by Matt Vickers
I lay on the bed that I’d shared with her over many Christmases. It was small: the room couldn’t fit more than a double mattress. I recalled how the heat of the Tauranga summer made sleeping in that room uncomfortable, and that I would often wake and despite the heat I would reach for her and hold her and listen to her breathing with my arms curled around her stomach. I’d rest my head on the smooth part of her back below her shoulders, my knees tucked up under her thighs. If we were both awake, I would flirt with her and tease her, but she didn’t want her parents, sleeping in the next room, to hear us. Instead we’d quietly kiss and hold each other. Her kisses were warm and sweet.
On Christmas morning I would wait for her to wake up and gleefully go to the door to collect our Christmas stockings. With the joy of a little girl, she’d pull out the gifts for herself that she’d mostly already chosen with her mother. It was the ritual she liked, the joy of being alive, and the prospect of a day with her entire family, with food and drink and laughter and gift-giving and long afternoon naps.
Alone on Lecretia’s bed, I felt aggrieved. Here a young girl slept, and woke, and got ready for school. She talked on the phone with her friends. At night, her dreams and hopes took shape in this room, and she decided to become a lawyer. She came home from university for the holidays, bringing her textbooks with her, piling them up on the shelves. She studied the law and wanted to make a difference. How many sunsets had she seen from the same window I was looking out now? What did she think about, as she watched the sun go down?
We live in an unjust world. People die too young. Some people don’t have children. Some people get cancer. Some people don’t have enough to eat. Some people are born into bad families, bad towns, bad countries. And choices—choices are how we deal with all that. We choose to be happy without kids, we choose to face illnesses like cancer and live our lives to the fullest, while we can. We choose to get up in the morning and go to work. We choose to eat. We choose to walk away from the bad things in our lives and try to do good, try to add a little kindness to the world, to drive out the hurt and the suffering. And the law is how we try to make it all just. We name and prosecute crimes to prevent others from hurting us. We regulate to make trade and commerce fair. We litigate to right wrongs, and we negotiate contracts to protect each other from surprises and the sharp edges of the spinning dice that sever every tether.
It’s tempting to end this neatly. To tie it up with a little bow and some sort of resolution. But it hasn’t ended. It won’t end until the choice that Lecretia was denied is the right of every terminally ill person. When Lecretia was denied her final choice, she was denied her humanity: she became a patient, a sufferer, not a competent human being able to express her free will. Lecretia decided to love life even as it denied her children, decided to celebrate her life with cancer rather than despair of it, decided to speak out and became a hero to others, to her family, and to me. She taught me that we should have choices right until the end. It was Lecretia’s last hope that one of these days we all will.
Lecretia (age eight months) with her mother, Shirley Seales, 1973
Lecretia, bar admission with her friend Helen Spellacey (nee Salisbury), 1997
Lecretia and her parents, Larry and Shirley, brother Jeremy and sister Kat, 2002
Lecretia and Sir Geoffrey Palmer in Nelson, November 2003
At our wedding, April 2006, photo by Nicola Topping, Real Image
Dressed up for Tim Clarke’s fortieth, 2010
Before surgery, March 2011
Lecretia in Aitutaki, Cook Islands, 2011
Lecretia’s meal at home with chef Sam Pope, 21 May 2015, four days before her hearing
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book couldn’t have been written without the support and help of a great many people. I have a huge amount of gratitude for those who were there with Lecretia through her illness and her court case, as their actions had a direct impact on this story and gave it its shape.
Firstly I wish to thank Lecretia’s family. Larry and Shirley were hugely supportive during Lecretia’s illness, making incredible sacrifices to help us both, and they continued to support me after Lecretia passed away. They are like another set of parents to me. Lecretia’s brother Jeremy and her sister Kat and their partners have never stopped treating me like part of their family, even if the person who brought us together is no longer with us. Lecretia’s extended family of aunts, uncles and cousins are some of the nicest people I have ever met, and their support through my grief has been a tremendous help in getting me through the darkest period of my life.
My parents Robin and Catherine and their spouses, my sister Natalie and her husband Adrian and my brother Mike all helped me at one time or another when I needed it, keeping me on the straight and narrow before I met Lecretia and expressing relief when I found her.
I am grateful too to Lecretia’s employers at the Law Commission, Sir Grant Hammond, Peter Boshier, Geoff McLay, Wayne Mapp and Roland Daysh, who allowed Lecretia to keep her job for as long as she did, giving her the latitude to continue her work as her illness progressed to its final stages. I also wish to thank the many staff of the Law Commission, too numerous to be named, who continued to include Lecretia in their ukulele orchestra performances, even when all she could do was sing.
I am grateful for the sensitivity and respect that Lecretia’s story was treated with by most of the media. Rebecca Macfie, Hagen Hopkins and Pamela Stirling were the first to realise the strength of Lecretia’s story when they covered it in the Listener, and they continued to follow it as it developed. Rebecca Macfie’s pieces for the Listener are still the most in-depth journalism on who Lecretia was and the claims she made before the High Court. For another account of the circumstances leading up to the court case and the days that followed, Rebecca’s articles are an invaluable resource.
