Tom Meagher: I lost my love, my best friend, my world

Tom Meagher’s life was destroyed when his wife, Jill, was raped and murdered nine months ago, in a crime that shocked the nation.

Jill’s killer, Adrian Ernest Bayley, has pleaded guilty to murder and has been sentenced to life in prison, with a minimum non-parole period of 35 years. He could be back on the street at 76.

When he dragged Jill into an alley, he was on parole, with a long record of unspeakable acts against women.

Now, like Tom, The Weekly is asking why this man was even on the streets. How could our justice system have failed Jill and allowed him to walk free? To campaign for truth in sentencing, we are publishing Tom’s moving victim impact statement in full.

Tom and Jill on their wedding day.

Statement from Tom Meagher

I was introduced to Jill in November 2001 by our mutual friend, Kiera. It was an awkward first encounter. I remember I couldn’t shake her hand because it was bandaged up. She had injured it the previous day in a characteristically clumsy fashion.

But this inelegant introduction began an 11-year adventure with the most wonderful person I have ever met.

Jill embodied everything I could ever ask for in a partner. Her sense of fun and adventure, and her unquenchable lust for life pulled me through difficult times and lifted me even higher in good times.

Now, as I go through the worst time in my life, the person whose passion, intelligence and strength got me through before is no longer there to help me with this struggle.

What was stolen from me on 22 September 2012 was love, my best friend and my entire world. What was stolen from us was our future, the possibility of a family and our lives together.

What has been given to me is a lifetime of fear, insomnia, unending panic attacks, anger that I never wanted or asked for and first-hand knowledge of how deeply depraved and disgusting a human being can be.

My world view has been significantly altered and my belief in the good of humanity has been shaken to its core.

I hesitate to leave my apartment because of the feverish prospect of an anxiety attack that can pounce at the most inappropriate times.

Nightmare-ish and intrusive visions are constant and I don’t escape this in sleeping or waking hours.

I have been forced to move from our home in Brunswick, given its proximity to where Jill’s death occurred, and I am constantly confused, disoriented and unfocused.

The pain of not being able to tell Jill that I loved her in her final moments, the knowledge that those last moments were terrifying and painful, and the knowledge that with her final walk she had crossed paths with evil haunts me every day.

The initial stages of the police investigation necessitated a thorough examination of our apartment, our car and our private possessions, which was intrusive and extraordinarily uncomfortable.

This was soon followed by unwelcome messages from members of the public, who convinced themselves that I was involved in Jill’s disappearance.

This has exacerbated feelings of horror and a lack of faith in the decency of humanity. The frequency of media intrusion has ebbed and flowed, but has never stopped completely.

I have been away from work for substantial periods of time, I have ongoing counselling for trauma and grief and, quite simply, my life will never be normal again.

Most of all, I miss Jill. I miss waking up late on a Sunday and having breakfast at 2pm. I miss boozy afternoons in the sunshine, making plans, laughing with her and sharing my life with her.

I miss her insight, fun and wit, her huge smile and infectious personality.

I think of her every second of every day and I think of the pain of never being able to laugh with her again.

I think of the waste of a brilliant mind and a beautiful soul at the hands of a grotesque and soulless human being.

I think of how in love we were and of how much I’ve lost, and how much of my life and dreams were built around Jill. I am half a person because of this crime.