Listen up, the truth’s about to drop, and I don’t sugarcoat.
Australia just confirmed what too many already knew in their bones—justice for Indigenous youth moves like molasses, weighed down by a system that only sprints when the victim doesn’t look like Cassius Turvey.
Fifteen years old. Say it again: fifteen. A teenager whose face still carried the blush of childhood, whose biggest crime was walking home from school in a hoodie. And for that? Beaten to death with a metal pole. October 2022. Welcome to Australia—where reconciliation is written on banners and ignored in back alleys.
This week, the verdict dropped: two men—grown, capable, undeniably criminal—were found guilty of murdering Cassius. Cue the headlines, the statements of regret, the politicians queueing up to say “This is not who we are.” But let’s not pretend this was a rare anomaly. If this isn’t who you are, then why does it keep happening?
Let’s zoom out for a moment.
Cassius wasn’t an accident. He was a casualty of a systemic rot that’s older than Federation. When you grow up Black, Brown, or Blak in Australia, you inherit a birthright soaked in suspicion. Walking while Indigenous is practically a provocation. And when violence happens, the justice system pulls out a measuring tape—one for the complexion, another for the public outcry. Sometimes it takes a nation screaming to make the courts whisper, “Guilty.”
Don’t get me wrong—the decision matters. Those two cowards being held accountable sets a precedent… for now. But let’s not stroke ourselves into complacency thinking this is justice in full. This is justice on crumbs. This is justice on layaway. Ten days Cassius lay in pain before he died. Ten days the nation had to reckon with what it means to grow up Indigenous in a country where even your skin color seems like a bullseye.
Let me be absolutely clear: this verdict is no trophy. It’s a bandage over a festering wound. Real accountability comes when we stop treating these tragedies like one-offs and start dismantling the scaffolding that allows them to happen again and again.
And where’s the political class in all this? Half of them are ducking behind press releases, the other half are waiting to see which way the wind blows before they commit to a soundbite. The same leaders who sell reconciliation on prime-time TV but can’t legislate protection on the streets. Spare me the crocodile tears. If you can’t back it up with reform, then rip off your “Sorry” pins and own your silence.
Let me hit you with some uncomfortable arithmetic: It took the media blitz, national protests, and a firestorm of public fury just to bring this to trial. Imagine how many Cassiuses we never hear about. Imagine how many guilty verdicts Australia never sees because the victim, the family, or the community doesn’t get the microphone.
We call ourselves a democracy, but it’s one where safety is a currency, and not everyone gets to cash in.
So here’s my challenge to every politician, armchair commentator, and keyboard warrior trying to turn this into a “sad story” with no teeth: don’t post tributes. Don’t light candles. Light political fires. Demand Indigenous protection laws. Fund community-led justice programs. Boot police racism out of squad cars and courtrooms. Turn this rage into reform, or accept that the next Cassius is already walking home, hoodie on, unaware someone’s about to turn his skin color into a verdict.
Because the game’s on—and I play to win. Not just for Cassius, but for every kid who looks like him and still dares to dream they’re safe in this country.
Enough thoughts. Time for action.
– Mr. 47
