Content Warning: Violence, Suicide, Animal Cruelty, Addiction
I’ve been in and out of prison my whole life bro. The last time I got busted was in a tattoo parlour. I was a tattooist with the Hells Angels in WA. I went between three or four shops, I was a casual. The last one I was in, they had a kilo of methamphetamine, which wasn’t mine. The cops had been watching us for a year – they knew it had nothing to do with me, but you’re guilty by association, you know?
I was going between the shops, and I didn’t know there was meth under the counter. Well, I sorta knew. I knew there was too much money coming in, it wasn’t all from tattoos, you know what I mean? But I also didn’t get into it. I was pretty arrogant – just blindfolded for the easy money man. That’s why people join bike clubs, it’s easy money.
I’d been riding my jacket around thinking I was lawless, ruthless. I didn’t care if I got shot by the cops. I had a bad attitude, yeah? The last time I got arrested, I sorta went missing – I knew what was coming. I ended up coming back to Perth and going to my cousin’s house, and that’s where the cops found me.
I was in a pretty bad place man. I mean, my mum had died, my sister had died, my brother was still behind bars, and I was in and out of prison my whole adult life. I’d had enough. I didn’t really care anymore. It was just too much in the end. When the cops came to get me, I was just like, “Kill me ya fuckin’ dogs. You’re gonna shoot me before I surrender.” If they’d shot me, they would’ve done me a favour then. The only thing was, my old man had spoken to them and said, “Don’t kill him, he’s not well. If he comes out armed, you gotta do what you gotta do, but try and negotiate with him. He usually calms down pretty quick.”
It’s lucky the arresting officer came with the mental health doctors to get me. The sergeant was pretty arrogant – the one with three stripes that came running in. He was getting cranky, and I was cranky too yeah? They had tasers out, and I go, “Bring ya fuckin’ guns out. Don’t taser me. Kill me.”
But then there was some young guys, just outta the academy, and they were like, “Mate, calm down. We’re here to help. We know what you’re going through.” I was going off my head, you know? I wanted to be killed, but they didn’t want to kill me. I’ll never forget it.
There was a doctor there, behind the coppers, and this doctor was like something out of a movie. He had a big gown on, and he sedated me. I woke up two or three days later. So instead of getting shot, I got sedated. Maybe it was a good thing you know? Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here to tell my story.
The doctor sedated me and got me to a hospital, where I needed to be, but I’m just like, if it wasn’t for them two younger ones… I dunno how long they were out of the academy, but they were very gentle with me man. They wanted me to live.
If I had my time again, I wish I’d found out who they were and made a commitment to get in touch with them. It was eight years ago, but I always thought about it in jail. I wish I somehow knew who they were so I could write to them and say thank you. They saved my life man. I was willing to be shot. But that negotiation, it changed everything.
It was only eight years ago I was arrested like that, under a mental health team, and I’ll give credit to those West Australian coppers. They’re not psychiatrists, you know what I mean? They’ve got a hard job man, ‘cause 90% of it is mental health, and 90% of that is addiction. Whether it’s alcohol, meth, whatever it is to take the pain away. They’ve got a hard job. Every day is death, suicide, carnage. I look at that and think, I wouldn’t do their job man, no matter how much you paid me.
And imagine if I’d been shot – they gotta deal with that. Everyone goes, “They joined the police force. It’s bikies. They know what they’re getting themselves in for.” But I don’t think so bro. They’re still humans, aren’t they? You can only take so much.
I didn’t have that attitude back then. I was like, “I don’t care mate. Shoot me.” But I’ve settled down since that last jail sentence. Eight years is a long time man. Now I show respect to that. Would you wanna do that job? I feel sorry for them cops.
I was born in 1970, and we got to WA in 1974. The old man was a submariner in the navy and then later worked on the rigs, so he was always away. He was earning good money though, so we went from a sorta poor family to quite a wealthy one. He was buying motorbikes and always trying to – not buy our love, that’s not the right word, but he was very generous yeah? When he had money, he’d give it to us. Mum was the harder one, you know? If we borrowed money off her, we’d have to pay it back. She was pretty structural, and she was fully religious too. Although she’d drink a bottle of wine as soon as she got outta mass.
