All I Needed Was the Truth Chris Minns - July 2022

"Honesty is a very expensive gift, don’t expect it from cheap people." — Warren Buffett

By late July 2022, I was still trying to do something that should never have been so difficult: get my elected representative to listen.

Not solve everything overnight. Not accept every allegation I made without examining the evidence. Not somehow personally fix an entire workers compensation and work health and safety system.

Listen. Look at the evidence. Ask questions. Represent a constituent.

On 24 July 2022, I emailed Chris Minns, then the NSW Leader of the Opposition and Member for Kogarah, and Cheryl Han in his electorate office. The subject line said exactly what I wanted:

“All I need is the truth.”

And by this stage, there was evidence.

I wasn’t writing to an MP with a vague complaint. I referred specifically to the box file of evidence I had already left with his office, including material concerning SIRA and SafeWork NSW. I was trying to draw political attention not only to what had happened to me, but to what the evidence revealed about serious systemic failures in the way injured workers could be treated. 

I wrote:

“Did you read any of the evidence in the box file I left with you, especially the compilation to do with SIRA, [and] SafeWorkNSW...” 

That question matters.

An elected representative doesn’t have to agree with a constituent. But when a constituent comes to an electorate office with documentary evidence concerning NSW regulators, workplace safety and a workers compensation system that she says has catastrophically failed her, surely somebody should at least look.

——

I was asking my MP to represent me

My email made clear that what had happened went beyond my individual circumstances.

I told the office that I believed there were:

“serious systemic issues of abuse”

and that I had expected the evidence I provided might be put on the agenda and raised in Parliament. 

I also wanted to know whether I was actually going to be given the opportunity to speak with an elected representative. I asked whether Cheryl Han really intended to contact Cherie Burton so that I could meet with her if Chris Minns was unavailable — or whether I could finally meet with my own local state MP. 

That word — finally — says a lot about where things had reached.

I had evidence. I had questions. I was a constituent. I was asking for political representation concerning matters involving state regulatory systems.

What else was I supposed to do?

“Your views and concerns are important to me”

An automatic reply arrived from the Kogarah electorate office that afternoon.

It said:

“Your views and concerns are important to me.”

It also assured me:

“residents of the Kogarah Electorate will of course receive priority”

and:

“Please be assured that all emails are considered and brought to my attention.” 

The automatic response even provided the electorate-office telephone number for urgent enquiries and to check whether correspondence had been received. 

So that is what I did.

When I remained uncertain whether my email had actually been received or was being dealt with, I telephoned the office. I spoke with what appeared to be a junior staff member. She couldn’t locate the email.

So I sent it again, while I stayed on the phone to confirm that she received it. 

She did. Confirmed. 

The documentary record shows that on 29 July 2022 at 10:57 am, I resent the email to the Kogarah electorate office with one word above the forwarded correspondence:

“Resending.” 

There’s something almost absurd about that single word now.

Resending.

I had already supplied evidence.

I had already written.

I had already explained the seriousness of what was occurring.

I had already asked whether anyone had actually read what I had provided.

Then I had to telephone to find out whether my email could even be found.

And then I sent it again.

——

These were not abstract political questions

I was asking Chris Minns’s office questions about what had actually happened.

I specifically asked what had been communicated to ACU’s Vice-Chancellor when my local MP encountered him at Blacktown, and what response had been given. I was raising the conduct of people responsible for workplace health and safety at my employer. 

I also drew an uncomfortable comparison.

I referred to Chris Minns having attended a memorial for people who had lost their lives in work-related incidents. Against that backdrop, I asked why victims of work-related psychosocial hazards who had also lost their lives were not similarly acknowledged. 

For me, this wasn’t political theatre.

I was living the consequences.

The workers compensation system, SafeWork NSW and the conduct I had reported were not policy concepts being discussed in a parliamentary chamber. They were affecting my health, finances, employment and life.

And I was asking the person elected to represent my electorate to pay attention.

“As a constituent of yours…”

I ended that email with perhaps the most important sentence in the entire document:

“As a constituent of yours, I need to know the answers. I need to know the truth.”

That was the relationship I understood representative democracy to create.

——

I was his constituent.

I was asking my elected representative to engage with evidence concerning NSW government systems and regulators that had failed catastrophically.

And despite the automatic assurance that constituents would receive priority and that emails would be brought to his attention, I received no substantive response from Cheryl Han to these questions.

That experience changed the way I understood political representation.

——

When representation depends on whether your problem is politically convenient

I can’t know what Chris Minns personally thought when these matters reached — or did not reach — him. I can’t know what discussions occurred internally in his office.

What I can document is what I did.

• I approached my elected representative.
• I supplied evidence.
• I identified state regulatory issues.
• I asked whether that evidence had even been read.
• I asked for a meeting.
• I asked what had been communicated to ACU.
• I asked for the systemic issues I was identifying to be raised.
• I followed up.
• I telephoned.

And when the office couldn’t locate my email, I resent it on 29 July 2022.

