I'm here today a broken person
In a Melbourne courtroom, the families of four police officers killed on the Eastern Freeway in April 2020 faced the man whose truck ended their lives. Mohinder Singh, impaired by eight days without sleep and prolonged drug use, had pleaded guilty to culpable driving causing death — an act that left widows, fatherless children, and a police force carrying its heaviest grief. The pre-sentence hearing was not merely a legal proceeding but a reckoning: a space where loss was named aloud, and where the law was asked to weigh what cannot truly be measured.
- Four officers — Kevin King, Lynette Taylor, Glen Humphris, and Josh Prestney — were killed in an instant by a truck driver so severely impaired he believed witches were chasing him.
- One by one, the families entered the courtroom and spoke directly to Singh, carrying grief that had reshaped every corner of their lives — sleepless nights, empty beds, children asking where their fathers had gone.
- Glen Humphris' partner looked Singh in the eye and said his body felt shattered and his heart empty; Josh Prestney's brother said his sibling had died without dignity.
- Singh's state before the crash was documented in harrowing detail — eight days without sleep, extensive drug use, and delusions — revealing a catastrophe that had been building long before the freeway.
- The pre-sentence hearing, expected to last two days, now moves toward determining Singh's punishment for what stands as Victoria Police's deadliest single incident.
Sharron MacKenzie told Victoria's Supreme Court that she was now a broken person — her husband, Senior Constable Kevin King, had been her soulmate since they met as teenagers, the devoted father of their three sons. In April 2020, King was one of four officers killed on the Eastern Freeway when Mohinder Singh's truck plowed into them as they impounded a vehicle. Singh, 48, had pleaded guilty to culpable driving causing death, and the pre-sentence hearing gave the families a chance to speak.
Stuart Schulze described his wife, Leading Senior Constable Lynette Taylor, as someone he had married in their backyard in 1991 — a woman he could talk to about anything. He said he now lived in what he called a long, cold autumn. Glen Humphris' partner, Todd Robinson, looked directly at Singh and told him he had taken the most important person from him in the most violent way. Humphris' mother had turned off her phone on the day her son would have turned 33, unable to bear it. Josh Prestney's brother said his sibling had died without dignity.
Court documents revealed Singh had not slept for eight days before the crash, had been using drugs extensively, and had been speaking of being chased by witches. A witness said they had never seen anyone so severely impaired. After the crash, Singh told police the witch had put a spell on him and he could not sleep. The pattern of drug use, trafficking, and minimal rest had culminated in a state of profound impairment behind the wheel.
The families who spoke were not seeking revenge. MacKenzie said she had refused to give Singh any part of her energy — he was not deserving of it. But the weight of what had been taken could not be refused. The sentencing hearing would determine the law's answer, but nothing in that courtroom could return four officers, restore three fatherless children, or undo the day Victoria Police suffered its greatest single loss.
Sharron MacKenzie sat in Victoria's Supreme Court on Thursday and described her life now as an ocean of tears and sleepless nights. Her husband, Senior Constable Kevin King, was one of four Victoria Police officers killed on the Eastern Freeway in April 2020 when a truck driven by Mohinder Singh plowed into them while they were impounding a Porsche. Singh, 48, had pleaded guilty to culpable driving causing death. MacKenzie told the court that King was her soulmate, her best friend, the devoted father of their three sons. They had met as teenagers. "I'm here today a broken person," she said, her voice breaking as she described telling her children their father would not be coming home, that he had died in a horrific and senseless way.
The pre-sentence hearing stretched across two days, and one by one, the families of the dead officers came forward to speak directly to the man who had taken their loved ones. Stuart Schulze, the husband of Leading Senior Constable Lynette Taylor, described meeting her in 1989 and marrying her two years later in their backyard. They were inseparable, he said—they could talk about anything "unless it was boring or football." Now he lived in what he called "a long, cold autumn." The four officers killed were Constables Glen Humphris and Josh Prestney, along with King and Taylor. This was Victoria Police's worst loss of life in a single incident.
Glen Humphris' partner, Todd Robinson, looked directly at Singh in the courtroom. "Mohinder," he said, "you took the most important person away from me in the most violent way. My body feels shattered and my heart is empty." Humphris' mother, Katie Tyson, had turned off her phone on Wednesday—the day her son would have turned 33—because she could not bear the grief. Josh Prestney's brother Alex told the court his brother had died "without dignity."
The court documents painted a picture of Singh's state in the hours before the crash. A witness told police that Singh had not slept for eight days. He had been talking nonsense, the witness said, about being chased by witches. "I had never seen anyone as drug f***ed in my life," the witness told officers. After the crash, Singh repeated these fears to police. "I was tired, couldn't sleep because I was seeing that witch, that witch," he told them. "Put a spell on me and I couldn't sleep at all." The documents showed Singh had been engaged in sustained, extensive drug use and trafficking, interspersed with work and minimal sleep—a pattern that culminated in severe fatigue and impairment by the time he got behind the wheel.
The families who spoke in court were not seeking revenge or even, it seemed, to be heard by Singh himself. They were bearing witness to what had been taken from them. MacKenzie said she had deliberately refused to give Singh any part of her energy or being—he was not deserving of it. But she could not refuse to feel the weight of what his actions had done. The sentencing hearing would determine what punishment the law would impose, but nothing in that courtroom could restore what had been lost: four officers, three fatherless children, two widows, and a police force forever marked by its darkest day.
Citações Notáveis
I still feel the devastation and absolute heartbreak when I told my children their father and hero would not be coming home.— Sharron MacKenzie, widow of Senior Constable Kevin King
You took the most important person away from me in the most violent way. My body feels shattered and my heart is empty.— Todd Robinson, partner of Constable Glen Humphris
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
What strikes you most about the families' statements?
The precision of their grief. They didn't speak in abstractions. MacKenzie said she told her children their father wouldn't come home. Schulze named the year they met, the year they married. They were anchoring themselves to the specific person they'd lost, not the tragedy itself.
And Singh—what was his state when this happened?
Eight days without sleep, deep in drug use, experiencing delusions about witches chasing him. He wasn't a reckless driver who made a bad choice. He was a man whose mind had fractured under the weight of what he'd put into his body. That doesn't excuse anything. But it explains why he was behind the wheel at all.
The families had to face him in court. How does that work, emotionally?
It's brutal. You're in the same room with the person who destroyed your life, and you have to speak. But notice—they didn't speak to him, not really. They spoke about what he'd taken. They were testifying to the weight of their loss, not trying to reach him.
Why does it matter that this was Victoria Police's worst single incident?
Because it means the entire force felt this. It wasn't an outlier tragedy. It was the worst day in the institution's history. That context sits behind every family member who walked into that courtroom.