Criminal Law

In 2013, Luke Lazarus assaulted an 18-year-old woman in an alleyway behind a Kings Cross nightclub and later bragged to his mates, in a heinous display of sexual violence.

Two years later, a jury found Lazarus guilty of sexual assault.  The presiding judge accepted the complainants’ evidence, rejected Lazarus’ account of the event, and imposed a sentence of five years imprisonment.

Yet on appeal, the conviction was quashed, with Lazarus walking back to the cosy shores of Vaucluse a free man.

For the parties involved and the public at large, the decision was monumental. It galvanised debate around consent, credibility, and social capital and elucidated a deeper structural tension within the justice system – one that has never fully dissipated.

And in retrospect, the case is more relevant than ever, especially today as the NSW Government plans to introduce legislation to amend the Crimes (Sentencing Procedure) Act 1999 to abolish ‘good character’ as a mitigating factor for all offences and repeal the ‘special rule’ for good character.

Though Luke Lazarus did not rely on character at sentencing, his case is an enduring example of how perceived character, social standing and class-based assumptions insidiously subsume legal outcomes, and entrench structural imbalance, even when the law insists they should not.

In this context, the case is a useful lens for understanding the rationale behind the reforms and for extrapolating how prescient they are.

The Veneers of Respectability

The son of a high-profile nightclub owner, Lazarus was ostensibly an articulate and well-resourced young man. His victim, on the other hand, was naïve, intoxicated and without social capital. By all accounts, this juxtaposition holds no formal standing or relevance within the courtroom. Yet, it still lingered beneath judgment.

When the District Court overturned the conviction, the focus turned to the victim’s behaviour, the possibility of consent, and assumptions of how a “reasonable person” might act. For many legal commentators, the judgment reflected entrenched myths about sexual assault, particularly the idea that ambiguity favours the accused, and that credibility crumbles under pressure.

In 2017, the conviction was later reinstated after the matter reached the NSW Court of Criminal Appeal. The court held that the appellate judge had erred by substituting his own judgment of the facts and by failing to properly respect the magistrate’s findings. But by the time the decision was corrected, the damage was already done.

In this sense, the significance of Lazarus lies not in sentencing, but in what it elucidates about the role of character in sexual assault cases and, more broadly, the assumptions that obstruct justice, particularly when power and credibility are asymmetrical.

Good character does not enter the courtroom through references and testimonials alone. It pervades all domains of the law informally – through assumptions about who is believable, who is redeemable, and who is worth protecting.

It is simply in the courtroom where these assumptions come to fruition.

For decades, NSW courts have permitted offenders to tender good character evidence as mitigation. In sexual abuse cases, this reframes the characterisation of violent men– from convicted offenders to devoted fathers, respected professionals, mentors and community leaders.

Meanwhile, the trauma of victims is an afterthought – compounded by reductive victim statements that serve merely as a footnote to the offender’s life story.

When Good Character Becomes a Shield

In the context of institutional abuse, the way that this imbalance manifests is particularly corrosive.

Historically, offenders embedded in institutions are often supported, either explicitly or implicitly, by those same institutions at sentencing.

Here, teachers, clergy and coaches are insulated by manufactured reputations that are built over decades. However, it is their “good character” that facilitates abuse – enabling them to elicit the access, trust and silence of those most vulnerable.

Although the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse exposed this dynamic in devastating detail, character evidence is persistently used in sentencing. As a result, victims carrying fragmented memories, psychological injury, and a lifetime of disbelief are forced to relive their trauma, while their abusers are praised for the very standing that enabled their abuse in the first instance.

Judicial authorities have also repeatedly warned against this dynamic. In various decisions, courts have cautioned that good character should not mitigate a sentence where it facilitated the offending or masked risk. Still, character evidence is routinely tendered by defence counsel to humanise the offender.

George Pell And the Politics of Character

The discussion of character evidence was particularly prevalent in the George Pell proceedings, which exposed how reputation and power distort public understanding of sexual abuse.

Although Pell’s convictions were ultimately quashed on appeal, the surrounding discourse was instructive. Dozens of prominent figures publicly vouched for his character, integrity and moral authority. His supporters framed him as incapable of abuse precisely because of his standing.

While those character endorsements were not determinative in sentencing — and never reached that stage — the episode demonstrated how deeply character narratives can shape perceptions of guilt, harm and credibility.

Why NSW’s Reform Matters

This is precisely why NSW’s decision to abolish good character as a mitigating factor matters.

It prevents offenders from relying on generalised moral endorsement and refutes the idea that being well-regarded should soften accountability for sexual or violent wrongdoing.

It also reflects a broader cultural shift that trust in institutions is eroding and reinforces a survivor-centric approach to justice, helping to restore structural imbalances entrenched within the law.