Still, I didn’t  receive the answers I was asking for.

From where I stood as his constituent, the message was devastating: my crisis apparently didn’t warrant meaningful engagement from the person elected to represent me.

That’s why I reject the comforting language that politicians are automatically “there for their constituents” simply because an electorate office exists.

Representation has to mean something in practice.

It has to mean listening when the issue is difficult.

It has to mean looking at evidence even when that evidence points towards institutional or regulatory failure.

It has to mean being prepared to ask uncomfortable questions of powerful organisations.

And it cannot depend upon whether helping a constituent happens to align neatly with somebody’s political interests or agenda.

I cannot prove why Chris Minns or his office failed to substantively respond to me.

But I can say what the experience meant to me:

When I urgently needed my elected representative to represent me on serious NSW matters, I didn’t feel represented at all.

The automatic reply said:

“Your views and concerns are important to me.”

My experience told me something very different.

And all I had asked for was the truth.

See also: 

• http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2026/04/chris-minns-mp-please-help-me-my.html
• http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2026/04/i-asked-my-elected-representative-chris.html
• http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2026/05/chris-minns-kogarah-electorate-office.html
• http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2026/06/the-social-media-post-i-saw-on-29-april.html
• http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2026/06/the-day-i-almost-didnt-come-back.html

Source: contemporaneous record of events - Document 437.

The Parallel Crisis — Fighting to Keep a Roof Over My Head - July 2022

While I was trying to get regulators to listen, trying to get somebody to intervene, trying to stop further harm and trying to understand how a statutory workers’ compensation system could have failed so completely, I was also trying to keep a roof over my head.

By July 2022, the consequences were no longer confined to my workplace, my health or a workers’ compensation claim.

They had reached my property, my mortgage, my investments and my financial security.

I wasn’t making ordinary financial decisions. I was making survival decisions.

The documents from this period show just how much administration was required simply to stop everything from collapsing.

——

12 July 2022 — Trying to hold everything together

On 12 July 2022, I was dealing simultaneously with the sale of my Melbourne investment property and the purchase and financing of my home in Sydney.

At 9:57 am, I emailed my solicitor with the details of the home loan consultant handling the transaction. I explained that I had just spoken with him, had already signed and returned the discharge authority, and was about to go to my local post office to complete the land-title verification-of-identity process.

This is what my life looked like.

Forms. Phone calls. Lawyers. Banks. Conveyancers. Identity verification. Discharge authorities. Settlement deadlines.

All while I was already trying to navigate an entirely separate institutional and regulatory crisis.

Only minutes later, at 10:01 am, another email required my approval so that a Section 27 process relating to the Melbourne property could proceed.

My response was simple:

“I approve for this to proceed.”

There was no room for me to fall apart.

Things had to keep moving.

Then, at 11:51 am, I wrote to the solicitor handling the Sydney property:

“The buyer of my Melbourne property had finance approved unconditionally. Settlement on sale of my property is COB today. Therefore, settlement on [Sydney] will be before 11 August 2022.”

I added:

“Once I have a concrete date, I’ll let you know for the vendor’s solicitor to be informed. It’s pending the time to finish the process with my lender.”

The real estate agent replied minutes later:

“That is fantastic news.”

And in one sense, of course it was.

I was getting something done.

I was solving another problem.

I was trying to protect the home I needed to live in.

But this was occurring in circumstances that should never have existed.

I shouldn’t have been financially cornered into dismantling parts of the financial life I had built because a statutory system designed to support an injured worker had failed to operate as it should.

——

14 July 2022 — Another document the lender needed

Two days later, on 14 July 2022, I was still working through the requirements.

The lender required the signed Sydney contract of sale. I had a PDF, but not the executed version they required. I asked for the signed contract, or scans of the relevant signed pages. My solicitor provided the exchanged and stamped front page that day.

Again, this might look mundane when viewed in isolation. But that’s precisely why the chronology matters.

One email looks ordinary.

One form looks ordinary.

One request from a lender looks ordinary.

Put them together, day after day, alongside everything else I was dealing with, and a very different picture emerges.

I was project-managing my own financial survival.

——

19–20 July 2022 — Substituting the security

Then came the formal financing documentation.

On 19 July 2022, I was sent the documentation relating to a Loan Variation — Substitution of Security.

The security was to become my Sydney property.

The package required completion of the loan variation, mortgage, direct debit request and loan and settlement authority, together with further documentation and settlement requirements.

On 20 July 2022, I signed the documentation.

The mortgage documentation identified the Sydney property as the security for the facility.

This wasn’t an abstract financial consequence anymore.

This was my home.

That distinction matters.

I wasn’t moving numbers around on a spreadsheet.

I was trying to preserve somewhere to live. 

This was my home I worked hard in my life, to own. 

And I was doing it because the consequences of what had happened at work - a nationally registered publicly funded university employer - and what had subsequently happened through the workers’ compensation and regulatory systems—had spread into almost every area of my financial life.

