Dawn’s presentation at the Free Speech Summit on the Gold Coast in Queensland – Sunday 20th July 2025
If you were to play a game, it would be most advantageous to know the rules of that game.
Yet here we are —
caught in a game we didn’t realise existed,
let alone understand its rules.
The name of this game is Monopoly.
Has anyone here played Monopoly?
The goal is simple: become the wealthiest player by buying up properties, collecting rent, and driving everyone else into bankruptcy.
Sound familiar?
Because in the real-world version, there are two players.
Player One: The Government, Police, and Judiciary — all working together.
Player Two: You.
The politicians hold a monopoly over Parliament.
Parliament makes the rules.
The Police enforce those rules.
Magistrates and Judges
interpret them.
And the media monopoly — controlled by a handful of giant corporations — shapes the narrative, so you never question the game.
Most of us know about Operation Mockingbird? If you don’t know about it, look it up!
So what happens when the rules written by Player One —
political parties heavily influenced and often steered by foreign and corporate interests — start harming Player Two – which is YOU?
What happens when the very people they were meant to serve
become nothing more than obstacles to power?
The answer is simple:The balance breaks.
And when those in power serve themselves or outside agendas instead of the people, ordinary people become vulnerable. The rules stop protecting fairness; they become tools to lock in inequality and silence dissent.
When that happens, it’s not just individuals who suffer —
it’s the very trust in governance and justice that crumbles.
2. HOW DID WE GET HERE? – THE MONOPOLY COUP
This happened quietly, without our knowledge or consent.
Like one player stealthily buying up every property while the rest of us were still rolling to get out of Go.
In 1972, Australia had what you could call a Monopoly Power Play.
During the infamous ‘two man’ duumvirate government, Gough Whitlam and Lance Barnard didn’t just pick up a couple of extra properties —
they took all the ministerial
portfolios, bypassing every normal constitutional check.
In just a few months — many rushed through over Christmas while the country was distracted —they rewrote over 40 Acts of Parliament.
They quietly changed constitutional definitions — ironically, something the Constitution itself says they had no power to do.
Imagine if, in the middle of Monopoly, one player decided hotels only cost them two dollars, or that if you landed on their square, you owed triple the rent.
That’s exactly what happened to our foundational safeguards.
Then in 1975, under Whitlam, Australia signed the Lima Agreement.
This set international goals that led Australia to slowly dismantle key local industries —
like our car manufacturing and white goods sectors — handing more control of our economy to foreign interests.
It’s like letting outside players come in, buy up your railroads and utilities, then charge you rent to live in your own house.
By 1986, Bob Hawke’s Australia Act rolled out the final big red hotel on the Boardwalk.It unlawfully severed our constitutional ties to the true Crown without a referendum, replacing it with the statutory fiction of the “Queen of Australia.”
And here’s the kicker.
Under international law — through treaties like the Hague Convention of 1907, which has bound Australia since 1910 — governments and occupying powers must respect the existing laws, institutions, and rights of the people.
They are forbidden from tearing them down without cause.
It’s like even the official Monopoly rulebook said:
“Player One must protect Player Two’s original rules, safeguards and agreements.”
But instead, our governments quietly rewrote the whole rulebook behind our backs, breaking not just our own Constitution, but international promises meant to protect it.
Meanwhile, back in 1966, they had already ditched our gold-backed imperial pounds — real money tied to tangible value — and replaced them with fiat decimal dollars, a debt-based currency they can print endlessly, like Monopoly money. All done without a referendum, and without your consent.
Then in 2003, Western Australia passed the Acts Amendment and Repeal (Courts and Legal Practice) Act, which formally removed the Crown from every courtroom, rewriting the titles and powers of our courts under state corporate structures.
Today we stand before corporate courts, run by policy instead of constitutional law — still draped in old symbols, so no one sees the swap.
3. WHY DIDN’T WE SEE IT?
Why didn’t we see it?
Because back in 1939, under formal agreements like the
“Declaration on the Teaching of History and Revision of School Textbooks” (Australian Treaty Series 1939), Australia began embedding international education policies that quietly reshaped our school curricula.
This was just the start.
Decades later, it evolved into sweeping global education agendas under the United Nations, pushing international narratives deeper into local classrooms. Generations grew up never knowing there was a rigged game running against them — never taught the true constitutional principles that once secured their sovereignty.
So they never thought to question why the banker always seemed to be on the other player’s side.
4. THE LOCAL BOARD – HOW THEY MAKE YOU PLAY
So let’s bring this down to the personal — to the local board where I have stood.
