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Thursday, 31 March 2022
Page: 1515


Ms MURPHY (Dunkley) (10:06): This speech, which could be the last speech I am privileged to give in this current term of parliament, is dedicated to every person in my community of Dunkley who I have had the absolute privilege of representing over the last almost three years. It's budget week, and it could well be the last week of parliament before we go to an election. Rightly, much of the debate this week has been about whether or not the Morrison-Joyce budget delivers a better future or short-term fillers for problems that have arisen under nine long years of a tired Liberal-National government. Rightly, a lot of the debate is about who can deliver a better future for the people of Australia. That is an argument that I will be prosecuting with all the passion I can bring to it over the election campaign—which, let's face it, has already started—when the election's officially called, between now and election day. I can think of nothing that I would like to do more than continue to have the privilege to represent my community in this parliament and to try to work every day to get those big commitments delivered for their future but also to work hard every day to be the voice of people who are voiceless and to represent people who just want to have a life that's a bit easier. They are working hard for it every day, and they want a government and a representative that stands next to them to do it.

This speech is dedicated to all of the people in my electorate who have taken the time to come and talk to me about their lives, and sometimes about their tragedies so that I can be part of trying to make sure that other people don't live through the same tragedies. This speech is dedicated to Deb and her beautiful son, Lachlan, who I never had the privilege of meeting. Deb and Lachlan represent the people I've been talking about in my community. Deb's email to me about her journey with her son, Lachlan, is too long to read out in this speech, but she came and talked to me at a cafe at a coffee catch-up and then emailed me about her beautiful son, Lachlan, who was 33 years old when he became unwell and his life was devastated by a car crash and drinking afterwards and diabetes. She emailed me about the descent into hell for Lachlan and their family, navigating a mental health system that, in the end, didn't help him or prevent him from committing suicide. To all the Debs and Lachlans: I am going to keep working for you. (Time expired)