Most Queenslanders would know the name of our daughter Hannah.
You'd have seen the photographs of her beautiful eyes, and that stunning smile that could light up a room.
You've seen her as a caring, doting mum to three cheeky, loving, full-of-life young children.
You can see from the photos that she was fit, and sporty.
She loved to be out and active – in her gym gear, in a bikini, or in a lovely floral dress.
But always wearing that smile.
We also know that most people only know Hannah as a victim of coercive control – that poor lady who was murdered by her husband, after years of cruel, manipulative, psychological domination.
She's the one whose death shocked the nation, and made us stop and look at ourselves as a society, even if only for a brief period.
She was the tough one who, despite having horrific burns, gave police a lucid and detailed account of what had happened to her and the children.
She's the woman whose parents set up a foundation in her name – not just to remember her and the children, but in the hope that other parents and siblings won't have to receive the same terrible news from the police and ask the same bewildering questions.
Yes, she was all those things – sporty, tough, pretty, and doting on her children, but there was a lot more to Hannah Clarke.
First and foremost, she was our little girl and she always will be.
The one who always loved to dance and sing – on stage or at an impromptu living room concert.
She was the girl who had so much love to give and wanted to be a mum even from a very young age.
She was the big sister who doted over her little brother when they were younger.
Looking back it seems as though she was practising all the gentle love she would show to her own children.
She was a business owner – not just helping to support the family but helping others improve their health and fitness. That's what gave her real satisfaction at work.
Hannah's dreams for the future
She always wanted to win the CrossFit competition for Fittest Mum.
She won the Australian title but came fourth in the international competition in New Zealand. That was a dream she continued to hold.
She had talked about being a police officer.
Encouraged by the officers who gave her so much help, she had started down the path of joining the police force.
She thought she would understand and be able to help other women in her situation.
She dreamed of living at the coast. She loved being at the beach and in the water with the kids. It was her happy place.
But above all Hann just wanted her children to be happy.
They were such beautiful loving children who never said goodbye or goodnight without saying "I love you".
Aaliyah was so bright and strong like her mum. Hann felt she would do great things – maybe scholastically or maybe through sport.
Laianah was destined to be a fashionista. Nobody changed their outfits more in one day than she did.
Little Trey was showing great ball skills even at his little age. He could pass and kick a football better than kids twice his age. Hann thought he may be a great footballer.
Her children were her joy. She lived for them.
And that's why she was able to endure so many years of what we now know was coercive control – because she had the children and they gave her strength.
She never saw herself as a victim of domestic violence
Because she was never punched or hit (although she was regularly forced into sex) she thought she just needed to suffer through.
Perhaps it was her strength and resilience, and her irrepressible positivity, that meant she simply didn't recognise the danger until it was too late.
We had never heard the term "coercive control", although we certainly had seen plenty of examples of it.
It started as silly little things such as not being allowed to wear pink, because that was for girls.
Or being told not to walk off the beach in her bikinis – she had to cover up.
Closing down her Facebook page and having a joint one.
It grew to constant questioning over where she was, who she was seeing and who she was talking to on the phone.
Then it turned to abuse and vitriol if the house (with three small children) wasn't clean enough or if dinner wasn't on the table.
And there was punishment – keeping Hannah and the kids away from her family if someone did the "wrong thing". There was the time Laianah was snatched and taken to northern NSW for a few days.
We now know there were secret recordings and tracking devices.
And yet through all this, Hannah still refused to be a victim.
Right to the end her thoughts were for her children – how to protect them and who would look after them if something happened to her.
And now, in a strange way, she's continuing to be a protector for other women and children in her situation.
Could Hannah spark a revolution?
So typically for Hannah, she has unwittingly helped drive the calls for laws to stop coercive control.
What she went through – over many years and on the awful day in February 2020 – has led to the Queensland government agreeing to criminalise coercive control.
They're also going to significantly boost resources for frontline police, and help teach young people what healthy, positive relationships should be.
There will never be any closure but we are relieved the inquest is over. We want to keep the traction now with our foundation and find a way to keep the conversation going.
This is not a platform that we wanted but we hope from this we will see something done.
The recommendation to have co-responders attend incidents with police is crucial.
There has been some success with the trials for this in helping police to know the right questions to ask and how to speak to victims. For victims validation is the biggest thing.
Now we just need to take this nationally.
But sadly there have been so many other women who have had the same experiences she had.
So many other families who have also lost loved ones to the inevitable escalation of coercive control.
And all of them were so much more than victims of violence.
They were mothers, daughters, sisters and friends. We pay tribute to them all and we remember them as the people they were.
If she'd ever gotten to wear that blue police uniform, she would have been the same fierce carer and protector for all of society that she was for her children.
That's who she really was.
Credits
Digital production: Heidi Davoren
Photography: Michael Lloyd
