J was the victim of some shoddy work. He was bleeding bad from those wounds in his head that crown had made. He kept falling, then struggling back up again. The guards kicked him or pulled him up, but he couldn’t go any faster and they were getting spooked by the silence. Jittery. They pointed their guns at the crowd and called for someone to carry J’s ladder. No-one moved. Everyone they tried to grab just disappeared back into the mob. Finally, this big Indigenous bloke stepped out of the crowd. He hoisted J’s ladder on one shoulder and bent to put his arm around J’s waist, helping him walk. Didn’t help much, J was a mess. At one point, one of the nurses – maybe the one who’d spoken to D, who knows? – stepped out and had a whispered argument with the guards. Then she wrapped a bandage around J’s head. The guards just stood and watched. She took her time and did it properly, like a mum might bandage one of her kids. She put the ‘crown’ back on as gently as she could, but so it couldn’t cut him again, because of the bandage. She kissed his forehead. Man, she had guts. Everyone saw her do it. Finally, she stepped back and we kept going. Then J just stopped. Stopped dead and stared at this woman. Older woman. She sort of holds her hands out to him, but he puts his hand out to stop her. You could tell it was his mum, and he didn’t want her getting into trouble. She looked totally broken and had two friends holding her up. Nothing she could do for him now, but you could see his back get a bit straighter as he walked on. Just like mine did when I saw my mum. It’s funny what it does to you to know that, even when everything’s gone to shit, someone still cares. Someone’s still holding you. We walked on. The last bit is the worst. It’s uphill. The trees have to be on a rise so that people can see the bodies from anywhere. They’ve got a favourite hill and that’s where we were going. Used to be a picnic spot once. Not anymore. I can’t explain the next bit. I don’t want to. Everyone knows what pain is and this was pain in bucketloads. There’s nothing pretty about what people can do to other people they don’t like or respect. I know I blacked out for a while because I remember being lashed to the tree, but I can’t 104
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