Attention Tabitha and Kathrine  

Hi David, Friday  5 December 2025

The following Ballarat Loreto College and Children's Hospital narrative should be used to introduce the testimonials David asked for yesterday, which I provided in short format. Re: the Senate's Handsard, six links attached, dated March 1999, tell their own story. 

Is this Introduction too long? It also tells its own story before the reader even starts looking into my story. 

Surveillance, Sensationalism, and the Collapse of My Business
Anyone who examines the Australian Federal Police transcripts dated 26 September 1994 (see Australian Federal Police Investigation File No/1), will uncover a disturbing truth: Telstra had been secretly monitoring my business premises. This wasn’t speculation—it was documented. The fallout was swift and brutal.

Members of my over-40 singles club, which I had carefully built with a sense of community spirit, began leaving in droves. Their departure followed a newspaper article revealing that my business was under electoral surveillance and was subject to investigation by the Australian Federal Police. The damage was done. Trust was shattered.

As if that weren’t enough, another Melbourne newspaper published even more alarming reports, compounding the harm. I was already struggling with a dated and unreliable phone system that made basic communication a daily challenge. Now, I was also facing a catastrophic loss of clientele—driven not by any wrongdoing on my part, but by sensationalised headlines that prioritised profit over truth.

The media’s relentless pursuit of scandal overshadowed the years of hard work, hospitality, and dedication I had poured into my enterprise. My business was telephone-dependent, and Telstra’s failures had already pushed me to the brink. The press coverage finished the job.

Charity Week and the Call That Never Came
Despite the enterprise's financial precariousness, I had always made it a priority to sponsor stays for underprivileged groups at the Cape Bridgewater Holiday Camp. It wasn’t a loss to me, really—sponsored food came through the generosity of several commercial food outlets, and the only cost on my end was a small amount of electricity and gas. I had to make some money, somehow? Even if it was only to make the holiday Camp seem busy. I had to try all avenues - or sink.

In May 1992, we held a charity week for kids from Ballarat and South-West Victoria. It was mainly organised by Sister Maureen Burke, IBVM, Principal of Loreto College in Ballarat. She was the heart of the project, and I still think of her as its ‘mother’. But even something as simple as arranging food, transport, and special needs for the children became a nightmare—because every step had to be handled over the phone.

Sister Burke had enormous trouble making contact. The calls either rang out, returned a deadline tone, or gave her a message saying the number wasn’t connected to Telstra’s network. She knew that wasn’t true. After trying in vain for a whole week, she finally drove the 3½ hours to the camp to make the final arrangements in person.

Just as she arrived, Karen—who was helping me run the camp—took a call from an irate man seeking information about a singles weekend we were trying to organise. He was abusive, furious that we were advertising a business that never answered the phone. Karen burst into tears. She’d reached her limit, and nothing I said could help. When Sister Burke walked into the office, I quietly stepped out, leaving the two women together.

Later, Sister Burke came to me and gently suggested that it might be best for both of us if Karen left Cape Bridgewater. I felt numb. It was happening again.

But this time, two years after my former wife Faye had left the holiday camp, Karen (my then partner) and I sat down and talked. We agreed to separate, but I assured her she would lose nothing because of her generosity to me. I would do whatever was needed to buy her out. We were both relieved. Karen moved to Portland and rented a house. We remained good friends, but without her day-to-day help at the camp, I had to give up my promotional tours.

Dead Lines and Determined Women
Twelve months later, in March 1993, Sister Karen Donnellon—also from Loreto College—tried to contact me through the Portland Ericsson telephone exchange to arrange another annual camp. She later wrote:

“During a one week period in March of this year I attempted to contact Mr Alan Smith at Bridgewater Camp. In that time I tried many times to phone through. Each time I dialled I was met with a line that was blank. Even after several re-dials there was no response. I then began to vary the times of calling but it made no difference.

Between April 1990 and when I sold the camp in December 2001, I continued to partly sponsor underprivileged groups, even as the phone faults persisted year after year. Some money still came in. Those wanting a cheap holiday kept calling, even after being told the camp was no longer connected to Telstra’s network. If they had to drive hours to make a booking, as Loreto College did, then drive they did.

The camp could sleep 90 to 100 people across fourteen cabins. With sponsored food and basic utilities covered, the groups used the facilities at minimal cost. But the phone problems never stopped. Telstra’s automated voice messages kept telling callers the business didn’t exist, or they were met with silence—dead lines that made it seem like the number was disconnected.

Some years later, I sent Sister Burke an early draft of my manuscript, Absent Justice, My Story, detailing my struggle to run a telephone-dependent business without a dependable phone service. She wrote back:

“Only I know from personal experience that your story is true, otherwise I would find it difficult to believe. I was amazed and impressed with the thorough, detailed work you have done in your efforts to find justice.”

