Name Ms FT 
Hometown Ōtara, Te Tonga o Tāmaki Makaurau South Auckland 
Age when entered care 15 years old 
Year of birth 1980
Time in care 1995  
Type of care facility Youth justice facilities – Weymouth in Te Tonga o Tāmaki Makaurau South Auckland, Epuni Boys’ Home in Te Awa Kairangi ki Tai Lower Hutt. 
Ethnicity Ms FT has Cook Islands whakapapa and a strong affinity with Māori culture. 
Whānau background Ms FT has two brothers and two sisters. Ms FT and her brothers were raised by their grandparents. Her sisters were raised by her birth mother.
Currently Ms FT has six children and five mokopuna. She is currently incarcerated in Auckland Women’s Prison.  

“The system needs to be based around tikanga Māori” 

Growing up in Ōtara, it felt like we were one big family. I used to stay at the neighbours’ houses as everyone knew everyone. My biological mother came around now and then, but it was my nan and grandfather who raised me and my siblings.  

Though he had Cook Islands and German heritage, my grandfather was big on Māori culture. I looked up to him and took so much pride in what he taught me. He was a man of great mana and I always tried to please him.  

Between the ages of around four and seven years old, I was molested at home. It wasn’t a family member – it was some prick who stayed with us who was an in-law.  

I started fighting a lot. At primary school, most kids scratched or pulled hair. I punched the person I was fighting until they bled. I also whacked staff as well, usually when they were trying to restrain me. When they touched me, I felt this need to lash out. I was always distracted in school and couldn’t really listen. 

My grandparents always talked to me and tried to help me. My uncle, who was a well-known medical figure in the Pasifika community, told my grandparents that I was hyperactive. He said he could give me some medication, but my grandfather said no. Instead, my grandparents tried to tire me out – I got up early and was given a lot of chores. 

I could drive an automatic by eight and a manual by nine. I was hanging out with thugs, trying to be cool. If someone tried to break into a car but couldn’t, I would do it just to show people I could. I got pregnant when I was 13 and my son’s father was 18.  

There was a specific event when I was 15 that led to me going into care. After I stood with my brother when he was jumped by a number of men, he took his friend’s side in an argument. I saw that as a betrayal. My grandfather had told me if any of his children betrayed another, they would be cut off from our family. I took his words too literally and felt like he needed to be physically cut off and needed to die. I used a kitchen knife and stabbed him once in the back. I missed his heart by about six inches.  

When I arrived at Weymouth, I was forced to strip in front of male guards who were behind the glass. I don’t think I had any type of psychiatric assessment or anything like that. I was put in secure, which was very isolating. It was very similar to the pound we have here in Christchurch Prison.  

I was transferred to Epuni. I didn’t understand what was going on – no social worker visited while I was at Weymouth and no-one told me shit. I thought I was at Weymouth for two weeks, I found out recently that it was actually a couple days. It felt like forever.

When I arrived at Epuni it was the same deal – I stripped down and was placed in secure for about a week. I had two cousins and one brother from Auckland in their own secure cells, so there were familiar faces. We were allowed “out” for one hour a day but only in the hallway – we didn’t get fresh air or a chance to exercise.  

I remember the principal and a guard who acted like her attack dog – he looked at us like we were scum and never treated us like human beings. The kingpin resident was always talking to them. The first time I was at the table tennis table, she threw the bat at me. She was trying to bully me to get off the table, trying to staunch me out. I threw the bat at her, then I grabbed the chair and whacked it at her. I then started punching her but I got pulled off. I think they made her do it to see how I would react. I definitely reacted – I got the chair and smashed it on her and then started hoeing into her.  

The guard watched for a bit but as soon as the principal came, he pulled me by my top and tried to choke me out. I punched him in the face, it made his nose bleed. He kicked me to the ground, and then he lifted me by my hair, put me in a headlock and carried me into secure. In another incident I started swearing at the lady called Nan, which was a mistake. She then got the same guard as before to come. He slammed me to the ground and just started putting knees into me. Knee, knee, knee. The principal watched him giving me a hiding.  

After that, I played up all the time. They were trying to make me submissive and I am not that person. One time, when a black eye I got from the guard was healing up, he punched me to make it go black again. Another time I gave him a bloody nose and he really went in – I was bruised all over. He booted us, choked us, everything.  

I also got into fights with other youths. One boy, who was in Black Power, threw a knife at me when I was eating so I threw a hot jug of water over him. Gangs played a big role at Epuni. People were either Black Power or Mongrel Mob. Me and the cousins were Crips from Auckland but that meant nothing to them.  

