Posted May 30, A year-old Victorian man who travelled to Queensland to meet a year-old girl for sex has been sentenced to 18 months' jail by a Brisbane court. Shane Douglas Grapsas pleaded guilty in the District Court to a number of charges including grooming, indecent communication with a child under 16 and accessing child pornography. The court heard Grapsas started communicating with someone he thought to be 18 years old, via the dating website RSVP.
In reality, he was chatting to an undercover police officer who eventually told Grapsas she was only 14 and still in school.
The court heard Grapsas organised to meet the girl in Brisbane in December , but when he arrived at the rendezvous he was arrested by police officers. Commonwealth prosecutor Aimee Sanderson told the court Grapsas started contact by saying: Ms Sanderson said the girl told him she was on the online dating website because she was curious. Defence lawyer John McInnes told the court his client was "not someone who has struggled with debilitating psychiatric illness".
He didn't go looking for year-olds," Mr McInnes said. He said his client's search parameters on the website were to catch females between the age of 18 and over years old. In sentencing, Judge Brendan Butler told the court he took into account Grapsas' early guilty plea but said a custodial sentence was necessary.
He told Grapsas he encouraged someone he thought was a young girl to respond to him sexually in "gross" ways through the language used, the acts proposed and the images he sent. More stories from Queensland. If you have inside knowledge of a topic in the news, contact the ABC. ABC teams share the story behind the story and insights into the making of digital, TV and radio content. Read about our editorial guiding principles and the enforceable standard our journalists follow. Award-winning journalist Liz Jackson turns the camera on herself to reveal her diagnosis of Parkinson's disease.
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We have seen kangaroos, koalas, goannas, crocodiles, opossum and a whole lot of marsupials of every shape and size. But most of all, we shared the road with such a diverse humanity that we would have hardly ever met otherwise.
We worked with cowboys from Queensland. Lads that in their twenties are already married with kids and leading giant cattle stations. We lived with the nomads of Coral Bay, who sold everything in exchange for a motorhome and a seasonal job by the ocean. We mixed with the Melbourne hipsters, with their festivals, horse races, and trendy restaurants.
We talked to Aborigines, either sober or not, and with Australians who never left their island and asked if Milan was by the ocean. But also with other Australians that have travelled the world and worked as agricultural pilots in Tanzania. We met Israeli vacationers and exiled Iranians; Korean dishwashers and Nepalese bartenders; Italians who took the working holiday in Australia for the Erasmus in Spain and, above all, we met many, many Chinese.
In Melbourne I changed five jobs. Each time I had to scout for a new one, I cycled the whole city and its suburbs exploring hidden lanes, ethnic enclaves and outlet districts.
I had a laugh with shopkeepers, drank coffee with coffee makers and always ended up finding a job after the other, meeting new people and finally finding myself invited at two Christmas parties on the same day. In Melbourne I worked in a restaurant for a while and I soon learned that Chinese customers where the toughest. Because of the huge cultural difference, they treated the staff in a way that in the western world was considered impolite at best.
Chinese table after Chinese table that treated me like a slave, I discovered that slipping into racial hatred is easier than you might think. Staying true to your values can be difficult when people keep calling your attention by snapping their fingers and shouting orders every five seconds.
We moved to Oz in , while in Europe and in Italy in particular the economic crisis was still raging. The immigration policies also started to tighten that year because of the government shifting to the right.
I have been reconfirmed that there are a thousand reasons behind migrating but only one behind the intolerance: I missed Europe as much as I missed my family and friends. Spending one year in another western country yet so different from my own helped me put into perspective the issues that we have in the Old Continent and to value its culture and beauty. Last but not least, comparing myself to Australians I noticed how closer we are between us Europeans. I spent my childhood and youth being defined as the one from the little village, then the one from Bergamo, then the Italian.
In Australia all this regional differences seems to fade away in the big picture. Follow my blog with Bloglovin. W ell, I have to admit that the title might be slightly misleading. It was the boiling July of and we were in rural Queensland trying to complete our share of regional work to get our second year visa. We spent a month in Strathmore Station Queensland, a huge property km inland from Cairns.
