Denise Lee maiden speech

There are so many maiden speeches I can’t cover all or even most of them. But this one from Denise Lee was particularly poignant, so I want to highlight it.

I drove into the local petrol station after the election to return yet another hired trailer used for signs, and the station attendant approached me and remarked, “Hey, are you that lady from the signs—the one that won? I’ve been watching you. If you know how to back a trailer like that, you deserve to win.” I laughed. I introduced myself to Lester, and he told me that he was a regular middle New Zealander working hard to make a living, and now that I was elected, “Miss lady from the signs”, he said, “don’t forget about us.” Pressing a little further about what he meant, I discovered it meant that he felt OK about working hard as long as he had enough to take his family on a holiday. He didn’t want lawmakers to take away that opportunity. It wasn’t complicated; he was outgoing and optimistic, and he felt strongly that he wanted to keep more of what he earned so he could choose how to spend it.

Most people want to earn more and get to keep more of what they earn.

One night, I woke, as a young parent, and decided to check on my two-year-old son Riley, to discover that he had died in his sleep. 

Every parent’s worst nightmare.

What ensued was a series of random interactions with a cold-hearted, function-driven system. The failure of police inquest officers, pathologists, and coroners to sensitively inform and communicate their process to two shell-shocked parents still mystifies me today.

Loss comes in all forms, not just death but loss of careers, loss of confidence, and loss of relationships and marriage—my own succumbing to the high percentage of those that end upon the death of a child. With all our collective legislative wisdom, there shouldn’t also have to be loss of faith in a system supposedly designed to protect those that need it at precisely the time that they need it.

Trying to keep up with where Riley’s body had gone, what they were doing to it, and what they were retaining from it; receiving an abruptly worded police letter informing us of our Coroner’s Court hearing date—it was all too much. No explanations, no frequently asked questions brochure—just a summons. You’ll understand, I thought that we were being put on trial for the death of our son. 

Treated more like criminals than victims.

Walking through the valley of the shadow of death, trying to understand the legalities, and desperately wanting to just stay away from the world to get on with grieving, my sense of indignance grew. I was the one who had to ask to meet with the police and the pathologist and others to get a handle on who else might face what we did. The indignance formed a seed that merged into a big part of the driving force that sees me standing here today.

I’m subsequently relieved that the coronial system has improved for people. The 2006 Coroners Act and later reviews better protect the interests of grieving families. Politics really did become personal for me then. 

Hopefully no one else has to go through what Denise did.