Maria Costigan remembers following the ambulance. It was weaving the same path as she was through Canberra’s suburban sprawl.
It was a route Maria had taken countless times to drop in on Tara Costigan, the niece she loved like a daughter.
Her sense of foreboding grew with each shared turn.
The paramedics and Maria both were responding to frenzied calls from Tara’s sister.
“Tara needs you,” she had shouted, the urgency in her voice sending Maria hurtling out the door of her mother’s house, grabbing her mum’s thongs and car keys in her haste.
The call the paramedics had received was more explicit.
“I don’t have time, my sister’s been hit in her neck with an axe,” Tara’s sister screamed at the triple-0 operators.
Tara’s home wasn’t far from Maria’s. That suited them both: they shared a special bond.
A court would later describe Maria as “the dominant mother figure” for much of Tara’s life. Maria’s daughter was the same age as Tara’s youngest son.
“There was a main road between us, but there was a footpath and a bridge and the kids used to be able to go backwards and forwards from each other,” she says. “Even the dogs used to run away and go to each other’s houses.
“Sunday afternoons was always barbecue or dinner at our place. I really miss that. It was always loud.”
The day before Maria received the frantic call for help, she had gone with Tara to court.
Tara was seeking protection from her ex-partner, Marcus Rappel. The pair had just had a child, who was seven days old.
She had turned to the justice system reluctantly, seeking an interim domestic violence order against Rappel due to his escalating threats.
The day after it was granted, Rappel strolled into a police station in Canberra’s city centre, picked up the order and told the woman with him, “I did say if another girl slapped another DVO on me I would kill her.”
He threw the order out the car window on his way home.
Rappel went to Bunnings, bought an axe and drove to Tara’s home in Calwell, a suburb in Canberra’s south.
He struck fatal blows to her neck while she held their newborn baby in her arms. Her two sons, aged 11 and nine, saw the attack.
When police arrived they found Rappel outside, rocking back and forth.
“She’s in there, she’s dead, all I wanted was to get my stuff and she has an AVO on me and my stuff,” he told them. “I killed her with an axe.”
Maria arrived a short time later, at roughly the same time as the paramedics.
“The police officer actually let me in the door,” she says. “I saw Tara on the floor. I saw that she was gone and the ambulance paramedics were working with her. And then I just said, ‘Where are the kids?’”
The case is a waking nightmare.
Trauma heaped upon trauma. Pain and grief rippling across generations.
It also illustrates what experts say is the justice system’s insipidness in the face of determined violence.
Tara’s murder is an extreme example of what can happen when women turn to the courts for protection. But it is not isolated.
One in four convicted femicide offenders were listed on an intervention order before their killings, according to Monash University analysis. About 19% were listed as the primary aggressor on a civil order at the time they killed their intimate partner and 16% had a prior breach.
The data poses fundamental questions.
When women turn to the justice system for help, what is done to protect them from immediate harm? Have family violence order systems worked to prevent women from being revictimised? And can court processes simply act as a trigger for more violence?
For Prof Kate Fitz-Gibbon, the lead author of the Monash University research, the answer is clear.
“For far too long victim-survivors and those working within the system have lamented the failure of the intervention order system to enhance safety and prevent serious violence,” she says. “It is well and truly time to examine all facets of the intervention order system, including responses to breaches.”
There is one feature of this complex system that we know surprisingly little about: what happens to women in the critical 48-hour period after an order is granted?
No police force in the country, except for Tasmania, is able to provide data to Guardian Australia on the number of family violence order breaches occurring within 48 hours. Even then, Tasmania police could only give insight into orders its officers had issued, rather than those issued by courts.
Its data suggests at least one breach of a police-issued DVO is occurring within 48 hours of being issued every week.
This is despite research suggesting this is a critical time period for protecting women.
The Australian Institute of Criminology’s research manager, Dr Christopher Dowling, reviewed more than 30 years of studies on domestic violence from across the globe.
Dowling says his research makes clear that the period immediately after an order is granted is one of elevated risk.
“The reasons for that is that really many of the factors underpinning any [initial] violence or abuse that a woman has suffered, they haven’t really had a chance to dissipate yet,” Dowling tells the Guardian. “They’re still in place. So any conflicts that have occurred haven’t really been resolved.
“Abusers’ feelings of anger, resentment and perhaps a loss of control is still heightened.”
This loss of control, for Maria Costigan, is a key point.
For Rappel, she says, Tara’s pursuit of an interim DVO posed a challenge to his control over her, one that could not be countenanced.
