You’ve probably heard of pedophile hunters.
They’re the self-appointed vigilantes who pose as children online to trap creeps who want to meet boys and girls for sex – and then expose them online.
Well, I was one of Australia’s first pedophile hunters – and I scored my first scalp long before social media made it easy to expose these monsters.
Today, “hunters” set their traps on social media and chat rooms, arrange a meeting with the target and confront them on camera.
Usually they hand over the images and chat logs to the police, but sometimes the public shame is punishment enough.
But when I started, we operated in the shadows and our methods were old-fashioned.
It was the late 1990s in Sydney. I had discovered the address of a teacher from a private individual school accused of a litany of sickening sex crimes – including kidnapping – against young boys in the eastern suburbs.
William Charles Lucan-Roberts, 61, was accused of abusing dozens of children aged 12 to 16 during a 40-year reign of terror at the prestigious Sydney Boys High School, home to Hollywood stars and prime ministers..
A teacher at Sydney Boys High School (campus seen here) committed suicide in the late 1990s after I exposed his alleged crimes on the eve of his trial, writes our anonymous pedophile hunter
Lucan-Roberts, a languages and cricket master, was awaiting trial when, under the cover of darkness and dressed entirely in black, I dropped a leaflet at every door in his building and at every letterbox on his street.
“Warning: Alleged pedophile William Charles Lucan-Roberts resides in —,” my photocopied letter read.
“He is accused of raping and abusing dozens of students at Sydney Boys High School and will appear in Downing Center Local Court on Thursday.”
The next day – and less than 24 hours before his trial was set to begin – he was found dead in the backyard pool of a friend’s house.
“I thought it was better that I go…” he wrote in his two-line farewell letter.
Did I feel guilty because my act of vigilance was the final straw that caused him to take his own life?
No, not a little bit. On the contrary: I was ecstatic. And I still am to this day.
It was exactly the result I wanted.
I remember like it was yesterday the wave of relief that washed over me, knowing that his alleged victims could rest easy knowing he was gone.
That’s the problem with pedophiles: they never stop. They never, ever stop. So I wish they would all commit suicide. I seriously wish that.
Some people say, “It’s a terrible thing when someone dies.”
To them I say, ‘No. When it comes to people who sexually abuse children, they don’t deserve to live. They have given up their right to live in society.”
And I’m glad I helped at least one make a quick exit.
I conducted similar letter-writing campaigns against more than a dozen other suspected or convicted pedophiles in Sydney’s eastern suburbs.
But I never received confirmation that my efforts yielded the same results.
You may wonder why I am so driven to hunt down those who hurt children.
Well, when I was a kid, a friend at school told me that her father did “things” to her.
She didn’t say he hit her, just that he did ‘something’.
And of course, at that age, I had no idea what she was talking about.
I was the only friend she ever invited to her house: it was dirty. She slept on newspapers. The dirty dishes were piled high in the sink.
Her father was a drunk old creep and she lived alone with him. She told me she had to run him a bath every night and make him hot chocolate.
Then one day she said, “I’m going to poison him.”
At first I didn’t believe her. They were just childish words spoken in anger.
But I will never forget the day the principal walked into our classroom with a solemn look on her face and asked to speak to my friend. Her father was dead.
She was so happy afterwards.
I conducted similar letter-writing campaigns against more than a dozen other suspected or convicted pedophiles in the eastern suburbs (photo: Bondi Beach in Sydney)
Years later I became a mother myself and memories of my childhood friend returned.
A male acquaintance with a nice job started showing a lot of interest in me.
He offered to do all these fun things. ‘Can I buy this for you? Can I pay for you to get your hair done?’
I thought, ‘This is weird, he’s married. Why is he doing this?’
One day my daughter had a sleepover with his kids.
“When it comes to people who sexually abuse children, they don’t deserve to live. They have given up their right to live in society’ (stock image)
When she got home she said, “Oh, naughty Nathan* came into my bedroom when it was dark outside and started kissing me on the lips.”
I knew immediately that he was taking care of me.
I took my daughter straight to a pediatric sexual abuse clinic where she had to undergo invasive tests to see if he had done more than just kiss her.
No child should ever have to experience that. The results came back negative and police ultimately said they could not prosecute because there was not enough evidence.
But we demanded our own form of justice. Me and two others went to his house and beat him up.
The look on his face when he opened the door betrayed his guilt.
He was a big guy, but he went down like a crying baby in a heap.
We kicked and knocked him to the ground. Eventually a crowd gathered in the street and I went out and told anyone who would listen that he was a pedophile.
His wife divorced him, but within weeks we learned he was leaving with a new wife, another single mother, who had two young girls.
Like I said, they never stop. And the horrifying thing is that they are everywhere.
I think a lot of parents just don’t know. They live in a bubble of ‘everything is beautiful and nice’.
But I never lived in that bubble. One day my daughter was playing with other children in Waverley Park, near Bondi Junction, when I saw an old man walking towards him with his puppy.
By the time I got there, he had left in a hurry. I asked my daughter what he said and she laughed.
“He showed us his puppy, but what he didn’t realize was that when he bent over, stuff fell out,” she said.
I told the other moms, who said they were sure it was just a mistake. A crazy old man. So many parents are light-hearted fairies and want to see the good in everyone.
But I knew exactly what he was doing. I called the police and called the local newspaper, trying to make as much noise as possible.
I’m always on the ball. I don’t care how old I get. I always pay attention to those abused children, children with a haunted look on their faces.
The depressing truth is that most pedophiles never get caught.
They’re not normally the grimy, druggy creep on the street.
It is the father, the brother, the grandfather, the uncle, the family friend.
They are often well connected and respected in society.
And those who do get caught hardly get a slap on the wrist.
If they go to prison, especially in Australia, they can get six to 18 months. It’s nothing. It’s a joke.
That’s why I campaigned in the US for an Australian version of ‘Megan’s Law’
The law, which forces authorities to make public the addresses of registered sex offenders, was introduced after the rape and murder of seven-year-old Megan Kanka.
Her neighbor, convicted sex offender Jesse Timmendequas, lured her to his home before dumping her body in a nearby park.
There is no such law in Australia, although opposition leader Peter Dutton has previously called for a national register of child sex offenders.
Australian parents should be able to know if the person living on their street is a pedophile.
Critics say they will simply be pushed out and have to live somewhere else.
Good. Keep pushing them out until, as far as I’m concerned, they’re living in a shed in Timbuktu.
Or better yet, keep harassing them until they commit suicide.
They are not normal. I see them as evil. It is pure evil to want to harm a child.
*Names have been changed.
As told to Max Aitchison.
If you or someone you know needs support, please contact 1800 RESPECT on 1800 737 732 or Kids Helpline on 1800 551 800.
For confidential 24-hour support in Australia, call Lifeline on 13 11 14