After 35 Years in America…My Filipina Wife Asked to Go Home

After 35 Years in America…My Filipina Wife Asked to Go Home

…

At the time, I didn’t think about that last part.

I was too excited.

I thought she was gaining something better.

It never crossed my mind that saying yes to me also meant saying goodbye to almost everything she’d ever known.

The first winter, Maria stood at our living room window for nearly 20 minutes watching the snowfall.

She’d never seen snow before.

She smiled like a little kid.

I remember laughing and asking, “So, what do you think?” She looked at me without taking her eyes off the window and said, “It’s beautiful.

” The next morning, I found her outside trying to catch snowflakes with her gloves.

She took pictures, made a tiny snowman, even threw a snowball at me when I wasn’t looking.

I remember thinking, “She’s going to love it here.

” And in many ways, she did.

The years passed faster than either of us expected.

We bought our first house, raised two children, spent weekends driving to soccer games, school concerts, and birthday parties.

Life became wonderfully ordinary.

The kind of ordinary you barely notice while you’re living it.

Maria learned to love so many things about America.

She celebrated Thanksgiving like she’d been born here.

She learned to bake cookies every Christmas with the kids.

She cheered louder than anyone during football games, even though I’m still not convinced she completely understood the rules.

She built friendships.

She became an American citizen.

She made our house feel like a home.

If you had met us 20 years later, you probably would have assumed she’d lived here her entire life.

I did.

What I didn’t see were the little pieces of the Philippines she quietly held on to.

Every Sunday morning, before the rest of us woke up, she’d call her family.

Sometimes she’d laugh so hard I could hear her from the kitchen.

Other times, I’d walk past the bedroom and find her quietly wiping away tears after hanging up.

She’d always smile when she saw me.

“It’s nothing.

” she’d say.

“I just miss them today.

” I believed her.

Then life would move on.

Every January, after the excitement of Christmas had faded, I’d notice her standing at the kitchen window with a cup of coffee, looking outside, watching another snowfall.

She never complained.

Never once said she wanted to leave.

One morning I asked, “What are you looking at?” She smiled without turning around.

“The sunshine.

” she said.

I laughed.

“There isn’t any sunshine today.

” She laughed, too.

“I know.

” At the time, I thought she was joking.

Looking back, I think she was remembering.

Before we knew it, our children were grown.

The house got quieter.

The grandkids started coming over on weekends.

And after more than three decades of working, retirement finally stopped feeling like something we’d talk about someday.

It was right in front of us.

One evening, we were sitting on our back porch after dinner.

The air had that familiar chill that always seemed to arrive a little too early where we lived.

Maria pulled her sweater a little tighter around her shoulders.

Then she looked at me and smiled.

“Can I ask you something?” I remember smiling back.

“Of course.

” She was quiet for a few seconds, long enough that I knew she was choosing her words carefully.

Then she asked, “When you retire, would you ever consider living in the Philippines?” I honestly laughed.

Not because I was making fun of her, because I thought she was joking.

I looked around at our backyard, the maple trees, the fence I’d spent three weekends building, the swing set I’d made for our grandchildren.

Everything familiar was right there.

“Why would we leave?” I asked.

“Our kids are here.

The grandkids are here.

Our doctors are here.

Our whole life is here.

” She didn’t argue.

She simply nodded.

“I know.

” That was all she said.

And somehow, that made me feel even worse.

For the next few weeks, I couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation.

Not because I was considering moving, because I couldn’t understand why she would even ask.

I started doing what I always did whenever I didn’t understand something.

I researched it.

Before long, my YouTube homepage looked like every retirement channel on the internet.

Americans living in the Philippines, videos about healthcare, cost of living, visa renewals, people sharing what they loved and what they wished they’d known before moving.

The more I watched, the more convinced I became that retirement in the Philippines wasn’t for us.

Healthcare worried me.

Being an ocean away from our grandchildren worried me even more.

I thought about emergencies, hospitals, long flights, power outages.

I even joked with Maria one evening.

I’ve spent my whole life trying to stay warm every winter.

You want me to spend the rest of my life sweating? She laughed.

I don’t want you to sweat.

She reached over and squeezed my hand.

I just wanted to know if you’d ever think about it.

Then she changed the subject.

She never brought it up again, at least not with words.

Looking back now, I think she realized I wasn’t ready to hear the answer she was trying to give me.

A few months passed.

Life went back to normal.

Or at least I thought it had.

Then little things started catching my attention.

Things that had probably been happening for years.

I was just finally noticing them.

One Saturday morning, I walked into the kitchen and found Maria making breakfast.

She was softly to herself.

Not in English, in Tagalog.

I’d heard those songs for years, but that morning I stopped and listened.

When she noticed me standing there, she smiled.

