Paul update: Nervous, floundering, and despite the fear, trying to be calm.

Cafe Locked Out Essay

Nervous, floundering, and despite the fear, trying to be calm.

The rear door to the court opens, he turns to look.

The Trial of Andrew Paul Offe

Next to him, a young barrister, probably Paul’s age, is dressed in his silks and wearing a wig.

We’ve heard this young silk expects to have this case wrapped up in two days, but the judge has indicated it could be weeks.

And here is Paul. A young man whose life has been in limbo ever since the great march.

And great is the word. ABC, via their four corners show on the common law community, stated it was the capital’s largest ever protest, and today we watched two senior police officers, recall on the stand, how there was so many people there. Thousands they claimed, thousands, and they didn’t use a tone of awe but a tone that suggested that in their memory, the day was still wrapped in ‘astonishment.’

Yet, three years ago, the ACT’s Police Commissioner, stated to a parliamentary enquiry, that there ‘was on six thousand to ten thousand protesters there’.

That said, agreeing on an actual number now, no longer has relevance here. For this young man, Andrew Paul Offe, who came to Canberra in February 2022, to join all of us in our fight for freedom, is now fighting to defend his own future liberty, for if he loses the case, there is real possibility that he could be incarcerated for a long time.

This courtroom, to Paul, is the Edge of Freedom. This is the fight of his life.

What he needs is a barrister. But they couldn’t raise the quarter of a million dollars they were quoted - and they were ‘mate’s rates’.

What he has, is his dedicated Brother, Michael, and a family friend, whom the judge has reluctantly allowed to sit with Paul, for it is clear that Paul, who has an acquired brain injury and is dyslexic, will struggle to comprehend what is happening, let alone effectively defend himself against the entire Australian Capital Territory’s judiciary.

Paul’s brother Michael

A young man, who would flourish in a workshop, where he is fluent in the language of engines, but here he is a tourist, lost in a country where he barely knows the language.

But wait, what about all of us. We brave ones who marched that day. Some claim our numbers were in the millions, some claim less, but both parties are agreed the numbers were substantial, today only five of those who marched are sitting in the audience with me. I lift the number to six.

But why should you be here, who is Paul to you?

To me, Epic, and the Canberra protest, was the birth of our Tribe. If ever I feel despondent or see prominent people in our community putting others down, on-line, I just look into my souls’ rear vision mirror, for I can still see the glow of Epic.

That glow is us.

In a time of fear, we came there from all over Australia, on our own volition, and became, briefly, a beacon of hope, that I can still see today.

But that glow wasn’t powered by hate, or selfishness, it is powered by empathy, a defiant and courageous empathy that we had for each other.

Our empathy had, and still has, the depth and resilience and the power to be a foundation stone for the identity of us.

A worthy value. Something to be proud of, for if we can continue to nurture it, then imagine the quality of the community we could continue to grow on its harvest.

And that promise is why this case is so important.

The story of Paul is deep, and if we ignore it, if we don’t see his fate as our business, then that will show us and those who hate us, that the glow in our soul’s rear vision mirror is a delusion. A myth. We weren’t a spiritual gathering, we were instead, just a large protest.

Identity it’s what’s on trial here, our identity.

Who are we, a community of critical thinking people who look after each other . . . or?

But what can we do? I’m not in Canberra, and or I can’t afford to get there.

But if you were here for the protest, or if you wanted to be there, then you still are. You and me, all of us, are residing within the fate of this young man.

Paul is good young man. A great ambassador for us. A communal son.

He bought the big black truck, called Zues, with money he received for the car accident that left him with an acquired brain injury.

He worked on it himself, to evolve it into the truck we met in Canberra. The plan was to make money from it by allowing people to use it in films, or for weddings, events, etc.

His goal was to get off sickness benefits and start working again. To be an active and independent part of society

He had a film booked in, Mad Max, but that never happened, for his truck was and still is impounded.

The question, for Paul, will he now join it.

As I write this Paul is precariously standing on the Edge of Freedom, attempting to defend himself with few of the skills he needs to do so, so the question for us is, is he alone?

And then, to make matters worse, the news comes in while we are on break. In Wangaratta there has been a shooting. As I write this, two police are dead and another injured, and allegedly the man who shot them is on the run. A man who allegedly is a part of our community.

Will the jury be consuming this via their phones.

Will they see Paul through the same filter?

Nervous, floundering and trying to be calm.

If the rear door to the court opens, Paul will turn to look. The question is, who will be there?

Day two continues.