Janet McIntyre and Carolyne Meng-Yee’s story for Sunday introduced Lecretia to the wider public, and gave the greatest spur to her campaign that one could hope for. It is through their efforts and the work of the Sunday team that Lecretia became a household name, and their story is why many people still talk about her today.
Thank you also to the many other journalists and reporters who covered Lecretia’s story over the months preceding and following her hearing. Though there are a great many, in particular I recall the coverage of Graham Adams, Michele A’Court, Emma Alberici, Jess BerentsonShaw, Nick Bond, Emily Cooper, Mark Cubey, Jennifer Dann, Andrew Dickens, Rod Emmerson, David Farrar, Tim Fookes, Duncan Garner, Andrew Geddis, Renée Graham, Paul Henry, Kim Hill, Mike Hosking, Nicholas Jones, Katie Kenny, Zoë Lawton, Sharon Lundy, Kerre McIvor, Rebecca Quilliam, Kathryn Ryan, Mark Sainsbury, Jared Savage, Geoff Simmons, Rachel Smalley, Alastair Thompson, Chris Trotter, Nick Walker and John Weekes, though there were many, many others and I profusely apologise to those I might have missed.
I must make special mention of Miriyana Alexander and Phil Taylor, who supported Lecretia being named New Zealander of the Year by the New Zealand Herald. After an incredibly challenging year, I could not have hoped for a better tribute to my late wife.
I am especially thankful to Susanna Andrew and Jolisa Gracewood for their early support of the Lecretia’s Choice blog, and their decision to include excerpts from it in Tell You What: Great New Zealand Nonfiction 2016. That endorsement of my writing gave me the courage to pursue the publication of this book, and they are part of the reason you now find it in your hands.
Similarly, I am grateful for the generous advice of many in the New Zealand publishing industry, including Fergus Barrowman, Sam Elworthy, Rachael King, Elizabeth Knox, Finlay Macdonald, Debra Millar, Emily Perkins and Mary Varnham, who each offered invaluable insights on how to best publish Lecretia’s story.
Text Publishing have been fantastic to work with, and I am grateful to publisher Michael Heyward for seeing the potential in Lecretia’s story, and everyone at Text including Léa Antigny, Anne Beilby, W. H. Chong, Alice Cottrell, Elizabeth Cowell, Alai
na Gougoulis, Jessica Horrocks, Jane Novak, Jane Pearson and Kirsty Wilson. They have all worked tirelessly to make sure I have written the best book I possibly could. I am particularly grateful for the patient work of Elizabeth, with whom I tussled over edits for the last few months.
Thank you also to Steven Price, who took time from paternity leave to review this book and provide invaluable legal advice. This book is much stronger for his input.
The book would also not have been possible without the generous support of my employer, Xero. I am grateful to Rod Drury, Alastair Grigg, Angus Norton, Duncan Ritchie and Graham Shaw, whose personal championing of me inside and outside of work made the writing of this book possible. Bradley Scott and Andrew Tokeley also deserve to be thanked for the kindness and patience they showed me during Lecretia’s illness.
Although neither Lecretia nor I were members of the Voluntary Euthanasia Society of New Zealand, this did not deter them from providing support and help in Lecretia’s case. Jack Havill, Carole Sweney, Faye Clark, Eileen Howarth and Philip Patston have greatly assisted over the last few months in keeping Lecretia’s story alive. And thank you also to Kate Davenport, who ably represented their views in the courtroom.
I must also mention those who took the time out of their busy lives to prepare affidavits for Lecretia’s case: Dr Michael Ashby, Dr Linda Ganzini, Associate Professor Colin Gavaghan, Dr David Grube, Dr Jack Havill, Dr Eric Kress, Dr Phillipa Malpas, Dr Katherine Morris, Dr Rajesh Munglani, Professor Richard Glynn Owens, Philip Patston, Dr Peter Reagan, Professor Udo Schuklenk, Dr Libby Smales, Dr Frank Spring, Professor John Weaver and others. Between them they created one of the most exhaustive reviews of evidence on assisted dying ever assembled, in my opinion only rivalled by that found in Carter v Canada.
The contributions of the Human Rights Commission before and since the case have been tremendous. I am grateful for Matthew Palmer’s work in the High Court, and the work of Janet Anderson-Bidois, Jackie Blue, Paul Gibson and the many other staff at the commission for their work in preparing their submission to the Health Select Committee this year.
I am extremely thankful for the case mounted by the team at Russell McVeagh, led by Dr Andrew Butler and Chris Curran. No one could have presented a better case. They were ably supported by Lecretia’s dear friend and mine, Catherine Marks, and a team of bright young solicitors, including Olivia Bouchier, Mark Campbell, Matt Dodd, Owen Jaques, Matt McMenamin, David Smith, Ella Watt and Esther Watt. Katharine McGhie and Aidan Cameron, also at Russell McVeagh, were a huge help too. It was good to be able to commiserate with my friend Roger Shepherd, Catherine Marks’ husband, who was working hard to complete his book while I was still working on mine.