I didn’t know you knew all the words, I joked.

She laughed.

I’ve been singing these songs since I was a little girl.

It sounded so obvious, yet somehow I’d never really thought about it.

A few days later, I came home from running errands.

She was sitting on the couch with an old photo album open across her lap.

Pictures I’d seen dozens of times.

Her parents, her sisters, the little house where she grew up, her old school, children playing outside barefoot.

She wasn’t crying.

She was smiling, like someone visiting an old friend.

When she saw me, she closed the album and asked how my day had been.

That was Maria.

She never wanted me to feel guilty for something neither of us could change.

As retirement got closer, I started paying attention in ways I never had before.

Every Sunday morning, she still called the Philippines.

Every birthday, she stayed up late because of the time difference.

Every Christmas, she found a way to cook the same dishes her mother had made when she was growing up.

She had spent decades building a beautiful life in America, but she had never erased the life she came from.

She carried both with her every single day.

Then one afternoon, something happened that changed the way I looked at our entire marriage.

We were cleaning out the garage before retirement, sorting through old boxes we’d ignored for years.

I opened one marked Maria.

Inside were letters, dozens of them.

Airmail envelopes.

Some were from her mother, some from her sisters, some from friends she’d grown up with.

Most of them were faded with age.

I asked if she wanted to throw them away.

She looked at me almost surprised.

“Oh, no,” she said softly.

“I’ve kept every one.

” I suddenly wondered what she’d written back.

That night, after she’d gone to bed, I found myself thinking about those letters.

Before email, before video calls, before smartphones, those letters had been her connection to home.

Sometimes they took weeks to arrive.

Sometimes longer.

And yet, she saved every single one.

That’s when something finally hit me.

While I’d been busy building a career, raising our children, and planning for the future, Maria had quietly been carrying two homes inside her heart.

She never asked me to choose between them.

She simply learned to live with both.

And for the first time, I started wondering if retirement wasn’t asking us where we wanted to live.

Maybe, it was asking where we both belonged.

About a month later, our daughter invited everyone over for Sunday dinner.

The grandkids were running through the backyard.

The smell of hamburgers was drifting across the patio.

It felt like one of those afternoons you hope never ends.

At one point, our daughter smiled and asked, “So, have you two decided what you’re going to do once dad finally retires?” I laughed.

“I think we figured it out.

” Maria looked over at me.

I reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

“We’re staying right here.

Our family’s here.

Our friends are here.

It just makes sense.

” I expected Maria to smile.

Instead, she simply looked down at her plate.

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t disagree.

She just quietly nodded.

Our daughter changed the subject.

The conversation moved on.

But something didn’t feel right.

That evening, after we got home, the house was quiet.

I found Maria sitting on the back porch.

The same place where she’d first asked me about the Philippines.

I sat beside her.

For a while, neither of us said anything.

Then I asked, “Are you disappointed?” She took a slow breath.

Not angry, not upset, just honest.

“I’ve never wanted to take anything away from you, John.

I love our children.

I love our grandchildren.

I love the life we’ve built.

” She looked out across the yard before continuing.

“When I left the Philippines, I knew I was leaving my parents, my sisters, my friends, my language, my home.

I never regretted that.

Not for one day.

” Then she looked at me.

There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling.

The same smile I’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

She reached over and held my hand.

Very softly, she said, “I’ve spent 35 years building a life in your country.

Would you spend the rest of yours helping me rebuild one in mine?” I opened my mouth to answer.

Nothing came out.

Because in 35 years, I had never once asked her what she had given up to be with me.

That wasn’t guilt I felt.

It was gratitude mixed with the painful realization that I had been loved far more generously than I’d ever understood.

That conversation stayed with me for days, then weeks.

I couldn’t stop hearing her words.

Not because she had tried to convince me, because she hadn’t.

She’d simply told me the truth.

One evening, I walked into the living room carrying my laptop.

Maria looked up from her book.

I sat down beside her.

I’ve been thinking.

She smiled.

I know.

I’ve noticed.

We both laughed.

I took a deep breath.

I don’t know if I’m ready to move halfway around the world.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still worried.

The health care, the distance from the kids, the flights.

What happens if one of us gets sick? I can’t pretend those things don’t matter.

She nodded.

I know they matter.

Then I looked at her and said, “But maybe I’ve been asking the wrong question.

” She tilted her head.

“What if what if we didn’t decide today? What if we just went for a few months, no promises, no house, no big decisions, just us, and we see how it feels?” She smiled.

Not the kind of smile that fills the room, the kind that’s almost impossible to describe.

Quiet, relieved, hopeful.

She reached across the couch and squeezed my hand.

“I’d like that.

” Three months later, we were standing inside an airport.

This time, we weren’t newlyweds beginning a life together.

