Original subtitles

The series of traumatic events shattered my whole soul into like a million

freaking pieces.

I had no idea how much I was going to

suffer.

Something was eating me alive.

But I was too caught up with ripping my soul in half.

To stop.

All you have to do is check it in.

I was in some kind of manic state.

From that point, it was like... There was no going back.

I grew up in a small beach town.

I was hungry for life.

Definitely a dreamer.

I wanted to experience everything, you know.

So I just threw myself into the wind.

I'd left Australia to go travelling in Africa.

I wanted to work with orphanages and children's hospitals.

People think that I'm just like some carefree hippie, but, you know, you

judge a book by its cover.

I was trying to process the grief of my son dying the year before.

My son's name was Shamaya, Shamaya Rainbow.

My little angel.

He was like me, you know, always smiling and, like, we were always smiling and

laughing.

They said he had bowel obstruction.

He just, like, slipped away peacefully.

I'm grateful that he chose me, that I got to know him.

But it was also, like, you know, the biggest tragedy in my life.

You think the worst has happened.

It cannot get any worse.

After my son died, I was raped just like two months after.

Just absolutely devastating. I can't even begin to explain.

Yeah, you know, it was all just too much pain.

And I actually wanted to get away.

It's actually quite common. A lot of people actually do travel to deal with

grief.

In Africa, traveling alone, you're never alone.

There are so many beautiful, good people.

After what I've been through,

I really needed to be connected to joy.

It was like just making friends and being open to

life.

I was dancing with my new friends,

good times, and I was always surrendering to the moment.

The whole time I was like so aware of my bag.

But I was distracted by my beautiful boy and yeah, I was busy dancing

with him.

My

handbag got

snapped.

I'd had my passport, my wallet, everything.

My head was just kind of spinning.

At the time, I didn't realise the significance of that moment.

I caught the bus down to South Africa.

I went straight to the embassy there in Pretoria.

Hey, my passport got stolen.

Can I get another one?

After filling out all the paperwork and everything.

When can I pick it up?

They said it was going to be like at least three months.

The embassy gave me a loan of $350.

I was going to be there for three months. I was like, well, thanks.

I'm out of here. I'm going to the beach.

One day, I went to this restaurant.

There was only two people there, one man and one woman.

And he saw me as I sat down.

He just got up and he walked over to me.

Hello.

You look like you like to travel.

Yeah, I love to travel.

I'm in the business of trafficking.

What?

And he said trafficking like marijuana, gold, cocaine

and passports.

I was like, wow, man, like, what a way to, like, introduce yourself.

And he said that he wanted me to traffic weed.

It's good business. It's very safe.

Yeah, I was, like, utterly unimpressed, to say the least. But even still, you

take this number.

He gave me his number.

He went back to having his lunch.

That was it, really.

While I was waiting for my passport, I started getting, like, really sick.

I started feeling like something was eating me alive.

Soon after, I was at the supermarket and just felt so weak.

I just literally passed out.

And I thought, this isn't normal, this can't be normal.

Something's really wrong.

I knew I needed help.

At the hospital, the blood test showed that I had malaria.

You've just had your malaria test.

But now it was, like, cleared.

Well, like, what's wrong with me then?

The lady said, you know, just super casually, You've got to go get tested

HIV.

As soon as she said it, I knew it.

I knew that I had it.

The torture of sitting there waiting.

I was just trying to hold on to hope.

Bronwyn Abbott.

Finally, my time came.

The doctor, he told me the result.

Your HIV test.

It was positive.

I just couldn't believe it. I was more than in shock.

I've got the right stuff here for you that's going to help.

Inquire four times a day.

He was kind of saying all this stuff about the medicine.

I just have to get all these other tests.

And I just wanted to get out of there.

I'm only 22 years old and now getting diagnosed with HIV.

The person that infected me, I'm not 100 % sure. All I know is that after that

rape in Melbourne, before I left Australia, I could feel something going

on in my body.

But right now, it didn't matter.

What mattered was that I had it.

and that there was no going back.

I really

needed to call my mum.

I was so, like, fractured.

She started to cry and said that she was sorry. And I'm like, it's not your

fault. And yeah, you know.

She wanted me to come home and she wanted to take care of

me.

But I didn't want to go back home.

Just come home, Bronwyn.

No, no, no, no, but Mum, I'm not ready to come back.

