‘You and your phone!‘: Video, staff expose ‘unhinged' Pietro Barbagallo
Dimmed lights, soft music and the smell of fresh sugo greeted the friends as they entered popular Italian eatery Kaprica for dinner.
It was a bustling Thursday evening at the heritage-listed terrace, with almost every white-clothed table filled as the trio took their seats. They were excited to try the Carlton restaurant that had recently gone viral on social media.
They ordered wine and starters, but when the prawn pasta arrived, it was simply too spicy and the waitress agreed to replace the dish. The nasty turn the night then took was caught on camera.
Footage obtained by The Age shows one of the customers recording a video message to his partner complaining about the spice of the food before celebrated chef Pietro Barbagallo looms in the corner of the clip.
He stands over the customer, admonishing him, before shouting profanities at the group, pulling their tablecloth, smashing the remaining plates and glasses.
'Turn that f---ing phone off! You and your f---ing phone!' Barbagallo shouted at customers, as they screamed and exited the venue. 'Get out of my f---ing restaurant!'
Interviews with 19 current and former employees at Barbagallo's restaurants suggest this incident was not isolated, with allegations of aggressive outbursts stretching back decades. The claims come as the wider industry is struggling to overcome a historic work-hard-play-hard culture that critics say enabled poor conduct by those in positions of power.
Barbagallo, who was credited by The Age in 2005 with kick-starting Melbourne's 'pizza revolution', also stands accused of indecent exposure, inappropriate sexual comments towards staff and financial mismanagement across his venues.
Barbagallo did not respond to repeated requests for comment or to a detailed list of emailed questions. When this masthead approached him at his restaurant this week again asking him to respond to the allegations, particularly of indecent exposure, he said, 'no, no, no' before closing and locking the door.
Carly Lauder worked for the celebrated chef in the early 2000s at his former restaurant, I Carusi in Brunswick. Having built a career in hospitality – where she still works today – Lauder said Barbagallo was by far the worst person she has ever worked for.
'It was relentless,' she said. 'He smashed plates on peoples' tables. He would shout all the time, throw things, smash glasses and plates.'
She described two incidents as particularly memorable. She alleges Barbagallo once threw a pizza shovel at her head, then on a separate occasion exposed his genitals to her at his house after offering her cocaine and champagne.
'He disappeared then returned shaking his dick in everyone's face,' Lauder said. 'That was the only time he took his clothes off, but he made lewd disgusting sexual gestures towards all of us all the time. It was way before #MeToo. None of us ever thought to push back.'
This account was corroborated through interviews with three people Lauder told at the time.
Lauder decided to tell her story after The Age 's Good Food published a positive review of Kaprica last month.
'He's been doing this the whole time, and he's still being held up on a pedestal,' she said.
In recent months, several waitstaff have resigned from Kaprica citing Barbagallo's aggressive behaviour, including Petrea James, who said his outbursts were frequent.
'I've seen him throw cutlery when he's mad, throw plates and smash them against the wall,' she said. 'It's quite scary and dehumanising.'
'What the hell?'
The Age interviewed five eyewitnesses to Barbagallo's plate-smashing incident in April. They said he had appeared under a 'cloud' throughout his shift.
One of the affected customers said the intensity of the chilli on the pasta made it 'inedible' and that the waitress agreed to replace the dish as the complaint was not new – customers had complained about the spice before.
When the waitress returned to the kitchen to deliver the news, Barbagallo became enraged. He accused the customers of having eaten some of the pasta and smashed the ceramic plate against a kitchen wall.
'All the pasta was running down the wall,' said one witness.
One customer was later filming a video message to send to his partner about his 'burnt lips', when Barbagallo confronted the table.
His 'yelling and screaming' was heard from the street. One witness thought 'a homeless person was in there attacking someone'. Inside, the usually bustling restaurant fell silent.
'It was incredibly awkward,' one witness said. 'The music was playing but everyone was shocked and disturbed.'
From outside the restaurant, two witnesses saw a chair fly out the front door towards the customer. Two waitresses were seen exiting the venue, one in tears.
'The workers told us it was definitely not the customers' fault,' one witness told The Age. 'I was like, surely it wasn't the owner. The place is so well-known. We were like, 'What the hell?''
While the incident came as a shock to customers, staff were not surprised. James joined Kaprica in mid-2024 and says she was warned Barbagallo had a 'temper'. She had worked with unpredictable bosses before in hospitality, and needed the money, so took the job.
She said his aggression quickly crossed a line, describing regular 'outbursts' where he was 'shaking, pacing, throwing his arms around' as he allegedly berated staff.
'He would say things like 'you're all f---ing idiots and I'm the biggest idiot for hiring you all'. Your blood would run cold,' she said.
Accounts of Barbagallo's volatile behaviour were supported by almost all staff interviewed by this masthead, who separately claimed he would have 'melt-downs', 'screaming matches' and 'explosions' of anger.
A dozen women who worked in various roles around Barbagallo backed these claims but declined to be identified for fear of repercussions.
One woman alleged he threw plates or 'pans of hot food' every couple of weeks.
Another woman said she 'literally had a plate thrown at me' by Barbagallo.
'There's definitely some severe personality issues there,' the woman said. 'He's totally unhinged, totally.'
A third woman described an incident where Barbagallo allegedly held a plate above a customer's head and screamed: 'I'm going to smash your head in if you don't f---ing leave my restaurant' after the customer complained about slow service. 'And then he kind of switched back, was like, 'Are you OK?''
Another employee described feeling 'frozen' by his aggression. The staff taught each other to 'just nod and look down' until he stopped yelling, in episodes that appeared 'manic' and like he was 'stuck in a loop'.
'If you apologise or even God forbid try to explain the mistake, he just gets angrier and angrier and angrier and angrier and reiterates the same point over and over and over again.'
James said the outbursts made her feel anxious, as Barbagallo switched between abusive and friendly. 'I got the shakes,' she said. 'To be honest, you get goosebumps. It's hard.'
When James quit earlier this year, she sent a text message to Barbagallo, citing his 'serious aggression and conflict'.
'I find the way you speak to your staff extremely inappropriate,' she wrote.
Barbagallo responded: 'No problem.'
Another staff member, who did not want to be named, sent a similar resignation text message this year, calling out Barbagallo's 'unacceptable behaviour' and prior 'outbursts'.
He responded: 'Sorry you feel that way'.
Fourteen former staff members alleged varying levels of sexually inappropriate behaviour from Barbagallo, ranging from comments about their appearances and over-sharing about his own sexual experiences.
In the early 2000s, Lauder alleged Barbagallo 'always spoke about sex', had sexual relationships with his employees, and openly talked about plans to hire attractive young women.