The old man was the same. He had sixteen years with the UK navy, and when he came to Australia, he got the same rank and position. But when there wasn’t subs for him to go on, they put him in charge of the bar. So you can imagine, he was always pissed out of his head – but it was good, ‘cause my old man was a happy drunk. I’ve seen a lot of ‘em that don’t turn happy you know?
My mum was Irish and my dad was English, so was had a bit of a cross mix, and we were picked on at school – not my brother and sister, they were pretty staunch – but I was picked on. I was coming home saying I was being bullied probably around age ten. So the old man threw me into Jiu-Jitsu, and he taught all of us boxing, including my sister. I dunno if it done me any favours when I was older though, or if it led me down a bad path, ‘cause I didn’t back down to no-one, and I’ve been beaten many times to within an inch of my life. I’ve had bigger and better coming at me, but I’ve always fought back. My brother used to say to me, “Kill or be killed mate. That’s how it is out there.”
I was expelled from school at 14 for smashing the headmaster. All three of my siblings were smart, but I was dumb man. See, I couldn’t learn, I couldn’t understand the board, whereas everyone else done well at school yeah? They were so smart, and I couldn’t concentrate, so that turned into frustration, and frustration led me to what happened.
I’ve always been on the dark side of learning and that. I never got it. With school and even with corrections. Corrections have got me under a mental illness now, so it’s different, when I go to jail they actually try and help me out. As soon as I’m off the drugs, and I take my medication, I do well.
Nowadays they would’ve gone for an ADHD diagnosis, ‘cause that’s the medication I’m on now. But back then, you were just a naughty kid, and that was when the old cane was involved. I was getting it every day mate. Me and these two Irish guys – one ended up committing suicide and the other’s in jail for armed robbery – they just kept on caning us, and we wouldn’t have it.
Eventually I hit back. I grabbed the cane and just smashed him with it – I went to court over it. They tried to do me for GBH. I was done for assault, but I was only 14 man. Even though I had my mum and dad, dad was away at the time, and I was on my own. It was a big, scary world out there.
My older brother’s done 25 years in jail for wilful murder. He killed a child sex offender, and made a mess of it.
My dad adopted him when he was 18 months old. Apparently his biological dad was quite violent – died in a car crash back in Ireland, full of alcohol. So my brother had a different dad, but my old man brought him along from day one.
I had some clashes with him, but he was always good to me man. He loved me, you know? But he’s totally different to me. I’m a pacifist, I don’t like violence, whereas he likes it. Even when we were younger – like if we had a feral cat – he’d trap it, kill it, and behead it. It got a bit concerning for me. He worked in the abattoir as well. He was the slaughterman.
There’s a lot of people in jail that hurt animals. I didn’t, and I never wanted to. I didn’t have that killer instinct. I could kill, if someone’s gonna hurt me, but it’s gotta be warranted. But my brother, he don’t care about blood and guts or anything.
My brother and I worked on tow trucks for twelve years. He owned two trucks and I subcontracted one of them. They’ve cleaned up the industry now, but back then it used to be first in, first served. So I’d rock up to all the car crashes, and I’d be on the phone to my brother if anyone was trying to take the contract. They’ve tightened it up now, so it’s police contract only – ‘cause it got nasty yeah?
If somebody needs a tow truck, they’re usually bad injuries, or death. I’ve seen a lot of shit man, the number of car crashes I’ve been to. Even the ambos and senior authorities, I’ve seen them cry on the road. It’s pretty dark. Those twelve years were daunting for me, yeah? But my brother, he was in his depths. He’d be like, “Shut up. Just get the tow truck and the chain. Let’s just fucking work.” You know what I mean?
One day in 1988, we heard there was a crash. It came over the CB radio back then, and we were the first on the scene. When me and my brother pulled up, it was our best mate from primary school and high school. He’d driven his V8 into a yacht club at 280km/h, it was suicide.
He had three kids, and to cut a long story short, his wife met a navy guy and they went off to Queensland – not straight away, within five years or something. I think in the end she had the three kids, and then one more to this navy guy. But this guy had been touching up the two daughters, I think they were maybe 14 and 16.
