Jai Wright's family found some accountability where most families find none

Lachlan Wright says driving to the hospital to see his son was "one of the hardest things I've ever done". (ABC News: Shaun Kingma) Link copiedShareShare articleInside a quiet district courtroom in the heart of Sydney's bustling CBD, a historic moment has unfolded involving a NSW Police officer. Warning: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised that this story contains the image of a person who has died. On Friday, Benedict Bryant was sentenced to two years imprisonment over a collision that caused the death of 16-year-old Dhungutti boy Jai Kalani Wright in 2022. As Judge Culver read out the words "two years' imprisonment", Jai's family gasped with shock, while others were silent, wiping their tears. Bryant avoided time behind bars and will serve his sentence through an intensive corrections order which includes 500 hours of unpaid community service. He was also disqualified from driving for the next three years. Jai Wright's father Lachlan said: "a conviction is a conviction, no matter what." (ABC News: Jamie McKinnell) For some, it was disappointing, but for Jai's parents it was a relief. "It was never about a sentence," Jai's father Lachlan Wright said. "A conviction is a conviction, no matter what. That's a big thing for a judge to have judged." Bryant is believed to be the first police officer convicted of a crime related to a Black death in custody — a crisis that is not new. A landmark report delivered 35 years ago by a Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody gave the government solutions to address this. Yet, the numbers have only climbed since. There's a harrowing story behind why the Royal Commission was established and it starts with the death of a young boy, similar in age to Jai Wright. John Pat was a 16-year-old Yindjibarndi boy from Roebourne, Western Australia, who died in a juvenile police cell in 1983. He was taken there after a fight broke out at a local pub between Aboriginal people and off-duty police officers, as well as a police aide. Pat had suffered serious injuries after falling backwards and hitting his head during the incident. But instead of going to hospital, he was taken to the police station, where witnesses say he was assaulted and dragged to a cell. The four officers and the police aide stood trial for manslaughter in WA's supreme court, with an all-white jury acquitting them of any wrongdoing. No disciplinary action was taken and they all returned to work. John Pat was remembered as someone who loved his culture and family. ( ABC News: Jesmine Cheong ) The anguish and distrust of police John Pat's family felt rippled across the nation and the globe, sparking the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. The final report, delivered in 1991, outlined 339 recommendations for governments, including ways to repair the relationship between the police and First Nations communities. It was a relationship already tarnished by the legacy of the frontier wars, further damaged by the protection laws enacted as early as the 1840s to the 1970s in some parts of the country. The Kinchela Boys home was one of the many institutes Aboriginal children were taken to. (Supplied: Kinchela Boys Home Aboriginal Corporation) The police took First Nations children from their parents, sending them to training institutes where they were stripped of their birth names and banned from practising their culture. Some never reunited with their parents again. Police also enforced segregation, restricting where Indigenous people lived, forcing them onto missions and reserves on the fringes of town. The Commission's report provided a turning point for the country, yet not much has changed; it is gathering dust while the number of Black deaths in custody continues to rise. We know this because we count every time an Indigenous person dies in custody. At the time of writing, more than 634 lives have been lost. In the absence of real systemic change, the families left behind have not given up. They have brought cases of police misconduct out of the shadows and into the light, with hopes the truth of these tragedies will create a shift. The conviction was not a moment of celebration for Jai's family but a confirmation the gut feeling they had was right. (ABC News: Jack Ailwood) Standing outside of court, Jai's father Lachlan Wright said his son's case was about truth and accountability that came at a traumatic cost. "We've lost our son, nothing can ever bring [him] back," Wright said. "This shows that something went terribly wrong and people have to be held accountable for their mistakes." Jai Wright with his family after a day of spearfishing. (ABC News: Shaun Kingma) The first time I interviewed Lachlan Wright, it was in their family home. He showed me Jai's room, still intact with his PlayStation, photos with his siblings hugging his hip and much-loved rappers hanging on the wall. If it wasn't for the candle with Jai's portrait, you wou

Jai Wright's family found some accountability where most families find none

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