And I told her that I didn't want to take the medicine either.

Please, please don't do this.

I didn't like the concept of having to take pills every day in order to

You know, and my mother, like, you know, just had to, like, accept my

decision.

I love you, Bromwyn. I love you, Mum.

Bye.

What was it destroyed in my son's death was, like, definitely destroyed now.

From that point on, I had accepted my own death.

I didn't want to take the meds. I wanted to be in heaven with my son.

From that point, it was like I actually didn't care.

I was just so driven by destruction by this point that I wasn't thinking

clearly.

I went to the Nigerian guy and I told him I had decided that I

wanted to traffic the weed.

I'm ready to do it.

But then he tells me, you know, if you take the cocaine, it's the same risk

as the weed, but you get more money, $15 ,000.

I thought that with all the money I could get a house on the ocean somewhere

just live out the rest of my time there in paradise and just, like, die happily

and seeing my son again.

I agreed to take the cocaine from Peru to Spain.

From the moment that I accepted, it was like jumping on a train.

And it's just like...

Flying past all the stops. I can't stop it.

I arrive in Peru.

They had told me to get in contact as soon as I got there.

This number has been disconnected.

This is incredibly frustrating.

All the phone numbers were disconnected.

That was it. They just disappeared into thin air.

I'm alone in the world with that.

Left a friend for myself.

It was stressful.

Hello? Yes.

What's been waiting?

What's been happening?

Finally, the contact called.

Carlos seemed like a nice guy, you know, like he didn't look like some hardcore

criminal.

And I told him about, you know, like the HIV and stuff.

You know, he was sympathetic with what had happened recently.

He promised that he would take care of me.

I want you to start moving some cocaine for us.

Carlos arranged for me to traffic a bag of cocaine.

He said he would pay for a hotel.

He gave me money to be comfortable while I was waiting.

It seemed as if it was like...

An answered prayer.

My state of mind was altered.

I was going through massive trauma.

Trafficking cocaine.

It seemed like not much of a big deal in comparison to what I was going through.

He's not coming.

That morning, one of the Peruvian guys came over to deliver the bag.

It's an empty suitcase, like it's a suitcase.

What? Where are the drugs?

The actual bag is made out of cocaine.

There's no drugs inside.

The cocaine was in the material embedded inside fabric.

This could have cocaine in it.

It has five kilos in its fabric.

He said there's less risk because it can pass through all the scanners.

At the time, I didn't realize I was in some kind of manic state.

The energy was actually taking me in the wrong direction.

I got off course completely.

But when you get into that manic state, thank you very much You think you are

invincible nothing bad is gonna happen.

I was so wrong

I

arrived in Spain

and Everybody's waiting for their luggage.

It's announced that some of the bags have been lost from Peru.

No way is this bag missing.

This is... My

mood is crashing.

All I could do was go along with what everyone else was doing, like filling

the forms.

But then part of me was like, oh, should I do that?

I just trafficked this cocaine and, like, it's got my name on it.

I just wanted to get out of there.

I was going to call my mum and say that I got into some trouble and I needed

some money to get away.

But it would have been devastating for her.

So I called Carlos.

It's me, Bronwyn.

And I told him, like, what had happened.

Carlos was like...

Forget that stupid bag. It's over.

Don't worry about it.

It's all good. I got you. I will take care of you, right?

It was just kind of like, yeah, like a relief.

And then he told me that he wanted me to get back to Lima to traffic cocaine.

I should have just like walked away.

I had just made like a big mistake.

Yeah, I will pay for it for the rest of my life.

Carlos was there for me straight away after I was left light stranded.

I definitely felt like I owed it to him to come back to Lima.

He met me at the hotel and explained the deal.

Okay, so?

It was going to be in between like 9 to 12 kilos of cocaine.

This time it will be bagged in a suitcase.

All you have to do is check it in.

Is that it?

Understand, my life was out of control.

That's it.

Just check it in. Life had just been insane since my son died.

I was too caught up with ripping my soul in half to stop.

So I agreed.

I have something else.

Voila.

Carlos said they were sending me business class.

Come on, try it on.

And I had to look like some young, beautiful businesswoman.

They didn't want me looking like some hippie.

That morning, I felt horrible.

I felt terrible. I felt, like, sick to my stomach.

I wasn't paying attention to my gut instinct.

They told me I had to not take my guitar.

