Saturday, September 19, 2026

Part 1: When “Reach Out” Isn’t Enough: Cases and Stories

Content warning: This post contains mentions of suicide and death.

——

After a suicide, we so often hear the same message:

Reach out.


Talk to someone.


Ask for help.


Check in on the people around you.


Those messages matter. Of course they do. Human connection matters enormously.


But after writing about the responses to the death of Paul Green, I kept coming back to something that has troubled me for a long time.


——


What happens when someone does reach out?


What happens when the source of a person’s distress isn’t something that can be separated neatly from the environment they have to return to every day?


What happens when that environment is their workplace?


What happens when someone says they’re struggling, raises concerns, asks for help, needs leave, needs protection, needs somebody to listen, or simply needs the people with power over their circumstances to stop making things worse?


And what responsibility belongs to institutions then?


Because suicide prevention cannot begin and end with placing the responsibility on the distressed person to speak.


There also has to be responsibility on the other side of that conversation.


These are some of the cases and stories I came across in my research that made me think more deeply about that distinction.


——


Bill Knight — remembering the human face behind institutional work


In April 2023, The Miami Student published a retrospective about William “Bill” Knight, Assistant Provost for Institutional Research and Effectiveness at Miami University in Ohio, who died by suicide in April 2021 at the age of 55.


Reading this article, I’m heartbroken to hear about Bill.


It’s not a story related to workplace bullying. I include it for a different reason.


Bill Knight was remembered as an extraordinarily kind, thoughtful and generous academic administrator. Former colleagues described his “sunny disposition,” his patience, his willingness to make time for students and his commitment to helping others.


One detail in the story particularly stayed with me.


A colleague had included in an assessment report the story of eight-year-old Gabriel Taye, who had died by suicide after being bullied at school. She didn’t expect Knight, a senior administrator dealing with countless reports, to actually engage with it.


He did.


Bill responded by thanking her for reminding him of “the human face of the work we do, which too often gets overshadowed in administrative work. I am heartbroken to hear about Gabriel.”


That sentence is extraordinary in its simplicity.


Administration has a human face.


Policies have a human face.


Decisions have a human face.


Behind a case number, a complaint, a leave balance, an injury-management process, a risk assessment, a return-to-work plan or another piece of correspondence is an actual human being.


Bill’s colleagues remembered precisely that quality in him: he didn’t allow administrative work to become so mechanical that he stopped seeing the person.


Two years after his death, they were still talking about his dignity, his grace and the care he showed other people. 


——


Sam Keast — a 47-minute phone call


The story of 27-year-old New Zealand carpenter Sam Keast is much more directly about work.


Sam moved to Melbourne in 2023 to establish a new workshop for his employer, Playground Centre. According to reporting by news.com.au, his family said that what was supposed to be an exciting opportunity became increasingly isolating and overwhelming.


The article describes long working hours, increasing responsibilities, inadequate support and difficulties obtaining medical care.


On 28 November 2023, shortly before his death, Sam made a 47-minute telephone call to a colleague.


He also searched Google for the words “work negligence.”


His sister Serena later described that search as something she regarded as his version of a suicide note.


The family believed that Sam’s deteriorating circumstances at work contributed to his death. They also questioned why the death hadn’t initially been reported to WorkSafe Victoria. Nine months later, after Serena contacted the regulator herself, WorkSafe commenced an investigation into whether the employer had complied with its duty of care.


Whatever ultimately follows from an investigation, the story raises a question far larger than one workplace:


What does “reach out” mean when a worker is already communicating distress about the conditions surrounding them?


A phone call is reaching out.


Talking to a colleague is reaching out.


Searching for information about workplace negligence is an attempt to understand what’s happening.


The responsibility cannot always be pushed back onto the person who is suffering.


——


Andrew Walker — a “culture of fear and intimidation”


Andrew was a 46-year-old addiction-services clinician in Nelson, New Zealand.


He helped young people dealing with addiction.


According to the coroner’s findings, Walker had been experiencing significant workplace stress before his death in August 2020.


The subsequent investigation went beyond the circumstances of one individual.


WorkSafe New Zealand interviewed 11 workers from the Alcohol and Drug Service. Workers described high caseloads, inconsistent allocation of work and inappropriate management behaviour. They described what the investigation recorded as a “culture of fear and intimidation.”


An external investigation commissioned by the health board also identified problems and recommended improvements, including addressing management behaviour found to be negatively affecting the mental health of staff.