One former staff member, who quit last month after she was reduced to tears by Barbagallo multiple times, was critical of this language.
'That was kind of sickening to me, even still, just because of how sexualised I know all the service staff are in the way that is almost like an active decision when they're hired.'
The employee said Barbagallo would 'look you up and down' before hiring staff and often turned away men with experienced resumes.
James supported this position, saying Barbagallo often hired women in their early 20s who worked part-time while studying nearby at Melbourne University.
She said Barbagallo routinely commented on the appearance of customers and waitstaff, including herself when she dyed her hair a darker red colour.
'He told me I looked goth, really good. He wouldn't stop commenting on it. It was just classic creepy boss vibes,' James said.
'Then he would always point out other people who dressed goth to me, and then tell me he wanted to do bad things to them. That he knew he shouldn't like them but he does and that just makes it all the more enticing.'
Another former waitress alleged Barbagallo also made sexualised comments to her, including telling her she could work fewer shifts because 'essentially men would pay for my company … And I could sell my body'.
'It was surprising at the time but not infrequent,' she said.
The same woman recalled him saying 'she's so hot I would f--- her' about a customer, and sharing stories about his sexual experiences and drug-taking.
'It became common knowledge to know his ex-lovers' full names because he would talk about it,' she said.
Three employees who worked with Barbagallo at I Carusi in the early 2000s said Barbagallo had sexual relationships with much younger staff.
'I remember at the time being like why the f--- are her parents not stepping in here?' one former employee said, noting the staff, though younger, were still consenting adults.
'He was so inappropriate with all the young staff, myself included. He'd touch your back when you walked past him. He was so creepy. It was such a gnarly vibe.'
Barbagallo came onto Melbourne's culinary scene in 1998, opening a no-frills pizza restaurant in Brunswick East, I Carusi.
He expanded over the years to open venues in St Kilda and Melbourne's CBD, where complaints of aggressive and inappropriate behaviour continued to mount.
Barbagallo was declared bankrupt in 2011, according to corporate documents, and shut his Lonsdale Street restaurant and ended his involvement with all I Carusi restaurants.
Public bankruptcy documents obtained by The Age that were signed in June 2011 show Barbagallo had $500 to his name and debts of $1,223,631, including $267,000 to Carusi and $40,000 to Mercedes-Benz Finance.
When he opened Kaprica in Carlton soon after, Barbagallo reportedly 'slaved away solo in the kitchen' for the first six months 'almost like he was doing penance'.
But staff claim there was a haphazard approach to managing the restaurant's finances.
'The entire business was in cash,' said one person who worked as Barbagallo's informal assistant in 2015. 'So we were paid in cash, payments from customers were in cash. I would drive my bike to deposit like $15,000 worth of cash and he would pay his rent and children's lessons out of that money.'
Kaprica has long been popular with locals, and moved to a two-storey venue on Grattan Street as demand expanded over the years. However, bookings from new customers have rocketed in the past 18 months after Kaprica engaged marketing firm Einwick and social media producer Hano Lokman to advertise the venue.
Lokman's videos used off-beat scripts and dim lighting to create short fictional narratives to promote the restaurant, clocking up hundreds of thousands of views on TikTok. He did not respond to requests for comment.
Multiple current and former staff said the social media craze strained the business as Barbagallo would over-book, causing long waits for tables or service.
'When it started getting busy, it [aggression] was more frequent because he literally couldn't manage the restaurant and manage himself,' alleged one former employee.
While Kaprica paid an hourly rate higher than average, more than a dozen employees said Barbagallo does not provide payslips and transfers wages directly to bank accounts using calculations from paper time sheets.
Two employees became worried about Barbagallo's failure to pay superannuation and tax on their wages last year, and were given access to his books for a day in an attempt to solve their issues.
'It was sheets of random bits of paper strewn around the place, and there were things like where there would be a month missing from this person's pay.'
'Then it took months for it to go to the accountant and be in the accounts. It was just an incredible level of procrastination.'
Screenshots from a WhatsApp group of Kaprica staff show conversations about payment irregularities were common.
'Sorry to keep asking but does anyone have news on tax?' one employee wrote last September.
'No,' another responded. 'Last I heard he messaged his accountant and he never got a response … Not really a good enough reason, it's his responsibility.'
Text messages show another employee was sacked this month after they told Barbagallo they were underpaid for public holiday shifts and pushed for their full entitlements.
'Yep there is a mistake on my behalf which I'll fix tonight,' Barbagallo responded. 'Also you should learn some manners. And finally I think it best you found employment elsewhere.'
The employee responded: 'Manners?? Why am I being fired?'
It took weeks of messages for Barbagallo to pay the employee, who followed up multiple times.
Another former employee said she saw text messages on the restaurant phone from a former staff member begging for superannuation payments months after they had left.
'We would get text after text from this employee who was like, 'Come on Pietro … It's been six months. How are you still not replying to me? Please.' He was ignoring her.'
Lauder said these were longstanding practices and behaviours that Barbagallo needed to be held accountable for.
'I've been in the industry for 31 years. I've worked as a chef, front-of-house, late-night cocktail bars.
'I don't think there is ever any reason for anyone to lose their shit, shout at people, throw things. Nothing is ever that stressful.