Oh, come on, Carlos, this is my baby.

I did not want to let go of my guitar.

I'm going to fly you business class.

Let me take it.

I'd had that guitar.

All through my pregnancy and me being with my son and everything, it was very

special to me.

Hey, hey, hey.

It was the last thing I had left from that life.

Don't worry.

You'll look amazing.

Letting it go was like having to part with part of my soul.

I felt like...

Something isn't right.

I should get out of this.

Just tell him to stop and get out.

But by that time, we arrive at the airport and

there was no going back.

And I see there's a big bag.

That bag.

He's full of coke.

And then he's at the trolley thing, and the trolley is stuck.

And I feel the universe is telling me, like, go, go now.

Right when I was, like, having that thought.

probably became unducked.

In that moment, I sealed my fate.

I just went through the motions.

Did you practice yourself, ma 'am?

Uh -huh.

I'm just going to... When I went to lift the bag, It could barely

pick it up.

It was like over 25 kilos.

Those idiots, like why would they make the bag so heavy?

Got a bit carried away in the shops.

The lady at the checkout, she gives me my ticket.

Thank you.

Tells me have a nice flight.

That was actually all I had to do.

was checking the bag.

I'm just, like, feeling, like, so relieved, like...

Carlos had told me sometimes

they have cops that will actually come and escort you, like, onto the plane.

And this police guy comes up to me, and I thought, oh, cool, maybe he's just

going to, like, just take me through.

But then he said to me, can you please come over here?

And I'm thinking, what's going on?

They took me to this holding room there in the airport.

Is this your bag?

They were asking me, can you open the bag for us?

I was just, like, saying, like, it's my friend's bag. I don't know the code.

I'm

definitely

thinking, like, I am busted.

I knew that I just got busted.

I wasn't feeling emotional.

I was feeling numb and a bit in shock.

It was all very like surreal.

One of the cops.

Broke open the bag.

In it was these bags that had the cocaine in them.

This is crazy.

I didn't know what was in the bag either.

So each thing that they pulled out was like a surprise to me.

It was 18 kilos of cocaine.

All up.

That is a lot of cocaine.

Who gave you the drugs?

I can't even remember.

I had no intention of snitching on anyone.

I said, you're going to go to jail.

And I said, yeah.

Yeah, I know.

They transported me to Santa Monica Prison in Lima.

I thought that I knew what I had got myself into, but I had no idea

how much I was going to suffer.

The first night, it was cold.

It's so packed in.

My mind and my emotions, they're just spinning.

That train that had been, like, controlling my life since Africa, it had

smashed into a wall, like, and it just hit the stuff.

That was it.

There's no way out.

That's the thing about prison.

Without even knowing that it's happening, you're wired like so tight,

you're on the edge.

You know, you're hypervigilant.

Everything is super hardcore.

Anyone can steal anything from you any minute.

You're in high stress.

Everything is at its absolute peak.

It takes strength to not act out.

When you get locked up, that's when you realise who's really important in your

life and what love is.

Mum? Ronnie, Ronnie, where are you?

I'm... I'm in prison.

Ronnie, what's happened?

Are you OK?

I got caught trafficking cocaine.

I haven't been sentenced yet.

My mother worried for me. She knows I'm sick.

She wanted to visit me, but there's no point in my mum spending the money to

come over.

It's better that we wait.

Stay strong.

I love you, Bronnie.

I've got to go.

Knowing that I had my mum's support was really important

to me.

After a couple of months of being there, came time for me to get my sentencing.

I had these thoughts that I'm getting out of here soon.

The other girls had told me that they would get out, you know, about two

two and a half years, some like one year and a half even.

I could deal with a couple of years.

The judge, he sentenced me to 17 years, one year a kilo.

It's like soul -destroying.

I thought that life was over.

It is such a heavy weight to carry that sentence on your shoulders.

No matter how much you've seen on TV, you do not know what it is to be locked

until you are locked up.

I had no idea what was coming.

One night, I had a massive fever.

My whole blanket was saturated and mattress on the floor.

And I'd been violently ill.

I couldn't see properly.

When I first got diagnosed with HIV, I refused to take any meds.

I was, you know, content to just, like, die on a beautiful beach somewhere.

But to die in prison would just be horrible. I didn't want it to be like

And so I went to go and see the doctor.