So my brother stepped in, as he always does. He went round to punch on, and this guy came out with a knife. Now the independent witness said that this guy attacked first, but my brother made a mess of him. I think the guy had like 90 stab wounds in the end. He just let loose yeah? Plus he was on parole at the time, so he doubled up his sentence. He got 25 years for murder.
My brother and I were in jail together for a while. They keep you together if you get along, and my brother was kingpin in there. Wherever I walked, I walked under his shadow. And my brother’s six foot eight and 140 kilos – he’s a big boy yeah? Plus he’s eighth belt Jiu-Jitsu. Being in jail, in Casuarina – the supermax that we were in – it’s pretty tough. If you’re not hard, you die quick in there, and my brother was pretty hard man.
He regrets it now, 25 years later. That was 9,000 days and nights in there. It’s a long time to sit in jail hey? He’s a bit cuckoo from it, and he was freaking out by the end. He didn’t wanna be in there. Even though he was kingpin, they called him Red. Have you ever seen Shawshank Redemption? That’s exactly my bro. He tried to kill himself twice – they had to cut him down off the ropes.
He lives with my dad now. I always check in on him, but I know what he’s like. He’d never hurt my dad, but he’s so institutionalised. He’s hard work. I said, “It’s pretty sad hey Dad?” And he goes, “Yeah son, but I’ll never give up on him. He’s getting better every day.” They do love each other. It’s just two different people though. Same as me and him – two different people.
He’s said to me before, “I don’t wanna do this anymore bro.” And I kept saying to him, “What are you gonna do, kill yourself? After all these years? Harden it up man.” But I could see it. Jail’s hard bro. Even he was tired, and he’s the strongest man I know.
When I spoke to him last, I rung him up and said, hey bro, how ya going, what ya up to – all that sorta thing. But at the end of it he goes, “You know, I’m so proud of you, and I love you man.” And I know he does – he’d take a bullet for me – but it made me cry, ‘cause he’s never said that before.
My mum named me John Paul. She was Irish Catholic, yeah? So she named me after the Pope. You see that cross there? I was in and outta jail, and you’re not allowed necklaces, so I tattooed my mum’s cross. She believed in god. I don’t. Too much carnage.
Dad was born in London, and he was a pacifist, he never even raised his voice to us. Mum had the aggression. She was into us a bit – not punching on, but verbally yeah? She’d do a lot of shouting if we were out of line.
My old man’s 84 now and he only ever had two jobs – the navy for 30 years, and the oil rigs for 30 years. He was a diver on the rigs. He went over to the US and made a fortune. It was big dollars man, but most of his crew are dead from cancer now, because of the gas they used when they put you underwater for three months. Dad told me the mix, I can’t remember now.
My old man’s got so many stories to tell, but I think we’ve made him tired yeah? My sister was in and out of jail too, and she ended up committing suicide. Dad would go to the girls’ jail one weekend and the males’ the next. So it was pretty hard for him hey? He’s 84 now and he’s got emphysema, from being underwater for so long. I don’t know if he’s got long— I shouldn’t say that. It’s just every time I talk to him, it sounds like he’s struggling. He’s such a beautiful man, but I feel sorry for him. When I talk to him, I can tell he’s broken yeah?
My mum died in 2016 from Motor Neurone Disease. We were in jail at the time and these guards came in and told us. We knew she’d been getting sick, ‘cause she couldn’t come and see us. It doesn’t matter who it is though, if you’ve got any behavioural problems, or you’re going to be a risk, they won’t let you out. But the guards were really good man. My brother and I had been in self-care for a couple of years, and we’d done the right thing. So we got permission to come out in chains for the funeral.
I dunno man. It was very challenging for me. Death’s nasty hey? Mum was everything to us as a family. She loved us unconditionally man. I’ve got my mum’s birthday tattooed on my hand, and on my neck – and that ‘forever’, that’s about my mum too. She’s not dead to me. I always feel her.