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The Age
4 hours ago
- The Age
‘You and your phone!' Video, staff expose ‘unhinged' Pietro Barbagallo
Dimmed lights, soft music and the smell of fresh sugo greeted the friends as they entered popular Italian eatery Kaprica for dinner. It was a bustling Thursday evening at the heritage-listed terrace, with almost every white-clothed table filled as the trio took their seats. They were excited to try the Carlton restaurant that had recently gone viral on social media. They ordered wine and starters, but when the prawn pasta arrived, it was simply too spicy and the waitress agreed to replace the dish. The nasty turn the night then took was caught on camera. Footage obtained by this masthead shows one of the customers recording a video message to his partner complaining about the spice of the food before celebrated chef Pietro Barbagallo looms in the corner of the clip. He stands over the customer, admonishing him, before shouting profanities at the group, pulling their tablecloth, smashing the remaining plates and glasses. 'Turn that f---ing phone off! You and your f---ing phone!' Barbagallo shouted at customers, as they screamed and exited the venue. 'Get out of my f---ing restaurant!' Interviews with 19 current and former employees at Barbagallo's restaurants suggest this incident was not isolated, with allegations of aggressive outbursts stretching back decades. The claims come as the wider industry is struggling to overcome a historic work-hard-play-hard culture that critics say enabled poor conduct by those in positions of power. Barbagallo, who was credited by The Age in 2005 with kick-starting Melbourne's 'pizza revolution', also stands accused of indecent exposure, inappropriate sexual comments towards staff and financial mismanagement across his venues. Barbagallo did not respond to repeated requests for comment or to a detailed list of emailed questions. When this masthead approached him at his restaurant this week again asking him to respond to the allegations, particularly of indecent exposure, he said, 'no, no, no' before closing and locking the door. Carly Lauder worked for the celebrated chef in the early 2000s at his former restaurant, I Carusi in Brunswick. Having built a career in hospitality – where she still works today – Lauder said Barbagallo was by far the worst person she has ever worked for. 'It was relentless,' she said. 'He smashed plates on peoples' tables. He would shout all the time, throw things, smash glasses and plates.' She described two incidents as particularly memorable. She alleges Barbagallo once threw a pizza shovel at her head, then on a separate occasion exposed his genitals to her at his house after offering her cocaine and champagne. 'He disappeared then returned shaking his dick in everyone's face,' Lauder said. 'That was the only time he took his clothes off, but he made lewd disgusting sexual gestures towards all of us all the time. It was way before #MeToo. None of us ever thought to push back.' This account was corroborated through interviews with three people Lauder told at the time. Lauder decided to tell her story after The Age 's Good Food published a positive review of Kaprica last month. 'He's been doing this the whole time, and he's still being held up on a pedestal,' she said. In recent months, several waitstaff have resigned from Kaprica citing Barbagallo's aggressive behaviour, including Petrea James, who said his outbursts were frequent. 'I've seen him throw cutlery when he's mad, throw plates and smash them against the wall,' she said. 'It's quite scary and dehumanising.' 'What the hell?' This masthead interviewed five witnesses to Barbagallo's plate-smashing incident in April. They said he had appeared under a 'cloud' throughout his shift. One of the affected customers said the intensity of the chilli on the pasta made it 'inedible' and that the waitress agreed to replace the dish as the complaint was not new – customers had complained about the spice before. When the waitress returned to the kitchen to deliver the news, Barbagallo became enraged. He accused the customers of having eaten some of the pasta and smashed the ceramic plate against a kitchen wall. 'All the pasta was running down the wall,' said one witness. One customer was later filming a video message to send to his partner about his 'burnt lips', when Barbagallo confronted the table. His 'yelling and screaming' was heard from the street. One witness thought 'a homeless person was in there attacking someone'. Inside, the usually bustling restaurant fell silent. 'It was incredibly awkward,' one witness said. 'The music was playing but everyone was shocked and disturbed.' From outside the restaurant, two witnesses saw a chair fly out the front door towards the customer. Two waitresses were seen exiting the venue, one in tears. 'The workers told us it was definitely not the customers' fault,' one witness told this masthead. 'I was like, surely it wasn't the owner. The place is so well-known. We were like, 'What the hell?'' While the incident came as a shock to customers, staff were not surprised. James joined Kaprica in mid-2024 and says she was warned Barbagallo had a 'temper'. She had worked with unpredictable bosses before in hospitality, and needed the money, so took the job. She said his aggression quickly crossed a line, describing regular 'outbursts' where he was 'shaking, pacing, throwing his arms around' as he allegedly berated staff. 'He would say things like, 'You're all f---ing idiots and I'm the biggest idiot for hiring you all'. Your blood would run cold,' she said. Accounts of Barbagallo's volatile behaviour were supported by almost all staff interviewed by this masthead, who separately claimed he would have 'meltdowns', 'screaming matches' and 'explosions' of anger. A dozen women who worked in various roles around Barbagallo backed these claims but declined to be identified for fear of repercussions. One woman alleged he threw plates or 'pans of hot food' every couple of weeks. Another woman said she 'literally had a plate thrown at me' by Barbagallo. 'There's definitely some severe personality issues there,' the woman said. 'He's totally unhinged, totally.' A third woman described an incident where Barbagallo allegedly held a plate above a customer's head and screamed: 'I'm going to smash your head in if you don't f---ing leave my restaurant' after the customer complained about slow service. 'And then he kind of switched back, was like, 'Are you OK?'' Another employee described feeling 'frozen' by his aggression. The staff taught each other to 'just nod and look down' until he stopped yelling, in episodes that appeared 'manic' and like he was 'stuck in a loop'. 'If you apologise or even god forbid try to explain the mistake, he just gets angrier and angrier and angrier and angrier and reiterates the same point over and over and over again.' James said the outbursts made her feel anxious, as Barbagallo switched between abusive and friendly. 'I got the shakes,' she said. 'To be honest, you get goosebumps. It's hard.' When James quit earlier this year, she sent a text message to Barbagallo, citing his 'serious aggression and conflict'. 'I find the way you speak to your staff extremely inappropriate,' she wrote. Barbagallo responded: 'No problem.' Another staff member, who did not want to be named, sent a similar resignation text message this year, calling out Barbagallo's 'unacceptable behaviour' and prior 'outbursts'. He responded: 'Sorry you feel that way.' Fourteen former staff members alleged varying levels of sexually inappropriate behaviour from Barbagallo, ranging from comments about their appearances and over-sharing about his own sexual experiences. In the early 2000s, Lauder alleged Barbagallo 'always spoke about sex', had sexual relationships with his employees, and openly talked about plans to hire attractive young women. One former staff member, who quit last month after she was reduced to tears by Barbagallo multiple times, was critical of this language. 