We were two people carrying 35 years of memories, wondering where the next chapter belonged.

As the plane lifted into the sky, I looked over at Maria.

She was staring out the window, smiling.

The same way she’d smiled the first time I met her.

For a moment, she didn’t look like someone leaving home.

She looked like someone finally going back.

When we landed in Cebu, the first thing I noticed wasn’t the heat.

Although, believe me, I noticed the heat.

It was Maria.

She walked through the airport with a confidence I hadn’t seen in years.

She wasn’t translating signs anymore.

She wasn’t trying to remember words.

She wasn’t explaining customs to anyone.

She wasn’t adapting.

For the first time since I’d known her, she was simply home.

And I realized something almost immediately.

I wasn’t learning about the Philippines.

I was learning about my wife.

The weeks passed faster than I expected.

Most mornings, I’d wake before everyone else.

I’d make myself a cup of coffee and sit outside while the neighborhood slowly came to life.

Instead of snow plows, I heard roosters.

Instead of people rushing to work, I watched neighbors stop and talk to one another before starting their day.

Kids walked to school laughing together.

Someone was always sweeping the front of their yard.

Someone else was watering plants.

Life didn’t feel slower because people had less to do.

It felt slower because people made time for each other.

One afternoon, Maria’s older sister invited the whole family over for lunch.

I lost count of how many people showed up.

Brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, neighbors who somehow felt like family, too.

Everyone talked at once.

I understood maybe every fifth word.

Every few minutes, someone would hand me another plate of food, anyway.

I remember looking across the table at Maria.

She wasn’t translating conversations anymore.

She wasn’t trying to help everyone understand each other.

She was simply laughing, talking, telling stories, finishing other people’s sentences.

For the first time, I wasn’t watching my wife adapt to my world.

I was watching her completely relax into her own.

One evening, we walked through the neighborhood where she’d grown up.

Children were playing basketball in the street.

Someone called out her name from across the road.

An elderly woman came out of her house just to give Maria a hug.

As we kept walking, I asked her, “Did you know everyone here?” She smiled.

“Not everyone.

” Then she laughed.

“But it feels like it.

” That night, we sat outside long after the sun had gone down.

There wasn’t much to say.

The warm breeze moved through the trees.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear people singing karaoke.

I looked over at Maria.

She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and smiled.

Not because she was on vacation, because she was home.

That’s when I finally understood something that had taken me 35 years to learn.

Home isn’t always the place where you’ve lived the longest.

Sometimes, it’s the place where a part of your heart has been waiting for you.

When it was time to fly back to America, I expected Maria to be sad.

Instead, she seemed peaceful.

On the flight home, she reached over and took my hand.

She didn’t ask if we were moving anymore.

She didn’t have to.

This time, I was the one who asked, “What would it take for us to build a life here?” She looked at me with the same expression she had the day I asked her to marry me.

She smiled, then quietly said, “We’ll figure it out together.

” A year later, we retired to the Philippines.

Not because it was cheaper, not because it was perfect, not because we were running away from America.

We came because marriage had always been about taking turns carrying each other’s dreams.

For 35 years, Maria had built a beautiful life in my country.

Retirement gave me the chance to help build one in hers.

Sometimes, people ask me if moving to the Philippines was the best decision I ever made.

I always tell them the truth.

Moving wasn’t the best decision.

Marrying Maria was.

Moving here was simply one more way of keeping the promise I made to her all those years ago.

And looking back now, I finally understand there was never just one person who left home when we got married.

There were always two of us.

I just happened to be the last one to realize it.

5-year-old Haley and 7-year-old Laura Jane are happily playing with toys at Bluemore Family Daycare in Baitman’s Bay on the New South Wales South Coast.

It’s a center that offers overnight services to parents and takes kids up to 14 years old.

It’s pretty remote, run from the family property of the only carer there, David Tuck.

He’s a jovial man in his 30s, charismatic and approachable, and Haley and LJ’s parents feel comfortable leaving their kids in his home.

But within hours, Tuck will start grooming them.

They realize he has some pretty unusual rules, like an open door policy for the toilets and no underwear while sleeping.

The girls also quickly realize that every night someone sleeps in the big bed with him.

Soon it’s their turn.

And at first they think it’s special to be chosen.

Lucky.

It takes just one night for them to realize the truth.

I’m Gemma Bath and you’re listening to True Crime Conversations, a podcast exploring the world’s most notorious crimes by speaking to the people who know the most about them.

A warning, this episode does involve discussion about child sexual abuse and suicide.

Please take care while listening.

For years, parents trusted David Tuck to look after their children at his family daycare service in Baitman’s Bay.

It’s only now, decades later, that the extent of his horrific abuse is being revealed, earning him the title of one of Australia’s worst pedophiles.

