Tammy Shipley walked into a police station and asked to be locked up. She just wanted to be safe. 

Tammy's under 24-hour surveillance. Her family can't reach her. Then she starts drinking water from a red cup — and nobody understands what they're watching until it's too late.

Tammy Shipley asked to be arrested so she could feel safe. After she was placed under 24-hour surveillance, something terrible took place. 

A new three-part series by Kirstie Wellauer and Joanna McCarthy investigates how it unfolded.

A loving mother of five, Tammy could really make her kids laugh.  

But she'd started to believe she was in danger — that someone was out to get her.  

A couple of weeks before Christmas, she walked into a Sydney police station looking for protection. She asked to be arrested and just wanted to feel safe. 

She was put under 24-hour surveillance. 

Then, over the course of several hours, something terrible took place. Something no one noticed. 

Tammy's Story is a three-part investigation into how this could have happened.

Jean Paul Mangin is a nom de plume, an alias, a fake name. But no one seems to know that.  So why would a commercial gallery – a family-run business – go to such extreme lengths to protect the identity of its artist?  

The only clue to Jean Paul Mangin's true identity is hiding in his art. Unlike everything else about the elusive French sculptor, the material he works with is right there for anyone to see — giant, flat sheets of plastic, in vivid colours and glossy finishes.  Perhaps if reporter Julia Bergin can find out where they're coming from, she can find him too. And it’s that trail that leads her to a noisy factory floor, where another artist has been making strikingly similar work for years. 

The sales pitch goes that Jean Paul Mangin is a reclusive Parisian sculptor whose works are internationally acclaimed. His pieces sell quickly through one particular Australian gallery, sought after by trendy interior designers. But gallery staff are starting to ask questions. Why is Jean Paul Mangin uncontactable? Why can’t they find any evidence of his international credentials? And why do his works show up - sometimes in a single layer of bubble-wrap - within days of being commissioned?

For years, art buyers have been told that this man is an internationally acclaimed, intensely private Parisian sculptor. His bold, brightly coloured plastic works are available through one Melbourne gallery, and they're selling fast. But there's a problem. The artist, Jean Paul Mangin, has no website, no social media, and no discernible presence in France. His sculptures arrive in Melbourne wrapped in a single layer of bubble wrap, just days after being commissioned. When gallery staff start asking questions, they're told he's not to be contacted directly. That's when reporter Julia Bergin steps in — following a trail of clues from the bourgeois backstreets off the Champs-Elysées to an empty graveyard in country Victoria.

How did a wounded Bondi survivor become the face of a global deepfake conspiracy in less than 24 hours? Arsen Ostrovsky was celebrating Chanukah at Bondi Beach when the first shots rang out. A bullet grazed his head, and as he lay bleeding on the ground, his first thought was his wife and children. Not knowing whether the danger had passed, he took selfies to show them he was alive. Within hours, one of the images was circulating across social media.  Arsen was then swept up in a wave of disinformation that recast him not as a victim, but as a performer: a “crisis actor” faking his wounds to manufacture sympathy for Israel. The deepfake conspiracy spread with startling speed. In less than 24 hours, Arsen had gone from shooting survivor to accused hoaxer.   In this episode, reporter Josh Robertson trace how that happened. They follow the lie from its point of origin through the networks that amplified it: far-right Telegram channels, fringe conspiracy theorists on Reddit and Instagram, Russian propaganda outlets, and beyond. It is a story about surviving something catastrophic, then being told by strangers that it never happened. 

This man fled Iran after being imprisoned and tortured for protesting the regime. Known only as AB, he came to Australia hoping to start again — and, in many ways, he did. He found love and started a family. But he also made poor choices, fell into drugs and became violent towards his partner. Now his future in Australia is in jeopardy. He was living with those consequences when the Bondi terror attack unfolded around him. He ran towards the gunfire, and risked his life to help others. Now the country that once gave him refuge wants to deport him. 

You think you know the story. You know how it ended. But you don’t know how it began. In the first episode of The Road to Bondi, reporter Josh Robertson traces the decades-long path that led a father and son to carry out their plan. He takes us from the narrow streets of old Hyderabad in India, where a young man grew up in a respectable family, to the western Sydney suburbs, where he begins to unravel.