Both Sister Maureen Burke and Sister Karen Donnellon continued their efforts to help me get a proper phone connection for the camp. They knew how vital it was—not just for the low-cost holidays, but for the survival of the business itself. Their persistence was extraordinary. But in the end, Telstra’s failures and the dreaded Ericsson AXE exchange cost me the business that might well have thrived if only the callers could have reached me.

Children’s Lives Could Be at Risk
The Herald Sun newspaper, dated 30 August 1993, published a headline that cut deep:

The article confirmed just how damaging the media coverage had become for my already struggling business. It reported:

“The Royal Children’s Hospital has told a holiday camp operators in Portland that it cannot send chronically ill children there because of Telecom’s poor phone service. The hospital has banned trips after fears that the children’s lives could be at risk in a medical emergency if the telephone service to the Portland camp continued to malfunction”.

The centre’s stand follows letters from schools, community groups, companies and individuals who have complained about the phone service at Portland’s Cape Bridgewater Holiday camp.”

Youths from the Royal Children’s Centre for Adolescent Health, who were suffering from “chronic illnesses”, visited the camp earlier this year.   

Group leader Ms Louise Rolls said in a letter to the camp the faulty phones had endangered lives and the hospital would not return to the camp unless the phone service could be guaranteed” (Arbitrator File No/90) 

A Near-Tragedy That Changed Everything
It wasn’t until the Melbourne Children’s Hospital recorded a near-death experience at my camp that Telstra finally took my phone faults seriously. I had to rush a sick child with cancer to Portland Hospital—18 kilometres away—because we couldn’t get a reliable phone connection. None of the 35 children, nor the six nurses and carers, had mobile phones.

And even if they had, mobile coverage in Cape Bridgewater didn’t exist until 2004—eleven years too late.

My coin-operated Gold Phone was also plagued with faults. It took several attempts before we could finally ring out and summon an ambulance.

Only after this crisis did Telstra send someone with real technical expertise to investigate. That visit occurred on June 3, 1993—five years after I first reported the faults, and six weeks after the Children’s Hospital vowed never to return. A rightful call for any hospital, with sick patients, a responsibility that the child carer was born and could not afford, a tragedy which was nearly the case.

As a consequence, more groups seeking hospital-style convalescence—comprising both children and elderly clients—began to gravitate toward the path paved by the Children's Hospital. This shift led to a noticeable decline in traditional activities, such as ethnic migrant bulk holidays, leisurely seascapes, invigorating bushwalks, and serene canoeing adventures. 

The situation escalated when seven significant bookings were abruptly cancelled, most notably one large group from Kensington, Victoria, situated not far from the Children's Hospital. This particular group, numbering over 110 individuals, decided to withdraw from their planned six-night getaway, gripped by anxiety about being confined in a holiday camp. The newspapers had reported unsettling details, indicating that once inside, guests would be unable to make phone calls, either in or out, raising alarm bells about their safety and ability to communicate.

Amidst this apprehension, questions loomed large about potential risks—especially what might happen in the event of a fire —further amplifying fears and uncertainties surrounding these holiday arrangements.

The Long-Term Impact Was Felt by the New Owners Eight Years Later.
No hospital—where convalescent care is a reliable revenue stream—ever returned to my business, even after I sold it in December 2001. The damage was done.
The saga continued until August 2009, when the new owners of my former holiday camp walked off the premises after declaring bankruptcy. Another chapter closed, but the scars remain.

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Introduction to The Arbitraitor
I have chosen the following narrative to introduce my story, "The Arbitraitor "because not only did I receive moral support from the Canadian Government to keep seeking the truth—which gave me some peace of mind during the difficult period immediately following the premature conclusion of my arbitration on 11 May 1995—but I also received an unexpected phone call that became a turning point.

That call came from Canadian consultant Paul Howell of DMR Group Inc (Canada), who had learned I had survived the first of two heart attacks that saw me hospitalised on both occasions. Mr Howell, a man I had never met, told me that if my arbitration had been conducted in North America the way it had been handled in Australia, heads would have rolled—excluding mine. His words struck deep. They validated my experience and confirmed the injustice I had endured.

I later relayed Mr Howell’s statements in a statutory declaration to The Hon. Michael Lee MP. Paul Howell had worked with Lane Telecommunications Pty Ltd on my matters, and his insight—combined with the moral support from Canada—became a beacon of hope in a time when no one in the Australian Government dared to confront the truth.

Would you like help formatting this for your book’s opening page or pairing it with a visual cue or exhibit reference?

A System Engineered to Fail the Truth
What unfolded was not arbitration—it was a coordinated campaign of collusion and concealment. From the laundering of evidence to the secret sale of Lane Telecommunications Pty Ltd, every move was calculated to undermine justice and protect the guilty.

Lane Telecommunications and the Erosion of Justice
The acquisition of Lane Telecommunications Pty Ltd—a consultancy that masqueraded as independent but was ostensibly commissioned by the Telecommunications Industry Ombudsman—reveals a deeply corrupt and treacherous plot at the heart of Australia’s justice system.