He was aged between 32 and 37 when he ran the center between 1994 and 1999.

And it’s believed he had more than 55 victims.

He also had access to children across his career running school holiday camps in youth detention as a gymnastics instructor as a school bus driver for intellectually disabled children and as a carer for intellectually disabled children.

He lived and worked across not just New South Wales, but Victoria, Queensland, the ACT, and South Australia.

The true extent of his victims is unknown.

Partly because he died in 2001 just as police were starting to catch up to him.

This isn’t just a story about Tuck and his crimes.

It’s also about the failure of local authorities to take allegations seriously.

Our guests today are currently in court with Eurabadala local council trying to hold them to account for allowing him to operate in the first place and for so long.

One of the other big glaring failures is the fact David Tuck’s name was suppressed and shrouded in silence for years.

That was changed in 2025 thanks to legal blocks overcome by journalist and victims advocate Nina Fenel and news.

com.

au.

Laura Jane and Haley were just two of Tuck’s victims.

This is their story.

LJ, Haley, thank you for joining me on True Crime Conversations.

You told your story publicly for the first time just last year.

Can you tell us about why and how you made that decision and what it’s been like since sharing your your story? Um, we made the decision to come forward in the media because we had not been able to say our abusers’s name um for over 20 years.

Um, Haley and I had many discussions about the fact that he’d never been named publicly in the media and we decided that it was time we wanted to reclaim our story.

And part of that was naming him um not just for us but for all of his survivors so that they’d never have to um they’d never have to type his name into a Google search and nothing came up >> to even be able to say his name.

You had to go to court, didn’t you? >> We didn’t.

Um the there was some historical suppression orders um which were lost I guess in in decades of no one speaking out um but the journalist that we worked with Nina Fenel was able to navigate that and realize that you know they were no longer in place.

>> What has it meant to be able to say the name David Tuck publicly? Has it made the difference that you were hoping being able to say his name? >> Definitely.

I think since we did our first article around 12 months ago, we’ve connected with numerous other victim survivors and this is not just from the child care and the experience that we had, but previous victim survivors of his as well.

And I think that’s huge for LJ and I growing up.

I mean, I know myself definitely tried to at least read about or understand my own story and understand if there were others involved and it was not possible.

So, I think the closure that’s hopefully given to others who maybe don’t want to speak out um themselves, but at least can understand that they’re not alone and there are others that are supporting them and understand what happened with the child care, what happened um you know with him committing suicide.

These are all things that unless you were remained in the small town or with a con connection in that small town, that information just was not available to the wider community um or to the remainder of his, you know, victims.

>> Why why was none of that online? as far as we can tell, um, and I guess from speaking to Chris Graham, who was the editor of the local newspaper at the time, is that essentially the the council played a significant role in ensuring that he name wasn’t mentioned in the paper and he wasn’t publicly identified.

As to why, I can’t tell you exactly, but I can tell you that it caused a lot of harm.

Um, and it meant that many victim survivors potentially up until last year didn’t even know that he was dead.

>> There’s not even photos, is there? There’s not like a a recognizable photo of him.

>> That photo um that you see in the newspaper is a photo that I happen to stumble across in my not even my mother, my grandmother’s photo albums.

And it’s just one random photo with him in the background.

And we’ve not only us but current affair and Nina Fenel searched high and low and we have still not been able to locate a photo of him >> to explain to listeners.

It’s a photo of of of LJ in in the foreground and then in the background there’s a boat and he’s in it and it it’s it’s not even his face.

It’s kind of the back of him and almost a side profile, but you you can’t see anything.

>> He’s literally in the background as far as you can go.

Like he’s just a tiny little like blur on a boat really.

And that’s the only photo you can find.

>> Well, yeah.

And let’s put it this way.

We are aware of close family, friends.

We are aware of family members that we personally, as well as others assisting us, have reached out to directly that will not share photos of him.

Um, the police department will not release any mug shot of him.

Now, he was charged with crime, so you know, there must be mug shots that exist.

uh there is a large group of people still protecting his identity for some reason uh to this day.

The mind boggles as to why we are protecting this person.

>> And I think it’s just there’s no understanding maybe from the families as to why we need this picture now.

But you know, I guess to make it clear, not every one of his victim survivors will have known his name >> or his full name.

Now, putting that image out there and we know that he abused children as young as two years old.

Now, that putting his face out there and connecting it with his name once again gives every one of his victims that opportunity to go, “Oh my goodness, that is the man that is the man that harmed me.

” And they can then from there understand that, you know, he is dead.

We have named him and identified him.

It’s just I think for us that really big missing piece of the puzzle >> is showing everyone what this guy looked like.

>> We had a victim survivor reach out and she told me that every year around the same time she would do a search.