She told me I had a super high amount of HIV and I needed to be on

the meds.

You should start now.

Going to jail changed my perspective on things.

I had decided that I wanted to live, and not just for me, also for my mum, you

know, as well.

In prison, people are scared of people that have HIV.

A lot of people obviously, like, found out that I had it.

Every friend I ever had, people would go and tell them, you know, hey, stay away

from her, she has HIV.

It just hurts.

So you have to, like, harden your heart.

And that is not a good thing.

There are 2 ,000 people in a prison that has capacity for 300, so it was so

packed.

There's like a whole floor that is just for the mothers with children.

It's hard to see them there.

Your heart just breaks for them.

It was intense because my son died at three.

It was just like, you know, that constant reminder.

One day, there was, like, a smell of smoke.

People kind of, like, went out to the courtyard.

Yeah.

All of a sudden, there was someone rushing a baby off to the medical

This foreigner girl actually got, like, bad postnatal depression.

And trying to set her baby on fire.

It was brutal.

All that epic trauma of losing my own son started hitting me hard.

You know, I realized I had been running from my grief

of my son dying.

That trauma, like, shattered my whole soul into, like, a million freaking

pieces.

It changes who you are.

And because of that, I really screwed up my life in a major way.

I had gotten onto the wrong path.

But at that point... Oh, I think that it was too late.

to change the course of my life.

Sorry.

Being in prison, I don't see it as anyone's fault but my own.

That's on me, like, that's my problem.

But when you get locked up, you realise you need help in a way that you've never

needed it before.

And knowing that my mum had my back meant a lot, yeah.

I had been four years in the prison when my mummy came.

You know, I realized how much my pain and suffering has made her suffer.

I felt like I bring shame on my family.

It's okay.

You are going to fight to get out of here. Do you understand me?

There are people in Australia that know about you.

We started a crowdfunding.

She told me my friend created a website and donation space.

We all need you to be strong.

My mum helped run the website.

And, yeah, like, I'm so grateful for that.

I love you, Bonnie. I love you, Mum.

Such a powerful thing to be, like, blessed by kindness like that.

Thanks to my mum, thousands of people wrote to me.

People sent me money.

I didn't expect people to really care.

Now I had money to get a lawyer.

I could afford to fight to get out.

This lawyer said that I had to speak to a psychiatrist.

The psychiatrist

was, like, really, really good.

I got diagnosed with fast cycling bipolar.

I had an EEG.

It showed that I had, like, abnormal brain waves in the section where, like,

controls personality and mood.

That right there, I was just, like, smashed into a new reality.

I believe this series of traumatic events...

Made me bipolar.

My son died when I was 21.

I think that on some level I blamed myself for my son's death because I

with him.

A few months later, getting infected with HIV.

That was the piece of straw that broke the camel's back.

$15 ,000.

Being mentally ill.

It affected my decisions, absolutely.

All you have to do is check it in.

Is that it?

Just check it in.

I put myself in danger, like, all the time.

Being able to get into, like, manic states and have, like, the best energy

You know, the next minute I could be crashing, screeching to a halt.

That energy, it had control of my life.

Having the neurological evidence to prove insanity at the time of the crime

meant a possibility that I could get my freedom.

So this might be enough to get me parole.

But I was at the mercy of the court in such a profound

way.

It was out of my control.

You can't even imagine the anxiety of waiting for that decision.

When I called to find out whether or not I got my freedom or not, it was like

the phone call.

Hi, it's Bronwyn Appleton here.

A little dreading that, you know, maybe something happened and it got postponed.

But when he said, yeah, I got my freedom.

Are you serious? I said, yes, I can leave.

I was like thinking, oh my God, like this is crazy. Like it's finally going

happen. Like I'm going to get out of here.

Finally, the day came when I did get my freedom.

I went in at 23 and came out when I was 31.

I got to know myself in the most profound way.

Now I realise getting caught was literally life stopping me

in order to save me.

Flew back to Australia nine months later in 2018.

My parents were there to meet me.

My smile was like ear to ear.

Today, I live out in the forest. I live far away from all the stress.

I still deal with mental illness, like, every day of my life. Like, same as I

have to deal with all these other illnesses that I have every single day.

I have always used music and art to heal myself.

And you know what really helps is gratitude.

Being able to be grateful for the things that are good.

I've already wasted so much of my life and I don't want to waste any more time.