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"He said, `Have you got any of the
mango ice-cream that you made?"' Mrs Iredale's statement says. "I said,
`Yes, I'll leave you some'. He said, `I could do with some right now'."
The
biggest question, really, is: why, in 21st century Australia, where 90
per cent of adults have a mobile telephone, and 60 per cent of calls
made to 000 come from mobile telephones, was it not possible for
operators to pinpoint [David Iredale]'s location? Such tracking
technology has been available since 1995. Australia doesn't use it. A
person who calls 000 from a mobile phone might be at the scene of an accident, lost at sea, or disoriented, but operators depend upon them to give a street name, or else the computer won't let the call proceed. The ramifications of such outmoded technology are obvious: during the Victorian bushfires in February, people called on their mobiles from cars on smoky roads, driving blind, and the operators heard them dying, and couldn't do anything because they didn't know where the calls were coming from.
The Australian Communications and Media Authority's Wayne Debemarkdi said of the
mobile phone tracking technology: "We don't have it, and it's a
problem. You can use your mobile anywhere, and people do tend to use a
mobile when there is a serious emergency, but the operator doesn't know where they are.
MARY Anne Iredale spoke to her son David on
the morning before he died during a bushwalk in
the Blue Mountains.
The Sydney Grammar student had called her from his mobile to say he had no water.
In a statement tendered to
the Coroner, Mrs Iredale said she asked her son: `Are you OK?' He replied, `yes, we're fine'."
David said he was heading for a river to get water for himself and his friends.
"He said, `Have you got any of
the
mango ice-cream that you made?"' Mrs Iredale's statement says. "I said,
`Yes, I'll leave you some'. He said, `I could do with some right now'."
They didn't speak again. David, 17, was soon lost, dehydrated and becoming confused in
the pounding December heat.
He did exactly as he had long ago been taught to do. He called 000 from his mobile, in
the hope -- and, probably, in
the belief -- that somebody would help him. They didn't. In fact, as
the Coroner's Court has heard this week, David got a mouthful of sarcasm. "You just wandered off into
the middle of nowhere did you?" one operator said, when
the disoriented boy tried to explain that he didn't know exactly where he was.
As he was staggering about in
the heat and
the dust, trying hard to make
the
perilousness of his situation understood, to get his voice heard over a
line that kept breaking up, another said: "There's no need to yell."
On that day, December 11, 2006, David died, having been unable to convince operators that he was in desperate need of help.
It was as shocking a case as Australia has seen of
the
futility of calling 000, if you don't know where you are. If you call
from a mobile, they don't know where you are, not if you can't tell
them.
Serious questions about David's bushwalk are being raised at
the inquest into his death: was
the bushwalk sanctioned by Sydney Grammar and, if so, was it properly supervised, as part of
the Silver Duke of Edinburgh's Award. Did they discuss
the trek with
the program's co-ordinator at Sydney Grammar, Jim Forbes?
One of David's two companions, Phillip Chan, told
the inquest yesterday he had asked a teacher to recommend equipment for
the trip. He also said David had arranged with
the teacher to borrow a GPS device "just in case we got lost".
But
the
biggest question, really, is: why, in 21st century Australia, where 90
per cent of adults have a mobile telephone, and 60 per cent of calls
made to 000 come from mobile telephones, was it not possible for
operators to pinpoint David's location? Such tracking technology has
been available since 1995. Australia doesn't use it. A person who calls
000 from a mobile phone might be at
the scene of an accident, lost at sea, or disoriented, but operators depend upon them to give a street name, or else
the computer won't let
the call proceed.
The ramifications of such outmoded technology are obvious: during
the Victorian bushfires in February, people called on their mobiles from cars on smoky roads, driving blind, and
the operators heard them dying, and couldn't do anything because they didn't know where
the calls were coming from.
Something similar happened in NSW five years ago, when a 19-year-old called 000 to report
the Waterfall train disaster and was dismissed as a hoax caller.
Last April, a man had to cling to a bucket in rough seas near Forster, on
the NSW north coast because he couldn't get
the 000 operator to understand that he was offshore, and therefore, he couldn't give her a street address.
The Australian Communications and Media Authority's Wayne Debemarkdi said of
the
mobile phone tracking technology: "We don't have it, and it's a
problem. You can use your mobile anywhere, and people do tend to use a
mobile when there is a serious emergency, but
the operator doesn't know where they are.
"With
the old system,
the landlines, we could see straight away."
NSW ambulance spokesman
John Wilson said: "Sometimes they can tell us roughly which area
the mobile telephone tower is in, and that could be miles away from where
the person is.
The technology is there, but we don't have access to it.
"
The
federal Government would have to bring in legislation, to say, yes, we
need this, because it would make it a lot easier for everyone if we had
it."
ACMA said there were "various technologies" that would allow 000 to
identify a location but there were "advantages and disadvantages to each
of these". There were problems with "performance, reliability, costs,
accuracy and complexity".
The other question that needs to be answered is why
the operators didn't move heaven and earth to save
the
boy, even if they couldn't be entirely sure exactly where he was. In
part, it may be because of a culture that has been allowed to develop
among operators, where many calls are a hoax, a hang-up, or a prank.
Data from Telstra shows that 11 million calls -- or more than 30,000 a
day -- are made to 000 every year. Of these, fewer than half actually
need police, ambulance or
the fire brigade. Sometimes, it's people wanting to know how to turn off
the oven.
The calls peak during school holidays, when kids think it's hilarious to ring up and make mischief.
The last words of David Iredale to triple-0 operators
David: "I'm stuck. I can't walk far at all. I don't have a map."
Operator: "Where's
the nearest street?"
David: "I'm in
the bush, I am lost, I don't know."
Operator: "Well I have to know
the street so I know where to send
the ambulance."
David: "I'm about to faint."
Finally
David: "I'm on a rock ... can you send a helicopter?"
Credit: Caroline Overington,
John Stapleton