The Snowball Effect: Losing the Future I Had Worked to Build - November 2022

The parallel crisis I’ve described in earlier posts kept growing. While I was trying to protect my health, secure help and return and recover in my role at Australian Catholic University, the consequences were spreading through everything I had worked for, built and planned.

By November 2022, another part of my future was being lost: the investment property I had arranged to purchase outright through my self-managed superannuation fund.

No loan was intended for that purchase. This was a plan for financial security in retirement. It represented years of work, saving, planning and care for my future.

The documents record the point at which that plan became a terminated contract and a forfeited $30,000 deposit. My accompanying emails record what the formal notices couldn’t: the fear, exhaustion and compounded trauma surrounding that loss, and my continuing attempts to get someone to intervene.

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Trying to record the damage while living through it

On 12 November 2022, I replied to the property development manager after being told that the vendor would retain my deposit. The earlier email, dated 4 November, said attempts to persuade the vendor to return it had been unsuccessful.

I thanked the people who had tried to help. I also explained why replying had taken time:

“I have to keep going with fear and compounded trauma which has slowed me down.”

I had been sending reports and evidence to media organisations, independent politicians, ICAC, the Fair Work Ombudsman, university governance and the Justice and Peace Office of the Sydney Catholic Archdiocese. I was searching for a way to stop the harm before more of my life unravelled.

At the same time, I was trying to preserve an accurate record:

“I need to keep a record and make sure everything is accounted for regarding the financial damage caused by the fraud, in a legitimate process.”

That was how I described the conduct I was reporting. I wanted my allegations investigated and the resulting losses properly accounted for. I was already having to document financial damage while carrying the injury and distress behind it.

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An outright purchase I could no longer complete

The property contract was dated 14 July 2022, to be purchased through the corporate trustee of my superannuation fund. The agreed price was $327,500, including GST, and the deposit was $30,000.

The subsequent notices record that the selling agent notified the seller on 30 September 2022 that I was no longer in a position to proceed.

On 16 November 2022, the seller’s solicitors requested written confirmation of whether I intended to complete the purchase. My conveyancer followed up on 17 November. The property title had been issued on 16 November, with settlement due on 7 December 2022.

The property process was moving towards settlement while my parallel crisis continued.

On 21 November 2022, I replied:

“I know this information is irrelevant to you, but it’s important for me to note as I was initially set up to purchase this property outright in my SMSF.”

I immediately explained why that mattered:

“I need to ensure it’s noted for the financial loss now and rental income it would’ve generated for my superannuation fund and retirement.”

ACU Governance knew. I blind copied governance@acu.edu.au into my response to the seller’s solicitor. I explicitly recorded that I had intended to purchase the property outright through my SMSF, but could no longer proceed, forfeiting my $30,000 deposit and losing the investment intended to support my retirement.

This wasn’t damage disclosed only afterwards. I was telling Governance while it was unfolding. Yet my pleas continued, the harm compounded, and I remained without the intervention I was seeking. That’s part of the trauma: knowing I had made the suffering visible to those responsible for university governance, and continuing to suffer nonetheless.

The $30,000 deposit was the immediate, identifiable loss. Beyond it was the rental income the property was intended to generate and the retirement security I had planned around it.

Those future benefits cannot simply be assigned a figure from these documents. But their place in my investment strategy was real, and I recorded it at the time.

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“No choice” becomes a formal notice

In that same email, I attributed my inability to proceed to the employer and insurer conduct and failures of the NSW government system that I had been reporting. I wrote that I couldn’t complete the purchase and had:

“no choice but to also forfeit the $30,000 deposit.”

This matters to me. My email described the circumstances that had left me unable to proceed. The contractual paperwork recorded my confirmation that the purchase wouldn’t go ahead.

On 22 November 2022, the seller’s solicitors emailed the formal termination notice. It stated:

“the Contract is terminated immediately”

and:

“the Deposit paid by the Buyer is forfeited to the Seller”.

In a few lines, another part of the future I had worked towards was brought to an end.

The loss had progressed from a warning, to my distressed confirmation that I couldn’t proceed, to formal termination and instructions for release of the money.

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The people I was still asking to listen

Later that afternoon on 21 November, I separately forwarded my response to SIRA’s advisory address.

I wanted those receiving my reports to understand that the financial consequences were happening now.

I also forwarded the correspondence to ICAC, the Kogarah electorate office and the Black Dog Institute who were apparently collaborating with SIRA NSW. In that email, I described the depletion of leave accumulated through twenty years of service at ACU, the intimidation I had reported, and the strain of continuing to seek help:

“I’ve had no break and I’m about to break.”

I described an earlier occasion outside the Kogarah electorate office when I had been frightened about losing my home. I contrasted that experience with public statements about listening to people and their right to work safely.

I was communicating severe distress alongside a concrete financial loss. I was asking people in positions of responsibility to see the connection and act.

See also:

The Social Media Post I Saw on 29 April 2022

The Day I Almost Didn’t Come Back – Kogarah Electorate Office - May 2022

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Even opening emails required courage

That afternoon, I wrote to the property professionals and the person assisting with my superannuation compliance:

“I’ve plucked up the courage to start viewing my emails.”

That sentence shows how deeply the fear had entered ordinary tasks. Opening correspondence, answering questions and managing a transaction now required courage while I was already exhausted.

I wrote:

“I’m utterly exhausted, degraded as a human being and humiliated.”

Yet I was still trying to look ahead. I told them that the time would come when I would be ready to purchase another property outright through my SMSF. I said I would keep the person assisting with compliance informed.

I was trying to preserve whatever could still be preserved: professional relationships, compliance, future plans and the possibility of rebuilding.

The finance professional I updated replied that evening:

“I truly hope your pursuit for justice is realised.”

There were people who responded with kindness and patience. I thanked them. Their support mattered while the intervention I was seeking remained unresolved.

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This is the snowball effect

These documents show how harm spreads through a life.

The workplace and workers’ compensation crisis I was reporting affected my health and financial stability. The resulting strain reached my superannuation strategy. An intended outright property purchase became impossible to complete. The deposit was forfeited. The planned rental income and retirement investment were lost with the purchase. Every additional consequence created more correspondence, more deadlines and more distress for me to manage.

My health crisis and financial crisis were running in parallel, each making the other harder to survive.

Meanwhile, I continued explaining, reporting, thanking people, apologising for delays and trying to ensure that the damage was recorded. The work of seeking accountability became another burden on the person already carrying the harm.

The $30,000 belongs in the financial record. So does the failed purchase. But the human record must also include what those losses represented: years of effort and a carefully planned future, slipping away while I was still asking for help.

I was trying to return and recover in my role. I was also trying to save everything I had worked to build. By November 2022, the snowball was still growing.

Source: contemporaneous record of events - Documents 605-609.