“He was an absolute control freak,” she says. “And by that stage he had lost control of her. She’d taken ownership.
“I think it’s the same with all people that take out the DVOs, it’s the first sign that they are taking control back of their own lives and the abusers basically lose that control.”
Dowling’s work, like much research in this space, paints a nuanced picture.
The data shows orders do appear to have some positive impact. They are associated with “a small but significant reduction in domestic violence”, he says.
They are more effective when the victim has fewer ties to the perpetrator and a greater capacity for independence, the research shows. They are less effective when offenders have a history of crime, violence and mental health problems.
But crime data also shows breaches of orders are increasingly common.
In New South Wales the rate at which orders are being breached is at a four-year high, according to data from the NSW Bureau of Crime Statistics and Research.
In the year to March there were 286.4 breaches for every 100,000 people, according to the bureau. That’s up from 2019-20, when the figure was 215.9.
Victoria has just recorded its highest volume of breach offences flagged as “family incidents” in four years. The increases may be partly explained by an increase in the numbers of orders being issued.
Australian Bureau of Statistics data suggests significant, year-on-year increases in the number of breach offences being established by courts.
The 2019-20 total was 30,907, up to 38,358 in 2020–21, 42,171 in 2021-22 and 48,425 in 2022-23. But the ABS is not able to count how many orders were issued, making it difficult to work out whether the rate of breaches is increasing.
The data suggests that 83% of defendants in court for a breach were men, with a median age of 36.
Michelle Royes, the interim chief executive of DVConnect, Queensland’s domestic, family and sexual violence crisis service, says the effectiveness of orders is mixed. Sometimes they are a powerful tool to keep women safe. In other cases they are just a piece of paper.
“This idea that an order will keep you safe or you should get an order if you really want the violence to stop, you should go to police and you should tell them – that can be really problematic depending on the type of experience that person is having,” Royes says.
“Sometimes the orders are really powerful, sometimes they are enough to keep you safe. But so much safety comes from the individual and their informal networks as well.”
DVConnect operates a phone service to support people who experience domestic, family and sexual violence.
Royes says her organisation’s experience clearly suggests the period immediately after an order is issued is one of elevated risk.
That is particularly the case when a first order is served on an offender, she says, or when circumstances have changed significantly, making it difficult to predict how a perpetrator will react.
The problem is compounded by the fact that victim-survivors are not told critical information.
“They’re never really sure across a period when that order is going to be made to that individual,” she says. “They don’t know when he’s getting that information, how he’s going to respond, what state he is in when he gets that information.
“There’s a lot of coordinating that really needs to go into it and the system isn’t set up that well to do that effectively all the time. The police are doing more to be better in this space but it takes a fair amount of coordinating and resources to do that effectively.”
Lack of enforcement
Back in the court where Tara Costigan sought help almost 10 years ago, the same problems persist. Another woman, who cannot be named, recently sought the protection of an interim domestic violence order.
Within 24 hours of being served with the order, her partner is alleged to have come to the home and kicked her in the stomach and given her a black eye, according to court documents.
She was seven months pregnant. The case is still before the courts and the alleged perpetrator has pleaded not guilty to a raft of offences, including breaching the DVO.
Federal parliament is examining the interactions between the family law system – which deals with non-criminal family disputes – and family violence orders, typically imposed by magistrates courts.
A key question the inquiry is trying to understand is how legal proceedings can act as a trigger for violence.
The Safe Steps Family Violence Response Centre, a Victoria-based support service, has told the inquiry that violent behaviour can escalate around the time of court dates.
“The violence experienced at these times is multi-faceted and includes stalking, coercive control and abuse [of the court system],” Safe Steps said in a submission.
The group cited the case study of Sophie and Dave*, who had separated after a period of abuse during Covid lockdowns. She had obtained a family violence order, which failed to stop “ongoing physical, verbal and financial abuse”. The pair were also engaged in a property dispute in the family courts, which was correlated to continued violence and abuse.
“During this period, Sophie reported these incidents to the police and says she was told there was not enough evidence to suggest Dave was responsible,” Safe Steps said. “The reports went no further.”
Police advised her against attempting to obtain a new family violence order and said they would “not be able to assist with an application”.
The lack of enforcement of breaches and police attitudes to victim-survivors is repeatedly cited as a factor undermining the strength of family violence order systems.
Even of those that make it to court, the ABS data suggests about one-third receive a fine and 16% receive what it describes as a “moderate penalty in the community”.
Dowling says a lack of enforcement can weaken the order system’s effectiveness.