WorkSafe ultimately didn’t take enforcement action, noting the steps the organisation had subsequently taken to address the problems (although I do hope, unlike SafeWork NSW, WorkSafe NZ followed up with real on-site inspections, to make sure those “steps” were operationally implemented).


However, I’m also emphasising that this isn’t about retrospectively assigning a simple, single cause to a person’s suicide. Human lives and deaths are more complicated than that.


It’s about recognising that psychosocial conditions at work are real conditions.


Workload is real.


Fear is real.


Intimidation is real.


Isolation is real.


The consequences of poor management are not merely matters of employee dissatisfaction.


They can become matters of health and safety.


——


John Brenkus — and the family left behind


In June 2025, 7NEWS Australia reported the death of John Brenkus, the much-loved creator and host of Sports Science.


John was 54.


His family said that he had been battling depression and asked for privacy for his heartbroken family and friends. John himself had previously spoken publicly about experiencing profound depression and suicidality.


The tributes that followed remembered an intelligent, creative, kind and encouraging man whose work had reached millions of people. 


I include this story for another reason too.


Those words from his family — a request for privacy — triggered me.


Suicide doesn’t happen to one person in isolation.


There’s a family standing behind that loss.


There are people trying to absorb something incomprehensible. There is grief. Shock. Disorientation. There are practical matters that still somehow have to be dealt with when ordinary functioning has become almost impossible.


And families need protection too.


I know that personally.


My own family experienced the same tragic loss.


If only my employer had respected my family’s need for privacy and my need for leave entitlements too while we were living through it.


Those things are not administrative inconveniences.


They are part of how human beings survive catastrophic loss.


——


Silvio Pietrangelo — when a coroner speaks to employers


A 2023 article in Canadian Occupational Safety reported on the death of Montreal city worker Silvio Pietrangelo and the findings of Quebec coroner Julie Blondin.


The article reported that an inquest heard psychiatric evidence connecting Pietrangelo’s suicide with bullying and isolation at work.


The coroner used the case to make a broader point about employer responsibility, observing that other coroners’ reports had also concerned suicides associated with workplace conflicts and describing the problem as a social issue requiring attention.


Her recommendations included ensuring employees knew about workplace-harassment policies and available assistance, and making managers aware of the importance of psychological health and safety.


The significance of that message is difficult to miss.


The response to workplace psychological harm cannot simply be:


Here is a telephone number. Reach out.


Employers control workplaces.


Employers control management structures.


Employers receive complaints.


Employers are required to implement those policies.


Employers can investigate hazards.


Employers can intervene.


Employers can separate people where necessary.


Employers can protect workers from retaliation (and definitely should NEVER become the perpetrator of retaliation).


Employers can manage workloads.


Employers can create safety - or fail to create it - or as in my extreme case, perpetuate the WHS hazards at a whole new frightening level. 


——


Jodie Zebell — 31 years old, a wife and mother


David Yamada’s Minding the Workplace documented the death of Jodie Zebell, a 31-year-old mammographer in Wisconsin.


Zebell was married and had two young children. She had been regarded as a model employee.


According to the account cited by Yamada, after receiving a promotion she became the target of coworkers who blamed her unfairly for workplace problems. The behaviour reportedly included false accusations and criticism in front of other people.


After months of alleged workplace bullying, Zebell died by suicide in February 2008.


Her story was later put before a Wisconsin legislative committee considering the Healthy Workplace Bill — proposed legislation directed at health-harming workplace bullying.


Again, I come back to the same point.


A workplace isn’t somehow outside the conversation about suicide prevention.


Adults spend enormous portions of their lives at work.


Their livelihood can depend upon it.


Their financial security can depend upon it.


Their professional identity can be bound up in it.


Their relationships, reputation and sense of belonging can be affected by it.


When something goes badly wrong there, telling the injured person simply to become more resilient or to reach out somewhere else isn’t necessarily prevention.


Sometimes the environment causing the harm has to change.


The work environment may even need to radically change. 


——


Kevin Morrissey — and the pleas for intervention


The case of Kevin Morrissey is particularly confronting because it occurred inside a university.


Morrissey was the 52-year-old managing editor of the prestigious Virginia Quarterly Review, published by the University of Virginia.


In August 2010, David Yamada wrote about reporting that David’s family and people close to the journal said he had complained to the university about alleged workplace bullying by his boss.