She didn’t have like a name, she just had a few like key identifiers.

Um, and every year she would try and find out details and then because the first article came out, she was able to do her annual search and have a name.

Wow.

>> And a lot of this um was for me that’s what it was like when I was 18.

I went back to Baitman’s Bay to try and find an information to meet with other victim survivors.

Um it was from there that I was able to get like newspaper cli clippings and start to understand the extent one of the abuse um and the amount of victims but two just how um hidden this had all been and like the by not him not being named and there being no photos and no discussions.

This sort of just disappeared.

He just disappeared from the face of the earth.

And know we’ve had victim survivors that have come forward that are as old as my parents.

So he’s been doing this a really long time.

Um, and that’s why, you know, ultimately his name being the media is so important because even if those people don’t come forward, they might have a tiny sense of closure and know that there is indeed people out there fighting for justice for all of David Tuck’s victim survivors.

>> Let’s go back to the start and tell your story.

When did you both start going to this daycare and and how much care were were you in? Were you there multiple days a week, multiple nights a week? What did the care kind of look like? >> I was seven, so I was there quite a lot.

My mom was a shift shift worker, so I spent a lot of time there after school, before school, on the weekends, and in the evenings.

>> And do you remember what it looked like, what the property looked like? What the house looked like? >> Yeah, I do.

Um I remember it like I was there yesterday.

And also when I’ve made trips back to Baitman’s Bay, I’ve I’ve driven out to the property just to make sure it was real.

Um but yeah, I can remember exactly what it was like to walk up to the front stairs where the rooms were, where the bathroom was, um the backyard looked like.

And I think the thing that stuck with me and Haley and I have had this conversation is just how small it was.

Last year, Haley was able to find some photos on real estate.

com of the property and it was just so small.

And it’s crazy to me that any type of regulatory body walked into that place and said this is a suitable place for 12 12 or more children.

>> 12 or more kids.

That’s how many were there at a time.

Well, he this is I guess um part of the information we’re going to have to find out is he wasn’t meant to have that many children there at at any one time, but uh any person who was attending the center, whether a parent or somebody that was doing checks or, you know, the children themselves knew that on quite a number of occasions, uh he was frequently over the allowable numbers of children he was meant to have in his care.

Um, you know, even the property itself, the house was tiny.

You know, one single bathroom, two very small rooms, not enough beds for the children that were staying overnight, but also a very large dam that was completely unfenced >> on the property that uh, at least one child that I know of fell into.

Thankfully, was pulled out, you know, without any harm.

But to LJ’s point, it the property itself was not something that should ever have been approved to allow children in a care facility to be attending.

It wasn’t a safe property, let alone the man running it being a safe person.

>> Do you remember on the surface when you first went, was it fun? Was there activities? What was the pull >> for me? Um, I had gone to a couple of different primary schools in Baitman Bay.

So, there were kids I went to school with and you know, like there were familiar faces, there were so many kids.

The yard was big, there were toys, there was TV, we could watch whatever movies we wanted.

I remember we would watch like Titanic and there was another movie I can’t Greece you know and I didn’t have a VCR at home so being able to sit and watch those things and have access to things that I might not have had was was a big pull you know and it’s not like back then you know center daycare was really unaffordable and family daycare was was a preferred option particularly in small towns so when you walked in and you seen all of these other kids, people that you know, children that you recognized.

There was no reason to think even for a moment that it was unsafe >> and it was a necessity I guess you know for most all families there it was low-income families um with multiple children typically and they were working so you know similar to LJ would be shift working or you know hospitality workers that needed that extended hours care that was being offered uh rather than your standard after school care um you around and your sort of daytime child care.

That was that was the necessity for both most families that were attending the center, >> which even nowadays is hard to find to find kind of affordable child care for evenings and weekends and and those kinds of hours, you know, it’s it is hard to find in Australia.

>> It’s basically non-existent.

I mean, uh, my partner and I were looking at, you know, getting a babysitter for for a night out, you know, to go to the movies or at show or dinner, and it’s $300, you know, >> $300 a, >> you know, you’re getting a private nanny or you’re getting a private person who’s charging you $30, $40 an hour.

So, if it’s not affordable now, it absolutely was not affordable then.

So anywhere that offered after hours care that you could use a childare rebate for um you know of course people are going to use that service.

He was also well regarded in the community.

He was registered with the council when you look at some of the like flyers and things like that.

You know it is was promoted as this really safe familyfriendly inclusive space for children.

Did the grooming start pretty quickly? >> For me, it was instant in instantaneously from the first time I ever walked in that place.

>> After the break, LJ and Haley share what the overnight childcare center was like and how they felt when they first arrived there as children.