This consultancy, which served as the administrator for the Casualties of Telstra (COT) arbitration, was meant to serve the interests of justice, investigating serious claims from over sixteen cases. These claims pointed directly to the crumbling infrastructure of Ericsson telephone exchanges, with their outdated testing facilities, as the sinister root of persistent and devastating service failures experienced by countless Australians.

What unfolds in this scenario is nothing short of a calculated conspiracy, a carefully orchestrated scheme that undermines the very foundations of democracy. The dark truth is that this operation has largely slipped under the radar, revealing a shocking level of complicity and negligence. The most egregious aspect of this tale is that Lane, a key technical consultancy tasked with assisting the arbitrator in objectively evaluating the claims against Ericsson, was purchased by Ericsson itself during a highly legalistic arbitration process, which the Australian government had endorsed, as a fair process is beyond contempt.

Such a corrupt collusion raises horrifying questions about the integrity of the entire arbitration process. This acquisition isn’t merely unacceptable; it stinks of betrayal, manipulation, and an insatiable thirst for power that puts the principles of fair justice in grave peril. It feels as though a shadowy hand has reached into the very core of the system, undermining it for personal gain and shrouding the quest for truth in darkness.

This wasn’t a breakdown. It was a design—a system built to fail the truth, reward the corrupt, and leave whistleblowers like me stranded in a fog of betrayal.

The Senate Warning — And the Deafening Silence That Followed

On 26 September 1997, John Pinnock, the second TIO appointed to oversee the COT arbitrations, testified before a Senate Estimates Committee:

“… Firstly, and perhaps most significantly, the arbitrator had no control over that process because it was a process conducted entirely outside of the ambit of the arbitration procedures.” ()

This was a public admission that the arbitrator, Dr Hughes, was a figurehead. The real process was happening elsewhere, in shadows, beyond oversight. Yet no action was taken. Neither the government nor the arbitration administrators moved to correct the record or protect the claimants. Their failure to act is not just negligence—it is complicity.

The Supreme Court’s Blindfold — Jurisdiction Betrayed

The arbitration process was administered under the jurisdiction of the Supreme Court of Victoria. Had the Court been made aware of the appalling conduct of Dr Hughes and Warwick Smith—especially the concealment of Rundell’s letter and the laundering of technical reports—it would have been forced to confront the legal and ethical violations at play.

What would the Supreme Court have said, had it known that the arbitrator had no control, that the process was conducted outside the agreed procedures, and that critical evidence was deliberately withheld from the claimants?

I reiterate, this wasn’t arbitration. It was a masquerade—engineered to protect Telstra, silence the COT cases, and preserve reputations at the expense of truth.

I believe you are taking the most appropriate course of action

I have never received a written response from BCI, but the Canadian government ministers’ office wrote back on 7 July 1995, noting:

"In view of the facts of this situation, as I understand them, I believe you are taking the most appropriate course of action in contacting BCI directly with respect to the alleged errors in their test report, should you feel that they could assist you in your case."   

I have chosen to spotlight the letter from the Canadian government in my narrative as a heartfelt gesture of gratitude for the support it provided during a profoundly challenging chapter of my life. This support became a guiding light, illuminating my path when the Australian government steadfastly refused to confront the uncomfortable truth surrounding the documents inadvertently left in an open briefcase at my business on June 3, 1993. Those documents revealed a shocking deception by Telstra: for over a decade, the company had systematically misled the government about faulty Ericsson telephone exchange equipment. This equipment continued to be installed across Australia, even as nations around the globe were urgently removing—or had already dismantled—the same unreliable technology from their networks.

In placing my trust in the Australian government to take action regarding this falsified BCI testing information, I unwittingly made the second biggest mistake of my life. The flawed BCI testing at the telephone exchange serving my business was never subjected to a thorough investigation, and the profound silence that ensued was deafening, leaving me feeling adrift and alone. Unexpectedly, the Canadian government emerged as a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of neglect.

Reflecting on my life, the first significant mistake took place on September 18, 1967, when I informed the Minister of the Army, Malcolm Fraser, of a grave injustice. The humanitarian wheat being supplied by Australia to China—during a tumultuous period when Australia was actively engaged in combat in North Vietnam alongside allied forces from New Zealand and the USA—was being diverted to North Vietnam. This critically needed wheat was ultimately finding its way into the hands of the Vietcong, who were ruthlessly killing and maiming our brave Australian, New Zealand, and American soldiers in the dense jungles of North Vietnam.

Interestingly, in the same year, the Canadian Merchant Navy took a morally steadfast stand by refusing to load wheat upon discovering that it was destined for a nation at war with the West. Their principled action stood in stark contrast to the silence and complicity I encountered.

As I recount these experiences, I feel an unwavering compulsion to include Canada in my story—not only for its resolute stance in 1967 but also for the quiet yet powerful support it offered decades later when my own government systematically turned away from the profound truth that needed to be faced.