Name Mr RA 
Hometown Kirikiriroa Hamilton 
Age when entered care 12 years old  
Year of birth 1988
Type of care facility Foster homes; family homes – Melville Family Home, Silverdale Family Home, Fairfield Family Home; specialist schools – Amber Centre Classroom; residential specialist schools – Waimokoia Residential School in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland; residential care – Weymouth in Te Tonga o Tāmaki Makaurau South Auckland; trust programmes – Piako Whānau Trust programme, Te Whakapakari Youth Trust Programme on Aotea Great Barrier Island.
Ethnicity Māori (Rongomaiwahine)  
Whānau background Mr RA has two younger siblings with the same parents, two half-sisters from his mother, and one half-brother and four half-sisters from his father. His parents separated when he was young but lived together in the same house a lot of the time.  
Currently Mr RA has spent time in prison. His children, whom he loves, were going to be taken into State care, but Mr RA opposed that, so they remained with whānau. Nevertheless, he feels he’s passed on intergenerational trauma. He doesn’t believe Oranga Tamariki can keep his kids safe, so he’s always made sure they stay with whānau while in care.  

“My time in care has fucked up my whole life” 

When I was young, I was neglected at home and exposed to gang culture. My mother was verbally abusive and rough on me, and often violent to my dad. When I was 5 years old, there were concerns about violence and neglect at home and Child, Youth and Family Services (CYFS) got involved for a few months.  

When I was 9 years old, my principal referred me to Special Education Services (SES) because I was playing up at school and getting aggressive. I worked with a psychologist who believed my behaviour at school was learned from home. She told CYFS she was worried I was being beaten at home or not being looked after properly. CYFS did nothing. 

I was sexually abused by a teacher aide when I was 9 or 10 years old. At first, I felt he was genuine and looked up to him. He would praise me, encourage me with my schoolwork and buy me lunch. My mum trusted him too and let me go to his place for the weekend, where we played Nintendo and smoked fish. I slept on a mattress in his lounge. When I woke in the morning, he had his hand on my penis and was masturbating me. I automatically knew it was wrong and told him I wanted to go home.  

I couldn’t tell my mum what had happened, and I had to deal with that man over the next seven years as he went on to work in Youth Justice.  

In late 1998 I went to the Amber Centre Classroom at SES – it was mostly good but staff would restrain me and I’d get into arguments with other kids. Staff and my psychologist were worried about my wellbeing at home because I would beg not to go back there. CYFS didn’t do much to look out for me, but my psychologist referred me to Waimokoia, and I went there for a year. But the staff there sometimes restrained me because I’d been aggressive or abusive, or fighting with other kids. They’d twist my arms and pull my wrist back so it touched the back of my head. I was assaulted there by a staff member and I would get into fights with other kids. I’d often end up in the Time Out room. 

After Waimokoia, my psychologist continued to monitor my schooling. I was still acting out and was suspended a few times. Then I met with a psychiatrist for an assessment. They thought I was constantly in stressed mode, needed therapeutic input and whānau involvement in therapy. But my mum didn’t engage with mental health services on my behalf so nothing happened. 

Over the next few years, I came to police notice for offending and not showing up for school. I was 12 years old and getting into serious crime. I didn’t show up to a family group conference because I had run away. My parents said they had no control over me, couldn’t stop me offending and didn’t want me back home. When police found me, I was placed in CYFS custody and sent to the Melville Family Home. I took off within nine minutes of getting there. Each time I went back there I’d run away again.  

Between the ages of 12 to 14 years old, when I ran away I would often stay at a halfway house run by two women in their late teens/early twenties. While I was there I’d do sexual favours for them. There were no other adults supervising or caring for me, and I didn’t go to school. I supported myself by dealing cannabis and stealing. I was in CYFS custody a lot of that time – they knew I went back on the streets and to the halfway house but didn’t do enough to keep me safe.  

Once, after being sent back to the Melville Family Home, I told a social worker that some family friends were keen to look after me. I was formally placed with this family, and I’m still close to them now. My foster mother told CYFS the women at the halfway house had forced me to burgle houses to earn my keep, got me stoned and forced me to have sex with them. My social worker told her to keep me safe and tell me it wasn’t my fault. But CYFS never spoke to me about it and I was never offered any counselling.  

One weekend, I went to stay with my parents, and they wouldn’t let me go back to my foster family. Being back with my parents meant I didn’t go to school much and got into trouble with police a few times – I ended up being referred to Youth Justice. Over the next few months, I was placed in different family homes and ran away each time. At one, I was appointed trackers and security guards from CYFS. I fought with other boys at that home. The foster parents there would preach tikanga Māori to us and try to incorporate Māori values. But at the same time, they’d allow all this violence between us.  