They maintained that the institution had done virtually nothing to help.


Yamada was careful not to declare a conclusion before the facts were established. But he argued that the scenario itself couldn’t be dismissed: an allegedly bullied and vulnerable employee, requests for employer intervention, and a devastating death.


He also made an important observation about what can happen when workers complain: an employer’s resistance to complaints can itself make an already dangerous situation worse.


A month later, Yamada returned to the case after further reporting by The Washington Post.


By then, two competing explanations were being publicly debated.


David’s family and some colleagues believed workplace bullying and the university’s failure to respond to his requests for assistance were central to what happened. Others emphasised David’s history of depression and disputed the bullying allegations.


Yamada cautioned against treating allegations as proof.


That caution matters.


But so does what happened next.


The University of Virginia’s subsequent internal investigation criticised aspects of management and institutional oversight and recommended changes to make it easier for employees to report workplace problems and have those reports reach university leaders. The investigation didn’t conclude that bullying caused David Morrissey’s death, and the manager denied harassing him or other staff.


For me, that makes this case more instructive, not less.


We don’t need to reduce a suicide to one cause in order to ask whether an organisation fulfilled its responsibilities.


We can ask:

  • Were concerns raised?
  • Who received them?
  • Were they documented?
  • Were they escalated?
  • Was the worker listened to?
  • Was the workplace risk assessed?
  • Did the organisation intervene while intervention was still possible?
  • And did its systems protect the human being standing in front of them?


Those are workplace questions.


They are governance questions.


And sometimes they are life-and-death questions.


——


“Reach out” requires someone on the other side


That’s what connects these very different stories for me.


Not every person had the same circumstances.


Not every death can or should be attributed to work.


Not every allegation was ultimately established.


And suicide is complex. It would be irresponsible to pretend otherwise.


But complexity cannot become an excuse for institutional passivity either.


If our public message about suicide prevention is going to be “reach out,” then there must be something meaningful waiting on the other side.


Someone has to listen.


Someone has to recognise risk.


Someone has to act when they have the power to act.


And where the source of serious psychological harm is a workplace, the conversation can’t be confined to what the individual worker should have done differently.


We also have to ask what the employer did.


What management did - Eg. The library associate director- http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2025/02/associate-director-unfit-to-do-inherent.html


What human resources did. - Eg. The HR associate director - http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2025/02/hr-associate-director-unfit-to-do.html


What workplace health and safety systems did. Eg. The national manager of employment relations and SAFETY - http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2025/02/introducing-corporate-psychopath.html


What regulators did when concerns reached them. Eg. The SafeWork NSW inspector - http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2025/08/enter-unsafework-nsw-that-rtw-plan-i.html


And whether the systems supposedly designed to protect people actually protected them. The answer is NO. The system is abusive towards a worker screaming for help and protection FOR YEARS. Readers can choose to read any of my posts, so far in my story. Each incident of “failure”, causing more harm to an employee targeted in institutional abuse, as reprisal for requesting safety at work, is disgraceful!


Sometimes a person has already reached out.


Sometimes they have been speaking for a very long time.


The question then isn’t:


Why didn’t they ask for help?


The question is:


What happened when they did?


Part 2 will continue this discussion beyond individual cases and stories, looking more closely at what the evidence tells us about workplace bullying, psychosocial harm and suicide.


——


References


Momany, A. (2023, 21 April). ‘He always had a sunny disposition’: Remembering Bill Knight, two years later. The Miami Student.


Peters, D. (2024, 24 September). ‘47-minute phone call before tradie’s suicide’. news.com.au.


Ridout, A. (2024, 9 January). ‘Manager’s “culture of fear and intimidation” cited in report into man’s death’Stuff.


Sutton, B. (2025, 2 June). ‘Sporting world rocked by shock death of much-loved TV host John Brenkus’7NEWS Australia.


Wilson, J. (2023, 13 November). ‘Coroner reminds employers to address workplace bullying’Canadian Occupational Safety: The Safety Mag.


Yamada, D. (2010, 8 April). ‘The workplace bullying suicide of Jodie Zebell, age 31’Minding the Workplace: The New Workplace Institute Blog.


Yamada, D. (2010, 13 August). ‘Did workplace bullying trigger the suicide of a University of Virginia literary journal editor?’ Minding the Workplace: The New Workplace Institute Blog.


Yamada, D. (2010, 9 September). ‘Washington Post on the suicide of Kevin Morrissey, Virginia literary journal editor’Minding the Workplace: The New Workplace Institute Blog.