'That was kind of sickening to me, even still, just because of how sexualised I know all the service staff are in the way that is almost like an active decision when they're hired.' The employee said Barbagallo would 'look you up and down' before hiring staff and often turned away men with experienced resumes. James supported this position, saying Barbagallo often hired women in their early 20s who worked part-time while studying nearby at the University of Melbourne. She said Barbagallo routinely commented on the appearance of customers and waitstaff, including herself when she dyed her hair a darker red colour. 'He told me I looked goth, really good. He wouldn't stop commenting on it. It was just classic creepy boss vibes,' James said. 'Then he would always point out other people who dressed goth to me, and then tell me he wanted to do bad things to them. That he knew he shouldn't like them but he does and that just makes it all the more enticing.' Another former waitress alleged Barbagallo also made sexualised comments to her, including telling her she could work fewer shifts because 'essentially men would pay for my company … And I could sell my body'. 'It was surprising at the time but not infrequent,' she said. The same woman recalled him saying 'she's so hot I would f--- her' about a customer, and sharing stories about his sexual experiences and drug-taking. 'It became common knowledge to know his ex-lovers' full names because he would talk about it,' she said. Three employees who worked with Barbagallo at I Carusi in the early 2000s said Barbagallo had sexual relationships with much younger staff. 'I remember at the time being like, 'Why the f--- are her parents not stepping in here?'' one former employee said, noting the staff, though younger, were still consenting adults. 'He was so inappropriate with all the young staff, myself included. He'd touch your back when you walked past him. He was so creepy. It was such a gnarly vibe.' Barbagallo came onto Melbourne's culinary scene in 1998, opening a no-frills pizza restaurant in Brunswick East, I Carusi. He expanded over the years to open venues in St Kilda and Melbourne's CBD, where complaints of aggressive and inappropriate behaviour continued to mount. Barbagallo was declared bankrupt in 2011, according to corporate documents, and shut his Lonsdale Street restaurant and ended his involvement with all I Carusi restaurants. Public bankruptcy documents obtained by this masthead that were signed in June 2011 show Barbagallo had $500 to his name and debts of $1,223,631, including $267,000 to Carusi and $40,000 to Mercedes-Benz Finance. When he opened Kaprica in Carlton soon after, Barbagallo reportedly 'slaved away solo in the kitchen' for the first six months 'almost like he was doing penance'. But staff claim there was a haphazard approach to managing the restaurant's finances. 'The entire business was in cash,' said one person who worked as Barbagallo's informal assistant in 2015. 'So we were paid in cash, payments from customers were in cash. I would drive my bike to deposit like $15,000 worth of cash and he would pay his rent and children's lessons out of that money.' Kaprica has long been popular with locals, and moved to a two-storey venue on Grattan Street as demand expanded over the years. However, bookings from new customers have rocketed in the past 18 months after Kaprica engaged marketing firm Einwick and social media producer Hano Lokman to advertise the venue. Lokman's videos used off-beat scripts and dim lighting to create short fictional narratives to promote the restaurant, clocking up hundreds of thousands of views on TikTok. He did not respond to requests for comment. Multiple current and former staff said the social media craze strained the business as Barbagallo would over-book, causing long waits for tables or service. 'When it started getting busy, it [aggression] was more frequent because he literally couldn't manage the restaurant and manage himself,' alleged one former employee. While Kaprica paid an hourly rate higher than average, more than a dozen employees said Barbagallo does not provide payslips and transfers wages directly to bank accounts using calculations from paper time sheets. Two employees became worried about Barbagallo's failure to pay superannuation and tax on their wages last year, and were given access to his books for a day in an attempt to solve their issues. 'It was sheets of random bits of paper strewn around the place, and there were things like where there would be a month missing from this person's pay. 'Then it took months for it to go to the accountant and be in the accounts. It was just an incredible level of procrastination.' Screenshots from a WhatsApp group of Kaprica staff show conversations about payment irregularities were common. 'Sorry to keep asking but does anyone have news on tax?' one employee wrote last September. 'No,' another responded. 'Last I heard he messaged his accountant and he never got a response … Not really a good enough reason, it's his responsibility.' Text messages show another employee was sacked this month after they told Barbagallo they were underpaid for public holiday shifts and pushed for their full entitlements. 'Yep there is a mistake on my behalf which I'll fix tonight,' Barbagallo responded. 'Also you should learn some manners. And finally I think it best you found employment elsewhere.' The employee responded: 'Manners?? Why am I being fired?' It took weeks of messages for Barbagallo to pay the employee, who followed up multiple times. Another former employee said she saw text messages on the restaurant phone from a former staff member begging for superannuation payments months after they had left. 'We would get text after text from this employee who was like, 'Come on Pietro … It's been six months. How are you still not replying to me? Please.' He was ignoring her.' Lauder said these were longstanding practices and behaviours that Barbagallo needed to be held accountable for. 'I've been in the industry for 31 years. I've worked as a chef, front-of-house, late-night cocktail bars. 'I don't think there is ever any reason for anyone to lose their shit, shout at people, throw things. Nothing is ever that stressful. 'It's dinner. He's not saving lives. If you can't handle it, you're in the wrong job.'

Sydney Morning Herald
5 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘Zombie killers' and the ‘lost boys' of Melbourne's warring youth gangs
They call it the league and keep score online, but it's hard to tell who's winning. While teenagers mark key victories on maps, they also argue endlessly about who has racked up the most points. 'Only bodies should count as points,' say some. They're not talking about a game. This league is playing out on the streets of Melbourne as rival youth gangs go to war. Look closer at those maps and you'll see that they mark the more than 20 homicides linked to gang violence in the city in the past five years. Nasty injuries are also dutifully logged, a litany of sliced fingers, paralysed limbs and punctured lungs, though most agree those against innocent people – 'or civs' – caught in the crossfire don't count. The Age spoke to more than a dozen sources working with youth offenders, some on condition of anonymity because of privacy restrictions, and pored through a trove of court documents, social media posts, and footage to gain a picture of how street violence has changed in Melbourne. Increasingly, experts warn, it's being gamified. Youth gangs come armed with machetes and hunting knives – marketed online as 'zombie killers' – and film themselves cruising through enemy territory in stolen cars to 'catch' rival crews. One 18-year-old who asked to remain anonymous due to safety concerns says it's not enough to say you are from the 'east or west' of Melbourne in these so-called postcode wars. 'If a carload pulls up on you, or you're on the train, they asking where you from, you got to say the exact suburb now. They all wanna score points.' At least one of the teens arrested for the violent brawl at the Northland shopping centre in Melbourne last month had his face covered as he drew his machete from a sheath. 'He looked like something out of Mortal Kombat,' says witness Ali, who was in line for sushi when he found himself leaping in to break up the fray with other bystanders. As blades whizzed by and Ali snatched away the boy's fallen machete, the mask fell and he recalled looking at the boy's face. 