What did it look like? What What was the first time you walked into that place like? Um there was lots of affection, lots of toys, lots of you’re so special.

I’m so glad you’re here.

Um you know, identifying I guess uh vulnerabilities and then being able to like weaponize that vulnerability against you.

um particularly if say there was any like issues at home or you know if there was uh like poverty or anything like that he was really able to fill those gaps and create that trust and because there were so many kids you know when you seen like another kid sitting on his lap it wasn’t like it was just a normalized behavior and you know what I reflect on now is that the he didn’t just groom the kids he groomed the parents um because it was like oh come in for that cup of tea or like you know it became very friendly ly um almost like a community within itself.

>> Can you tell me about the odd rules that he had and he enforced on the kids? >> Yeah, he he had um some rules which I mean we’ve actually found in writing uh since our investigation started.

Some being for parents that they had to knock before entering, had to allow time.

Um, now if you compare that to a modern facility for child care, I mean you want to walk in and collect your child, you walk in and collect your child.

Um, but in terms of rules, there was for the children and these were of course kept from the parents, but you weren’t meant to wear underwear to bed.

Um, there essentially was a child each night that would sleep in his bed.

Um, and you know, I mean, yeah, they’re probably the most significant ones.

>> Normally, too, like for me, you know, I’d be getting dropped to school and he’d be like, “Oh, you look really sick.

You have to stay home.

” And that was a common occurrence as well for children.

Like there’d just always be one sick kid that that had to stay home, particularly if they’re of school age.

We have access to some correspondence between organizations, government organizations that was raising that as an issue uh between the organizations and he was given warnings essentially that that wasn’t appropriate behavior.

Um, nothing further was addressed or done by council when they were made aware that the government funded child career was having children sleep in his bed.

I mean, you would think that’s an immediate reason to shut down the center.

>> Yeah.

>> And that in the end was not even the reason that he was shut down for.

In the end, he was shut down for fraud.

and he that meant he was then allowed to move to a different state and continue essentially you know exposing himself to children.

I at that point was harmed again.

Um because our parents were never notified that hey these are allegations that had been raised.

Um you know he called my parents and said well you know listen I’ve stopped doing the child care.

It was something to do with fraud.

And then we went to go and have a visit, which it’s like had he had my family been notified, obviously at that point you cut ties, but no families were given that opportunity because, you know, in my opinion, it was swept under the rug.

>> How soon after you both started going did the abuse start? >> Mine was in like the second or third time that I attended.

>> Haley, do you remember? Cuz you were so young.

Yeah, I I was only 5 years old when I started at the center and it was the first time that I was chosen to sleep in the bed essentially.

Um, which was again, you know, fairly immediate to starting at the center.

>> And then the abuse in terms of frequency once he had started, was it every time you guys went? >> For me, yes, >> it was very often.

Um, as LJ said, it, you know, it’s almost like he picked a child.

he got to pick, you know.

Um, so it was definitely very frequent, particularly when most children were attending the center three to four times a week.

It would be at least once a week.

>> Do either of you or both of you remember how it made you feel? >> I don’t think I knew it was happening, but I knew it was wrong.

>> Yeah.

>> I think I also realized it was happening to other children.

So then I was confused about whether or not it was normal.

Obviously, there are, you know, physical responses such as like pain, uncomfortability, all of those things.

But for me, I just don’t think I knew what was happening other than it I didn’t want it to happen.

And you know, he was good at the manipulation, I guess, on ensuring that you didn’t tell.

And he himself normalized the behavior by being like, I love you so much.

This is what love is.

You’re my favorite.

All of that kind of typical sex offender behavior.

>> Were Were there threats involved? How did he kind of keep this up without >> I’m part of a bigger sibling group.

So he was like, you know, if you tell anyone like your mom’s going to get in trouble and then you will like get taken away from her and you won’t see your siblings again.

>> Yeah.

I mean, for me it was more uh you’re going to get in trouble, you know, this because you do you feel like it’s your fault or like you you know it’s something wrong.

you don’t know how to um express it or you don’t really understand what’s going on.

But if you when you’re told this is your fault, you’re bad.

You’re going to get in trouble if you tell anyone.

Um you know, at 5 years old, that obviously puts a lot of pressure on a child and causes a lot of confusion.

Um so ultimately yeah you just stay quiet because you don’t know you don’t have the ability to sort of weigh up the risks or understand that >> even the language like what do you say I wouldn’t have known what to say anyway >> and even and in the ‘ 90s I mean I’m a ‘9s baby too we weren’t really taught consent as a as a kid and and our bodies being ours or any of that kind of language that we use now >> I think the best was like that life that you know that giraffe.

I think I learned some stuff from there.

>> Healthy Harold.

>> Yeah, healthy Harold.

I think that was the best I got really.