I’ve been eight years sober. I’ve done all my AA and NA while I was in jail. What happened in the West Australian jails is they gave us plenty of notice about quitting smoking. All of Australia has a no smoking policy, but we could do it any way they wanted. So I had hypnosis done, and I tell you what man, I’ve never looked back. They got rid of everything. I was a smoker, pot smoker, alcoholic, and a drug addict – and it kicked everything. A lot of people don’t like going under, and I must admit I thought, fuck, I wonder what they’re doing to me subconsciously. But I let it go, and I won mate. I won. Whatever that was, I’ve never had to look back. I think alcohol is the most destructive legal demon ever made. Everyone is carnage on it. I still have a couple of beers, but I don’t let it go too crazy. It doesn’t have to dominate my life.
And then there’s meth. I’ve seen a lot of my mates that’ve gone cuckoo, and either they’ve suicided or they’ve got life behind bars for whatever mistakes they’ve made. And ya know, don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried the party drugs all my life, but meth is nasty yeah? I don’t like it man. I don’t like the way it makes people. I don’t like what people turn into to pay back their debts. Everything and everyone changes with meth.
The units in Casuarina supermax are categorised. So units one and two are for if you’re like crazy, and too much on the gear. There’s extra guards in there and extra surveillance cameras. Units three and four sorta go down in priority. Five is an ‘airport wing’ where they just keep them in there for a week to do assessments and then get rid of them to other jails. Six is ‘patrol protection’, they’re people who’ve touched up kids. Now seven, eight and nine are ‘self-care’. I was in self-care where you get to cook for yourself, you can have extra calls, you can have two visits a week – not just one. It was the best it could be for jail, but prison was hell. Hell on Earth man. Times a million.
What saddened me is when I first went to jail at Casuarina supermax, in 1999, they had 900 people in there. Now that same jail – it hasn’t expanded or anything – it’s got 2,800 in there. So sometimes there’s three in a room.
Once a month, someone takes their life in WA corrections. Not just in the prison I was in, there’s eight others. Three are supermax like mine. And there’s one a month that commit suicide – and it doesn’t make the paper. No-one wants to know that, you see?
Every 24 hours in prison is a long 24 hours man. I did two six-week counselling courses and I used to go through the different units talking to people. I was allowed in every unit except the special handling unit, where you’re locked up 24 hours a day. I had a red shirt on, the corrections red shirt, and if you were struggling, having a bad day, or if you were gonna commit suicide, you could talk to me. I’d get in their rooms, and some of the stories you hear man. Violence produces violence yeah? I’d say 99.9% of people in jail have been beaten as kids. When me and my brother done the violent offenders program, we were the only ones that never had violence at home.
I learnt a bit more about Aboriginal culture and history too. It’s pretty sad, I feel sorry for them. But ‘cause I was a tattooist, even though I didn’t have the correct ink, they all wanted their flag. Their pretty proud of their flag. I couldn’t put the red on, but I’d do it on their neck, hands, wherever they wanted it. And I’d say, “Look, whenever you get out of here, come to my tattoo shop and I’ll finish it for free.”
I had an incident the other day. This guy hit me in the face. I seen him, probably about 8:30 in the morning, and he had a bottle of Jack Daniels – he was just wringing it straight. I’d just woken up and was having some breakfast, and I was like, I wonder what all this is about.
Once he started, he goes, “What are you looking at?” I didn’t even know what he said, I just tried to tame it down a bit. He owed a heap of money here and they wanted to get rid of him. He was like, “Did you have anything to do with that?” I said I didn’t even know what was going on, and he just went boom – straight at my head.
I was like Jesus, I left Perth to get away from all this violence. I didn’t come over here to start fighting again, it caught me by surprise. I wasn’t ready for it, which is unusual for me. If I see that coming, if I see aggravation, I’ll just level it down yeah?
Once I got him on the ground, I choke hold him, and I was thinking, oh dear man, I’ve been in this position so many times. I had some openings there. If that was jail I guess I would’ve finished him off, but something kept telling me, just let it go, he’s just cooked.
My missus was saying to me last night, “Does he know what you’re capable of?” And I go, “Baby, I didn’t want the cops coming and to think it was me yeah?” Because they don’t care man. The cops and judge and jury, they don’t look at the bigger picture, they only see the facts – even though he was going off at me. He’d sorta been being weird with me for the last couple of days, and I could see that, so I just kept out of his way. You gotta be careful when someone’s dangerous.