'They were just kids,' says Ali. 'I'd thought they were playing a game at first because they were just kids.' Youth crime waves are nothing new in Australia. But those on the ground, from forensic psychologists and youth workers to detectives and researchers, say social media means rivalries now play out – and escalate – on a scale not seen before, breeding a new performative subculture of score-settling and live-streamed thrills. 'It's become a weird new phenomenon,' says Abraham Kuol, a criminology researcher and South Sudanese community leader who helps run mentoring for teens caught up in gang violence. 'Usually, you see young people committing crimes for financial gain, to try and get out of their poor circumstances.' Now each crew is trying to prove they are the most vicious to an audience of thousands online, he says. The problem in Victoria is not that hordes more teens have suddenly started committing crimes, adds Navin Dhillon, who runs crime prevention programs across the state's north-west for Youth Support and Advocacy Service. 'The problem is that those who do are escalating faster.' Teens with no criminal record will suddenly be arrested over a stabbing. While Victoria's rate of youth incarceration is at historically low levels, about 40 per cent of the young people in detention are there for the most violent crimes: murder and manslaughter, government and justice sources confirmed. Even the drill rap that often serves as a local soundtrack to gang disputes has become more bloody and personal of late, naming names and glorifying in kills. A recent selection of tracks, released by Melbourne's most prominent gangs and reviewed by this masthead, all reference real stabbings and people. That includes taunts about a teen whose fingers were recently chopped off in a fight and the shooting of a Melbourne rapper last year. 'It's not drill rap itself, it's the way lyrics are targeted now, the tallying of points,' says one youth worker. 'The guys listen to it, day in, day out, even when they go inside.' Most of the young people caught up in gangs are among the state's most vulnerable, often bounced around refuges and foster care, looking for somewhere to belong. But youth workers say a new kind of gang member has also emerged in the past five years: teens from relatively stable, middle-class households swept up in the online infamy and lifestyle. They now number among the 200-odd repeat offenders police say are driving Victoria's youth crime wave, government sources confirmed. But, unlike kids from disadvantage, they are much more likely to get support to leave the lifestyle faster, says Kuol. A government source not authorised to speak publicly recalled watching one of the most prolific young burglars in Victoria win bail as his wealthy parents spoke up for him in court. 'But for other kids, mum doesn't even show,' says a youth worker. 'No one shows.' In recent months, the Allan government has banned machetes and drastically toughened bail laws and youth sentencing, in an attempt to stop the 'revolving door' of teen offenders before the courts. But machete violence is continuing to spill out onto streets, and frontline services warn of dwindling funding for early intervention and school support. Meanwhile, gangland bosses are circling, recruiting more young guns looking for street cred through 'freelance crime' – dangerous jobs like shootings, home invasions and firebombings. Not all the teens committing these crimes are in gangs. 'But the young ones don't care if they get caught,' says Kuol. This masthead found teens known to have been charged with gang violence streaming videos online from inside stolen cars, speeding down freeways in masks and gloves, and clutching piles of cash. Graphic footage of machete slashings and stabbings against rival gang members are regularly posted on forums as crews compare points in the league, including, on at least one occasion, footage of a dead body. Disorganised crime Former detective Vince Hurley says youth gangs don't have the discipline or longevity of the major organised crime groups he spent his career infiltrating and investigating. 'They're like fireworks, shooting for stardom, and then they explode and fizzle out pretty fast.' Their names and memberships often shift, as they form allegiances – or split in two. That makes them volatile, and hard to police. While some gangs might run drugs at street level or steal high-end cars for organised crime, most have no major connection to the big syndicates. Violence tends to revolve around 'beefs' between rival postcode crews, not illicit business. 'It's almost like disorganised crime,' says one investigator. 'It's hard to track.' Victorian police are actively monitoring 671 youth gang members across 37 gangs, staking out their haunts and knocking on their doors to check they are complying with bail conditions. Sixty of them have been arrested more than 10 times in the past year. But a police spokesman says gangs have shrunk by about 76 members since the Operation Alliance taskforce launched in late 2020 to target the worst of them. While police don't say the names of crews publicly any more (and those names change fast), this masthead has identified at least 10 consistently involved in serious violent crime in the past five years, including in more than 20 homicides. Some gangs have formed from the 'youngins' of older crews who 'aged out', a 19-year-old formerly associated with gangs explains. 'They leave the life', he says, or else 'move on to bikie clubs [and other organised crime] which pays better. 'The young ones run 'round doing burgs, and stuff for their olders. They never seem to make real money, they still there asking me for $20. And they all end up having beef.' An analysis of recent court judgments by The Age found most of the teens convicted for gang crimes carried similar stories – formative years rocked by family violence or homelessness, without an adult looking out for them. Or else growing up in a crowded household struggling with bills and, in some cases, cultural barriers as migrant families. Crime data shows gang members are overwhelmingly Australian-born. Almost all are male, though girls are appearing as youth offenders more and more. And while Melbourne's west remains a hotbed of gang activity – especially, police say, around Wyndham and Brimbank – youth workers report new gangs are rising in the south-east too. Of late, Dhillon has seen an increase in children diverted to his crime prevention programs who have undiagnosed disorders affecting impulse control, such as ADHD. The majority of health problems diagnosed in youth offenders, including fetal alcohol syndrome, aren't picked up until their first health screening in juvenile detention. Loading Some youth gangs are learning how to commit crimes faster by following bigger syndicates online, Kuol says. They're inspired by gangland heavies splashing their luxe lifestyles across social media and talk of joining a 'brotherhood' if they earn their stripes. Dhillon says there's a lot of pressure on kids to provide for their families, especially with seven or eight younger siblings. 'Trying to convince a kid to give up a lucrative drug business and take a minimum wage job at Maccas? It's a difficult sell. 'And copycat crimes are a lot easier when you can see little Johnny using a machete to steal a car on social media.' Point for point The 'manosphere' and other internet realms that grew in strength as COVID lockdowns pushed more of life online have also become arenas for battle between rival crews. Spats that were once settled in the schoolyard to a limited crowd now pull an audience of thousands, driving gang members to retaliate and defend their honour in increasingly violent ways. Youth gang members behind bars who have spoken to Kuol and his colleagues at Deakin University talk of the snowball effect of social media, as perceived slights and conflicts spread like wildfire online. 'The gang that commits the most serious crime, evades police or steals the most cars, has the most street credibility,' says Kuol. 