>> Not one understanding what’s going on and two not understanding where there’s safe people.

You can tell that’s something that has really improved over time.

I mean, it’s, you know, we can still do better, but definitely as a child, like you said, in the ‘ 90s, you were told to do what adults said.

>> You did.

And if an adult said, “You can’t tell anyone this.

” Um, and you’re going to be in big trouble.

Uh, particularly when you come from a home that maybe isn’t as loving and supportive, then you absolutely don’t want to get in trouble.

So, you don’t tell anyone.

>> Did either of you try and tell anyone? Try and talk to your parents? >> No.

>> I do remember sort of one occasion where, you know, I was so close to disclosing.

was on the tip of my tongue and unfortunately at the time you know the person I was trying to disclose to was really busy and you know sort of by the time I got their attention they were a bit snappy of like you know what is it I’m in the middle of something and then you know I just withdrew and couldn’t get it out of my mouth but that was a very uh distinct memory that I have because it was at the point where I needed it to stop.

My situation is pretty similar.

I remember sitting at the kitchen table and I had gotten in trouble for something maybe at school and I remember my mom being like, you know, what is wrong with you kind of thing and I was so close to saying something, but I remember just like hearing his voice in my head, you know, basically being like, you’ll lose everything and it’ll be your fault.

So, I just didn’t say anything.

Because were there signs that you know in hindsight your parents if they had been looking might have noticed socially kind of mentally behaviorally that you you guys were doing that that kind of showed what was happening.

>> Oh 100%.

I look back now and think you know I was a very withdrawn child.

I was very emotionally um underdeveloped I would say.

So even sort of in your later primary years would um sulk let’s say or you know we called it sulking um I could never appropriately express emotions it would be you know something’s happened I didn’t like and I would just completely withdraw um things like bed wedding um was very consistent you know well beyond the years that um it was age appropriate and you know sexualized behavior Um I think you know these are all really really big indicators that again with education and understanding what they look like 100% um they were there but of course you know we were not in situations where um our parents were familiar with those signs.

>> I spent a lot of time struggling at school into fights at school not being able to maintain friendships.

Um I also left school in year 9 as a result of the abuse that I experienced.

But, you know, I think even up until he committed suicide, I think there are lots of behaviors that um if we were to look at it now would have would have raised concerns or should have raised concerns.

>> How long did the abuse go for? How long were you attending this daycare? >> The last time I was abused by him, I was 11.

I think 11 or 12.

I think 11 probably.

>> So, four four years.

>> Yeah.

That’s a long time to to be enduring this.

>> Yeah.

>> You mentioned, Haley, that you know, he got eventually shut down from fraud, but there were also a number of assault allegations while you were there that didn’t get him shut down, weren’t there? >> Exactly.

Right.

And I think um a lot more education needs to happen with the public in terms of what the process is when a child makes an allegation and the huge gap required to actually criminally charge and convict that person.

Um I think there’s a really big misconception that if someone is charged but not convicted that they’re innocent.

and David Tuck had allegations against him and charges against him before he ever even opened the childcare center and he was not convicted of those.

And we can tell you right now as we know who the original accuser was that that 100% happened and had that child been believed and had he been criminally charged, you’re talking dozens of children would have been protected from this man.

So I think a really key point is we need to believe children and we need to understand that not getting a conviction does not mean that they didn’t commit the crime when we’re talking about child predators.

You know because unfortunately expecting a you know 5 6 7 8 child to sit on a stand and give the amount of testimony needed for a criminal conviction is just you know it’s too much really to burden any child with.

>> We really need to re-evaluate how the system works now.

And I think that, you know, a lot of people read our story and go, “Well, that was then.

” But some of these things, particularly what Haley is saying, are not much different now.

>> It’s still harder than people think to have someone convicted of child sexual abuse.

And the younger the victim, the harder it is.

They’re relying on things like medical evidence and other forms of evidence that isn’t always possible to collect.

And, you know, I think it stands like children don’t lie about being abused.

the statistical relevance is so unrelevant that it’s it’s not even worth mentioning.

They might they might be confused or misidentify who, but their children don’t lie about being abused.

>> He went to trial for the charges you’re talking about in 1991.

So, it was 10 counts of child abuse against an 11year-old girl, found not guilty, and then by 1994 he had a he had a daycare.

So that means he passed police checks, working with children checks.

When you found that out that this man had these charges and then went on to abuse you in this setting.

How did that feel? I mean, it makes you angry, of course, and I think that’s a huge part of why LJ and I started speaking publicly about this and why we genuinely want to make changes in how people think about pedophiles or who they think a pedophile is.

Um, because someone this significant can slip through the cracks and just reaffend and reaffend.

um you know, you’ve got to say, “Okay, there must have been signs and we’re telling you, yeah, there was plenty of signs, but no individual took responsibility for putting up those flags.

