Russell Manser turned his life around after being sexually abused in a juvenile home and returned to prison, sending him into a destructive downward spiral of crime and violence.
Tributes have poured in for the former bad boy and outlaw who turned good after Manser, 56, died unexpectedly on Saturday evening.
There were no suspicious circumstances surrounding the 56-year-old’s death and a report was prepared for the coroner.
He had a history of drug use, including heroin, a habit he picked up as a young man in prison after being sexually abused by other inmates.
Manser was open about his time in rehab and the ongoing battle with addiction and recovery, often sharing updates about his life on social media.
READ MORE: A look into the final days of Russell Manser, living big
Tragic story of abuse
Manser’s history of incarceration began at the age of 15 when he was out with friends on an ordinary Saturday night and made the drug-fueled decision to steal a car in Parramatta, in Sydney’s west.
What followed was a dramatic police chase in which the teen could barely reach the pedals, eventually causing the stolen car to crash.
“Driving cars were common in phone books. I saw a couple of kids, one doing the pedals and one driving,” he told Daily Mail Australia.
Manser was sent to the Daruk Boys Home in Windsor, a city northwest of Sydney, for six months and was sexually assaulted by guards within days.
Former criminal Russell Mansell (pictured with his girlfriend Liliana Gagic) died suddenly this weekend after turning his life around
“On the first night I saw staff taking children out of bed and taking them to the toilet block,” he told the ABC’s. Australian story.
“The second or third night I smelled one of the staff members breathing on me, and he was breathing like a sewer.
‘He marched me into the toilet block and sexually assaulted me.’
Authorities have since called on any man who attended the school between 1965 and 1985 to come forward. In 2018, it was reported that at least 80 alleged victims had spoken out about cases of sexual and physical abuse in the home.
The youngest of six children, Manser grew up in Mount Druitt in Sydney’s west.
His parents were ‘ten pound poms’ who emigrated from Liverpool and supported their large family with factory work, while his mother worked in a plastics factory.
“There was no dysfunction, there was no domestic violence or alcoholism in my family growing up in Mount Druitt,” Manser said.
However, Manser couldn’t help but notice the special treatment meted out to returning prisoners who were hailed as “military” in his suburb.
These men had new cars, nice clothes and beautiful girlfriends, which appealed to a teenager desperate for a distraction from what he saw as a life of misery.
‘I always saw people really destroying themselves. The only people who showed any kind of opulence were the criminals,” he said.
‘Waking up at five in the morning in the middle of winter to walk to the bus stop to work in a factory for ten hours.
“They looked miserable and it didn’t really appeal to me.”
At the age of 23, Russell Manser (pictured in his early twenties) had robbed five banks
Manser had just turned 17 when he stole a Porsche from the wealthy suburb of Whale Beach on Sydney’s northern beaches.
He was given an adult prison sentence of 12 months at Long Bay Correctional Center because he wanted to send a stern warning to other would-be criminals in Mount Druitt.
He told a prison guard who said “have fun guys” as his mattress was thrown on the floor of a cell he shared with two men in a protection wing of Long Bay prison, where convicted pedophiles were housed.
Manser admitted he was outraged by the sentence and said his criminal history, compared to some other children in prison, was minimal.
“It was illegal for any of us to be there, the way they did it was illegal because they had to go through the attorney general,” he said.
‘The courts had no power or jurisdiction to do that directly. The lawyers should have said, “This boy was put in jail illegally.”
“That failure to contact family services, child safety and say these children are in serious danger. There is a duty of care there and they failed to do that.’
Manser was sexually assaulted within hours of arriving by two men at One Wing, a notorious protection unit that housed convicted pedophiles.
He remembers the prison guard saying “have fun boys” as his mattress was thrown onto the floor of their cramped cell.
The teen was assaulted a few nights later by a third inmate, who offered him his first shot of heroin in exchange for his silence.
Russell Manser (right) was in his mid-teens when he was sexually abused by guards at the Daruk Boys Home. It would be thirty years before he opened up about a harrowing ordeal
Russell Manser was a notorious bank robber who spent 23 years behind bars. The photo shows camera footage of one of the bank robberies
In an investigation conducted four weeks after his arrival, a psychologist stated that there was a high likelihood that he had been sexually abused in Long Bay.
Manser left prison a shell of his former self, harboring an addiction to heroin.
He then robbed five banks in the early 1990s, on one occasion stealing $90,000 from the Commonwealth Bank in Lane Cove in Sydney’s north.
Manser committed five robberies within a few months, without considering the impact he had on the terrified clerks and witnesses.
Russell Manser (pictured) turned his life around in his final years, helping fellow abuse survivors, prisoners and former prisoners
At the age of 23, the career criminal had been sentenced to fifteen years behind bars, with a non-parole period of seven and a half years.
After his release, Manser started his own business as a fitness instructor, got married and welcomed two boys into the world.
However, the short-lived period of peace was marred by memories of his abuse, which became increasingly difficult to ignore.
His marriage ended and Manser numbed the pain with drugs and alcohol, returning to his trademark of robbing banks – this time leaving fingerprints.
Back behind bars, he realized that ‘a lot’ had to change.
The sudden death of Russell Manser has led to an outpouring of tributes
After seeing the announcement of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, Manser got the boost he needed.
He wrote a letter to the committee and was visited by a representative, before eventually receiving an apology from the NSW government and compensation, 30 years after he was abused at Daruk Boys Home.
When asked about the possibility of confronting his abusers in Long Bay, who he says are dead, Manser asks what purpose this would serve.
“It doesn’t give me closure, I’ve done a lot of work on that stuff in terms of holding on to grudges and what that brings, and you know, I’ve really worked hard to let that stuff go a little bit. It’s hard some days,” he said.
Manser said he found closure when he accepted that what happened to him in Daruk and Long Bay had not been his fault.
‘It takes a lot of practice, it takes a long time. “I want a sense of peace,” he said.
Manser went on to lead an advocacy organization that helps abuse survivors, prisoners and former prisoners with legal advice, treatment and rehabilitation.
It started when other prisoners began to suspect he was betraying the police, when in reality he was on the phone to the Royal Commission.
After he announced this on the prison grounds, several inmates asked how they could share their own stories of abuse.
“That’s actually where the Voice of the Survivor was formed. “I just liked the way people told me their stories and felt comfortable,” he said.
Last July he was forced to close down the charity.
“It’s been really tough lately,” Manser told Daily Mail Australia at the time
‘The directors have decided to place the company into voluntary liquidation as we do not have the same number of customers as a result of the response to these claims.
“It’s just not feasible for us to continue.”
When asked what advice he would give to his teenage self before he lost control of his life, his answer was simple: “Believe in yourself.”
“Now I sit in boardrooms with these types of lawyers and my young guy asked me how I could even talk to these people,” he said.
“I told him I just believe in myself, and it was one of the first times I said that openly.”