- A loving Queensland family was torn apart when a hidden drug addiction spun out of control
- On Valentine’s Day 2022, during a weekend away on the Sunshine Coast, Oliva’s father killed her mother
- He later pleaded guilty to manslaughter, leaving their children to grieve a devastating and irreversible loss
Here Olivia Godfrey, 30, Dakabin, Qld tells her own story in her own words.
For support call the National Alcohol and Other Drug Hotline on 1800 250 015
‘Cheers everyone!’ my mum, Vanessa, giggled as she clinked champagne glasses with her guests.
Growing up, our Queensland home was often filled with laughter and music, as Mum and our dad, Jeffrey, hosted get-togethers with their long-term friends.
Then aged 11, me and my little brother, who was four years my junior, were too young to stay up late, but we’d sneak out of our rooms to watch our parents sway in each other’s arms.
‘Back to sleep you two cheeky buggers!’ Dad would say, catching us peeking from the corridor, before tucking us back into bed with a kiss.
Head over heels, my parents couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
Their bond created a stable foundation for our childhood, which was full of happy memories, such as holidaying in Bali and jetskiing on the weekend.
Then in 2017, aged 21, after getting qualifications in early childhood education, I moved out to my own place.
Three years later, I welcomed my son, Braxton, with my then partner.
Mum and Dad doted on my boy.
My brother moved out around the same time, and Mum and Dad relocated to the Sunshine Coast, about an hour away.
Sadly, they suddenly grew distant, making plans to visit me and Braxton, then cancelling out of the blue at the last minute.
But they had so many friends on the Sunshine Coast, I figured they were just having the time of their lives now that they were empty-nesters.
When they did visit us, I noticed Mum, who’d always been slim, looked even trimmer.
Dad, who’d gone from being an office worker to working on his feet all day as a cleaner, had dropped a whopping 30 kilos and looked great.
Mum must have Dad on a health kick, I thought.
Then one day in September 2021, Dad called me when I was in the car.
He seemed rattled.
‘I’m separating from your mother,’ he said, rambling about how he couldn’t trust her.
‘Slow down,’ I said, trying to piece together what’d happened.
But instead, he hung up.
By the time I arrived back at my home, Mum was waiting there with all her belongings.
Hesitant to confide in me at first, Mum finally admitted to me that Dad had been experiencing paranoia and she was concerned.
‘You need to speak to your father,’ she said, her head in her hands.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for the bombshell that Dad dropped when I did.
‘We’ve been in active addiction for years,’ he confessed, admitting that he and Mum had been using meth.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
I’d always looked up to my parents.
‘I will help you get your life back on track, Mum, but you have to promise that you will give up the drugs for good,’ I pleaded with her.
Meanwhile Dad continued to spiral out of control.
He’d call us in the middle of the night, delirious, questioning whether Mum was conspiring against him.
Sometimes, he wouldn’t sleep for days on end, putting us all on edge.
My brother and I begged the police for help, but they said there was nothing they could do.
The cops are failing my parents, I thought, furious.
The following January, I took Dad to a doctor who prescribed anti-psychotic medication to help Dad with his hallucinations.
It was rocky for a while, but I noticed some changes.
‘Sometimes, he wouldn’t sleep for days on end, putting us all on edge.’
He and Mum had also started spending more time together, and it seemed like there could be hope for their future.
When they were invited to spend the weekend away to celebrate a friend’s birthday at Pelican Waters Resort a month later, I was nervous.
Dropping them off at the resort on February 11, my mind was racing with anxious thoughts, but I just hoped for the best.
I checked in with them during the weekend, and they seemed to be doing okay.
Still, I couldn’t stop myself from being frightened of the worst.
Then, on the 14th, when they were due to return, I texted Mum, but she didn’t respond.
That’s odd, I thought.
As each hour passed with no reply, more fear swelled in my belly.
Had they got into an argument? I wondered.
They should have been checked out of the hotel by now…
By 2pm, I’d called Mum 20 times with no answer.
