The Sweet Old Lady

I just got back from a talk at the Arkaba Hotel by Stephen Pallaras KC, titled “The Sweet Old Lady and the Murderer Mother.” I dragged my friend Andrew along for the ride. Below are two posters that were displayed on the way up the stairs to the top level of the Ark, where the talk was held.

I knew who Mr Pallaras was, but I didn’t know much about him — and to be honest, I still don’t know much about him. But from what I saw tonight, I’m genuinely impressed. His wife introduced him with a glowing reference. He’s worked all over the world, served as the DPP, held a position as a judge, and been involved in academia — though I can’t quite remember if it was as a professor or associate professor. Either way, it’s clear he’s a highly experienced and, at least from what I gathered tonight, a deeply respected man of the law. 

His wife outlined the structure of the evening and mentioned that Mr Pallaras would be sharing his opinion on a few matters — and then telling us what he planned to do about them. I instantly turned to Andrew and said, “He’s going to run for parliament.” Below is a photo I took of his wife just as she was taking a bow.

There were about 400 people there to hear Mr Pallaras speak, which I think is quite a crowd for the top of the Ark on a Wednesday night. I had no idea what to expect, but since it was publicised as a true crime talk, I thought it could be interesting — and it definitely was.

The “sweet old lady” in the title referred to Vonne McGlynn, and the “murderer mother” was Angelika Gavare, who was convicted of Vonne’s murder. The crime took place in 2008, and when I saw the photo of Vonne McGlynn, it looked strangely familiar. As Mr Pallaras went through the details of the case, it all came flooding back — I remembered hearing about it at the time. It was such a horrific, heartbreaking story. Mr Pallaras said that Angelika Gavare was the worst murderer he had encountered in all his years in law.

What struck me most was the connection to something I’m involved in. Just last week, I finalised my position with an organisation, where I’ll be calling elderly citizens each morning to check on their wellbeing. I actually emailed them today to confirm my availability. And tonight, I learned that the service played a key role in discovering that Vonne was missing.

Vonne’s brother had arranged for the service to call her every morning. He told them that if she didn’t answer, they should try again — and if there was still no response, to call the police. The morning after she was murdered, the service couldn’t reach her. They tried a few more times, then alerted the police — and from there, the case began to unravel.

Even though I haven’t started making the calls yet, I felt a genuine sense of pride in the service. It’s comforting to know that something like this exists — a safety net for people who might otherwise be forgotten. You’d hope this kind of tragedy is rare, but I’m so glad the response was swift and that Vonne’s disappearance didn’t go unnoticed.

Below you can see a photo of Mr Pallaras while he was talking on stage.

Mr Pallaras spent the first half of the talk outlining the details of the prosecution’s case. He was the DPP at the time, so it must have been quite high-profile for him. After a short break, he walked us through the defence — which, frankly, was a bit ridiculous — and that’s when he began to share his personal views on issues like domestic violence, and in particular, parole.

He made a few compelling points about why he believes parole should be abolished. One that really stuck with me was his argument about sentencing: if a judge sentences someone to ten years, but they’re eligible for parole in five, what’s the point? Parole can apparently be granted for good behaviour — but, as Mr Pallaras said, behaving well in prison shouldn't be a rewardable achievement; it should be the expectation. He also mentioned the idea of adding time to a sentence for bad behaviour, which makes more sense. What I took away from his argument was: if someone deserves ten years, they should serve ten years — not ten with a chance at five. I don’t know if I fully understand all the mechanics of it yet, but I definitely gravitate toward his line of thinking, and I’d like to read more on the topic.

Then came the moment I’d predicted — he announced he was running for parliament. I gave myself a little pat on the back for my sharp political radar. I swear, I can smell it on them when someone wants to be a politician.

During the Q&A, one young man tried to get into an academic argument with Mr Pallaras about parole. He kept pushing the issue, and I just thought, “Who the fuck are you, and why are you here? Did you really come to a true crime talk to flex your political opinions?”