It has been one of the craziest job we ever undertook and I can speak for both here but it gave us some of the best and craziest memories of our Australian year. Here is my account from When a calf testicle flies over your head, it makes a swish like a cartoon bomb: He was smoking a cigarette, covered in blood up to his elbows, while working on a calf placed in front of him, legs in the air.
At Strathmore Station, all the jackaroos the cowboys earn a nickname sooner or later. Andrea became Mario, for some obscure similarity with the Italian video game hero. We are about twenty people here: Most of the workers are contractors that come just for the mustering season. In smaller stations, mustering is still made on horseback, with the help of dogs.
Here cattle are gathered with the cross effort of quod bikes and helicopters. The concept of moving herds with a helicopter was so absurd that I had to try. The day that Mike the pilot offered to take me with him, I took my camera, a handful of motion sickness pills, and I jumped aboard.
Especially when Mike started for his unpredictable chase of cows: A positive record according to Mike. The boys work non-stop from sunrise to sunset under the boiling sun of the southern hemisphere dry season. They move the animals in the midst of perennial red dust and extremely large and not human friendly cattle. Kicks and wounds happen on a daily basis and nearly-death experiences are as punctual as electricity bills.
You know, all those playful pastimes that solitary men like so much. And of course the backies are always selected for the worst chores. The back stories of the Australians that work here are all very interesting. Some, under the most unlikely goatee, tattoos, or mirrored glasses hide an open mindset and incredible travel experiences.
Monkey is twenty-seven years old and bounces his head in rhythm every time a song passes on TV. He often sneaks into the kitchen to secretely steal the sweets. Before becoming a jackaroo, he was a crab fisherman. He dived as deep as thirty meters using just a rubber tube to suck air from the surface. The last one broke a month ago, while he was working with cattle, hundreds of miles from the sea.
The flyng doctors came to pick him up. Ricky turned seventeen two weeks ago, but he has been working here since he was fifteen. You forgive them the constant sex talk and the bad habit of drowning all of my meals in barbecue sauce.
She works in paradise. In the afternoon I usually bake cakes, I lazily handle irrigation, I feed the pig and the hounds, I play with the dog, and scare the occasional cow out of the garden.
I spend the rest of the time reading between lemon trees and Banksia flowers, white parrots and kangaroos that nap in the shade. We are the only people living here, the others are part time contractors that come and go. Well, it seems trivial to tell you about how terrifying it is to live with fire paranoia, working all day in the smoke, constantly smelling of diesel.
I hate every minute of this and I complain about it all the time. And I do it for one and only reason: When this job will be over, I will be rich. Richer than I have ever been in my life.
I will have earned in a month much more than I earned in a year by working as a hostess. The money will also fund our desert crossing! On the Great Central Road fuel can costs as much as 2. Since the boss promoted me to the fanciest ute, my life has improved a lot.
You just push a button from inside of the car and the thing hooked behind the pick-up sparks fire! This way I light everything faster, with zero effort and without breathing almost any smoke. I also drive the tractor from time to time now. Things are getting better and our escape is closer. I'm Sabrina, travel blogger and digital gipsy. Here I share my stories, photographs and some of the lessons I've learned on the road.
If you're looking for travel inspo, you've come to the right place. Exploring Daintree National Park What is really amazing about this piece of coastline is the intricate and chirping density of the rainforest. Jump with a liane in the Emmagen Creek and actually have a swim! Feel some off-road adrenaline on the Bloomfield Track Once you reach Cape Tribulation, the northern tip of the park, the asphalt road ends abruptly and turns into an off-road track: Browse my Australian Photo series: Browse my Great Central Road gallery: Everything you need can fit in a 50L backpack While traveling long-term I learned to get rid of the superfluous.
Living on the road creates many more occasions for learning and meeting interesting people than living in one place. No matter how much you know that racism is wrong, it is always around the corner In Melbourne I worked in a restaurant for a while and I soon learned that Chinese customers where the toughest.
I experienced what does it mean to be treated as an economic migrant We moved to Oz in , while in Europe and in Italy in particular the economic crisis was still raging.
The siren call of nomad life will always sing in the back of your head. So, how is it to work in cattle station as a backpacker? So, what does a girl do in cattle station?