"I'm a convicted drug mule - and I stand for mercy."

Four years ago, I “came out” to my family and friends: I am a convicted drug smuggler.

I  was a drug mule 16 years ago. Officially, I am a convicted drug trafficker – if you looked it up, that is what is written on my Enhanced Disclosure Certificate (a criminal history check) – and I spent some time in prison in LA. It’s a label I have come to terms with, a label I now use for good.

Now, everyone knows about my offence, including my two older daughters. But years ago, I had to tell them.

My 10-year-old girl  found something I had written for work and came into my room where I was just waking up, she said, “Mum, have you been to prison?” – my heart was in my mouth – I said, “Yes, but I’ll tell you all about it with your sister after school.”

I was so scared; children can be so cruel and judgmental. It went better than I could have hoped. I could see the younger girls’ minds working, ‘I thought prisons were full of bad people, but my mum is not a bad person, so maybe they aren’t’ – I am so proud of my girls, for now realising that prisons are full of normal people who made bad decisions. My elder daughter, then 14, said, “You know this means you can never tell me off again!”

Most friends and neighbours said, ‘There but for the grace of God, go I…’ – ‘If you only knew some of the things we got up to…’

I will never get over what I put my family through, during those times. Yes, it’s horrible in prison, but you are soon institutionalised and in your bubble. You get on with the routine. My mum did not travel across the world from England to the US to see me, but made a pact with God that if I were released she would attend mass. She still goes. My dad came three times, worked tirelessly, re-mortgaged the house. I can never make up for those days.

I was treated very fairly in the end. I was released for time served, and the man who put me on the plane got seven years. I hear he now lives in Spain; he does not blame me for informing on him, he knew his time had come.

After I “came out”, I did a bit of press, I wanted to use my story as a platform to say other things about the prison system, and to talk about rights for vulnerable people. So I founded a charity that works with prisoners doing creative projects and facilitating change.

Now, I can’t stop thinking about the Bali 9 and the forthcoming executions. I feel so frustrated; I do not know where to put my energy and my anger. I am devouring news clips and signing petitions and posting things on social media. Like thousands of us, I am horrified at the unfolding story.

Ten days ago I visited the exhibition “From Death Row” at Amnesty International headquarters in London. I had been following the campaign for a pardon for Andrew and Myu from afar via an artist friend in Melbourne who knew my history. 

It was Myu’s 34^th birthday the day I was at the exhibition. I was haunted and moved by the paintings. There is something raw and bloodlike about them, a growing desperation and frustration. Trawling the internet and Facebook for groups to join in support, I ended up chatting to Myu’s cousin, she agreed to meet me at the exhibition. I talked to Niranjula and asked her a few questions about the exhibition and her family, I bought a little “Protect the Human” badge and made a donation. I was connected. I felt close to them.

Carlotta interviewing Myuran’s cousin Niranjula at the ‘From Death Row’ exhibition (post continues after video):

As I write this there are maybe 16 hours to go. I am working out the time difference from my base in the UK and what and where I might be at the time. I want to be able to stop and think. I am not giving up hope. I posted a picture of their engraved crosses on my Facebook page last night, it’s a horrific and appalling picture, but I wanted people to be shocked and sad like me. My daughters and friends approved, dutifully signed, posted, passed it on.

I have been driven to help prisoners since my experience. I am working in prisons and in the community, I work with addicts and homeless people and vulnerable adults and children.

I grew up in a haze of drugs and misadventure, a big group of us made a lot of bad and dangerous decisions. Drugs have blighted my life, friends have overdosed, relationships are ruined or in recovery. Now I see the stories repeat with the prisoners I work with, the world they are locked in, the desperation. The drugs are just dust on the surface of much deeper problems.

I was teaching a class today. I could not concentrate. I wanted to talk about Andrew and Myu. It is in a women’s prison and I asked how many out the six were in for drug trafficking, three said they were, 2 Europeans and 1 Vietnamese girl. Every class is like that; about 50% are in for drug-related offences. They are normal people, they are like you and I, they make a few wrong decisions and they become desperate. I see people change, all the time, even if it is just a glimpse of it.

Humans are so complex and flawed by nature. I cannot reconcile a barbaric death by firing squad for drug offences as a human act.

I can’t even talk about it to my girls, or anyone. I cannot find the words.

Carlotta Goulden-Allum is the founder of Stretch. Watch her talk about her prison experience, here. 

Read more: 

Australian celebrities’ plea: ‘Save our boys, Mr Abbott.’

Andrew Chan marries fiancée the day before his planned execution.

A final act of defiance: Bali Nine refuse to sign execution papers.

Bali Nine duo receive notice of their execution.