After the talk ended, I waited in line to get a photo of Mr Pallaras for this blog. I asked if he was running for the upper house, and he said yes. I told him I’d be happy to hand out how-to-vote cards for him — and I meant it. I like him. I can easily picture him dumbing down intense legal arguments for a jury — or for someone like me who doesn’t always follow legal talk. I’m thinking of reaching out to his office in a few months to offer my help. I’ve got experience with election campaigns — mostly rank-and-file stuff, which I actually enjoy.

Technically, I’m a member of another political party, but Mum said it shouldn’t be a problem if I want to volunteer for Mr Pallaras. I think she’s right. Below is the photo I took of him.

It felt strange seeing a senior lawyer referred to as KC instead of QC. One thing our Chief Justice did that I’ve always respected is that when the government stopped appointing Queen’s Counsel and transitioned to appointing Senior Counsel or SC, he personally gave up his QC title and adopted SC instead. That’s a rare gesture — especially from someone at that level — and it really struck me.

When I got home tonight, I looked up Stephen Pallaras online and found out he started his own political party — Real Change SA. He ran in the 2022 South Australian state election. I don’t want to get involved in the federal campaign, but something about this has made me feel like I do want to get involved in the state campaign next year in 2026. Just... not for the party I’m a member of.

Tonight wasn’t just about legal talk — it felt like a watershed moment for me, personally. Ever since Andrew told me that he used to kill sheep with a knife — and all but admitted they didn’t die right away — I’ve felt distant from him. Maybe it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but if you really sit with the reality of that kind of act... it’s brutal. It’s violent. It takes a certain kind of person to go through with something like that. And I guess I’ve been pulling away.

We met at the Arkaba tonight, and from the moment he sat down, he launched into a monologue about how he’s trying to get the Department of Veterans’ Affairs to pay for extensive dental work. The one thing I cannot handle in life is teeth — I hate everything about them. Especially brushing. Even my own teeth disgust me. But Andrew just kept going on and on, showing me his teeth, pointing inside his mouth — and honestly, I wasn’t listening. I was just trying to survive the moment.

The whole thing was so graphic, inappropriate, and deeply uncomfortable. We were in a social setting. Why was he choosing now to have this conversation? After the dental drama, he pulled out a letter from Housing SA about being relocated and went on about how unhappy he was. I wanted to say, “You’re lucky they didn’t send a letter about you hiding the fact your partner lives with you.” Because they haven’t disclosed their relationship status. But I bit my tongue.

And in that moment, I just thought — I want so much more than this. I already disconnected from Rebecca. I haven’t spoken to her in over a month, and I’m proud of myself for that. I don’t want a friend like her. And honestly, I don’t want a friend like Andrew either. I’d rather be alone than spend my time with people like this.

During the talk tonight, Mr Pallaras spoke about the low conviction rates for rape cases. He mentioned that there are rarely any witnesses to rape, which makes it difficult to secure convictions. And while that may be a legal reality, I found it deeply fucking disturbing. It’s no wonder so many women choose not to come forward — why would they, when they risk being dismissed, disbelieved, or humiliated by a system that often fails them?

But what happened next — while we were waiting to meet Mr Pallaras — was the final straw. Andrew told me that he’d been accused of rape by his ex-girlfriend. And that was it. I didn’t want to hear another word. I don’t care about his teeth, his relocation from Housing SA, or any of the chaos he chooses to unload on me. I don’t want to know him anymore. I don’t want him in my life. Please — just leave me alone.

Tonight was a watershed moment for me. I realised how far I’ve let my standards slip when it comes to the people I allow into my life. And it’s not about social status, or education, or income, or housing — none of that matters to me. What matters is that I feel safe, respected, and accepted. That I can be myself. That I’m not shrinking or second-guessing myself just to keep someone else company.

I’m done giving my friendship away to anyone just because they’ll take it. I used to have all kinds of friends — people from different walks of life — but over the years, I’ve lost most of them. Now it’s time to rebuild. But this time, I’m going to do it on my terms. And until then, I’m okay being alone. In fact, I’d rather be alone than waste my time with people who suck the life out of you like a vampire.