Jess Denham Survived The Unthinkable. Now She’s Fighting For Other Survivors

By the time Jess Denham was 24, both of her parents were in jail for sexual abuse, with her father receiving the longest jail sentence ever handed out for child sex offending. A decade later, she has overcome the unimaginable to be a ray of hope for other survivors. She tells Nina Funnell her story…

Jess Denham was 17 the first time she heard the word “paedophile”. It was December 2009. The athletics champion was at the World School Games in Doha, Qatar, representing Australia in the steeplechase event, an intense race that involves clearing hurdles and jumping over water pits for two kilometres. Not only did Jess win the race, she also smashed the existing record. But it was a victory that would soon be overshadowed by a series of dark events. Back at their hotel rooms, Jess heard her teammates complaining about a male official who had been inappropriately touching female athletes during sports massages in the athletes’ village. “One of the girls was really upset, saying how he was a paedophile,” remembers Jess, now 34. “I started to pick up that what he was doing was really serious. At the time though, for me, that [behaviour she was describing] was just normal.” For more than a decade, Jess’ father, William “Rob” Gilfillan, had been sexually abusing her. “I was five years old the first time he raped me,” says Jess. “At that age, I didn’t know the word for it. During the abuse I would tell myself over and over that Mum would come to protect me.” But that help would never arrive.

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Instead, Jess’ mother, Karen Gilfillan, committed the ultimate betrayal: not only was she aware of the sexual abuse happening under her roof, but she also taught Jess ways to sexually gratify her dad, saying, “Your father has his reasons for what he does.” That grooming, coercion and betrayal left Jess utterly defenceless. As the years passed, Jess remained silent, terrified that if she told anyone, she would be killed. “I was also completely isolated,” she explains. “We lived on a large, remote property inland of Byron Bay and we didn’t have mobile phone reception.” The area is dense with tropical forest and roads are prone to flooding. “When it rained, we would be cut off from the outside world. Dad also wouldn’t allow many friends. I wasn’t allowed to do normal kid things. At sporting events he would keep me away from other athletes, so kids just thought I was weird.”

Teachers, too, were soon cut off. Jess’ parents removed her from mainstream education when she was in her early teens, homeschooling her instead. Not only did that make her more socially isolated but, she says, it also meant “I didn’t receive any education on consent, body safety or anything which might have helped me.” That’s not to say Jess believes the onus should be on children to prevent sexual abuse, but body safety and consent education would have provided her with vital information. “That would have given me options,” she explains. Instead, Jess’ parents controlled her entire world: they were her caregivers and teachers, and her father was her athletics coach. A former athlete himself, he would stop at nothing in the pursuit of athletic perfection. And so, by the time Jess made it to the World School Games in Doha, she had little to no understanding of what constituted sexual abuse, let alone paedophilia. “I knew by that stage that things happening at home were not OK and not normal, but I still didn’t have the language to understand how serious it was. I didn’t grasp that it was a crime,” she says now. “Then, seeing how much [the masseuse’s behaviour] was impacting the other girls really hit me as a shock.” Still, it was difficult to associate the word with her experience. “[The girls were talking about] somebody outside the family,” she says. “I thought maybe a ‘paedophile’ was an adult external to the family who takes advantage of kids.”

The trip was a critical turning point. “The anxiety of going back home knowing what was in store was too much,” she recalls. When she got home, Jess’ mental health rapidly declined, resulting in extended hospitalisation. There, she built trust with an experienced therapist and gradually revealed what was happening at home. In 2011, Jess walked into Lismore Police Station to report her parents. There were 14 years of crimes for her to report, and her police statement took three months to complete. In response, her father fled to Papua New Guinea. Five years later, after her father was extradited from Papua New Guinea, Jess’ mother and father stood trial in Sydney. William Gilfillan was found guilty of 73 offences against Jess and sentenced to 48 years in jail: the longest jail sentence ever handed out for child sex offending in Australia. Jess’ mother was convicted of 13 offences and sentenced to 16 years in jail. Neither has ever expressed remorse or regret, or offered an apology for their sadistic crimes.

With her parents in prison, a 24-year-old Jess had a lot of living to catch up on. Due to homeschooling and the impacts of trauma, there were significant holes in her education. But Jess was determined. She put herself through Year 12 at TAFE, then completed a law degree, followed by an architecture degree. She also earned her skydiving licence and has completed more than 100 solo skydives. “Every time I jump out of a plane and have to pull the cord, it’s a reminder to me that I can save my own life,” she says. During this time, Jess’ parents repeatedly appealed their convictions. “I was terrified they would be let off on a technicality,” Jess says.

Finally, in 2022, the High Court rejected their last appeal application, meaning all appeal options were exhausted. While Jess had been determined to share her story with the world, as a lawyer she wanted to wait until all appeals were over and the path forward was clear. Now was her chance. But before she could speak, she encountered more red tape. Her father was now facing additional sexual offence charges against two schoolgirls he taught in the 1980s, while working as a PE teacher in Victoria. This meant Jess was legally prevented from naming her father in any media until the “schoolgirl trial” was over. But while Jess had to obey the prohibition, her parents took the opposite approach. In 2023, while imprisoned, they spoke out in a podcast, smearing Jess and insisting they were innocent. “I was being silenced all over again,” recalls Jess. “It echoed back to the abuse.”

Photography Philip Castleton. Hair and makeup Samara Fakhri/DLM.

Finally, in December last year, Jess’ father was found guilty of five offences against the two schoolgirls, and sentenced to an additional seven and a half years in jail, to be served concurrently with his existing 48-year sentence. With that case resolved, Jess was at last free to speak. “I’m ready to roar,” she says. Jess is bravely waiving her anonymity in order to campaign for better mental health supports, and for sexual assault counselling notes to be kept confidential. Her own counselling notes were shared with her offenders without her consent, something that is entirely legal. Even worse, boxes of her counselling notes were later shared with the media and used without Jess’ permission in the podcast featuring her parents. A petition, Don’t Subpoena Our Support: Keep Counselling Confidential, has gained more than 14,100 signatures, and one state, Victoria, has already committed to law reform.

The move has bolstered Jess and shown her that sharing her story has real impact. “I have realised that telling my story matters. It raises awareness and empowers people, and that’s an important step,” she says. “But I keep reminding myself that I’m more than just a survivor. My lived experience cuts across a lot: sexual violence and family violence advocacy, over a decade trapped in the court system as a victim, cycling through institutions without any fundamental support, being re-traumatised and stigmatised by the media, and facing homelessness and isolation. “One of the reasons why I studied law was to get into policy and reform,” she continues. “I want a seat at the table where the bigger conversations are happening. I think I bring something unique: a perspective that can speak to many of the pressing issues we face as a nation.”

Jess says that even though she has been let down by many systems, she is “not interested in pointing fingers”. Instead, “I’m interested in showing that it’s possible to still believe in working this out together.” Of course, Jess still faces a long road to healing, but she says she is “less focused on revisiting that pain and more focused on the hope, strength and sense of safety I’ve been able to reclaim. On hard days, I lean into self-care and self-compassion rather than the pressure to always be moving forward,” she explains. “So much of that pressure comes from the belief that progress must be constant and linear, which can create anxiety in itself. “Instead, I take a moment to reflect on why I do what I do and check in with how it feels in that moment. I remind myself that progress doesn’t always happen at the pace we expect, but being true to my purpose and long-term goals is what matters most,” she adds.