'With the postcode beefs that we've been seeing, [one group] might jump on social media live from somebody else's territory, and they'll be aggravating that person, calling them out … so a lot of them will feel they have to respond.' Someone overheard at a party yelling a passing insult about a gang one night in 2022 saw members of that crew come out of the west into Reservoir and brutally murder 16-year-old Declan Cutler, who was not in either gang, as he was leaving the party. And last month one gang member looking at a kid from a rival gang 'the wrong way' sparked the machete brawl at Northland that left one young man with serious head injuries, a court has heard. That day, one of those gangs – an emerging crew from Melbourne's west, according to court documents and sources – had appeared in the territory of another with machetes concealed down their pants. The Age has tracked how that gang was feuding with multiple youth crews across the state in the months before the Northland brawl, in a series of escalating attacks and 'paybacks'. Its members had carried out terrifying home invasions against boys in another rival gang – back home near Melton, a children's court heard last month, and one member had been linked to a school stabbing. More recently, the group had posted a drill rap music video filmed on the territory of yet another gang in the north-west, igniting a fierce exchange of threats seen by The Age. Loading One man familiar with but not part of either crew says the western gang was also still reeling from the alleged murder of one of its own members in a street fight in December, a case which is before the children's court. Now, this gang from the west had started crossing into the east to feud with a whole new crew at Northland. Seven young men are before the courts over the brawl, with the exact motives of the fight still unclear. Victoria Police calls social media 'a contributing factor', rather than a driving force of youth crime, given the myriad reasons teens become offenders, from substance abuse and mental health to family violence. But detectives do closely monitor social media to obtain intelligence, a spokesman said, 'which often leads to quick arrests'. It's clear teens regularly 'post and boast' of their crimes online, even livestreaming carjackings. But Kuol says they also know how to play coy when they need to, coordinating over encrypted apps or taking down incriminating rap music within 24 hours of posting. 'Everything I talk about on the internet is false,' reads one helpful disclaimer on the Instagram profile of a south-eastern rapper and gang member. 'They're tech-savvy,' says Kuol. 'They use code words. They almost have their own language.' The machete of choice in Melbourne, for example, is called the 'zombie killer' or 'ZK'. 'Kids carry these knives for protection because they know everyone else is carrying them,' Kuol says. One teen started carrying a machete because they were sleeping rough. Running with a gang also offers 'perceived protection', police say. 'A lot these kids are scared, they're anxious,' says Dhillon. 'They can't really vocalise their insecurities. But if you've got a big scary machete, suddenly, you don't have to be the biggest kid around.' 'No Knives, Just Gloves' John Coyne, who formerly worked in criminal intelligence at the Australian Federal Police, says Australia has a longstanding problem with 'lost boys' that goes beyond one particular cultural or socioeconomic group. 'We saw it with the Vietnamese street gangs in the '80s', he says, and the surf gangs that fuelled the 2005 Cronulla riots. 'You have young men who see a lack of opportunity or identity here, they're looking for a sense of belonging, for family. The kids they grow up with become their family.' Organised crime and youth gangs radicalise these teens in the same way extremist groups tap into young aspirations, Coyne says. Police say that, 'once indoctrinated into the gang', many teens disengage completely from their families and schools, from sport and hobbies. 'Their loyalty to the gang transcends everything else.' Some youth workers speak of 'soft expulsions' at schools, where teens who have proven difficult are not formally moved on and so no one appears to check where they are if they don't show up for class. 'They end up congregating with their peers, sometimes abusing drugs, at shopping centres and things,' says Kuol. This problem is now affecting teens from middle-class backgrounds too, he says. 'We're seeing kids who might not be being monitored either but don't have major problems at home joining gangs. For them, it's a bit of fun. They'll often get support and be able to move on eventually. But for a lot of kids from low-income households, it becomes really difficult. They end up entrenched in the system.' Once a child becomes an offender, the clock is ticking to pull them out of crime. R esearch consistently shows the younger a child is incarcerated, the more likely they are to graduate to an adult criminal lifestyle. Loading Coyne and ex-detective Hurley warn against 'knee-jerk tough-on-crime policies designed around election cycles' while basic frontline services for domestic violence, school engagement, and homelessness still fall short. 'When I was a young cop, I'd have said 'just lock them up' too,' says Hurley. 'Now I know it just locks them in as criminals.' Crime rates are up in Victoria, and youth offences hit their highest level since records began last year, but the numbers have been driven in part by that core group of 200-odd repeat offenders, and average youth crime rates are still below where they were 15 years ago. As of this month, there are 154 young people held in the state's two youth prisons, as beds fill up under the Allan government's bail crackdown – 93 of them are on remand awaiting trial. Attorney-General Sonya Kilkenny says: 'The types of crime we're seeing young people commit are serious and have tragic outcomes, and those criminals will be caught and dealt with.' But she agrees the drivers are complex. 'Being a victim of family violence and having no safe place to call home plays a significant role,' she says, adding that the government was building more social housing and strengthening family violence protections. Of chronic offenders, Kuol says 'it's really hard to reach these kids', but there are ways – mentoring by peers who have turned their lives around has shown particularly promising results. Loading Some former gang members speak of leaving their crew after being betrayed by their own, realising their brotherhood wasn't really a family. 'Or they get a wake-up call when they hit the adult prisons.' One controversial fight night organised by locals after the Northland brawl has called for teen gangs to 'fight it out' in the boxing ring on Saturday ('No knives, just gloves') for a $10,000 cash prize (and promised high security and metal detectors at the door to stop unplanned skirmishes.) Most youth workers argue for more early intervention work, such as family counselling, and others want a greater focus on aspiration and entrepreneurship in crime prevention programs. The Age found some teens charged over recent gang violence with registered ABNs, spruiking burgeoning businesses or rap music labels online. 'These kids need a way to make cash that's legal,' says Coyne. 'That's not to say we should be soft on violent crime, but these kids need hope.' Dhillon recalls a teen busted for graffiti who came to his crime prevention program, and was linked up with an artist mentor, kick-starting a legitimate design career. But that YSAS program, which has been running successfully for about a decade, lost a COVID-era funding top-up a year ago, meaning about a dozen staff were let go, each with a long caseload of teens. 'Now waitlists have blown out,' he says. 'Those referrals to us from police and schools are taking at least six to eight weeks, especially in the west. 'We're seeing so many more cases where just the basic needs, shelter, safety, have to be met first. More cases where the offending has already escalated so much, we just wish we'd got to them sooner. 'These kids don't start out like this.'