——

21–22 July 2022 — Still chasing settlement

It still wasn’t finished.

On 21 July 2022, I was advised that further items remained outstanding before the matter could be submitted for final quality assurance and become “ready to book.”

Among the outstanding matters were the PEXA invitation, preparation of the transfer of land through PEXA and evidence concerning the discharge authority for the sale security.

Even after all of that, the correspondence warned that the quality-assurance process might identify still more requirements before settlement could be booked.

On 22 July, the lender’s home loan consultant responded:

“How soon are we able to settle on this?”

And:

“Let me know and I will escalate on my end if needed.”

By that afternoon, I was personally bringing the professionals involved in both transactions together.

I emailed the solicitor handling Sydney and the solicitor handling Melbourne and explained that I had spoken with the lender that morning.

I wrote:

“Can we aim for settlement next week.”

And then I tried to articulate what needed to happen:

“By this, I’m referring also to the security swap on the current loan from [Melbourne] property to the [Sydney] property on the loan.”

I even proposed a date:

“May I suggest Wednesday 27 July 2022 if possible.”

I ended:

“I appreciate your support in finalising this process.”

I was the injured worker.

Yet here I was coordinating lawyers, lenders and settlement processes myself to try to keep the financial pieces of my life together.

I had no support on my end, at all. It was the one time in my life that I had to explicitly ask for some moral support. 

——

This is what financial harm actually looks like

This is why I resist reducing financial harm to a final dollar figure.

Of course the dollar figures matter.

• The lost income (ie. wage theft) matters.
• The depleted leave matters.
• The property losses matter.
• The investment consequences matter.
• The superannuation consequences matter.

But financial harm also has a process.

It happens progressively.

• One statutory obligation isn’t fulfilled.
• Another institution doesn’t intervene.
• A worker absorbs the immediate cost.
• Savings start covering ordinary expenses.
• Assets start carrying costs they were never intended to carry.
• Financial strategies have to change.
• Property decisions change.
• Investments are disrupted.
• Legal and professional costs accumulate.

And eventually the injured person is spending their days trying to solve financial emergencies that would never have existed had the original protections functioned properly.

That is the snowball effect.

And by July 2022, I was living inside it.

——

The fragmented system

There’s something else these documents have made increasingly clear to me.

The fragmentation itself is dangerous.

• Employment law sits over here.
• Workers’ compensation sits somewhere else.
• Work health and safety somewhere else again.
• Insurance regulation.
• Financial regulation.
• Banking.
• Superannuation.
• Taxation.
• Property law.

Different regulators.

Different legislation.

Different lawyers.

Different jurisdictions.

Different complaint processes.

Different definitions of what each organisation considers to be “its” responsibility.

But there’s only one human being absorbing the cumulative consequences.

Me.

And that fragmentation creates gaps.

Those gaps can be exploited by powerful organisations with access to powerful legal resources in ways an injured individual simply cannot match.

Refer to the previous post - http://mystory-myvoice.blogspot.com/2026/08/what-were-we-trying-to-tell-them-when.html.

I was one person.

I was trying to navigate all of it.

——

More loopholes to close

That’s one reason I continue documenting this.

Because if systems can operate this way, then the gaps need to be closed.

The loopholes need to be closed.

The fragmentation needs to be examined.

And the conduct of powerful organisations—and the professionals acting for them—needs proper scrutiny where those gaps are being used to avoid responsibility rather than fulfil it.

Whether particular conduct ultimately meets a legal definition such as corruption is a matter for the appropriate authorities and evidence.

What I can document is what happened to me.

And what happened to me was serious.

The consequences were serious.

The financial losses were serious.

And the administrative burden imposed on an already injured person was extraordinary.

——

I was trying to keep a roof over my head

As I review these emails, I don’t simply see property transactions.

I see myself trying to keep everything standing.

12 July.

• Discharge authority.
• Verification of identity.
• Section 27 approval.
• Melbourne settlement.
• Sydney settlement.

14 July.

• Another contract required by the lender.

19 July.

• Loan variation and substitution-of-security documents.

20 July.

• Signatures.
• Mortgage.
• Settlement authority.

21 July.

• Outstanding requirements.
• PEXA.
• Quality assurance.

22 July.

• More emails.
• More coordination.
• More chasing.
• A proposed settlement date of 27 July 2022.

And throughout all of this, the underlying workplace injury and statutory dispute had not disappeared.

That’s what makes this a parallel crisis.

These weren’t separate episodes of my life conveniently occurring one after another.

They were happening at the same time.

While I was asking institutions to prevent further financial harm, I was simultaneously living the financial harm that failures elsewhere had already caused.

I wasn’t trying to build wealth.

I wasn’t making an opportunistic property decision.

I wasn’t restructuring my finances for convenience.

I was trying to keep a roof over my head.

And no injured worker should have to dismantle the financial life they spent years building simply to survive while the systems established to protect them argue about whose responsibility they are.

Source: contemporaneous record of events - Documents 491-498.