When Perri Conti and her husband woke on Easter Sunday two years ago, they noticed the front door was already open.
"My car was gone," Perri says. "Everything had been thrown out on the streets."
Perri had always been crime conscious, and usually hid her keys before going to bed. This particular evening though, she'd been tired and had fallen asleep on the couch, staggering off to bed in the early hours of the morning — and leaving her keys on the side table.
"Oh God, I was so angry," says Perri, despite believing that it was "only a matter of time" before her home was broken into.
"There were over 1,400 cars stolen that year," she says. "I kept saying to people, 'it will happen to you, it's just a matter of when.'"
Now that it had happened to her, Perri was furious, and like many Australians, she wanted more punitive action taken to tackle youth crime.
"I was like, 'lock them up, throw away the key'," she says. "I was like a witch on a broomstick. I was so angry, (I felt like) they don't deserve to walk here and all that."
Then she met an Indigenous woman with more than 35 years experience working in child safety, who changed everything.
"She started educating me about what these kids need, what they don't get, and my whole outlook changed," Perri says.
"I thought, 'I've got to help these kids'."
And so she did, immersing herself into the community to determine why these kids commit crimes, so she could her part to help them.
"It's just a cycle. So they get locked up, they come out with no support, and they start again."