The Age
5 hours ago
- The Age
‘Zombie killers' and the ‘lost boys' of Melbourne's warring youth gangs
They call it the league and keep score online, but it's hard to tell who's winning. While teenagers mark key victories on maps, they also argue endlessly about who has racked up the most points. 'Only bodies should count as points,' say some. They're not talking about a game. This league is playing out on the streets of Melbourne as rival youth gangs go to war. Look closer at those maps and you'll see that they mark the more than 20 homicides linked to gang violence in the city in the past five years. Nasty injuries are also dutifully logged, a litany of sliced fingers, paralysed limbs and punctured lungs, though most agree those against innocent people – 'or civs' – caught in the crossfire don't count. The Age spoke to more than a dozen sources working with youth offenders, some on condition of anonymity because of privacy restrictions, and pored through a trove of court documents, social media posts, and footage to gain a picture of how street violence has changed in Melbourne. Increasingly, experts warn, it's being gamified. Youth gangs come armed with machetes and hunting knives – marketed online as 'zombie killers' – and film themselves cruising through enemy territory in stolen cars to 'catch' rival crews. One 18-year-old who asked to remain anonymous due to safety concerns says it's not enough to say you are from the 'east or west' of Melbourne in these so-called postcode wars. 'If a carload pulls up on you, or you're on the train, they asking where you from, you got to say the exact suburb now. They all wanna score points.' At least one of the teens arrested for the violent brawl at the Northland shopping centre in Melbourne last month had his face covered as he drew his machete from a sheath. 'He looked like something out of Mortal Kombat,' says witness Ali, who was in line for sushi when he found himself leaping in to break up the fray with other bystanders. As blades whizzed by and Ali snatched away the boy's fallen machete, the mask fell and he recalled looking at the boy's face. 'They were just kids,' says Ali. 'I'd thought they were playing a game at first because they were just kids.' Youth crime waves are nothing new in Australia. But those on the ground, from forensic psychologists and youth workers to detectives and researchers, say social media means rivalries now play out – and escalate – on a scale not seen before, breeding a new performative subculture of score-settling and live-streamed thrills. 'It's become a weird new phenomenon,' says Abraham Kuol, a criminology researcher and South Sudanese community leader who helps run mentoring for teens caught up in gang violence. 'Usually, you see young people committing crimes for financial gain, to try and get out of their poor circumstances.' Now each crew is trying to prove they are the most vicious to an audience of thousands online, he says. The problem in Victoria is not that hordes more teens have suddenly started committing crimes, adds Navin Dhillon, who runs crime prevention programs across the state's north-west for Youth Support and Advocacy Service. 'The problem is that those who do are escalating faster.' Teens with no criminal record will suddenly be arrested over a stabbing. While Victoria's rate of youth incarceration is at historically low levels, about 40 per cent of the young people in detention are there for the most violent crimes: murder and manslaughter, government and justice sources confirmed. Even the drill rap that often serves as a local soundtrack to gang disputes has become more bloody and personal of late, naming names and glorifying in kills. A recent selection of tracks, released by Melbourne's most prominent gangs and reviewed by this masthead, all reference real stabbings and people. That includes taunts about a teen whose fingers were recently chopped off in a fight and the shooting of a Melbourne rapper last year. 'It's not drill rap itself, it's the way lyrics are targeted now, the tallying of points,' says one youth worker. 'The guys listen to it, day in, day out, even when they go inside.' Most of the young people caught up in gangs are among the state's most vulnerable, often bounced around refuges and foster care, looking for somewhere to belong. But youth workers say a new kind of gang member has also emerged in the past five years: teens from relatively stable, middle-class households swept up in the online infamy and lifestyle. They now number among the 200-odd repeat offenders police say are driving Victoria's youth crime wave, government sources confirmed. But, unlike kids from disadvantage, they are much more likely to get support to leave the lifestyle faster, says Kuol. A government source not authorised to speak publicly recalled watching one of the most prolific young burglars in Victoria win bail as his wealthy parents spoke up for him in court. 'But for other kids, mum doesn't even show,' says a youth worker. 'No one shows.' In recent months, the Allan government has banned machetes and drastically toughened bail laws and youth sentencing, in an attempt to stop the 'revolving door' of teen offenders before the courts. But machete violence is continuing to spill out onto streets, and frontline services warn of dwindling funding for early intervention and school support. Meanwhile, gangland bosses are circling, recruiting more young guns looking for street cred through 'freelance crime' – dangerous jobs like shootings, home invasions and firebombings. Not all the teens committing these crimes are in gangs. 'But the young ones don't care if they get caught,' says Kuol. This masthead found teens known to have been charged with gang violence streaming videos online from inside stolen cars, speeding down freeways in masks and gloves, and clutching piles of cash. Graphic footage of machete slashings and stabbings against rival gang members are regularly posted on forums as crews compare points in the league, including, on at least one occasion, footage of a dead body. Disorganised crime Former detective Vince Hurley says youth gangs don't have the discipline or longevity of the major organised crime groups he spent his career infiltrating and investigating. 'They're like fireworks, shooting for stardom, and then they explode and fizzle out pretty fast.' Their names and memberships often shift, as they form allegiances – or split in two. That makes them volatile, and hard to police. While some gangs might run drugs at street level or steal high-end cars for organised crime, most have no major connection to the big syndicates. Violence tends to revolve around 'beefs' between rival postcode crews, not illicit business. 'It's almost like disorganised crime,' says one investigator. 'It's hard to track.' Victorian police are actively monitoring 671 youth gang members across 37 gangs, staking out their haunts and knocking on their doors to check they are complying with bail conditions. Sixty of them have been arrested more than 10 times in the past year. But a police spokesman says gangs have shrunk by about 76 members since the Operation Alliance taskforce launched in late 2020 to target the worst of them. While police don't say the names of crews publicly any more (and those names change fast), this masthead has identified at least 10 consistently involved in serious violent crime in the past five years, including in more than 20 homicides. Some gangs have formed from the 'youngins' of older crews who 'aged out', a 19-year-old formerly associated with gangs explains. 'They leave the life', he says, or else 'move on to bikie clubs [and other organised crime] which pays better. 'The young ones run 'round doing burgs, and stuff for their olders. They never seem to make real money, they still there asking me for $20. And they all end up having beef.' An analysis of recent court judgments by The Age found most of the teens convicted for gang crimes carried similar stories – formative years rocked by family violence or homelessness, without an adult looking out for them. Or else growing up in a crowded household struggling with bills and, in some cases, cultural barriers as migrant families. Crime data shows gang members are overwhelmingly Australian-born. Almost all are male, though girls are appearing as youth offenders more and more. And while Melbourne's west remains a hotbed of gang activity – especially, police say, around Wyndham and Brimbank – youth workers report new gangs are rising in the south-east too. Of late, Dhillon has seen an increase in children diverted to his crime prevention programs who have undiagnosed disorders affecting impulse control, such as ADHD. The majority of health problems diagnosed in youth offenders, including fetal alcohol syndrome, aren't picked up until their first health screening in juvenile detention. Loading Some youth gangs are learning how to commit crimes faster by following bigger syndicates online, Kuol says. They're inspired by gangland heavies splashing their luxe lifestyles across social media and talk of joining a 'brotherhood' if they earn their stripes. Dhillon says there's a lot of pressure on kids to provide for their families, especially with seven or eight younger siblings. 