Julian Hill (Bruce, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Hansard source

Thank you to the previous speaker. That was beautiful. You're right: she'd hate all this!

Even though we'd been expecting it, it was still a shock. On Monday afternoon, I got off a plane in Sydney and turned on my phone, and it exploded with messages of sadness that our dear, funny, smart, sassy and courageous friend, colleague and warrior, Peta, is dead. I stood there for a bit and had a bit of a cry, as people wandered around the airport. Even though we all knew it was going to happen, and probably soon, we still held on to the hope that the experimental treatment she was on, the last roll of the dice, would work—for a bit longer, at least.

Peta was absolutely glorious at her 50th, just two weeks ago. She was pumped up on steroids, but sassy and hilarious as always. It's surreal that only eight days ago, last Tuesday, Peta was sitting right there in question time, asking a question. Let's be honest, though. As my mum used to say, she looked like death warmed up. Peta knew it. We talked about it. The essence and energy of Peta, though, was still there last Tuesday: clarity, purpose and grit, but accompanied, more than before, by the pallor of cancer. Her movements and words were chosen carefully to conserve her energy and breath. She could've chosen to stay home, of course, with the people she loved most, yet still she came to Canberra and did her duty, fighting for the things and people that mattered to her. It was a life with purpose, working for her constituents, planning breast cancer events, finalising a committee report for her last inquiry into the recognition of unpaid carers. Last Tuesday was her last day in parliament. She then went back to Melbourne and to hospital and then home to die, surrounded by those she loved—her husband, Rod; sisters; and parents.

There's a real honesty in the words 'die', 'dead' and 'death'. They are honest, raw, human words. They don't gloss over the truth like 'passed' or 'left us'. People live. People die. We should embrace and honour death and, by doing so, honour a life well lived, which is what we do here today.

Peta was brilliant, fun, engaging, self-deprecating, driven, caring and so many other nice words. And, yes, as other speakers have said, she'd hate the sooking. She'd hate the praise. She was not up herself, as the previous speaker said. But above all else her journey to get here and her time in this parliament showed the world how very, very brave she was. She was so, so tough.

She stood for Dunkley in 2016 when I stood for Bruce. We had something in common with regard to politics—both of us had been offered chances to stand for state parliament over the years. Both of us went, 'Yeah but nah.' Federal issues were our passion, and, if it didn't work out, such is life. Peta would rather have a crack than settle. In 2016, I won while she just lost. She got a much bigger swing, of course. In 2018, she was offered a chance again to stand for a safe seat in the state parliament. Again, 'Yeah but nah.' Winning Dunkley in 2019 was Peta's focus, representing the community she loved in a federal Labor government.

The AEC redistribution gods had been kind to me that term, so I appointed myself Peta's campaign director and got to work to do everything humanly possible to get her elected. Peta, of course, was unbelievable as a candidate. She was warm, hardworking, smart, relentless, brilliant with people. She did the work. She took advice. She even did the fundraising, which everybody hates. She did have some red lines, though. She didn't really like negativity. So we had to negotiate a bit on that. One day I said to her in exasperation: 'What do you think you are? The bloody Obama of Australian politics?' And looked at me and she said, 'Somebody had to be.' She had a point.

The only thing we disagreed about were billboards. She wanted them. I said that she had candidate's disease. We compromised on some moving billboards at the Frankston mall. She chose well and screwed a bargain, as, of course, the owners loves her. She also pointed out archly after that that she saved the money elsewhere with a bargain on the campaign office, because, of course, those owners loved her too. She romped in, in 2019, the first woman to represent Dunkley.

Shortly after the election, I was standing on a giant warship off the coast of Rockhampton for Talisman Sabre doing defence things. I got some mobile reception briefly, and the phone rang. It was Peta. She said, quite matter-of-factly, 'Just letting you know the cancer is back.' It was devastating news. She explained that it was metastatic and that it would get her in the end but then said with characteristics sass that there were two big bright spots. If you're going to have breast cancer return all nasty and metastatic like, then she had the best type to have; hers was the best subtype to have as they could manage it for a long while, and she wasn't going anywhere soon so not to stress. The second big bright spot was that her oncologist had told her, 'Don't worry about not drinking any more,' so she was having a wine and a G and T again and enjoying that.

