Just before Christmas we interrupted Braveheart’s founder Hetty Johnson’s tropical island holiday idyll by publishing details of the $27 000 a year she is paid by the organisation to rent one of her homes from her as an office.
Hetty hit back in her inimitable style, going the bash and accusing us – like she accuses anyone else who dares to pose salient questions about Bravehearts direction and dealings – of being variously
Again we are being targeted by vindictive, baseless and ignorant allegations and assertions about me and my family on social media. Those rants have now been heard and reported by print media who, while acknowledging no wrong-doing by me or Bravehearts, must know that this type of press plants seeds of doubt against our integrity. That is exactly what the faceless trolls, the disenfranchised and the paedophile fraternity want and that is why I am responding.
I’m the ‘troll’ she is talking about, except that I’m not. A troll in an anonymous fool that surfs across various websites and leaves nasty comments on them under false names. I neither surf nor comment, and I don’t use a false name. I’m me – Archibald Jeebung Butterfly, check the court records if you don’t believe me – and I write a 3rd rate blog that nobody except the Premier, punters in the Australian National Library, Gorgeous George, Australia’s best investigative journalists, Mick Gatto, Queensland’s capital city biographer and preeminent modern political and criminal historian, Hetty’s personal PR guy, Andrew McMicking and his sidekick Huddo the Halfwit, and the odd French internet billionaire reads.
I’m not disenfranchised either. I’m enrolled to vote, I’m a citizen, and I have power, although due to the Branch Stacker’s lobbying efforts on behalf of the Energy Retailers Association I pay well over the odds for it.
Funnily enough, I’m not even a member of the pedophile fraternity either, and have never aspired to be. Quite to the contrary, I’m a child victim of pedophiles – two of the c*nts – and have had a hand in saving kids of the future from being molested by either of them. In fact, I reckon it’s fair to say that I HATE PEDOPHILES! and that my track record of advocacy against, and exposure of, the perverted predilections and evil actions of the sicker than f*ck psychos is second to none, and there for the whole world to see.
Hetty knows this of course. She gave a media statement the day one of my abusers topped himself – 2 days after I exposed his crimes – and purported to be able to read my mind although we had never met, telling the world that she understood totally the headspace he (me) must have been in when he posted that. He’s (Me) feeling frustrated. He’s (Me) had this secret his whole life and now he’s telling people … We (Hetty, adopting the Royal tone) understand that…..
Wrong Hetty – I was laughing my bloody guts out. The f*cking coward who attacked little boys had taken the coward’s way out that coward’s always take. Clarence Howard-Osborne, Kevin Lynch, Greg Masters. Each of them dead by their own hand within 48 hours of exposure as criminals and kiddy-fiddling creeps. I wasn’t frustrated: I felt like a massive weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and that now I could fly.
I hadn’t kept it a secret my whole life either. I’d told my Mum, my Dad, my wife, my kids, my mates, the Royal Commission, the Anglican Church, two priests and St Paul’s School. I simply decided to tell the rest of the world, because I’d discovered that Greg Masters was a swimming coach at a boy’s school when I knew he’d never swum, and that in a strange juxtaposition of words Masters was the Master-in-charge of 13-year-old kids at Brisbane Grammar, and given that he’d raped me at the same age I figured that if someone didn’t do something to stop him he might just rape the little Grammar kids too. Call it a public service if you will; I reckon it was.
Seemingly though my courage in outing myself as a victim and Masters as the crim didn’t accord with Hetty’s corporate plan to protect kids, which is by showing them a video of sheila dressed up as a lion, which is sort of apt when you think about it really. But clearly my speaking out about a teacher and coach with extensive form in the child-rape department was cutting across Hetty’s mission, and being the lay angel that she is Hetty wasn’t backward in coming forward and saying so, telling me to go and jump in a lake.
In closing I repeat my comment reported in The Australian today – for those who are trying to distract us and/or damage our ability to stay on our mission of protecting kids ….. “long walk, short pier”.
Never one to ignore good advice from a living saint, I did too. Lake Johnston it was called, and I did a couple of warm-up laps intending to use the lake as the training ground for my upcoming world-record attempt at a backstroke crossing of the Tasman, but after only a few crossings I had to jump out because all the bile and filth from the cheap nickel slag made it bloody hard to move without kicking like a mule, or a lion even, and lithium’s not my type of drug anyway.
Bravehearts remain happy to respond to genuine questions and concerns but we (Hetty) will not be held ransom to those (Me) whose only motive is to stop us (Hetty) from our (Hetty’s so called) mission of preventing child sexual assault and further their (My) own agendas.
So I jumped out of the lake, back onto the three piers – they stop child abuse you know – and walked across to the shore, where I planted my arse and began a thorough process of self-analysis in an attempt to find a motive. For something. Hetty said I have one, so have one I must.
Was it earning a large salary?
Copping company rent from my investment properties?
Driving a big arsed company car?
World travel at someone else’s expense while bleating about a lack of available funding to help me show lion videos to the kiddies?
Copping a massive chunk of cash from an Anglican Church zealot to try to take public attention off the church’s crimes that were being exposed by a Royal Commission that I falsely claimed to be the driver of?
(But I will tell you more about that in due course)
Earning a hundred grand plus a year from public speaking engagements during work time that morally and ethically – perhaps even legally – should have been put in the consolidated revenue of a registered child protection charity, but stuffing it into my personal bank account instead?
(I’m about to tell you all about that one).
Stopping sick pedophiles from raping kids and ruining their lives, or in one in seven cases killing them.
Motive successfully established, it was time to plan an agenda.
That one was easy. I’d look at how Australia’s scarce government funds available to prevent and address child abuse were being spent, and analyse whether the money was being flicked in the right directions.
Might as well start at the top I thought, so first cab off the rank was the cult claiming to be Australia’s leading child protection advocate.
Hetty’s mob. Bravehearts.
And look at what I f*cking found ……..
to be continued