Fa'amoana "John" Luafutu was subjected to brutal beatings after being taken from his family. Photo: Supplied
Warning: This story contains discussion of the physical and sexual abuse of children.
As children and teenagers, they suffered every type of horrific abuse in state "care" and at the hands of others who were meant to care for them.
As adults, they ended up in prison, where the abuse continued.
Now these ex-inmates are speaking out on behalf of others still dealing with the legacy of historic abuse and trauma, and struggling to get access to psychological treatment behind bars.
Fa'amoana's story
Taken from his family and put into care, Fa'amoana "John" Luafutu was subjected to brutal beatings at the hands of staff and his fellow inmates at various boys' homes and borstals in the 1960s.
Eight-years-old when his family emigrated from Samoa to New Zealand, he quickly lost his name (which had been his grandfather's), his connections to his family and culture, respect for authority and any hope for a different life.
"I just hated everyone and everything."
He took refuge in gang life and was in and out of prison over the next few years.
He credits his wife and children, and prison psychologist Don Prince, who was also a Methodist minister, for helping him turn his life around.
"A lot of that was to do with me becoming a father, I wanted to be there for my wife and kids. Don Prince knew the right questions to ask. When I did rehab, that helped me to get to that place of understanding why I had ended up where I was.
"My last lag was in 1983."
He subsequently wrote a play A Boy Called Piano based on his experiences, and a critically-acclaimed documentary about his life, directed by Nina Nawalowalo, has screened in prisons here and in the Pacific, as well as at festivals.
"It's all down to addiction, most of those guys are in there for smoking P and beating up on their families," Luafutu said.
"I know how they feel, so i just say 'mate, if I can do it, you can do it'."
He also told his story to the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, during its special hearing into the particular harm and impacts on Pasifika peoples.
Luafutu watched the state apology on television, at home.
"I thought I was past being upset because I've been talking about these things for so many years now. But I did find myself crying, thinking of my two sisters who have passed, and a couple of cousins."
However, the apology was tarnished for him a few days later when it was suggested the Government could exclude current gang members from getting any compensation.
"I just thought that was a real shitty thing to do, because if they get paid out, that might be the thing that makes them get out of gangs and do something for themselves.
"It really bothered me to hear that attitude coming up.
"The way I see it, the Government is responsible for gangs in the first place. Those of us young boys who came out of those places, we found other people who had been through the same thing."
Tony's story
Tony first experienced sexual abuse as a very young child, from his mother's boyfriend.
"I told the priest about it at confession, and he just started asking strange questions, like whether I had been aroused.
"Then I told a nun about it, and she just said that was 'between me and God'."
He and his siblings ended up being placed in a Catholic children's home.
It was there - at the age of nine - that he and another little boy were taken into a room one day by a couple of priests.
They forced him to do sexual acts on the younger boy while they watched.
"I was so scared, and he was terrified, he was crying for his mother."
Tony had no way of making sense of what had happened, but he blamed himself.
"I remember sitting by the rugby field with my brother, watching all the children playing, and I thought 'I'm not myself any more'. I was worried about protecting him too. I had lost everything, I even lost the ability to read and write - it's just weird what you lose.
"I lost my faith. I loved God, I really did, and they took all that."
A few years later - at 15 or 16 - he was committed to Sunnyside Mental Hospital in Christchurch after trying to kill his mother and a priest involved in the abuse.
"Every that could go wrong, went wrong, The gun jammed.
"I woke up in Sunnyside, there was music playing, a nurse was dishing out pills and there were all these zombies walking around. Soon, I was a zombie too."
Tony ended up being forcibly dragged off to solitary confinement because staff were disturbed by his drawings.
"I was just trying to show what had happened to me, because I couldn't write it."
His childhood abuse continued to haunt him.
The birth of his first child triggered overwhelming anxiety and guilt.
"I kept waiting for the police to knock on the door. I just couldn't handle it, so eventually I ran away, the way I always did."
In the 1990s, he went to prison for killing someone.
There was no trial.
"I pleaded guilty, I just wanted it over and done with, didn't want the victim's family going through any more."
His first experience of counselling in prison was not very helpful.
"I tried to tell this one counsellor about the abuse, and he said 'I was abused too'. And I was like 'Oh my God, this is hopeless'."
Later, he asked to see a Catholic priest.
"I told him, 'I want you to listen', then I told him everything that had happened and waited for his response. He just said to me 'worse things happened in war'. I just sank into my chair and I thought 'I'm gone, I'm done'.
"I rang the counsellor and said 'you can get fucked as well'. Two weeks later, that priest was charged with sexual misconduct."
He met others in prison who had also been abused in care; some "didn't make it".
Tony eventually received therapy after a sensitive claim to ACC. Since his release from prison, he has been living in a half-way house with ongoing support from Corrections.
Nearly 60 years later, he is still haunted by the memory of that little boy who was also abused in the children's home.
"I will never forget that young boy's face. I wake up with it. I'm living that, and my crime, when I took someone's life.
"Sometimes I wake up at night and I don't know where my head is."
Tony's physical health is not good these days, but mentally, he is in better shape than he has been for years.
"You've got to be honest, and not hold anything back. It's taken me years to rebuild with my family, they didn't even want to know me.
"That's what I've done that I am proud of. I can't do anything about what's happened but can only do the right things now."
Government admits shortage of forensic mental health services 'concerning'
Mental Health Minister Matt Doocey said he was working with Corrections Minister Mark Mitchell on ways to "better support mental health in prisons".
"An area of concern I have identified is the pressure on forensic mental health beds, I have tasked Health NZ officials to provide me advice on the way forward."
A Corrections spokesperson said a review into mental health services in prison had given the department a better understanding of how the needs of the prison population had "changed over time".
"When our current contracts end in June 2025/2026, equivalent funding will be reinvested to ensure we meet these needs."
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