In 2021, one of Australia’s most wanted fugitives famously walked into a police station and handed himself in after almost 30 years on the run from authorities.
Darko Desic had been living a quiet life as ‘Dougie’ on Sydney’s northern beaches, but his cash work as a handyman dried up during the Covid pandemic.
In 1992, Desic was serving time for growing marijuana in a northern NSW jail when he decided to escape, amid fears for his safety if he was sent back to his homeland, the former Yugoslavia when he was released.
The daring escape attracted headlines after appearing on Channel Seven’s Australia’s Most Wanted.
But years on the run left him jobless, penniless, homeless and an ’emotionally broken’ man.
‘It comes to the stage where I didn’t have any more people to rely on, like in previous days,’ Desic, now 68, told A Current Affair.
‘I didn’t stay on the beach all the time, I slept on a mattress on a football field. I didn’t have any more will to go (on). (I thought) that’s it. No will and nowhere to go.’
His mind made up, he walked into Dee Why police station.
In 2021, 30 years after escaping from jail in NSW, one of Australia’s most wanted fugitives, Darko Desic (pictured) walked into a police station and handed himself in
Darko Desic is pictured when he was a much younger man, before his life of notoriety began
‘I said ‘My name is Darko Desic and I would like to hand myself in. I escaped from Grafton Jail,” he recalled.
Desic’s life on the run began in Avalon on Sydney’s northern beaches.
‘I lived with surfies, moved from place to place, didn’t have to have ID, nobody asked nothing,’ he said.
The locals didn’t ask too many questions of the man they called Dougie, which suited him just fine.
‘If there were ever would be a mention, I think it was once or twice about (being a) legal immigrant,’ he said.
He was a qualified engineer, and though he was grateful for the odd jobs he was employed to do, he wanted to keep his brain occupied too.
So he taught about computers from books.
‘I spent quite a bit of money on books about operating systems, programming languages, computer architecture,’ he said.
Desic felt safe in Avalon among his newfound friends, but there was a desperately close call when a detective came knocking at his door.
‘My face must have dropped because he said ‘Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing to do with you’.’
Though he was free, he always had to be looking over his shoulder, wondering who to trust and what the future held.
‘I was basically living like a monk, more or less,’ he said.
Then Covid came. While many people lost their jobs, they were able to get increased welfare benefits during the pandemic.
But not Desic. He lost his job and his home and with no access to any help from the government, he made the fateful decision to hand himself in.
Darko Desic would like to be able to visit Croatia, but most of all he wants to become an Australian citizen
He ended up back behind bars to finish his sentence and served an additional two months for escaping.
With a roof over his head and three meals a day, he had no intention of trying to escape jail again.
‘Never. They could have opened the door. I would never have gone out,’ he said.
Jail was different the second time round too.
‘It was a different generation. I was now (an) uncle,’ Desic said with a smile.
When his term was up, though, he was immediately transferred to Sydney’s Villawood detention centre for deportation.
People who knew him on Sydney’s northern beaches, and many who had never met him, posted signs calling for his release and for the government to show some mercy for the now elderly man.
‘I was always surprised why. Even today I’m surprised why. It’s nothing that I’ve done (that’s) extraordinary,’ he said.
But lawyer Paul McGirr, who took up Desic’s case pro bono, said ‘He had done his time well and truly and had given back to the community without taking a cent on welfare in any way.’
Mr McGirr said it was a classic Australian tale. ‘It’s a bit of Aussie larrikinism. We were founded on a convict settlement whether we like it or not.
‘At the end of the day, Australians like a bit of a rogue story and we always have.’
Desic eventually got the phone call he’d desperately longed for. For the first time in more than three decades, he was truly free. His release certificate is pictured
Desic eventually got the phone call he’d desperately longed for.
For the first time in more than three decades, he was truly free.
He now lives alone on a farm near Sydney, having been given a job and a home by a Sydney businessmen who backed him from the start.
he was released from prison two years ago and still feels a prisoner because he can’t prove who he is.
Yugoslavia, the county he left, no longer exists.
Desic tried to get a Croatian passport and managed to get his original Yugoslavian birth certificate. But it wasn’t enough.
‘I went to the Croatian consulate. I’ve got no identification papers,’ he said.
He needs primary photo identification such as a drivers’ licence or photo ID. But Transport NSW told him he can’t get either because he can’t prove who he is.
He would like to visit Croatia one day but most of all he wants to become an Australian citizen.
‘I feel like an Australian. I don’t speak like one with my accent, but feeling is different to the way that you speak and your accent.’
Desic is eternally grateful to everyone who supported him.
‘Their trust in me was valid,’ he said.
Desic decided to break his silence because he hopes ‘maybe to inspire people, to some extent. To survive.’