“Police enforcement is obviously critical to ensuring that orders are effective,” he says. “If order breaches aren’t responded to and seen to be responded to, then much of the potential that orders have to deter further violence disappears.”
He says police are facing an increased workload in responding to allegations of breaches because more orders are being made. Better training is improving the way they enforce orders, he says, though they can face difficulties in investigating, particularly when breaches don’t involve physical violence.
“Having said that though, I will add that I think there is value in these breaches being seen to be investigated and taken seriously by police, even if the chances of charges are being laid are low, as you know,” he says.
“I think that that sends the message to perpetrators that police are taking these orders seriously, and are closely scrutinising their behaviour, which can serve as a deterrent for further breaches.”
Victoria police say they work hard to protect victims and bring perpetrators before the courts, including conducting risk assessments after attending any family violence call-out. These help determine the best option available to police to protect the victim and hold the perpetrator to account, a spokesperson says.
“Police will also make referrals to specialist family violence services and agencies, who provide additional support and assistance, such as accommodation to ensure the ongoing wellbeing and safety of victims,” the spokesperson says.
Tasmania police take a pro-intervention approach. That means, in most cases, offenders will be issued with a restraining order immediately after police attend a family violence call-out.
The acting head of the force’s family and sexual violence command, Rebecca Davis, tells Guardian Australia that she recognises the first 24 hours is crucial to protecting victims and significant, government-wide efforts are made to support victims through the state’s safe at home program.
“Prompt and effective attention to the victim’s needs during this period can substantially reduce the risk of further harm,” she says. “Tasmania Police’s Family Violence Unit plays a critical role in this process by conducting immediate risk assessments, performing regular welfare checks, responding swiftly to any breaches, coordinating with support services, assisting with safety planning, and providing the victim with reassurance and information.”
Likewise, South Australian police say they recognise that the aftermath of family violence attacks was a volatile period.
“We put support systems around a victim through referrals to other service providers, along with our victim support work done by Family Violence Section officers and staff,” a spokesperson says.
National cabinet on Friday announced a $4.7bn package on family violence, designed to improve legal and social supports for women and children.
The package includes funding to develop a best practice risk assessment model, improve cross-jurisdiction information-sharing on high-risk perpetrators, and undertake trials of a new focussed deterrence model.
The ministers have also agreed to review alcohol laws.
Royes said although none of the measures were directly targeted at the 48-hour window after an order is obtained, they would go some way to increasing the effectiveness of orders generally.
“Giving women greater knowledge about orders and what they mean will be invaluable,” she said. “Also addressing alcohol. While never the reason why people use violence, alcohol consumption does impact on the use of violence. So better regulation of alcohol is also a small step in helping to make her safer in that first 48 hours.”
‘How you doing, miss?’
Fate added an extra layer of cruelty for Maria Costigan.
At the time of her niece’s murder, she was working at the Australian Capital Territory’s only jail, the Alexander Maconochie Centre, as a correctional officer. It was the only place her niece’s killer could be sent.
About a month after the murder, Maria decided she needed to go back to work.
“I thought, I’m strong enough, I can deal with this,” she says. “But I remember the first time I saw him and I was absolutely so, so, so scared that I ran back inside. I found a little quiet spot and I broke down. I went, ‘Not as strong as you thought you were, Maria.’”
She says Rappel would target her. He’d call her a “baby stealer” and pace the fence-line as she passed.
“I remember walking out of the health building and he walked straight up behind me and went, ‘How you doing, miss?’”
The trauma would be enough to break most people.
But Maria has found a way to endure. Initially, she saw a counsellor provided by her employer. She laughs as she recalls that the counsellor was “not the right person for what I had been through”.
“I walked in there and had a chat with her and then walked out, rang my son and went, ‘Oh my gosh, I think I just counselled her.’”
She went through a period of night terrors, waking up convinced she was about to die.
“So I went and saw somebody and I worked through that. I have very high resilience. I don’t know how or why. It just is, you know, we’re all different. We all react to things differently.”
Her experience has taught her a lot about the ability of family violence orders to protect women from violence.
“They’re just a piece of paper,” she says. “And I think offenders … I don’t even think they understand what that piece of paper means.”
She wants stronger penalties for those who breach DVOs and more strident enforcement, including the use of ankle bracelets.
“I know that sounds like an invasion but, if they’re doing that sort of thing, too bad.”
*Names have been changed
• In Australia, the national family violence counselling service is on 1800 737 732. In the UK, call the national domestic abuse helpline on 0808 2000 247, or visit Women’s Aid. In the US, the domestic violence hotline is 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). Other international helplines may be found via www.befrienders.org
