Glancing at the large holes in the wall in the hallway, and the elderly Greek lady standing in front of me, I sighed.

All cases of domestic violence are sad, but elder abuse – abuse against older people – is particularly hard.

‘Does he punch holes in the wall?’ I asked, meaning the poor lady’s grandson.

She shook her head.

‘No, he puts my head through the wall,’ she said quietly.

It sounds shocking, but, as a security and risk consultant, it was one of so many heartbreaking stories of domestic violence I’d heard. I was just glad I could help.

My family always taught me and my siblings the importance of helping others.

So it wasn’t a surprise when, at 16, I joined the police force as a cadet.

As a young officer in the patrol van, jobs often came in for domestic violence cases.

‘It’s hard, they often go back to them,’ fellow officers said sadly.

Back then there just weren’t the refuges for women to go to.

I always had a good sense of humour and a calm head.

It came in handy when I was sent undercover for 14 months, running an antique shop to infiltrate the Italian mafia in Australia’s first long-term undercover operation.

I came across my share of menacing characters, and held my nerve when guns were pulled and my car was set on fire.

I loved my job, but sadly it took its toll on my life and my marriage, so I left the force in 1992.

In 2012 I bumped into an old friend, ex-police officer Steven Schultze.

‘The ex chased me down the road with a machete’
Steve and I both hated bullies and wanted to help victims.

So together we set up Protective Group, a security firm and social enterprise performing risk assessments to keep the vulnerable safe from violence in the home – and ultimately save lives.

At first we worked on alarms for Salvation Army workers posted alone in the field.

Then, in 2015, the government gave funding to help keep people safe from domestic violence. We visited victims referred by the Salvation Army and other organisations to check on safety, perform sweeps for trackers and assess their online security.

We got a staggering 80-100 referrals a week.

When I knocked on a victim’s door, I sometimes saw children clinging onto their mother, eyes wide with fear.

‘I’m hear to listen,’ I’d tell the victim.

Often I was the first person who’d actually listened to their story of abuse or coercive control.

Steve and I assessed victims’ houses, changed locks, and secured fences and windows.

Once or twice I went to a job, knocked on the door and the woman’s ex-partner answered. They were back together, but I understood how hard it could be to escape, physically and mentally, from someone who’s controlling and manipulative.

Once Steve came back a bit ruffled from a job in Kempsey, NSW.

‘The ex-partner chased me down the road with a machete,’ he said.

During the pandemic, perpetrators took to technology abuse.

Scarily, they didn’t just hide secret cameras, they monitored emails or used Apple AirTags or Tiles.

We found tracking devices in places you’d never imagine – behind car numberplates and in teddy bears. Ex-partners even used gaming devices they’d played remotely with their children to listen in and see if their exes had new relationships.

Some of our cases were absolutely chilling.

‘Your partner has been filming you with a drone,’ I told one poor woman. ‘Through the skylight when you are asleep.’

Domestic violence affects people from all walks of life, and predominantly women.

Possibly one of the scariest cases was a woman who kept receiving strange texts from an ex-partner – a professional man without even a speeding ticket to his name.

‘He texted to say he was glad I was wearing the pyjamas he’d bought me for Christmas,’ she said, confused.

Incredibly, he was removing part of the roof, clambering into the attic, then climbing down and watching her sleep.

When you leave a relationship, it’s advisable to change all your passwords.

People can track you through toll accounts or ticketing website accounts.

‘My partner tracked me down through reward points,’ one woman heartbreakingly revealed.

Her ex-partner had gone on to her online rewards account which detailed which supermarket stores she shopped at and when she usually visited.

He went to the car park, and put her vehicle’s registration number in the parking machine to confirm she was there. Then he lay in wait to attack her and her new partner.

Earlier this year, Steve and I were invited to Alice Springs to work with people in the Aboriginal community there. Indigenous women are 32 times more likely to experience domestic violence nationally.

We’ve also developed a smartphone app and a device which victims can use to send their location to a monitoring centre, which will then alert police. It’s called the Tek Safe alarm.

There is also a camera and live audio, and some of the recordings have been used as evidence against abusive partners.

We’re not Batman and Robin – we don’t have all the solutions – but we’re hoping to make a change to make life safer for victims of domestic violence.