Wrongly convicted of the deaths of her four infant children, Aussie woman Kathleen Folbigg was finally freed from jail on 5 June 2023 after years of appeals and judicial reviews. In 2001, she had been arrested for the deaths of her kids Caleb, Patrick, Sarah and Laura – who had all passed away aged between 19 days and 18 months – after her then-husband Craig found a diary in which Kathleen, now 58, blamed herself.
In 2003, she was found guilty of three counts of murder by smothering and one count of manslaughter, citing the now-discredited legal concept Meadow’s law: “One sudden infant death is a tragedy, two is suspicious and three is murder, until proven otherwise.”
But subsequent scientific and medical research suggested all four deaths could be explained as the effects of very rare genetic disorders, and 20 years later, Kathleen was unconditionally pardoned. Freed without any notice, she was taken to her good friend and longtime supporter Tracy Chapman’s home to start a new life. Two years on, Kathleen and Tracy have co-written a book, Inside Out.
Asked why, the woman formerly known as “Australia’s worst female serial killer” tells Woman’s Day, “It was time. I’ve been out of prison for over two years now and we needed to share that change is needed – current systems don’t seem to be working. In my case and in many others, if you’re inside for something you didn’t do and know you didn’t do it, don’t just give up and roll over.”
In this exclusive extract from her new book, Kathleen recalls the surreal day she was pardoned and freed…
Anticipation and nerves
As I enter the room, I have nerves, plus the whole nine yards – sweaty palms, heart beating fast and hair rising on the back of my neck. That omen-type thing. But there’s an odd atmosphere of high energy, which slightly eases my “in trouble” feeling. Sitting as instructed, I notice that the governor looks quite emotional.
Is bad news coming? Has something happened to one of my friends? Or am I to be told another death in my dwindling family has occurred?
The moment of revelation
“Do you know why I’ve called you here, Kathy?”
I shake my head. The governor proceeds to tell me I have received a pardon and must be released ASAP. Blinking and staring straight through him, I can barely register the words.
“Did you hear him?” his assistant eventually prompts me.
“Uh, I’m not sure,” I say.
“Can you repeat it so I know I heard properly?”
The tension breaks and they both smile. Honestly, I’m wondering if they’re serious. The governor spells it out. Finally, I react. Complete shock.
Shock and disbelief
“You are shitting me!”
It isn’t very ladylike or the proper way to address the governor. Then it’s mayhem. All hurry, hurry, hurry!
I move in a daze, jumping when prisoners and staff say, “Congratulations!”
Unprepared for freedom
I’m asked if I have clothes I can take. I realise I don’t. My dearest friend and advocate, the woman who’s been leading the charge to get me my freedom all these years, thought we’d have more time to prepare should this outcome finally eventuate.
Now that it has, it feels like an out-of-body experience – like I’m standing next to myself, seeing it all, and shaking my head with wonder and amazement. The voice in the back of my mind keeps up its spiteful commentary: “Nah, this is not for you. Must be some mistake. Why would you get a break now? Never had one before.”
Choosing euphoria
Finally, I tell that negative Nelly to shut up. It has happened at last! Euphoria is my choice today. And today time is, once more, my master and me the slave. There’s no chance to say goodbye to any of the women who I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time with. There’s no opportunity to pack my meagre possessions. No time to even process paperwork in the usual manner.
I’m simply packed off to the reception area to dress in donated clothing. The powers that be are frantic to get transport organised and staff to drive me to my home address as fast as possible It’s all done in 56 minutes. I’m on the road with two guards who are happy to be driving someone home, not to a prison – not their typical day. From the van, I phone Tracy.
On the road to freedom
I’m heading to her place, but does she know?
Of all bloody days, she’s not answering me. Like a small child on her first road trip, I find lots of distractions. Out of the window are cows, horses and trees. The sky! Other cars, drivers and passengers whiz by. How fantastic – I’ll be one of them.
I feel like my nerve endings are on fire. My skin is all goosebumps. A smile from ear to ear on my face to the point of hurting. I’m playing with my hair, constantly rubbing my hands together and checking my wrists – they’re not handcuffed. The feeling is amazing yet tinged with worry that it’s wrong.
