The gentle giant who fought cartels and became an angel in Asia

2 months ago 6

Neale Fursdon is a big man who casts a big shadow.

He could be forgiven for having a dark side, having spent most of his career dealing with drug traffickers and international people smugglers, but he is perhaps the most affable person I have ever met.

a much-loved cop who spread his knowledge and generosity through the Pacific and Asia.

The sort of person who always makes the people he is with feel better, the sort of person who enters a room with a smile on his face and the sort of person who has you laughing even when you aren’t in the mood.

I’ve known him since the early 1980s when he was a detective in Melbourne. He was a key member of Omega, the first bikie-busting taskforce, and the Victorian/Federal Police Taskforce Aries that brought down an international drug cartel − one of the first of its kind.

At the time the Feds and Vic Pol were rivals. Largely due to the nature of the Aries cops they made it work.

During one surveillance operation they were stashed in a five-star hotel. When staff with mini-bar trolleys reached their floor, they used their covert skills to sneak out and knock off handfuls to replenish their empty fridges.

The AFP bean-counters could not believe such a small group could consume so many fisherman baskets ordered via room service.

When our first child was born, our first family outing was to a barbecue at the Croydon home of Neale and his equally funny wife, Wendy. They later moved to Wangaratta, where Neale became a policing legend. His dad had run the station at nearby Rutherglen.

A few of us would catch up to go trout fishing. I found what I thought was a good spot in a gin-clear stream and snuck out to cast. Then one of Neale’s thongs floated past, with the big man asking someone to catch it. There were no fish, but the pepper steak with a Pepperjack red at the local pub was first class.

Former Victoria Police officer Neale Fursdon.

Soon Furso found a new passion − policing overseas.

In Papua New Guinea he tried to persuade local police on the importance of note-taking. This was until he arrived to read the watchhouse notes. “Prisoner 15 tried to escape. We panel-beated him good.” Perhaps too much information.

He had stints in Fiji and other islands training local police. Eventually, he resigned from Victoria Police and worked with AusAID (Australian Agency for International Development), USAID and the UN in Bangladesh, Laos, Indonesia, Thailand, Vietnam and Myanmar, training police and investigating drug trafficking and people trafficking.

He found fishing ships where the crews had been abducted from islands, paid nothing and never allowed ashore, and islands where hundreds of people were kept prisoner to be used as slaves.

He threw a surprise birthday party for Wendy’s 50th birthday, where she started to slur her words. A doctor’s appointment a few days later showed she had an aggressive brain tumour.

She took to Buddhist meditation with Neale’s support, and she managed another 10 years of quality life. He would often take her to mountain retreats and stay in the valley. Neale took her ashes to a retreat overlooking the ocean, saying he could see why she loved the spot.

If I was near Wangaratta, and he was in town we would catch up. He showed me his new house on the river where he would settle down.

Last time I saw him was at the funeral of another cop − an event that happens too often these days. We decided to have a regular lunch in Melbourne.

Then came the word that Neale was gravely ill and in hospital. The cancer he had years ago had returned somewhere else. His family set up a group chat for his many friends.

I always knew he was a great bloke and a great cop. Now I know he was much more.

Message after message from people through South-East Asia expressed how Neale had helped them, opening his doors for those who needed shelter, helping others finish university courses, and being a benefactor for others. One referred to him as a “Godsend Angel”.

On his many trips, he would take a second suitcase filled with medical supplies. He would leave it in a designated spot to be picked up by an oppressed group − no questions asked.

Here are some of the messages I’ve received.

“Having worked in Myanmar for years, he holds a deep love for my home country and continues to support those affected there. He is the kind of man who helps quietly, whenever he can.”

“I know I can always count on him. Remarkably, I have never seen him angry − I sometimes wonder if he even knows how to be.”

“I met my wife Pwint nine years ago. You couldn’t meet Pwint without knowing Neale. He was always looking out for her, always there, advising and offering help. During COVID, he offered Pwint and Wendy [her daughter] shelter and made sure they finished their education.”

“He helps others tirelessly, providing job recommendations, acting as a referee for applications, and supporting promotions. During the pandemic, he supported communities in Asia, including our former office cleaner (he treats everyone the same).”

Neale would be the ideal recipient of an Order of Australia – not that he has ever done anything for recognition. Some people make noise. Others make a mark.

Colleagues, old mates and those he touched made the trip up the Hume to say goodbye. He got to hold his grandchild one more time. In the early hours of Wednesday morning, he passed away peacefully.

Neale is gone, and the world is poorer for it.

His family legacy are sons Tom and Sam − both cracking blokes. His personal and spiritual legacy spreads over hundreds of thousands of square kilometres through the Pacific and South-East Asia.