Like many Australians, I was hit with a wave of emotions when news broke in January that Jasper Jones author Craig Silvey had been arrested on charges related to possessing and distributing child exploitation material – two of which he has now pleaded guilty to.
First, there was the shock that someone I had so admired, particularly as a fellow young adult fiction author, and whose mind had conjured up stories that had touched my soul, could possibly do something so reprehensible.
Then there was horror. I felt sick at the thought of the children who might have been harmed, at the power and trust Silvey had gained and seemingly abused through his position – and as a father of young children himself.
But amid all these awful feelings, on a personal level, there was a tiny sliver of relief.
I had met Silvey in person at a book event in 2012. I found him charming and funny. A good bloke. A brilliant author. I felt that small and momentary relief because I had done what I could to protect my own children from Silvey, and from others like him on the internet, through the simple act of not posting my family photos online.
In this case, the nebulous idea that some random internet user might see images of my children in a predatory way was brought into sharp focus because Silvey had followed me on Instagram.
I thought back to my early days of parenthood when, giddy with delight in my brand-new creation, I had posted photos here and there. I never showed my baby’s face – using an emoji to cover it – but wanted everyone to see this incredible new part of my life, and know a little bit about what was consuming my every waking hour (emphasis on the waking).
As my baby – and my family – grew, I continued to share little moments. But there was an ongoing tension between my desire to shout from the rooftops about how wonderful my kids are, and my uneasiness with relinquishing control of their images to social media platforms and the strangers – and, it turns out, acquaintances – who lurk on them.
At the time, I reasoned that obscuring my kids’ faces and only posting occasionally was a solid compromise. And then I learnt an actual predator was in my friends list, even before news of Silvey came to light.
I had met children’s author Oliver Phommavanh a few times. I’d done book events with him, and we’d been on an ABC podcast together. I’d watched as he’d open a huge sack of toys and puppets on school visits, making kids laugh with his antics, and I’d marvelled at his lack of self-consciousness and ability to get on their level. It’s something that makes me feel ill in retrospect.
In 2024, Phommavanh was charged with online grooming of a child, and later pleaded guilty to six counts against three victims, whom he had met either through school visits or his online presence as an author.
I want to be clear it’s his victims who matter here – not my feelings or anyone else’s. Still, I couldn’t help my creeping sense of violation and guilt. Not just that I had been around Phommavanh in the presence of children without suspecting the sinister truth, but also that I had exposed my own kids to him online. I immediately deleted any photos of them I had previously posted, and never posted another.
This is where that relief came in when the Silvey news broke, amid the disbelief and anguish that this was happening again.
Like Phommavanh, it never entered my mind that Silvey might be a predator. After all, he had risen to fame on the back of a story that explored the irreparable damage sexual abuse inflicts on children. He seemed like the opposite of what a predator would be. Once again, retrospect gives everything a whole new meaning.
One of the most difficult truths to face when it comes to people who prey on children – and what helps the abuse go under the radar far too often – is that they are usually ordinary, affable, and all kinds of other positive personality traits. They are people we know. People we trust. People we don’t think twice about showing cute photos of our kids at the beach, or blowing bubbles, or starting their first day of school.
I understand the instinct to post about your kids online, and to think it’s harmless.
But what I come back to is the fact that, like many parents, there are very few people who I trust so completely that I feel comfortable leaving my children alone with them. So why would I trust anyone with their digital presence?
Phommavanh and Silvey both used the internet to access and share child exploitation material. They are far from the only ones, even in the list of people I know, sadly. Statistically speaking, we all have predators in our circles, digital or otherwise. And with the rise of AI, we have less control than ever over anything we post online.
My children can’t consent to being part of that churn. Keeping their images private is one small thing I can do to protect them as much as I can, for as long as I can.
Support is available from the National Sexual Assault, Domestic Family Violence Counselling Service at 1800RESPECT (1800 737 732). Kids Helpline: 1800 55 1800.
Jenna Guillaume is an entertainment and lifestyle journalist and author of What I Like About Me.
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Jenna Guillaume is an entertainment and lifestyle journalist and author of What I Like About Me.