Thursday, September 17, 2026

When “Reach Out” Is Not Enough - August 2022

26–27 August 2022

In August 2022, Australia was still responding to the devastating death of former NRL player and premiership-winning coach Paul Green.


His death prompted an outpouring of public discussion about suicide, mental health, connection and the importance of reaching out. The messages were compassionate and well-intentioned: talk to someone. Ask for help. Check on people. Remind people that they matter.


I understood those messages.


But sitting where I was in August 2022, living through the consequences of a workplace psychological injury caused by my large publicly funded university employer’s retaliation for requesting a safe work environment, and what had followed, I was hearing them very differently.


Because I had reached out.


I had spoken.


I had asked for help.


I had documented what was happening.


And I was still trying to get somebody with the power and responsibility to do something to actually listen - within the very system that was meant to protect me from further harm.


——


Peter Overton: What happens after someone reaches out?


Nine News presenter Peter Overton was among those who responded publicly following Paul Green’s death. In an emotional on-air message reported by news.com.au, he encouraged people experiencing difficulty to seek help and pointed viewers towards available support. One quote was, “You’re not alone.”


On 26 August 2022, I wrote an email to my family that I disagreed with him.


Not because people shouldn’t reach out.


Not because crisis services don’t have an important place.


I disagreed because the message didn’t describe the reality I was living.


I wrote:


“I disagree with Peter Overton. I’m being mobbed and ostracised and socially isolated by a university who has a legal obligation to ensure my safety and well-being and boasts community engagement, empathy, and a mission of the dignity of the human person.”


The public conversation placed so much emphasis on what the distressed individual should do.


Speak. Reach out. Call. Ask for help.


But what happens when that person has already done those things?


What happens when somebody is repeatedly saying: This is harming me. This is what I need. Please listen to me.


What responsibility then falls upon the people and institutions receiving those words?


I spoke up. I escalated to regulators, pleading for help, when university leaders ignored me. The response was victim blaming, deflection and I was repeatedly abandoned, even by the very agencies who had a regulatory responsibility to act. 


I was left alone in this WHS crisis for years. 


——


John Brogden: “People care”


Another response to Paul Green’s death came from John Brogden.


The headline of his Daily Telegraph opinion piece expressed its central message:


“Paul Green’s death shows us just when we think no-one cares, we do.”


Again, I understood the sentiment.


But my immediate response, recorded in my email on 26 August 2022, was stark:


“I disagree with John Brogden that people care. The university has a legal duty of care to actually care, and the negligence and mobbing is frightening and creepy. And I’ve been systematically abused.”


I was confronting the gulf between saying that people care and experiencing care when it actually matters.


For me, “care” couldn’t simply be a comforting sentiment expressed after a tragedy.


I was dealing with a workplace that had obligations concerning my health and safety. I was trying to navigate workers’ compensation. I was asking for assistance with circumstances that were continuing to cause me psychological and financial harm.


In that context, care had to become something tangible.


Care meant listening.


Care meant taking reported harm seriously.


Care meant respecting my voice in decisions affecting my own health and recovery.


Care meant addressing the circumstances causing the harm rather than continually placing the burden of surviving those circumstances back onto me.


And where legal duties existed, care had to mean fulfilling those duties.


That was why the public messages following Paul Green’s death affected me so deeply.


I was hearing society say, We care. Please reach out.


And inside my own life, I felt as though I was saying:


I already have. Where is everybody?


——


I didn’t need another slogan. I needed human support.


I was increasingly frustrated by a public discussion of suicide prevention that seemed to culminate in crisis telephone numbers.


I understood why those services existed. I wasn’t arguing that they shouldn’t.


I was asking a different question.


Could a crisis-line volunteer restore my employment circumstances, that’s the legal and governance responsibility of a powerful nationally registered publicly funded university with a Vice Chancellor on a $1 million salary? 


Could a crisis-line volunteer compel regulators to actually regulate? 


Could they return the employment entitlements stolen?


Could they enforce the workplace and workers’ compensation statutory obligations I had spent so long trying to have recognised?


Could they restore the financial security that allowed me to pay my mortgage and bills, take a holiday, participate in ordinary life and enjoy what I had spent decades working to build?


That was what dignity meant to me. And salvation.


In the same email, I wrote:


“But I need moral support. I’m begging for it.”