Because this Monopoly isn’t just about Parliament and treaties.
It continues in your local courtroom, every single day.
The Police Hand You the Token
It starts when the police show up.
They hand you your little pewter hat and say:
“Congratulations. You’re now a contestant in the Western Australian Justice Monopoly.
Here’s your infringement.
Here’s your summons.
Whether you wanted
to roll the dice or not — you’re playing.”
No opt out.
No polite refusal.
Old Kent Road – The Magistrates Court
They place you on Old Kent Road — The Magistrates Court.
A tired little building with squeaky doors and outdated decor.
But it’s the most expensive square on the board.
You roll your first dice.
Land on “Pay $500 to the State for administrative costs.”
Try to ask why, they tell you: “Because that’s the fee. Because your paperwork was defective. Because we said so.”
Try to defend yourself, appear as a self-represented Litigant,
and suddenly you’re the wildcard that threatens their entire rigged table.
Chance Cards & Contempt Trap
Then come the Chance cards:“Your trial’s adjourned six months because the prosecutor forgot witnesses — pay Crown costs anyway.”
“Oops, your affidavit wasn’t signed in the way we want you to.Lose your right to appeal.”
And if you mention common law, constitutional rights, or the magna carta,
the magistrate reaches for the “Go to Jail” card.
I know. Because I lived it.
I was removed by force, injured by court staff on the magistrate’s orders —for simply standing firm on my right to question jurisdiction.
Supreme Court Avenue – Kelly v Fiander 187
Eventually you claw your way up to Supreme Court Avenue.
Your case becomes Kelly v Fiander 187.
Surely here, the rules will be respected.
But they say:
“We won’t even entertain your evidence because your cover sheet didn’t meet technical compliance.”
Meanwhile the State’s sloppy paperwork rolls right through.
Justice is swept off the board like crumbs after tea.
Back Down the Board – Porter v Kelly
Then there’s Porter v Kelly.
The Department of Transport prosecuted me on a shaky foundation.
No valid certificate witness.
I defended myself.
I was acquitted.
Victory?
On paper, yes.
But when it was remitted for retrial on a technical point,
I saw the deeper truth:
Their entire business model depends on uncontested prosecutions, hidden procedural traps, endless costs.
The longer they keep you playing, the more they collect.
And each chamber of this Monopoly board —
from Magistrates to Supreme to High Court —
is stacked floor to ceiling with self-serving case law,
like deeds on the shelf,
written by yesterday’s winners to secure tomorrow’s game.
So when you walk in hoping justice means finding the truth,
you find instead it’s about applying the last judgment,
even if that judgment was crafted to protect the system from scrutiny — not you.
Mayfair – The High Court Illusion
Finally, you look up the board to Mayfair — the High Court of Australia.
Polished marble. Hushed chambers.
Surely here it ends fairly.
But by the time you get there, you’re bankrupt, exhausted, your health in tatters. Standing there with your little Monopoly hat, reading:
“Entry fee: your life savings and your last ounce of hope.”
5. THIS IS NOT A GAME – IT’S OUR LIVES
It might sound funny.
Monopoly boards.
Chance cards.
Little pewter hats.
But it’s no game.
It’s our homes.
Our health.
Our families.
Our sanity.
It’s thousands of Australians forced to stand alone against prosecutors with unlimited taxpayer funds,
while the State rolls the dice with our lives.
6. THE CALL FOR REFORM – TIME TO REWRITE THE RULES
That’s why I’m here.
Not just to tell my story — but to demand change.
We need laws that:
✅ Recognise the profound disadvantage faced by people forced to represent themselves.
✅ Provide real help — not glossy pamphlets or knowing smirks from registrars.
✅
And ensure that when a self-represented person successfully defends against a flawed or malicious prosecution,
they can recover proper costs — the same as any wealthy defendant.
Justice should never be a dice roll.
It shouldn’t depend on who can afford the biggest lawyer.
It should be a right —
equally available to multinational monopolies and to the single mother defending her freedom.
STOP PLAYING THEIR GAME
So the next time someone shrugs and says:
“That’s just the system. That’s how it works.”
I want you to think of that Monopoly board.
The police handing out tokens.
The magistrates collecting rent.
The Crown costs bleeding you dry each turn.
Then ask yourself:
Who built it?
Who profits from it?
And why are we all still playing, when we never agreed to roll the dice in the first place?
It’s time we stopped playing their game —
and started rewriting the rules.
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