In mid-June 2002, when I was 13 years old, I ran away for a month. When I was found, I said I wouldn’t run away again – but within two hours of being placed in a home, I took off. When I was found a week later, CYFS had nowhere to place me so took me to my father’s house. My social worker didn’t try to contact me until I was picked up by police in late August. I was placed in a family home and I took off again.  

Later that year, my social worker did a wellbeing assessment that noted I’d committed 80 offences since I was 11 years old, hadn’t attended any education activity for some time, and most of my friends were engaged in criminal activity. I was 14 years old and my parents didn’t know how to deal with me. A month later I was arrested again and taken to Weymouth.  

At Weymouth I was assaulted by staff members and excessively restrained – arm locks, wrist locks, neck locks. I was always fighting with the other kids and staff didn’t do anything to stop it. I got sent to Secure a lot, where you’d be locked down for 23 hours a day. I was also strip-searched by male staff. I had to take off all my clothes and hold a towel around myself until they told me to show my arse. They had a metal detector and if it picked up a lighter, I’d be made to squat or show my arse. I know a lot of these searches didn’t follow proper procedure. 

In mid-2003, when I was 14 years old, I went to Whakapakari Youth Trust on Great Barrier Island. The brochure said it was all about Māori integrity and connecting back to your culture. One of my mates warned me not to go, and I wish I’d listened. We had to do adult slave labour there – fishing, digging longdrops and woodcutting, which was dangerous. We used chainsaws to cut giant trees. There was also a lot of violence between the boys.  

We’d get punished for fighting, smoking or not working as hard as everyone else. Punishment meant carting bags filled with rocks for a kilometre. It got to the point where I was getting 50 bags at a time.  

Every night we’d do over an hour of kapa haka, which was hard after a day of labour. If we didn’t do something right, we’d get whacked with a long stick. If you showed weakness after being hit, we’d have to stay longer and that frustrated everyone. 

Once I found a stash of cannabis and took some – but a staff member worked out I’d found it, tied me to a tree for two days and told me to think about what I’d done. When I was untied, I had to go and see another staff member, a big guy. He told me to lie about finding the cannabis. When I said I wouldn’t, he punched me in the face and threatened me with more time on the island. Then he stood behind me and put his hand on my penis, over my pants. I pushed away from him, then he told me to stick his cock in my mouth. I said no, but he threatened to keep me on the island for another six months. I was so scared and just about to do it when I spewed on the floor, so he punched me in the side of the head. 

When I left Whakapakari in September 2003, I went to my aunt’s place in Hastings. It was cool living with her, although she was strict. However, I didn’t end up seeing a social worker until October 2004, when I was 16 years old, and by that time I was getting restless living with my aunt. She really tried with me but eventually she’d had enough and I was removed from her care. 

I ended up back at my dad’s place – but mostly I was on the streets. Around this time, the man who had sexually abused me was allocated as my Youth Justice co-ordinator. He didn’t do anything to me but it brought up all those old memories and I hated seeing him again. 

I had a few charges going through the Youth Court around then, and I was getting into more trouble and getting arrested again. I ended up in Lower North Youth Justice Residential Centre. There were lots of fights at Lower North. Once some of the other kids tried to drown me. I smashed one in the face and had to go to Secure, which seemed really unfair. I was strip-searched every time I went in there. I’d hold a towel around me but then had to drop it down my legs to show them my butt and penis. I had to squat too. It was always male staff who did the strip searches.  

I was at Lower North until June 2005, when I was sent to Youth Justice North for a few months. Some of the staff there were physically and verbally abusive. I ended up in Secure about four times. In September, I ran away while being taken to court. I was missing for a few weeks before I got picked up by police. I was convicted of aggravated robbery and sentenced to two years’ imprisonment – and CYFS officially closed my case in November 2005. I was 17 years old. 

My time in care has fucked up my whole life. I never understood its impact until I met a counsellor who helped me identify why I act and think the way I do and how that goes back to childhood trauma.  

I have flashbacks and sleepless nights. I disassociate myself from the memories. Sometimes I have internal rage and other times numbness. For years, I wasn’t able to connect with my Māoritanga because of a lot of the people who abused me were Māori.  But the biggest thing for me is the impact it’s had on my kids. I was in prison a lot of the time when they were growing up and, just like me, they’ve been taken into State care.  

In 2022, my lawyers sent my claim to the education and social development ministries – it’s not clear which part of the State is responsible for the abuse. My lawyers tried to get information from Oranga Tamariki to help sort it out but they refused to hand anything over because it was too hard to gather.  

I don’t trust the State or the care system. That started when I trusted someone who abused me. I let my defences down and he betrayed me. I put my walls up and haven’t let them down since. I still get flashbacks about what he did to me, and yuck feelings. I feel I am owed more than an apology but what can they provide? What’s the price of childhood?  

I’ve done some serious offending and spent a lot of time in prison, and I don’t want evil to ruin me. Bringing my legal claim and seeking counselling is part of my quest for closure, because I need to focus on moving forward.[30]