

The teachers didn’t tell me why they were putting me in the time out room but sometimes I was put in there if I wet the bed. It wasn’t my fault that I wet the bed – I think it happened for a few reasons but one of them was because I was taking a lot of medicine. I also remember a time I had to go to time out because I accidently broke one of the dinner plates.

Another time, when I hadn’t done anything wrong, a group of teachers stood around asked what they should do to me. One of the teachers said to put me in time out, so they did. Then they just stood and laughed at me.

There was nothing to do in the time out room. I cried and yelled because I wanted somebody to let me out. There was no toilet and I banged on the door so that a teacher would come. They never did so I had to wee on the floor.

Sometimes instead of putting me in the time out room, the teachers held my hands tight behind my back and threw me hard on my bed in the dormitory. Sometimes I had been a bit naughty but sometimes they just did it.

When I wet the bed at night, the teachers sometimes wouldn’t let me change the sheets. They made me sit in the corner of my room for the whole night. They didn’t give me blankets or anything to sleep on. I was very upset and cold. Other times, if I wet the bed, the staff threw a whole bucket of cold water on me.

I left Bucklands Beach when I was 12 years old. Mum and my stepdad just came and picked me up one day – I was so happy to go home. That was the end of that. I am hurt about what happened there. I just don’t understand why the teachers did those things to me.

I try not to think about what happened to me when I was in care, but I still have lots of nightmares about it. For a long time, I didn’t talk about the abuse because I thought that I would get into trouble. I want to share my story because I want to help other children who have had brain injuries.[410]

“Sometimes the teachers would tie my hands behind my back with rope before they threw me in there. Sometimes I had to stay the night in the time out room and one time I had to stay there for the whole weekend.”