But she made her feelings clear after I published a piece about her last weekend, accusing me of “kicking someone when they’re down,” seemingly unaware of the crime in her situation. She went on to post a series of bikini selfies on Instagram.
Even media commentator Mia Freedman threw in her five cents and waited her wrath on the media to call Fisher – who has made a business out of his enviable social life – a “socialite”. Freedman claimed it was a degrading label.
Judge Hudson told the court how “saturated” the people of Sydney’s wealthy eastern suburbs should be with the cocaine trade, as he sees “similar cases” before his court “almost daily”. He described the drug as a “stain on our society”.
He’s right. It’s no secret that cocaine trafficking is drenched in blood, despair and crime, but unfortunately for Judge Hudson, many of his constituents have not listened.
Over the last few days, I’ve been bombarded with stories of high – profile people indulging in cocaine throughout the pandemic across some of the city’s most ridiculous addresses and were completely blasé about it.
Some of them are people with significant influence on how our society works, people who come up with fabled surnames about wealth and privileges that have been woven into the social structure of this city for generations.
And yet, they risk it all with smartphones and encrypted messaging apps that have made buying cocaine no more complicated than ordering a pizza or an Uber.
Friends share phone numbers of unknown retailers among their circles. Messages ping across the city as delivery and payment information is sorted, with $ 300 handed over to a small plastic bag filled with an indefinable white powder from who knows where.
The presence of the small plastic bags at gatherings is now considered normal as opening a bottle of champagne.
But the stain of cocaine crime is not easily removed. Just ask convicted drug dealer Richard Buttrose, who spent a decade behind bars and watched his marriage fall apart over it.
While his aunt, Ita Buttrose, has praised his ability to “turn his life around” since he walked out of Silverwater Jail, it was his notoriety that made him lie somewhere on the warts and all SAS Australia reality TV series involving famous contestants confronting their dark past.
Buttrose recently married high-profile PR figure Tiffany Farrington, one of the city’s red carpets who knows all the media players – including me – very well. She is an acute media expert.
They kept their relationship a secret from the press for years and were aware that his name still carries the weight of a scandal that is likely to overshadow him for the rest of his life.
I spoke to Buttrose, who before the pandemic had started going to events in Sydney with Farrington, after they finally got clean on their relationship in a newspaper article. He is a competent, gracious and kind person.
I asked him about his time behind bars and his crime, the extent of which (police attacks 11 years ago uncovered seven kilos of cocaine to a street value of $ 10.8 million along with $ 1.3 million in cash) was epic.
But instead of deep remorse or shame, I was struck by his almost cavalier reaction when he told me, “Buddy, I thought I was just helping a few friends … everyone did.”
Looks like they still are.
The Morning Edition newsletter is our guide to today’s most important and interesting stories, analyzes and insights. sign up here.