Fears running wild
Call after call to Tracy goes unanswered and I get visions of being dumped out of the van and told, “There you go. See ya later!”
Worst-case scenarios pop into my mind and quickly snowball. What if I’m picked up by people who figure out who I am and hate me for what they think I did? What if they kidnap me, then kill me? Yep, all those thoughts stressing me the hell out.
I decide to stop playing with my hair in case I start pulling it out. We drive past one single reporter. She’s being searched by a dog security team – no doubt was thinking she’d be the first to get
a picture of all this. My stomach tightens.
Lost between systems
Next, we pass police doing random breath testing. This results in laughter and nervousness from all three of us. I have been tossed out of jail with no identity documents at all. The staff have no paperwork to say why or where they’re taking me, let alone who I am, so a situation of pulling us over could result in issues. Basically, I’m a non-person at this particular moment.
Eventually, I relax a bit – as much as a nervous cat can when being driven in a police van. After too many traumatising trips in custody in the back of vehicles, being made to feel less than a human and more like livestock, the situation brings on very bad reactions for me, emotionally and physically.
Behind the blacked-out windows
I have memories of long drives with no windows – heaven forbid that anyone in society sees us! It was always stuffy, unless a kinder officer put the air-con on, then usually it would get too cold, and I’d start shivering and need to pee.
There were trips when someone else travelling in the back decided not to wait and that would stink out the place, causing ill feelings and sometimes nausea. I’ll let you imagine what tended to happen after that – not fun. It got to the stage where I’d faint or have heart palpitations if I was transported somewhere, then need days to recover.
Once I found out about the genetic mutation I carried, the chance of me having a heart attack became a real worry. Today, though, I’m not stressed. Pure excitement overrides everything else.
Freedom feels different
The van has normal windows, not blacked-out ones, plus I’m seated in the middle, so I can see out the front window for the 50-minute journey, which makes all the difference. Still, I’m jittery and overenergetic, legs jiggling from nervousness.
Since I’ve never been to Trace’s place, when we shoot past the driveway, I don’t even register it. The van reverses, then stops outside a glorious gate. When I see the open farmland where horses are grazing, it looks out of a fairytale. Then I spot Trace.
Nothing else matters but to get out of the van for the long-awaited moment of being wrapped in her arms of loyalty, love and friendship beyond measure. My hands push against the glass in a gesture that combines awe and impatience to be done with this drive. (And rid of the men in uniform – no offence, guys, you were both lovely!)
The moment I get out of the van, it’s hugs, kisses and screams of, “OMG, you’re here!” over and over again.
Reunion at last
It’s unbelievable to see Tracy in her home, hug her and have these moments we’ve waited for so long. Her son Presley captures it all on his phone. Even though we’ve had no contact while he’s been growing up, I have loved Presley all these years. He is family to me.
Once inside, I’m introduced to Trace’s long-suffering partner Phil, who has ridden the train with her these last decades, supportive all the way, even when life threw in curveballs and major challenges for them.
The three dogs greet me with much enthusiasm, something I later find out does not happen usually. They say dogs are good character judges – seems mine is very acceptable. My love of animals is well known. I seriously missed them over two decades.
For the next couple of hours, before other friends and supporters start to arrive, Trace and I cannot stop staring at each other. To me, she is my sister, my friend, my saviour, and the reason I am out and about to have a life as full as I choose it to be. We keep literally and painfully pinching ourselves to make sure we’re both actually seeing each other. No, this isn’t a dream!
Thankfully, my feelings of disbelief slip into the background and I feel joy radiating from everywhere and everyone. Even the planet seems to be humming in agreement. The air smells clean and fresh. My lungs are full and my brain is singing. My soul and heart too.
Heartbreak & Loss
Kathleen’s children Caleb, Patrick, Sarah and Laura all passed away before they reached two years old. Kathleen writes how her husband Craig’s “deep grief” developed into “suspicion, hatred and denial”, which would ultimately lead him to maintain his wife killed their children.
Scientific experts have concluded their daughters had rare genetic conditions, that Patrick could have died from underlying neurogenetic epilepsy, and Caleb had a floppy larynx and breathing difficulties.
Edited extract from Inside Out by Kathleen Folbigg & Tracy Chapman is available to buy at Paper Plus, Mighty Ape, and Amazon.
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