You know, it’s very much um turn a blind eye.

” And a lot of people think, “Oh, well, that was the ’90s and this is now.

” As LJ said, well, we’ve had three major childc care sexual abuse cases in the last handful of years.

>> This is exactly the same.

and they use the exact same tactics.

Move states so they’re not traceable.

You know, as soon as there’s a complaint, move shift.

Um, and you know, it’s a lot easier for child care services to move someone along then raise the red flags and really in the end it’s everyone’s trying to protect their own business or themselves and it’s not the right way to go about it.

I mean protecting the children should be the number one priority.

And whilst there wasn’t um working with children check cards that look the way they look today back then, there was still required checks, there was still police checks, there were still reviews that needed to be done in order to have someone um be allowed to work with children.

And we need to ask, you know, for our case, what happened? How was this missed? but also acknowledge that in current day when we look at those three particular cases um within the childcare sector all of those people have working with children’s checks.

So where is the gap there? You know my I’m of the opinion rule of working with children’s check only works if you’ve been caught for something right? If you’ve never been caught, >> how are the people that you work with? >> Looking at behavior, looking at concerns, looking at gut feelings and what are they doing about that? You know, uh, one of the things that we’ve been advocating for is required training.

So that when people get a working with children’s check, they have to do training.

And some people say, “Oh, well, what’s training going to do?” It’s not about stopping the perpetrator.

It’s about the people working in these spaces having the ability to know the language, know what to look out for, know how to report, and have the confidence so that they can report because it’s not like it’s not just about like catching the predator oneonone.

It’s about child child prevention and the prevention of child sexual abuse being an everyone problem and an everyone issue.

And we all have a role to play in that >> cuz it’s almost like that working with children check would lull parents into this false sense of security.

Right.

>> That’s right.

It’s like um LJ said before, even looking for a private nanny or a private babysitter, first thing most parents are asking for is a working with children’s check.

>> My opinion, it’s not worth the paper it’s written on.

You can go online and you can apply for working in a children’s check and provided you haven’t been criminally charged.

You can have one.

Now, to get your driver’s license, you need to do a test.

To get your responsible service of alcohol, you have to do a test.

Why is it we are putting children in the care of somebody who has no form of qualification? Essentially, the only requirement is they haven’t been caught doing something wrong.

Uh I think that’s the biggest issue is understanding that uh working with children check it does not make them a safe person and there are multiple other things you need to be looking out for.

I’m confused how Tuck got a working with children check if he did have charges.

Is it because he was found not guilty? >> So are we.

It’s unclear to be honest.

It’s actually unclear.

There was some change in legislation um in the early ‘9s that sort of looks similar to like the modern day spent conviction schemes.

I I don’t know enough to speak on it, but I understand that there was some legislation change which may have allowed him somehow to slip through the gap, but at the end of the day, it’s not good enough.

I mean, like they weren’t it wasn’t like he did a break and enter or something.

He accused of abusing children.

He should never ever been put in a position where he was working with children.

Unfortunately, the daycare isn’t the only role that he had after those charges occurred >> cuz he worked with children across his whole career.

>> Yeah.

Youth detention, um, worked with children with disabilities.

He worked in a hospital, he was a bus driver, he was a scouts leader.

So, his entire adult life he worked with children.

>> The last figure I saw was that there were potentially 55 victims.

Do you think that there could be more than that? Well, that’s just of the child care.

That’s the um that’s just the childare number that that’s assumed, but I would say there were would be hundreds of victims.

>> Oh, definitely.

If you think the 55 is over a four, five year time frame and he was in his 40s when he committed suicide.

We know the earliest that we’ve been able to track that he offended was at 17 years old.

It’s hundreds.

It’s hundreds and hundreds of victims.

And this brings us back to this is why we want to get his photo out there, not just his name.

This is why we are putting this photo out there is so that every one of those victims who did try and speak up and weren’t believed and we know of numerous of them um that they know they’re believed now and they are supported and really that you know like this guy was a really really horrible person.

Up next, LJ and Haley discuss how they discovered their abuser had died and whether it changed how they felt about getting justice.

As you’ve mentioned, he died by suicide in 2001.

And he died while on bail for child abuse charges.

So, he was actually finally facing around, you know, a dozen charges and then he died.

Did you guys know about that? When did you find out about that? I found out my mom got a we I didn’t live in Baitman’s Bay anymore.

I lived in CRA and my mom got a call from someone in community who knew that we’d attended that daycare.

And then she asked and eventually I disclosed what had happened.

But she didn’t get any call from the police or the council or anyone.

And uh when I went back to Baitman’s Bay at 18 and 19, I was clearly named as a victim.