Rosie Batty: 'I thought Luke was safe in public'

Rosie Batty is raw. Her raised voice is bursting its way out through tears, so she sounds almost hoarse. Guttural. This is grief, anger, anguish, boiling over and spewing forth across a crowded courtroom. Her fury is being directed at a barrister who has asked her one question too many.

Such an outburst is rare from Rosie Batty.

This is a woman who addressed the media with strength and eloquence less than 24 hours after her son, Luke, was murdered by his father, Greg Anderson. She has been interviewed numerous times since.

People in power and on the streets are in awe of her courage. At Luke's inquest, she revealed her stoicism was based on advice from a counsellor: keep your emotions in check or no one will take you seriously.

But a facade can only withstand so much. This outpouring reminds us her son was murdered. Killed by his father, Greg Anderson, during an access visit at cricket training in February.

After being asked repeatedly what steps she took to protect her son from his father, she crumbled. It was her ex-partner who killed their child. Why did she seem to be the one being criticised? What followed was a powerful monologue no one dared interrupt.

"I'm sat here cos Greg's dead," she cried. "He wasn't able to answer questions about his incomprehensible act. He was shot dead by police."

After repeated probing about warning signs, Rosie Batty insisted there were none.

"Not ever did anyone ever say to me he was at risk of filicide.

"Did I ever think Luke was going to get bashed over the head with a cricket bat and stabbed to death?

"He was killed on the day I thought he was fine.

"I thought it couldn't happen in a public bloody place, it couldn't happen at Tyabb oval. It couldn't happen there... and it did.

"I have to live with a decision I didn't make.

"This was a premeditated act - except Greg was the only one who knew it. I did not know that day. There was no reason to be concerned.

A magistrate who'd granted Rosie Batty an intervention order the previous year had aired concerns Luke could be used as 'collateral damage' in the worsening dispute between his parents. Anderson was becoming increasingly unstable. Rosie was becoming more and more frightened of him.

She'd heard of fathers murdering children out of spite. But didn't agree with the magistrate's risk assessment.

"I knew about Darcey Freeman, I knew about the Farquharson boys, but I never knew their fathers."

For all she knew, their fathers may have been cold towards them.

"Greg loved his son. Nobody ever expected Greg to kill Luke, no matter what warning we got.

"I didn't know Greg was capable of killing."

There had been no signs.

"I felt like he was never likely to be physically hurtful to Luke. He never had been.

"I spent twelve years believing that Greg loved his son, was overly protective of him, distrusted everyone around him. He did everything as a protective parent, in his own way."

This wasn't to say she thought he had no violent streak. Quite the contrary. He was routinely violent, overbearing and threatening towards her. He was facing numerous charges of assaulting her and breaching intervention orders she'd taken out against him.

But Anderson's hatred and anger was directed solely to her. Never to Luke. In his eyes, she was the one who prevented him seeing his son.

Rosie was in and out of courts trying to keep Anderson at a safe distance. But she wondered if, to him, an intervention order was just a piece of paper.

"The police said, 'You have an intervention order, but, guess what? We can't be there in time if he wants to kill you. Have you thought about moving back to England?'

"Every time there was an episode, it got worse - at me." Not at Luke.

The situation was compounded by Rosie's desire to not sever all contact between Luke and her ex.

"There were no clear answers. My position was an extreme juggling act for a very long time."

She told the court she was six-year's-old when her mother died. Her father was unemotional. Never hugged her or told her he loved her. She didn't want that for Luke. His father wasn't stable, but at least he was warm.

"I felt really sorry for Greg. He loved [Luke] so much. His mental illness, his behaviour, was sabotaging everything in his life.

"From an emotional point of view, I felt torn.

"A child is not a possession. We don't own him, we're both his parents."

Eleven-year-old Luke was aware of the grief his father was causing his mother.

"He said, 'Mum, I couldn't protect you'."

But he was still a boy who wanted to spend time with his dad.

"Luke always had a really good relationship with Greg. I think a lot of people don't understand that."

While Rosie Batty never thought Anderson would physically harm her son, she started to fear for his safety when she learned Anderson had been charged with possessing child pornography. That was a game changer. Police couldn't give her any details of the alleged offence. Was he a paedophile? Were the images of boys or girls? How old? She couldn't be sure.

"I didn't know if he was grooming Luke. [I wondered] 'Where the hell has he taken him? What has he done to him?' I was absolutely petrified."

Rosie Batty decided she needed help. But help was hard to find.

She dealt with more police officers than she could count. They were generally kind, but dealings were not always positive. On one occasion, she risked Greg's wrath by ringing 000 to dob him in when he appeared at a football oval. Arrest warrants she'd hoped would be executed were not ready in time. The episode ended in farce an hour later, with Anderson not arrested, her on the ground sobbing, and police officers apologising.

"I said, 'Don't bloody bother, because I'm always on my own fighting this man'."

She needed a louder voice.

"I wanted someone to do it. I wanted someone who could stand up and say no... so he could take out his hatred and blame on someone else and not just me."

As well as police, she contacted the Department of Human Services to seek help from child protection authorities, but was left disheartened.

"Why are they called Child Protection if you can't go to them and say, 'I don't know how to protect my child'.

"I was hoping someone was going to step in and help me protect Luke and take some of the weight off my shoulders, so I wouldn't have to always be the one to tell Greg 'no'."

She said Child Protection seemed reluctant to do anything other than offer counselling.

"That's all they suggest. It stops being helpful. I'm sick of counselling.

"No one spoke to Greg. If he stopped being violent, I wouldn't need the bloody counselling."

She said the advice of counsellors was to keep emotions in check when dealing with authorities, or they'd be unlikely to be taken seriously. It was a telling piece of evidence, perhaps explaining how she's managed to maintain composure during so many interviews and public events.

The advice was proven valid when an audio recording of an intervention order hearing was played to the court. When Rosie Batty started crying while addressing the magistrate, he cut her off and told her to sit down. She was emotional. He was dismissive.

At least now Rosie Batty is having her say and, hopefully, being heard. She hopes this inquest will prompt changes to the way police and the DHS respond to domestic violence situations. To make navigating the system easier for victims and more difficult for perpetrators. Bearing her soul in the Coroners Court witness box is worth it if other mums are spared her ordeal.

• Readers seeking support and information about suicide prevention can contact Lifeline on 13 11 14 or Suicide Call Back Service 1300 659 467.