'Trying to convince a kid to give up a lucrative drug business and take a minimum wage job at Maccas? It's a difficult sell. 'And copycat crimes are a lot easier when you can see little Johnny using a machete to steal a car on social media.' Point for point The 'manosphere' and other internet realms that grew in strength as COVID lockdowns pushed more of life online have also become arenas for battle between rival crews. Spats that were once settled in the schoolyard to a limited crowd now pull an audience of thousands, driving gang members to retaliate and defend their honour in increasingly violent ways. Youth gang members behind bars who have spoken to Kuol and his colleagues at Deakin University talk of the snowball effect of social media, as perceived slights and conflicts spread like wildfire online. 'The gang that commits the most serious crime, evades police or steals the most cars, has the most street credibility,' says Kuol. 'With the postcode beefs that we've been seeing, [one group] might jump on social media live from somebody else's territory, and they'll be aggravating that person, calling them out … so a lot of them will feel they have to respond.' Someone overheard at a party yelling a passing insult about a gang one night in 2022 saw members of that crew come out of the west into Reservoir and brutally murder 16-year-old Declan Cutler, who was not in either gang, as he was leaving the party. And last month one gang member looking at a kid from a rival gang 'the wrong way' sparked the machete brawl at Northland that left one young man with serious head injuries, a court has heard. That day, one of those gangs – an emerging crew from Melbourne's west, according to court documents and sources – had appeared in the territory of another with machetes concealed down their pants. The Age has tracked how that gang was feuding with multiple youth crews across the state in the months before the Northland brawl, in a series of escalating attacks and 'paybacks'. Its members had carried out terrifying home invasions against boys in another rival gang – back home near Melton, a children's court heard last month, and one member had been linked to a school stabbing. More recently, the group had posted a drill rap music video filmed on the territory of yet another gang in the north-west, igniting a fierce exchange of threats seen by The Age. Loading One man familiar with but not part of either crew says the western gang was also still reeling from the alleged murder of one of its own members in a street fight in December, a case which is before the children's court. Now, this gang from the west had started crossing into the east to feud with a whole new crew at Northland. Seven young men are before the courts over the brawl, with the exact motives of the fight still unclear. Victoria Police calls social media 'a contributing factor', rather than a driving force of youth crime, given the myriad reasons teens become offenders, from substance abuse and mental health to family violence. But detectives do closely monitor social media to obtain intelligence, a spokesman said, 'which often leads to quick arrests'. It's clear teens regularly 'post and boast' of their crimes online, even livestreaming carjackings. But Kuol says they also know how to play coy when they need to, coordinating over encrypted apps or taking down incriminating rap music within 24 hours of posting. 'Everything I talk about on the internet is false,' reads one helpful disclaimer on the Instagram profile of a south-eastern rapper and gang member. 'They're tech-savvy,' says Kuol. 'They use code words. They almost have their own language.' The machete of choice in Melbourne, for example, is called the 'zombie killer' or 'ZK'. 'Kids carry these knives for protection because they know everyone else is carrying them,' Kuol says. One teen started carrying a machete because they were sleeping rough. Running with a gang also offers 'perceived protection', police say. 'A lot these kids are scared, they're anxious,' says Dhillon. 'They can't really vocalise their insecurities. But if you've got a big scary machete, suddenly, you don't have to be the biggest kid around.' 'No Knives, Just Gloves' John Coyne, who formerly worked in criminal intelligence at the Australian Federal Police, says Australia has a longstanding problem with 'lost boys' that goes beyond one particular cultural or socioeconomic group. 'We saw it with the Vietnamese street gangs in the '80s', he says, and the surf gangs that fuelled the 2005 Cronulla riots. 'You have young men who see a lack of opportunity or identity here, they're looking for a sense of belonging, for family. The kids they grow up with become their family.' Organised crime and youth gangs radicalise these teens in the same way extremist groups tap into young aspirations, Coyne says. Police say that, 'once indoctrinated into the gang', many teens disengage completely from their families and schools, from sport and hobbies. 'Their loyalty to the gang transcends everything else.' Some youth workers speak of 'soft expulsions' at schools, where teens who have proven difficult are not formally moved on and so no one appears to check where they are if they don't show up for class. 'They end up congregating with their peers, sometimes abusing drugs, at shopping centres and things,' says Kuol. This problem is now affecting teens from middle-class backgrounds too, he says. 'We're seeing kids who might not be being monitored either but don't have major problems at home joining gangs. For them, it's a bit of fun. They'll often get support and be able to move on eventually. But for a lot of kids from low-income households, it becomes really difficult. They end up entrenched in the system.' Once a child becomes an offender, the clock is ticking to pull them out of crime. R esearch consistently shows the younger a child is incarcerated, the more likely they are to graduate to an adult criminal lifestyle. Loading Coyne and ex-detective Hurley warn against 'knee-jerk tough-on-crime policies designed around election cycles' while basic frontline services for domestic violence, school engagement, and homelessness still fall short. 'When I was a young cop, I'd have said 'just lock them up' too,' says Hurley. 'Now I know it just locks them in as criminals.' Crime rates are up in Victoria, and youth offences hit their highest level since records began last year, but the numbers have been driven in part by that core group of 200-odd repeat offenders, and average youth crime rates are still below where they were 15 years ago. As of this month, there are 154 young people held in the state's two youth prisons, as beds fill up under the Allan government's bail crackdown – 93 of them are on remand awaiting trial. Attorney-General Sonya Kilkenny says: 'The types of crime we're seeing young people commit are serious and have tragic outcomes, and those criminals will be caught and dealt with.' But she agrees the drivers are complex. 'Being a victim of family violence and having no safe place to call home plays a significant role,' she says, adding that the government was building more social housing and strengthening family violence protections. Of chronic offenders, Kuol says 'it's really hard to reach these kids', but there are ways – mentoring by peers who have turned their lives around has shown particularly promising results. Loading Some former gang members speak of leaving their crew after being betrayed by their own, realising their brotherhood wasn't really a family. 'Or they get a wake-up call when they hit the adult prisons.' One controversial fight night organised by locals after the Northland brawl has called for teen gangs to 'fight it out' in the boxing ring on Saturday ('No knives, just gloves') for a $10,000 cash prize (and promised high security and metal detectors at the door to stop unplanned skirmishes.) Most youth workers argue for more early intervention work, such as family counselling, and others want a greater focus on aspiration and entrepreneurship in crime prevention programs. The Age found some teens charged over recent gang violence with registered ABNs, spruiking burgeoning businesses or rap music labels online. 'These kids need a way to make cash that's legal,' says Coyne. 'That's not to say we should be soft on violent crime, but these kids need hope.' Dhillon recalls a teen busted for graffiti who came to his crime prevention program, and was linked up with an artist mentor, kick-starting a legitimate design career. But that YSAS program, which has been running successfully for about a decade, lost a COVID-era funding top-up a year ago, meaning about a dozen staff were let go, each with a long caseload of teens. 'Now waitlists have blown out,' he says. 'Those referrals to us from police and schools are taking at least six to eight weeks, especially in the west. 'We're seeing so many more cases where just the basic needs, shelter, safety, have to be met first. More cases where the offending has already escalated so much, we just wish we'd got to them sooner. 'These kids don't start out like this.'