It might surprise some but I am also thankful for the work of the office of the attorney-general, Christopher Finlayson, the solicitor-general, Mike Heron, and his associate counsel Paul Rishworth. During the case, as timelines were negotiated and embargoes agreed, they worked with the team at Russell McVeagh respectfully and generously, taking into account the urgency imposed by Lecretia’s illness. If they hadn’t done that, she might never have heard the judgment.
That she did see a judgment was down to the herculean efforts of Justice David Collins, who worked non-stop over the Queen’s Birthday weekend after the hearing to deliver a judgment as quickly as possible. Although the judgment that was delivered was not the one Lecretia wanted, it was a miracle that it was delivered to her at all.
I am grateful for the help of my friends Emma Beals, Paul Brillinger, Aran Brown and Colleen Bermingham-Brown, Belinda Bundy, Jackie Garcia Cano, Kaila Colbin, Erin Connolly, Antonia Fattizzi, Hadley and Philip Fierlinger, Sara Goepel and Lucinda McFadden, Andrew Hovey, Larissa Paris, Richard Phillips, Tobin Postma, Zoë Prebble, Pamela Puchalski, Ronan Quirke, C. M. Samala, Paul Schrader, Ross Stanley, Julie Trell and Reina Webster-Iti, who all at various times offered moral support and encouragement during the writing of this book. Many of Lecretia’s friends too, now mine, continued to support me after Lecretia passed away, including Alison and Jeremy Arthur-Young, Jon Black and Alice Boultbee, Giles Brown and Virginia Keast, Hilary Carr, David Friar and Barrie Connor, Kim and Mike Herrick, Sonya and Rob Hill, Peter Jones, Rachael McConnell and Richard Murphy, Lucy McGrath and her parents John and Christine, Eileen McNaughton, Juliet Philpott and Andrew Smith, Christine Robertson and her parents Bruce and Lyn, Helen Salisbury and Tony Spellacey, Andrew and Abigail Skelton, and Prue Tyler.
Angela and Ben O’Meara deserve special mention for their attentiveness and help during Lecretia’s illness and afterwards. Megan and Michael Huddleston were always there when Lecretia or I needed help and they were the best neighbours one could hope for. Rachel Hayward and Peter Fenton were incredibly supportive during Lecretia’s illness and beyond. And Tim Clarke and Samantha Warner’s support and true friendship have always been more generous and gracious than Lecretia or I ever hoped for or deserved.
Dame Jenny Gibbs was a great help in her support of Lecretia, incredibly generous with her time, as was her daughter, Debbi Gibbs, who along with Brian Sweeney, Catherine and Craig Walker, and Gerard van Bohemen, provided me with a warm welcome to New York. Pam Oliver and Kathryn Tucker also provided good advice and support.
John Burrows’ eulogy at Lecretia’s funeral was incredibly moving and wonderfully respectful. She adored John and his friendship and would have been humbled to have known that he spoke.
Lecretia’s friendship with Sir Geoffrey Palmer and his wife, Margaret, was one she treasured greatly, and I treasure it too. Sir Geoffrey and Margaret have always been generous with their time and their home, despite the many responsibilities that Sir Geoffrey carries even now, when most men his age would probably be choosing something very quiet to do. Lecretia regarded Sir Geoffrey as her mentor, and she could not have hoped for a better one.
Cate Brett deserves special mention for her unwavering friendship and support of Lecretia at the Law Commission, and then through her illness and beyond. It was Cate who prepared Lecretia and me for the demands of public life, and if we carried ourselves well at all, it was through her guidance.
Many politicians, old and new, have supported Lecretia, or at the very least the things she believed in. Michael Laws and Peter Brown were brave in bringing this issue before the house in 1995 and 2003 retrospectively, and although Maryan Street and Iain Lees-Galloway did not manage to get a bill before the house in their time, their efforts ensured the issue stayed in the public eye.
A big thank you to Christopher Bishop, Kevin Hague, Nikki Kaye, David Seymour, James Shaw, Metiria Turei and Louisa Wall for all of their help inside and outside parliament. Thanks also to John Key for his brave public statements of support, given his position and the contentiousness of the issue, and to David Carter for making sure the issue was given the chance to be heard by the House. Thank you to Andrew Little for serendipitously though unintentionally providing the catalyst for Seales v Attorney-General, along with Kevin and Louisa, Jacqui Dean, Annette King, Barbara Kuriger, Simon O’Connor, Dr Shane Reti, Scott Simpson, Barbara Stewart and Poto Williams, for allowing the issue to be investigated by the Health Select Committee.
Finally I wish to thank the many thousands of Lecretia’s supporters, including Don Brash, Andrew Denton, Helen Kelly, Gareth Morgan, Dave Mullan and David Stephens, who spoke out on the issue, wrote letters to MPs, signed the petition, made submissions to the Health Select Committee, or liked, commented on or shared posts on Lecretia’s Facebook page, adding to the groundswell of popular support for change. One day, I truly believe that all those contributions will result in a change that Lecretia would have been proud of. For the sake of those living with terminal illnesses, I hope that day comes soon.
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