Of course, having cancer wasn't easy. She used to say, 'Let's face it, cancer sucks.' We had endless black jokes about cancer. Sometimes they shocked people, but then she'd laugh and say, 'Who cares? I've got cancer.' It's hard enough for anyone to live with metastatic cancer, especially so with this role. Being an MP is a privilege role, but some days it's a terrible job. It's relentless. It's 24/7. There is always more to do. You're always utterly exhausted. People hate on you for things that aren't your fault. Success often feels like equally disappointing everyone. You're always supposed to be nice, even when they're mad or completely unreasonable. Yet Peta loved her community fiercely and embraced the role with gusto. She was everywhere, helping everyone, especially sporting clubs, especially women, especially young people, most especially young women in sport.

She also loved and was always so proud of her wonderful staff. Her team, when she died, were together in her office when they got the news from Rod—Lauren Johnson, Madison Child, John Condon, Kitty McLoyghlin, Majella Frick, Madeleine Van Der Zypp and Louis Robson. It has been a source of mystery and amazement to us all for a long while, how she summoned the energy to do the job and to do all that she did while living with cancer: more exhausted than the rest of us, doing the chemo—on the chemotherapy, off the chemo—and summoning the hope before appointments and scans. Sometimes, for a while, there was good news—then, more often, bad. But on she fought, determined to live and to do her job.

Peta was human. As I said, she knew it would get her in the end; she had her down moments, but she didn't let them show much. I knew things were bad when I sent a message late on a Thursday night in a sitting week in June this year. She had gone home early that day. I said: 'Thinking of you, hope you're feeling okay. Canberra was so mad in QT today.' And there was some unprintable stuff then about one of those blokes opposite on whom we had a shared view! She replied the next morning: 'Thanks. I just lost my resilience for a little bit this week. I'll find it again.' In Peta-world that was a big admission—how tough things were. And she did find her resilience again, for nearly six months more.

Peta was so loved in her electorate; she was a brilliant local MP. As the member for Jagajaga said, her Instagram was truly exhausting—just looking at it! But she also took seamlessly to the Canberra aspects of the role. She had a sharp policy mind from her years in the law, from her work as an adviser in government and as a chief of staff to the member for Gorton when in opposition. But she didn't just know how to get here; she knew what she wanted to do and how to get things done. Her work on gambling reform was superb. Her public advocacy on all manner of social issues was passionate, principled and flawless. That she died so young is a tragedy, not just for her family, friends and community but it was also a tragedy that she was unable to fulfil her potential here, as the PM said. She would have and should have been a cabinet minister, and a fine one at that.

One of the silliest things someone said to me after the 2019 election was: 'Oh, that's great that Peta got elected and you helped to run her campaign. Doesn't that mean she'll vote for you to be a minister one day?' I looked at them like they were an idiot and said: 'Well, that shows you don't understand very much! Firstly, that's not how the voting system works in a multimember, first-past-the-post election, monarchy, winner-takes-all system. But, secondly, if that were the voting system, I'm very clear that Peta would quite reasonably consider me a vote for her!' Peta had the X factor; she had unlimited potential. And anyway, there was no way that Peta Murphy could or should just kowtow to some bloke just because he had been here for a few years longer! Peta was the first woman to serve as the member for Dunkley ,and she was a mentor and inspiration to women in her community and beyond. If you haven't heard the story of Louisa Dunkley, who fought for equal pay for women over 100 years ago, then you probably didn't hear Peta speak very much. But, in that case, look it up. Peta will be dearly missed for her wit, intelligence, kindness and wisdom. She was someone here who any of us could always call on, bounce anything around and get wise advice. She had this insane ability just to go straight to the heart of the matter—to glance at the problem and tell you the answer.

Last week, Peta hated how sick she was and that people had to see her like that. But it was the price to be paid for her determination to keep doing her job. Remember Peta for being strong, not for being sick. Remember Peta for her brilliance, kindness and wit. Remember Peta for her commitment to making life better for other people in her electorate and across our country. The next member for Dunkley will have the biggest shoes to fill! Of course we will proceed, as Peta the warrior would have wanted, and ensure a worthy Labor successor is elected to take her place as a local voice in the government for the people of Dunkley, and to carry on her work. But that fight is for another day. For now, we grieve for our colleague, friend and comrade. Vale, Peta.

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