Eleven years ago, Jeane Meiers, at 47 years of age, had come to the conclusion that she married the wrong man; both agreed to separate. Her husband, Geoffrey Braunack, for whatever reason, was not a man one would ascribe the word, “ordinary”, to. Some time into their marriage, Geoffrey had initiated the replacement of that ordinary married sex that ordinary married couples have, with bondage-oriented scenarios. Geoffrey’s trip? He liked to be tied up – not a unique a practice as you’d think, and probably not what their Sunshine Coast neighbours suspected went on in the Braunack family home. For reasons we can only speculate upon, she apparently obliged.

 

To be precise, Geoffrey enjoyed being placed in sado-massochistic, bondage style restraints, left alone to find ways to escape. She would “tie his wrists and arms… tape his mouth shut and then… tie his ankles” (in her own words). Then, she would leave her husband, after this symbolic act of domination, to essentially free himself from this position. In his ability to do so, was his rush. For Geoffrey, this was sex.

Bondage fetishes (of which, there are many kinds) are essentially a psychological manifestation that generally results from adolescence – although, it should be noted, it is a common occurrence to find them develop amongst adults who have found themselves in severe situations of sexual (or otherwise) trauma (most notably, rape). It doesn’t necessarily develop from instances that are overtly sexual, but they are processed by the individual in a manner that becomes sexualised, so that, if the impulses and fantasies are nurtured and elicited in real situations, they become a kind of “sex life”; ordinary sexual practices are either unable to be engaged, or simply don't provide a thrill that is as sexually arousing as these bondage games. In theory, they are seen to be based on either simulating a power dynamic from a formative experience (and generally, a negative one), or, as I suspect is the case with Mr Braunack, as a way to kind of “escape” (an unfortunate irony, however, when you consider that it has fashioned their psychology to such a degree) these instances of power dynamics by inverting that dynamic. Jeane noted that at the point of having tied him up, that she was “in control”, and she understood that her husband’s joy was to overcome this control through escaping – so much so, he would boast of his abilities, taunting her (though, she was perhaps not as engaged by the scenario, as he imagined) that he had successfully overpowered her control of him. It doesn’t really take a genius to join the dots, and imagine what this was really doing for a man who no doubt had, at some stage of his life, been (though, not necessarily in a literal fashion) placed under the heavy restraint of a woman (chances are, his mother - but not necessarily).

Did Jeane perhaps underestimate what she was getting herself into? It is not uncommon for many partners of such individuals to agree to some level of these behaviours being introduced into their relationship, without realising they are feeding a beast that will take over. In particular, women can feel a certain amount of pressure to accommodate a husband’s sexual demands and requests – usually because they fear that if they do not comply, this will drive the man into the beds of others who are more accommodating.  Jeane Meiers says she did not particularly share her husband’s penchant, yet she did accommodate him, and on many occasions. Once, she tied him, as requested, and left him for an entire day, while she drove to town and did the week’s shopping. Never underestimate a housewife’s ability to mutlitask!

Eleven years after their separation, Jeane was recently seeing her estranged husband at their Sunshine Coast property. She says she was tired, and ready to go to bed; but her husband had other plans.

“He kept saying, ‘How about you tie me up, for old time’s sake?’” she recalls. “And in the end, I thought, ‘Just do it, and then he’ll shut up and you can go to bed.”

It is a moment that Jeane Meiers must have now replayed, over and over, in her mind. It is a moment she would no doubt like very much to erase. But choices are made, and consequences will follow. That’s the annoying thing about time – it only goes forward. However much her mind will replay the scene, it is too late. She can never go back. But it has, without question, dramatically alterd what is ahead of her.

Again, she obliged her husband’s fantasies. She tied him to his favourite concrete post on the veranda – the kind of veranda where we generally think of middle aged Sunshine Coast residents watching lightning crack over cane fields – and covered his mouth with tape.

Was she somehow driven by her confessed aversion to her husband’s seemingly moronic behaviour, to, in some ways, engage the activity, by now buying into the power play of it all? Did her husband know that in requesting his wife to comply – even if she had made it clear she just wanted to have a shower and go to sleep – he could actually push her into a kind of annoyance that would actually give him what he wanted?

“You won’t get out of this one,” she taunted him. As always, he boasted that he would.

Then, as always, she left him there. Perhaps, with her husband tied up, his mouth taped shut, she felt a kind of peace – after having him hassle her to oblige “for old time’s sake”, I can imagine that was the case. I can picture her stepping into that shower, finally, her husband’s demanding voice silent, sighing, leaning against the wall as the hot water ran over her body, and finding a strange kind of relief. Does she think of that moment, too, I wonder? It would be the last peace she would know for quite some time. Perhaps, forever.

After her shower, she dried herself off, and returned to see if her husband was already sitting there, free of the power he ironically pushed her to place over him, boasting of how he had escaped, yet again.

But Geoffrey wasn’t free. Geoffrey was silent and perfectly still, where she had left him.

“Geoffrey?” she called out to him.

There was no response. She went to him, and pushed his limp body, trying to “wake him up”. And, in that moment, she had made the transition from that moment of peace to the arrival of something very different. Geoffrey wasn’t asleep. He was dead.

Frantically, she called for paramedics. They arrived to no avail: Geoffrey had asphyxiated, and attempts to revive him were useless. The police were called, and constable Joanne Moore arrived to find Jeane on the telephone, screaming hysterically; “I killed him! He’s dead! I told the fucking idiot he wouldn’t get out of this one!”

Jeane Meiers was taken to court, where, this week, a judge declared that her story had rang true, that there was nothing to suggest Geoffrey had been tied by any force, and that it was clear that she had not intended to harm her husband.

However… “You engaged in a dangerous practice,” the judge told her, upon sentencing. “He was clearly bound too tightly and he was not supervised. You should have seen the consequences.”

The fall of that hammer, the chilling reverb as it echoes through the courthouse, must have sent a sharp pain through her soul. Should she have seen the consequences? She swears she didn’t. Sure, she thought he would have difficulty getting out of this one – but she certainly didn’t mean it so… literally.  What else should she have done?

She’ll have potentially three years to ponder this. Last Friday, Jeane Meiers, at 58 years of age, was sentenced to three years in jail, with no suspension before 12 months. She sits, in her new cell, tonight, perhaps replaying the moment over in her mind – the ropes she tied around his wrists, the tape she placed across his mouth. Or, perhaps, she finds a space within the mind where she is leaning against the tiles, the hot water soothing her in a silence where whatever it is that happened to her husband (a moment she accommodated the damage of, for many years) no longer pushes her to arouse a consuming need within his mind. She sighs, and the water is warm, and he is silent. She was waiting for him to claim his freedom. Now, she waits to claim her own.