In Catching Teller Crow, racist power structures enable the abuse of Australian Aboriginal people, particularly girls—and while the law sometimes holds abusers to account, it often perpetuates injustice. From the late 1860s into the 1970s, the Australian government passed laws and policies encouraging the forcible removal of children from their Aboriginal families to facilities (or, sometimes, adoptive families) that tried to assimilate the children to white Australian culture. While the novel takes place after these government practices have ceased, they hang over the novel, as major character Isobel Catching’s Aboriginal great-grandmother Sadie and grandmother Leslie were both taken from their mothers by the government. Moreover, violence against Aboriginal girls tacitly condoned by the police forms a major part of the novel’s plot. Twenty years before the story’s main events take place, white teenagers Alexander Sholt and Derek Bell kidnap, abuse, and murder a 14-year-old Aboriginal girl named Sarah Blue. Gerry Bell, the local police chief and Derek’s father, intentionally botches the investigation into Sarah’s disappearance—and gets away with it because Sarah is Aboriginal, not white. Derek becomes the police chief after his father to help cover up his own crimes against girls—and when Alexander and Derek kidnap Isobel Catching 20 years later, she psychologically withstands their abuse by remembering her female ancestors’ strength in the face of white colonization and the government’s assaults on Aboriginal family integrity, drawing a parallel between the government’s legal persecution of Aboriginal people and Alexander and Derek’s predation of Aboriginal girls. While detective Michael Teller and local police officer Allie Hartley eventually discover Alexander and Derek’s crimes and seek justice for their victims, the novel presents them as unusually moral and anti-racist police officers due to their relationships with Aboriginal people: Michael’s beloved daughter Beth is Aboriginal, and Allie’s childhood best friend was Alexander and Derek’s first victim Sarah. Thus, the novel suggests that while individual police officers can be just and moral, Australian law and policing have historically been racist in a way that enabled and continues to enable abuses of power against Aboriginal people.
Abuse of Power, Racism, and the Law ThemeTracker
Abuse of Power, Racism, and the Law Quotes in Catching Teller Crow
Dad said his old man thought the law was there to protect some people and punish others. And Aboriginal people were the ‘others.’
“Maybe I didn’t see anything. Or maybe I did. Depends.”
“Depends on what?”
She looked at me—or, no, she didn’t, she looked into the space I was standing in for a second, then away again. “On if you’ll believe me.”
When your Nanna was little the government took her away from her mum. They had a law back then that let them take Aboriginal kids just because they were Aboriginal . . .
“It seems to me he might be a little like my father—the kind of cop who thinks the rules don’t apply to everyone equally. He could’ve been too deferential to the Sholt family, given them special treatment . . . maybe let a few things slide about that home that he now sees he should have looked into.”
“Oh, it was a long time ago. Twenty years . . . seven months . . . six days. Not that I’m counting!” She tried to laugh, but it broke in the middle. “Sarah just vanished a week before her fifteenth birthday. She got off the bus from school, same as always, but she never made it home.”
[…]
Twenty years, seven months, six days . . . Was Dad going to be like this, decades from now when he talked about me? I didn’t want him making my death some kind of depressing mathematical reference point for his life.
“We’re police officers,” he said, and I heard the pride in his voice. “We never stop looking for the missing.”
“He eats what’s inside our insides. The colours that live in our spirits. Do you think I was always a grey girl?”
I can endure.
As long as I remember where I come from.
Who I come from.
“You taught me to be fair, Dad, and what you’re doing’s not fair to anybody. Especially me. How do you think I’m going to feel if I’m the reason you make everybody miserable? And if you can’t see how wrong you are—how unfair you’re being, to yourself and everybody else—then you’re not the dad I know.”
“This gray’s yours,” I say. “My colours are mine. I’m not carrying your shame for what you did. Only my pride. For surviving you.”