Sometime after, I asked the boy why he threw the knife and he told me that he had to. The facilitators of Epuni were instigating the violence – they were making us react violently and use violence to achieve things. 

There was another staff member who was a sexual predator and worked night shift. He tried to come into my room, but I told him to fuck off. You could hear him rooting girls in other rooms though. They said he pretty much raped them at the beginning, but they realised they could get stuff out of it, like money into their canteen and other favours like that.  

We couldn’t really complain to anyone. I did try to raise the paedophile with another staff member who was pretty solid, but he didn’t want to make a formal complaint because it would jeopardise his job.  

The school work wasn’t challenging at all. I played the dumb card because I didn’t want to show that I was quite intelligent. The main thing I learnt was that I didn’t want any of my children to experience what it was like to be in these types of institutions.  

After six months, I went back to my mum’s care. I had to see a psychiatrist as part of the conditions of my release. I tried to attack her when she kept pushing me to talk about my mum not being around when I was a kid. Her style made me angry – she was a stranger asking me all these things and I told the court I would rather just get thrown back in Epuni than answer them.  

Now I know that I didn’t have the tools to process what I had been through. No-one had ever thought to help with that while I was in care. I got no help or support getting back to normal life after Epuni. My only support was my mum, and our relationship was up and down.  

Dealing drugs was the only way we could get money. It’s sad because it felt hypocritical contributing to the problem just to make a better life for my whānau. These are the challenges and trade-offs that we have to make that government and the system don’t see. I had five more kids to my partner, who I am still with today. 

After a history of fraud, dishonesty and driving while disqualified, I was charged with grievous bodily harm in 2003. I went down as the instigator and my partner went down as the principal. At the time, I was in denial about my involvement because I hadn’t physically carried out the attack. It wasn’t until I did a therapeutic course at Auckland Women’s Prison that I understood my role.  

I got pregnant while I was released on bail for the trial. I went into Mount Eden Women’s Prison on remand and was not pregnant at the time. When I arrived, I was strip-searched and internally checked to see if I was hiding anything. It felt so violating, but I thought it was normal. When I was sentenced and sent back to Mount Eden I was five and a half months pregnant. I was strip searched but not internally examined. When I transferred to Arohata Women’s Prison on remand, I was told that strip searches like that don’t happen. I never complained about my experience at Mount Eden because I felt ashamed.  

I had my baby for three days after I gave birth and then I had to watch my mum come in and take her. I transferred to Arohata because the “baby bonding” each day was putting a strain on my baby. She would just get used to me and my smell and then be taken away. My daughter was 3, turning 4 years old when I finally got her back and she called me “aunty” at first. That was hard.  

Wanting to live a legit life, we moved to Wellington for five and half years. A recruiting company said I had awesome qualifications but declined my application because of my fraud history. I couldn’t get around these hurdles. In the end, I got a job doing cleaning and administration for my partner’s boss. 

I also decided to go to Victoria University to study. I wanted to be someone who came into prisons to help the women see a better life. When my moko was sick, I transferred to Auckland University. I was in Auckland for three months before I was charged in 2016 for the offence that I am now in prison for. 

At Auckland Women’s Prison, I had a positive attitude. I knew that the experience was what we made it and I wanted to help bring the best out of every wahine – for them to know that our prison experience doesn’t define who we are. Staff could see that I was influencing and empowering other women, so they moved me to another unit. They didn’t want us to feel empowered in prison.  

I have now been in Christchurch Women’s Prison since 2021. It’s hard being down in Christchurch with my whānau in Tāmaki. My kids haven’t seen me for months. Two years, and even then, it was only by video calls. 

I’m proud to say that none of my kids have ever been in care. Despite my experience, I kept them safe and I still have a strong bond with them. After the 2016 charge, CYFS tried to get involved, saying my whānau who are gang members were a bad influence. The reality is that many Māori and Pacific Peoples have a whānau member who is in a gang. They assumed my whole family were gangsters, but the whānau who care for my kids are good people and hard workers. My children had a bulletproof network of whānau, but not everyone is so lucky.  

The system needs to be based around tikanga Māori for all kids in Aotearoa, not just Māori. Other than a few waiata, I had no opportunity to learn tikanga when I was in care, but there is so much that tikanga can teach us as a country. In te ao Māori, it starts with our tamariki, and that’s where the whole care system needs to start.[613]