For years I believed my partner’s ‘medical excuse’ for his violent temper – until a doctor pulled me aside and delivered the brutal, eye-opening truth

For 15 years, Wayne Haddow had been a supportive presence in Julie Bayliss’s life. 

A close friend of her children’s father, he’d been there whenever she needed him – especially after the devastating loss of her 10-year-old son, Benjamin, in 2009.

‘When our marriage fell apart, Wayne was there to support us. He helped take care of my kids, lent me appliances when we had to move out, took the kids to the park,’ Julie tells Daily Mail Australia.  

‘My children loved him. He was so good to us that I fell for him.’

Julie was aware of Wayne’s past, including his ties to an outlaw bikie gang, but the man she knew was calm, charming and attentive. 

He had built her up, asked questions about her life, and convinced her he was her safe place. 

‘He made me feel heard,’ Julie says. 

The shift in Wayne’s behaviour was gradual. At first, the changes were small – complaints about noise, unexplained frustration. 

Julie knew that Wayne had been diagnosed with an arteriovenous malformation, a condition that meant he had an abnormal tangle of blood vessels in his brain that had caused a brain injury.

So she put his behavioural shift down to that.  

Then, in 2017, Wayne had a seizure. 

‘He changed a lot,’ Julie recalls. ‘He started getting really irritable, and I put it together – well, it must be the brain injury.’

She wasn’t alone in believing it. Wayne himself began using his diagnosis as an excuse for his worsening behaviour. 

When doctors said the injury was not in a location that could cause behavioural changes, Wayne insisted to Julie that they had got it wrong.

The verbal abuse escalated into coercive control. He dictated what she wore, what she ate, when she was allowed to speak, even when she could go to the bathroom.

Then came the first assault.

‘We were walking into the house, and he kicked my legs out from under me in the street. I had long hair then, and he grabbed me by the hair and threw me across the room into a table. I was in absolute shock. Just did not expect that from him at all.’

The next morning, Wayne apologised. He blamed the brain injury.

‘He swore blind that he had never raised his hand to a woman before. And I believed him. I had known him for 15 years.’

But it didn’t stop.

Julie was working more than 60 hours a week in disability care while Wayne was unemployed. If she tried to rest, he would wake her, berating her for being lazy. She ended up with severe sleep deprivation. 

He forcibly acquired her ADHD medication, keeping her exhausted and unable to think clearly. He made her question her own experiences and memory. 

As his control tightened, he started using her vulnerabilities against her – the very things he had seemed to cherish in the beginning. The compliments turned to criticisms, the patience to rage. ‘You need to lose 5kg.’ Then, ‘You’ve lost your curves, put 2kg back on.’

One night, he threatened to burn the house down with her and the kids inside, before beating her. The next afternoon, while she lay bruised and battered in hospital, he called – not to check on her, but to demand when she would be home to cook dinner.

Another evening, Julie’s son didn’t rinse the soap bubbles properly after washing the dishes. Wayne lost control.

‘He went off his brain at me. I said I would talk to my son about it when he got home from school, but Wayne kept yelling and yelling. 

‘I told him not to speak to me like that, and he hit me in the side of the head. I got up, and he hit me again. I kept getting up, and he kept hitting me – again and again. In the head, in the face. 

‘He kicked me in the stomach, choked me, and threw me onto the table. He told me he would break my ribs and smash my face with his fist.’

He wasn’t sorry. He believed he was justified.

Soon Wayne was in the hospital again after another episode with his brain injury. Julie was pleading with the doctors to help him, convinced his outbursts were caused by his condition.

Then the doctor pulled her aside.

‘He said, “Can you come see me before you go in?” I thought he was going to tell me Wayne was getting worse. Instead, he looked me in the eye and said, “This [the abuse] is not the brain injury.”‘

Julie tried to argue. But then the doctor said something she couldn’t ignore.

‘He said, “If it was the brain injury, why isn’t he doing this anywhere else? Why not at work, with his friends, his family? Why only you and your children?”‘

The realisation was shattering. If the doctor was right, it meant everything had been a lie. It meant Wayne was in control of his actions. It meant he knew exactly what he was doing.

It also meant he was capable of anything.

Around this time, Julie was badly injured by a patient at work. When a friend noticed her reluctance to take time off work to be at home to recuperate, they pressed her for an answer. For the first time, she decided to tell the truth about what was happening behind closed doors.

Before that, she had always protected Wayne. 

Julie told her colleague she felt safer at work than she did at home with Wayne.  

Once she opened up, she realised how many people had already suspected something was wrong. Unbeknownst to her, her friends had been watching, listening and making plans. They had decided they were going to help her get out.

They provided distractions, secured her safety, and made her realise she had backup. The wheels were in motion, and despite her fear, there would be no turning back.

Julie went to the police and reported Wayne’s abuse. 

In December 2022, Haddow was convicted of four charges of common assault, five of assault occasioning bodily harm, five of stalking/intimidation with intent to cause fear, four of choking without consent, and drug possession. The list of charges was staggering, and yet his maximum sentence was just four years, with a non-parole period of two years and four months.

That alone was hard to swallow. But then came another cruel twist – he was able to use the legal system against her.

While in prison, Haddow launched a financial claim against Julie, demanding a share of her assets. He alleged he had contributed his superannuation payout to renovate her home – a claim that was completely false.

‘He spent almost all of that money on himself,’ Julie says. ‘But by the time we got to full financial disclosure, we were already at mediation. I had spent nearly $50,000 in legal fees – $10,000 of which I had to crowdfund – while he got legal aid.’

Julie, a mother of children with disabilities, was faced with an impossible choice – continue fighting and risk losing her home, or settle to make him go away.

‘I was advised that he was entitled to nothing,’ she says. ‘But it would cost me more to go to trial than to pay him off. So I had to give him my superannuation to keep our home.’

The system, once again, had failed her.

On February 16 this year, Wayne Haddow walked free.

For Julie, the fear never really left, but now it’s worse than ever.

‘We’re doing everything we can – security cameras, locks, fences, safety plans. But at the end of the day, none of it will stop him if he really wants to come back.’

His parole officer, she says, has been supportive, putting an ankle monitor on him and setting exclusion zones. But beyond that, she’s on her own.

Despite his violent history, despite his ongoing manipulation of the legal system, despite the trauma and devastation he has left behind, he is a free man.

Julie and her children are not free.

‘My kids can’t have playdates, can’t walk home from school. They are afraid of every motorbike they hear. Even while absent, he still controls our lives.’

She knows this isn’t over.

‘The system lets this happen’

Julie has no doubt that Haddow will target another victim.

‘I wish we had a public register for abusers. I never knew about his past convictions. The next woman won’t know either.’

She also believes the legal system is complicit in enabling men like him to continue abusing, even from behind bars.

‘I had to crowdfund $10,000 just to fight a case that should never have happened. Why does he get legal aid when I can’t? Why does a man convicted of serious violence have the right to take his victim to court?’

It is a system that sees domestic violence in isolation – as separate incidents, rather than a long-term, strategic web of control.

‘The psychological torture is worse than the physical, but the courts don’t recognise that.’

If Julie had one message for victims, it would be this:

‘It’s not your fault. They are 100 per cent responsible for what they did.’

For lawmakers?

‘Perpetrators of violent crime should not have the right to financially destroy their victims. And they should not be able to hide behind brain injuries to avoid accountability.’

Julie’s story is not unique. But it should be. 

If you or someone you know is impacted by sexual assault, domestic or family violence, call 1800RESPECT on 1800 737 732 or visit their website.

In an emergency, call 000.