Dianne Brimble and me

Is it just me or is everyone praying for the Brimble family’s pain to be over?

I have followed the case of Redcliffe mother Dianne Brimble’s death on the floor of an economy-class cabin of the Pacific Sky cruise ship with horror and a bizarre sense of reflected humiliation.

I suspect I have a touch of the Dianne Brimbles – fun, fat, 40(ish) and insecure enough to be flattered by the attentions of men who don’t deserve me.

The police record of interviews with the “men of interest” in the case provides a chilling insight into what despicable men say when they think women aren’t listening.

One of these men, Leo Silvestri, told the police that Dianne Brimble’s death in his cabin ruined his holiday. He has admitted that on the morning in question, he woke to find Mrs Brimble dead on the floor, then showered and dressed her lifeless body.

Witnesses have told the inquest Mr Silvestri later joked with fellow passengers that he considered throwing her body overboard.

Mr Silvestri told police that the night before Mrs Brimble died, she allegedly walked up to his table and said: "Hi, how are you going?”

"It’s like, Hi, see you. I just brushed her off; I didn’t want to speak to her ... breath, yuck, ugly dog, just go talk to someone else. Ring the RSPCA," Silvestri said.

Later in the interview, Mr Silvestri repeatedly referred to Mrs Brimble as the "thing" and called her the "ugly dog".

He prided himself on the fact he didn’t “talk to anything over 60 kilos”.

Yesterday, Mark Wilhelm, the man who slept with Dianne Brimble and allegedly gave her the date rape drug fantasy the night she died, refused to answer questions at the inquest on the basis he might incriminate himself.

Dianne Brimble’s long-suffering family, sitting patiently in the courtroom, wasn’t completely spared from further hurt, however. In secretly taped telephone conversations played to the court, Mark Wilhelm is heard abusing and blaming Mrs Brimble, and painting himself as "the real victim here".

What makes me feel sickest about this story is that I think I might know these guys. Not personally, just in general. I might have even been out with one. And while they might be rare, I have absolutely no doubt they drink at your local pub.

By the way, my husband John didn’t want me to include that last paragraph. He said it made me sound like a man-hater, something he knows I could never be. But I told him I had to include it.

It’s probably the point of the article. It’s blokes like Silvestri and Wilhelm who judge women so harshly and treat them so badly that make girls like Dianne and Caroline so tragically, sometimes fatally, vulnerable.

Someone raised these men. Someone taught them that women don’t matter, that other people’s feelings and safety are irrelevant.

It makes me wonder about how John and I are raising our son.

So, for the sake of Dianne Brimble, and every fat, friendly girl who just wants someone to like her,

I want you to take a look around today. Look at your sons, and think about what their values are.

Are your boys kind? Are they generous of spirit? Do they think about the needs of other people? Are they brave? Do you trust them to do the right thing?

Would your son stand up for a drunken girl being harassed or degraded by a group of older blokes? Would he drag Dianne Brimble out of a ship’s cabin and get her help?

Look at your son.

Ask yourself if he’s that kind of boy.

Because that’s the type of man we need him to be.