I’ve seen a lot of misery yeah? A lot of stabbings, a lot of suicides. It’s pretty sad what’s happened in my life. I’ve lost a lot of people. I would’ve gone through 18 suicides in the last 15 years. It’s pretty special that I’m still with it to tell my story. I felt like suicide a few times, I admit that. I didn’t ever wanna go through with it, but I was pretty down and out for a bit. I was thinking, I’ve got nothing left in me man. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to be born, and have a brother beating me up as soon as I could walk. It made me strong, but the strong get tired. I think I’ve got that tattooed somewhere – even the strong get tired.
I got out December 22nd last year. Imagine after eight years in maximum security. Every two hours they lock you in the cells, and for 15 hours through the night they turn the key over. That first night I stayed in a backpackers – it was like, “Oh my god!”
I’ll probably be in Darwin for two more weeks. The West Australian government paid for my airlines to get here, and they pay for two months of me being here. So that’s up in two weeks and I’ll probably have to get thinking about something.
I could see myself working in corrections, but I’d have to work on the outside, ‘cause I’ve got a criminal record. But that’s cool, I can work in self-care. They do all the counselling and stuff. My missus goes, “JP, you need to go back in there. Don’t worry about what everyone else is doing, go help someone. They’re gonna listen to you, ‘cause you’re part of it, and you’ve done time.” During that counselling course they gave me, corrections said to me, “They won’t listen to us. They don’t want anyone in there that’s not done the time yeah? But you’ve been in jail, you’ve had your Harley Davidsons, you’ve been a gang member. We understand you’re going to Darwin to get your bearings, but when you get back to Western Australia, come and do it mate. And if you save one out of a hundred, would you sleep better at night?” And it’s true, isn’t it? I want them to listen to me. I wanna be a part of the counselling side of things, ‘cause there’s so many at risk man.
I wanna go down to Margaret River, ‘cause there’s no bike clubs there. There’s nothin’ down there. It’s a nice and peaceful little town man. My boss at the Hells Angels was always good to me, but I don’t wanna die in a big shootout. And you know, I’ll give ‘em ten out of ten, ‘cause they let me go in good faith. It could’ve been different. That’s why I’m going down Margaret River way, it’s three hours outta Perth. There’s nothing for nothing with bike clubs, but I’m hoping if I go down there, they won’t lure me back into it.
I’m always very careful where I put myself now. I don’t ever wanna go back down them paths. And the south-west of Western Australia – it’s beautiful mate. It’s picturesque innit? Beautiful beaches. Beautiful people. I love it.
If I can educate one person out of this, it’d be worth it. I don’t wanna be angry. There’s so much hate in this world. Wherever I come to, there’s a lot of hate man. I think to myself, why does everyone have to have so much hate? I don’t wanna argue with anyone anymore. I don’t wanna hate anyone. Life’s too short, isn’t it?
–
John Paul (JP), Darwin, Australia
Postscript
The description for this page states that Collect The World is a photography project dedicated to telling the stories of interesting individuals, captivating creatures and dynamic destinations. But if I’m honest, the ‘interesting individuals’ part has always been more aspirational than anything else. Telling the stories of people was always something that I would start doing tomorrow.
Humans of New York is easily my favourite thing on the internet, and its founder, Brandon Stanton, has always been a huge inspiration to me. His ability to walk up to complete strangers and create a space where they feel comfortable sharing their innermost selves is something truly remarkable. It’s no wonder he’s amassed tens of millions of dedicated supporters, and raised tens of millions of dollars for people in need.
I’ve always wanted to be able to replicate the kind of storytelling that Humans of New York is renowned for, but as Brandon will tell you, the only way to ever feel comfortable approaching strangers is simply to do it ten thousand times. This post represents the first of those ten thousand. JP is so far the only person I’ve ever interviewed, and I am beyond grateful for his generosity and openness in taking the time to sit with me and share his experiences.
This is the longest post I’ve ever put up, and my goal was to explore the depth and nuance of JP’s story in an unbiased format. I only hope that I’ve done it justice.
A massive thanks to JP on being the first ‘interesting individual’ to feature on this page, and sorry that you’re currently sharing this website with an assortment of weird animals – I will endeavour to get more people and their stories up as soon as possible.