My girl died for the ‘perfect’ pic
Laughter rang out as my two little girls chased each other around the house. Just a few years apart in age, Zoe and Sophie were the best of friends.
Zoe took her big sister role seriously and as they grew, she taught Sophie everything.
At school she always befriended the kids that sat alone at lunch time too.
‘She’s the glue that sticks all of us together,’ her friends would say.
After she graduated from university aged 22, Zoe had big plans with her friend Connie to leave England and see the world.
‘We’re going to Australia,’ she told me and her dad, Steve.
Lapping up all the time we could with her before she left, I cooked family dinners and Sophie helped her pack.
Then came the motherly advice.
‘Be sensible and look out for yourselves,’ I told her.
‘Mum, I know all of this,’ she smiled, giving me a hug.
It’s a mum’s job to worry, I thought.
Waving goodbye at the departure gate, Steve put his arm around me and Sophie wiped away her tears.
‘I’ll see you soon,’ Zoe said. In my head I counted the dates. It was July 2013 and we were planning on meeting up wherever she was in October 2014.
It’s far too long, I thought, watching her gorgeous blonde hair disappear.
‘She’ll be back before we know it,’ Steve whispered.
We’d message every day, and with the time difference, I would be on the bus to work and she would be on the bus home from work.
260 days until I see you! I texted.
Every Sunday we Skyped with the whole family and Zoe would tell us her highlights of the week.
‘I miss you and can’t wait to see you,’ she’d say at the end, blowing us kisses.
We especially loved seeing her beautiful photos.
Then, when she’d been away seven months and was living in Sydney, Connie made plans to visit Bali and Zoe decided she would join an organised tour in the Northern Territory.
‘It’s just for three days,’ she told us.
By now, I was at ease with Zoe’s solo travels, and with a tour guide I knew she would be safe.
At the same time, Steve and I were planning our own getaway to Turkey.
A couple of hours after we arrived, we were in bed at 1am when my phone rang. It was Sophie.
‘It’s Zoe,’ she said.
Instantly I knew
something horrible had happened.
Hearing her voice trembling, Steve and I sat up.
Through sobs, she told me that Zoe had been in a terrible accident while on her tour.
After a three-hour hike, the guide stopped at Kestrel Falls lookout, a spot notorious for dangerous selfies.
Below the cliff top, there was a rock ledge out of sight about a metre below.
The tour guide encouraged everyone in Zoe’s group to climb down to the ledge to snap a photo, which made it look like they were clinging to the edge.
Devastatingly, in an attempt to capture the
perfect picture, Zoe slipped and fell 30 metres onto the jagged rocks below.
Despite the ranger’s best efforts, she suffered severe injuries and passed away at the scene.
‘We’re coming home,’ I sobbed.
Shattered, Steve and I caught the first flight back.
It felt like I was split into two people. On the outside, I was arranging what needed to be done – Zoe’s funeral, phoning family… But on the inside, I was screaming.
As Steve flew to Sydney alone to collect Zoe’s belongings and then to Alice Springs to bring our girl home, I stayed with Sophie.
Standing at my daughter’s funeral was something I
It felt like I was split in two… on the inside I was screaming
never thought I would have to go through.
‘Why us? Why Zoe?’ I cried to Steve.
We’d been robbed of our girl, our future, our family.
As we tried to rebuild our lives without her, a coronial inquest was held into her death.
The court heard Zoe had slid down onto the ledge, but her right foot did not make contact as anticipated.
It was like ‘she stepped on air,’ one witness said.
After all the evidence, we went to hear the findings.
The coroner called for changes in how tours are conducted in dangerous areas.
These ‘fun’ photos were to be banned, new signage and appropriate safety measures must be put in place and guides should be re-trained.
‘It’s good that something positive came out of this,’ Steve reassured me.
In October, Steve, Sophie and I decided to return to Australia and follow Zoe’s footsteps.
‘I’ll get some flowers,’
I said, wanting to take something.
As we wound around the bend, we saw a seat with a beautiful silver plaque dedicated to our girl.
Overcome with emotion, I sat down and took in what would’ve been the last view Zoe saw.
Now I want people to come to this place and sit on my daughter’s bench.
Instead of risking your life for a photo, admire the view.
Your safety is the most important thing.
Zoe looked out for everyone when she was here and now she’s gone, we hope she can save lives.