Phoning hotel reception, I insisted they go and check on Mum and Dad.
‘Someone needs to go up there now,’ I stressed.
Minutes later, I received a call from a friend of my parents who was also staying at the hotel.
‘You and your brother need to get here now,’ they urged.
After leaving Braxton with a friend, I raced to the resort with my brother and my sister-in-law, after I’d filled them in.
When we arrived, police were swarming the hotel, as Dad was taken away by officers.
We briefly locked eyes, but he walked off in silence.
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Then police delivered the earth-shattering news that he’d killed Mum during a drug-induced psychosis.
‘Your dad became paranoid that his driver’s licence and Medicare card were missing from his wallet and blamed your mum,’ they said.
They explained that afterwards, when Mum asked him for a neck massage with Deep Heat to ease some pain, he’dtrangled her.
Then, unconvinced that she was dead, he took a knife and cut her wrists.
Instead of calling for help, he got drunk, took prescription drugs, and used the blade on himself.
I was horrified that my beautiful mum, aged just 46, had been taken from us in such a terrible way.
Police had only been alerted to the horror by staff after I’d repeatedly urged reception to open their door. My heart sank.
‘Dad was supposed to protect her. I knew this weekend together was a bad idea from the beginning, but I could never have imagined this,’ I cried to my brother.
I couldn’t believe that the father we knew, who had adored Mum for 27 years, would cruelly snatch away her life on Valentine’s Day.
‘I was horrified that my beautiful mum, aged just 46, had been taken from us in such a terrible way.’
The following month I prepared Mum for her funeral and did her make-up the way she liked it.
Mum’s body was so severely damaged from her injuries that we were forced to dress her in a long black turtleneck dress, which did not reflect her sunny beach-loving personality at all.
‘She was always in shorts and a halter neck top. She would’ve never worn this,’ I cried to my sister-in-law.
After two months I garnered the courage to organise a call to Dad in jail.
When we were finally connected, Dad was still gripped by psychosis with no remorse in his voice.
Nearly a year on from Mum’s death, I was blessed with a beautiful baby girl on January 17, 2023.
‘Mum wanted a granddaughter so badly, she would have loved you so much, Amelia,’ I said, stroking my daughter’s hair.
One day my kids are going to grow up and wonder why they don’t have a nanny and poppy, I thought to myself.
In January last year, my father, Jeffrey James Godfrey, 53, appeared in the Brisbane Supreme Court, where he pleaded guilty to manslaughter.
His initial murder charge had been downgraded after a mental health court determined he had diminished responsibility, brought on by prolonged drug use.
A toxicology report revealed he didn’t have any drugs in his system at the time of the killing, but he suffered a drug induced psychosis triggered from sustained abuse of methamphetamine.
The court heard that Dad had been spending $3000 a week on it.
‘You were intent on her death,’ Justice Glenn Martin said, adding that he’d betrayed Mum’s trust in ‘the ultimate way by killing her.’
Justice Martin told the court he accepted Dad had a ‘mammoth addiction’ to meth, which was an ‘awful drug’, but this was the only reason he developed a mental illness.
‘This is not an organic illness. This is an illness brought on by your own behaviour. The absolute folly of consuming illicit drugs is a message which should be made clear again
and again.’
As he was sentenced to 12 years behind bars and ordered to serve at least 80 per cent before applying for parole, my father had no remorse or guilt on his face.
READ MORE: Best friend from hell: ‘She poisoned me to steal my son’
‘I can’t believe you are my dad. I don’t even recognise you,’ I whispered.
While no punishment will ever bring Mum back to us, I believe Dad should have received a life sentence for taking our mum away from us forever.
As time goes on, my heart aches when I remember Mum will never see my brother get married, or her grandkids, now five and three, pass their milestones, and that is the greatest pain to accept.
When I miss Mum, I buy a purple flower – her favourite – and light a candle to remember how much warmth she brought to everyone around her.
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