In 2004, I moved to Hobart to be with my Tasmanian wife as we wanted to start a family and she preferred to live in her homeland. At the time, I was a pro-boxer, known as The Hobo, so I was thrilled there was a seasoned amateur gym nearby. Plus the Boxing Promoter happened to be a colleague of my manager in Sydney. Little did I know these unsavoury vultures would use me just to make money, and they treated and abused me in the most criminal and corrupt way possible. One night when I went to watch my sparring partners at a boxing promotion in Hobart, I was informed I wasn’t welcome and told to leave. Though I didn’t understand why, I disregarded them and headed to a nearby hotel where I played Eight Ball for a few hours. As I was leaving the hotel, I was Coward-Punched onto the concrete street, causing multiple brain contusions and my skull to be fractured in two places. After being in a coma for days, I woke in hospital but was told I fell over drunk. Though I knew this to be false, it was eighteen months before I was informed by police that witnesses had stated it was a boxer that attacked me. What shocked me more was that my assailant was from the gym where I was a main sparring partner, yet no one has ever been charged. Why is that? And why were none of my family contacted by police or hospital staff when I was in a coma with a fractured skull? This true-crime story tells how the attack that was perpetrated on me was covered up by police. Could this be major prejudice because my boxing name is The Hobo and my address at the time was a St Vincent De Paul men’s hostel?