It was Thomas Carrick’s* 14th birthday, and his parents could hardly believe their luck.
The police officers and manager of his deradicalisation had given him gifts and a birthday cake, the family said. They had been working closely with Thomas for the past five months, since his parents reported their concerns to the force about his burgeoning fixation with Islamic State.
Their son, who is autistic, always struggled to make friends, but he felt close to these officers. The feeling was mutual; the cake from the police was decorated with a message saying “We Love You [Thomas]”.
“I said [to his mother], ‘We are in such a great country,’” Carrick’s father said.
“We were so happy on that day, we actually cried.
“We said, ‘There can be no better place on earth than where we are, they are helping us all.’”
As it happened, these efforts to help Thomas were already doomed. Several weeks earlier, he started communicating online with a person he knew as Khalid.
Khalid was the “overt covert persona” of an officer within the joint counter-terrorism taskforce, which comprises staff from the Australian federal police, Asio, and Victoria police.
The officer, who was also operating a second “persona” at the same time, had been tasked with building a rapport with Thomas.
A court would later find that at the same time as Thomas was working with actual police, who he and his family had come to trust, he was being told online by these personas that killing an AFP member was a good plan, and that he would make a “good sniper or suicide bomber”. Thomas told his parents one of these online personas “was his best friend”.
Nineteen days after his birthday, in October 2021, Thomas was arrested and charged with two terrorism offences: being a member of a terrorist organisation, namely Islamic State, and advocating terrorism.
Greens senator David Shoebridge this week described the act of celebrating Thomas’s birthday with a cake and gifts only weeks before arresting him as demonstrating an unbelievable “degree of institutional bastardry”.
The AFP declined to comment on a series of questions about the case, including the outcome of reviews it said it was conducting into its investigation.
After the arrest, the family collapsed slowly at first, then all at once. Because of strict legal restrictions regarding matters heard before Victoria’s children’s court, we cannot say much about this family.
His parents are working professionals, living in a comfortable middle-class house in a comfortable middle-class suburb in Melbourne. They are Australian citizens who have lived in the country for decades.
Thomas Carrick is the name given to him by the court, but his parents want it known that he is more than this pseudonym, that he is a boy who they wanted the best for and who they feel has been terribly betrayed.
Thomas’s father says he told his son after he was charged that there would be no sympathy should he be found guilty.
“I told my son, ‘If you are guilty, you will be bearing the consequences. You will not find me helping you out if I’m convinced you have done anything wrong.
“If you are wrong, you will face the consequences.’
“This community first, my son, my children next. Anything and everything for the people, for the country, for everything that we are enjoying here.”
As it happened, a permanent stay was ordered in the case in October 2023, in a decision revealed by Guardian Australia earlier this year.
“The conduct engaged in by the JCTT and the AFP falls so profoundly short of the minimum standards expected of law enforcement offices [sic] that to refuse this [permanent stay] application would be to condone and encourage further instances of such conduct,” the magistrate, Lesley Fleming, said in the children’s court decision.
“I am satisfied that to allow this proceeding to continue would not only be unjustifiably and unfairly oppressive to TC [Thomas Carrick] but would also lead to an erosion in public confidence in the Court’s processes.
“The re-radicalisation of TC which was created by JCTT in the guise of OCO’s chats with TC were obtained in circumstances that fall far short of the minimum standard that society expects of law enforcement officers … there is no other way to protect the integrity of the system of justice administered by the Court except to grant the application.”
Fleming found Thomas had been “groomed” and had his fixation “fed” by the undercover officer.
“All the charges they put on him, it was them, saying ‘You please prove it to us,’” his mother said.
“He was instructed by them … he was caught in something and he couldn’t get out.”
This moment which could have signalled vindication instead sent Thomas’s father spiralling. His mental health suffered considerably, and he spent weeks away from his family. Thomas’s mother’s mental health also deteriorated.
There were few people they could turn to for help; they did not feel they could tell family and friends what had happened, and were left cold by the response of those they did confide in.
They both consider themselves restless and distrusting now, grateful that their now 17-year-old son has found his way through the case, and appears to be thriving at school, but restless about what could come next. A recent overseas trip designed to rejuvenate led to further trauma.
And a year after the stay was granted, a series of questions remain: why did it have to be like this? What did they miss? What would happen to another child in the same position now?
There are moments in the investigation that continue to trouble them. An imam had been provided to support Thomas’s deradicalisation efforts as part of the Community Integration Support Program (CISP), a Victoria police service run with the support of the Board of Imams.
The family say that their provided imam told them weeks before Thomas’s arrest to be wary, and that he was quitting the case as he had been told police were waiting until Thomas turned 14 for him to be charged.
Fleming, the magistrate, later found police had indeed waited until Thomas turned 14 to charge him, knowing that if he was charged sooner there was a legal presumption against him being cognitively aware of his conduct.
The Board of Imams declined to comment, and the imam could not be contacted. But people familiar with CISP say Thomas’s case has changed how the program operates.
The case manager of Thomas’s deradicalisation, who remains involved in deradicalisation with the Department of Home Affairs, did not respond to a request for comment.
Thomas’s family also question why the online personas operated by police were encouraging or promoting violence and distrust of police at the same time Thomas was meeting weekly with armed police as part of his deradicalisation.
Thomas may have decided to attack these real-life officers, motivated by what another officer posing as a fellow extremist was telling him online, with little to no warning. In moments of particular paranoia, Thomas’s parents wonder: had this, in fact, been part of the plan?
Victoria police, which led the deradicalisation part of the case, did not answer specific questions about the cake, gifts and extent of the undercover operation, including whether they knew that violence against police was being encouraged.
It said, “Victoria Police in partnership with community groups and other areas of government agencies delivers dedicated therapeutic early intervention programs which directly engage with and support individuals assessed as being vulnerable to, or holding violent extremist beliefs.
“Programs involve case management activity which may include connecting individuals with mentors, psychological counselling, and educational or vocational opportunities.
“Victoria Police does not publicly provide specific details of the operations or programs of this nature … the community can be reassured that we remain committed to working with the community and other law enforcement and intelligence agencies to divert those vulnerable to radicalising towards violent extremism to a different path, assist those who are already holding violent extremist beliefs to disengage, and ensure the safety and security of the Victorian public.”
The family is considering a civil claim in relation to the case, but say they are not motivated by money. They want some good to come from their trauma.
There has been no independent investigation into the case, despite other recent instances of other neurodiverse young people in Australia being charged with terror offences.
“If we failed as parents, that should be shared as well, so that other parents in such situations can learn from it,” Thomas’s father said.
“If it’s proven that [the authorities] failed – which we think they have and which the court said in their judgement they failed – the first thing is … failure is not a bad thing.
“But not learning from your failure is bad, it will cut the trust people have.”
No good has come from Thomas’s case: a family has been torn apart, a police investigation that cost more than $500,000 collapsed in ignominy, and an open wound within parts of the Muslim community that has festered in a post-9/11 world shows little sign of healing.
“Thomas’s issues started in school when kids were teasing him to be a terrorist one day and linking him with 9/11,” his mother said.
“And then later police did the same thing … that actually groomed him because he was a Muslim, they wanted to see him … as a terrorist. They made him a terrorist … in my mind, there is an Islamophobia factor.
“He is my son. They can’t just think of a human life as rubbish.”