And:


“No one should be forced to suffer alone.”


Those weren’t abstract statements about mental health.


They were requests for human beings to stand beside another human being while she tried to navigate systems she could no longer safely navigate alone.


——


A mentally healthy workplace is more than a mental-health campaign


The timing made the contradiction even more striking.


Only weeks earlier, on 29 July 2022, I had received a newsletter from the Australian Government’s National Mental Health Commission announcing an updated Blueprint for Mentally Healthy Workplaces.


The Commission explained that the revised Blueprint made organisations’ legislated requirements clearer.


Feedback on the earlier Blueprint had specifically called for a clearer distinction between legal requirements and aspirational features of mentally healthy workplaces. It recommended orienting organisations towards their legislated responsibilities first.


The Blueprint also considered the broader conditions that create mentally healthy workplaces.


That mattered to me.


Workplace mental health cannot simply mean teaching workers how to become more resilient to harmful environments (while allowing the workplace harm to continue, especially when it’s the senior executives engaging in harmful conduct “on behalf of the university.”)


It cannot mean providing wellbeing resources while ignoring the conditions creating the distress.


And it cannot mean waiting until somebody is overwhelmed and then directing them towards a helpline. 


See also http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2026/03/when-government-mentally-healthy.html


——


Prevention has to mean something.


Duty of care has to mean something.


Psychosocial safety has to mean something.


Listening has to mean something.


——


“No one should ever have to prove resilience like this.”


By August 2022, I was exhausted by the language of resilience.


I wrote:


“No one should ever have to prove resilience like this. But the battle scars of trauma are real.”


There’s something deeply troubling about celebrating a person’s resilience while continuing to expose them to circumstances requiring extraordinary resilience merely to survive.


The better question isn’t always:


How resilient is this person?


Sometimes it needs to be:


Why are we requiring this person to be so resilient in the first place?


And who has the power and responsibility to change the conditions causing the harm?


——


Reaching out only works if somebody listens


The death of Paul Green generated an enormous public conversation about speaking up, reaching out and caring for one another.


But from where I stood, there was another side to that conversation that desperately needed to be heard.


When someone reaches out, somebody has to receive that reach.


When someone says they’re being harmed, somebody has to listen.


When we tell somebody, “people care,” those words need to be followed by people who demonstrate that care when it’s asked of them.


When a worker identifies workplace conditions affecting their psychological safety, those with responsibility cannot simply convert the problem into an individual mental-health problem and send that person elsewhere.


And when somebody explains what they need in order to recover, their voice shouldn’t disappear from their own recovery.


I wrote a sentence in correspondence that perhaps best captures what I was trying to say:


“A voice in my health and recovery is my human right. It’s a matter of respect and dignity for the human person.”


That remains the point.


Suicide prevention cannot begin and end with telling vulnerable people to reach out.


Nor can “people care” remain something we say after somebody has died.


We also have to ask what happens while somebody is still here, reaching out and asking to be heard.


Who listens?


Who acts?


Who stands beside them?


Who accepts responsibility when circumstances contributing to their distress are within someone’s power — or legal responsibility — to address?


A society genuinely committed to preventing psychological harm cannot place the entire burden on the person already carrying it.


Sometimes the person has already spoken.


Sometimes they have spoken over and over again.


Sometimes they’re not asking society to guess what they need.


They are telling us.


The failure isn’t always that somebody didn’t reach out.


Sometimes the failure is that they reached out — and the people with the power and responsibility to respond did not listen.


Source: contemporaneous record of events - Document 454.


——


References


new.com.auNRL 2022: Paul Green death — Peter Overton’s on-air message, August 2022.

https://www.news.com.au/sport/nrl/nine-newsreader-peter-overton-makes-desperate-midbulletin-plea-after-paul-greens-death/news-story/7198523f1169b47eca0d126da8ebecac


John Brogden“Paul Green’s death shows us just when we think no-one cares, we do”The Daily Telegraph, August 2022.

https://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/opinion/paul-greens-death-shows-us-just-when-we-think-no-one-cares-we-do-says-john-brogden/news-story/a4a2766cbc2421ef664a693196d848a5


Australian Government, National Mental Health CommissionNational Workplace Initiative sNewsletter, 29 July 2022, including Release 2 of the Blueprint for Mentally Healthy Workplaces. [Received via email E-newsletter].

 

General website: https://www.mentalhealthcommission.gov.au/projects/mentally-healthy-work