‘No mom, no mom,’ he said. What
schizophrenics don’t realise is the voice
and themselves are one so they really
think someone is trying to murder them. That’s why
it’s so crucial that they are watched, 24-7. That’s why
we paid the hospital, so they could look after him
24-7. When he was at home, I was terrified I’d go to
sleep and wake up with him hanging in the garage.”
St John paid for surveillance and investigation into
the hospital she is now completely certain failed to
carry out their duties. She is positive a carrier bag, the
suicide weapon, should have been discovered before
her “gorgeous, eccentric, beautiful” son wrapped it
around his head. She’s convinced that the mandatory
checks they were supposed to be carrying out every
15 minutes had lapsed to hours, and she knows,
from toxicology reports, that Julian had not taken the
medication that was designed to unclutter his mind.
“I phoned him at 12:11 [pm] and by the time we
got off the phone it was 12.21. At 12.23 he walked
into the bathroom and took his life. I had talked him
out of it so many times but that was the one day I
couldn’t. Of course I blame myself. I said the wrong
thing. I must have done. But I have to accept that the
universe has a plan, and that was my son’s time. And
I will always be mad at the universe for taking my
child.”
As warned, this is a bleaker than bleak story. For
a long time all St John wanted to do was follow her
son out of this cruel world but, so far, the ultimate
bad ending has been resisted. Mia has her sister, her
daughter Paris, and the unbreakable bond with Julian,
to thank for that. For the rest of her days, she will
spread the word of mental disease through her son’s
foundation, help those who suffer from torment,
while exposing institutions that do not.
“If I don’t do something, another mother will go
through what I’m going through now and
I don’t wish this upon my worst enemy.
My son was my whole life and I feel like,
without him, I would be okay not waking
up in the morning, very much okay. But
I feel like, now, I have to wake up in the
morning, I have people to help.
“I have my son’s art studio which I turned into a
free centre for anyone suffering from mental health
issues, and to take in the homeless. That’s what I do
every day, and that’s all I want to do. There was a
point after my son died I told my sister that I could
not go on without my son, and that I was ready to
take my own life. Her response was, ‘You can’t be so
selfish. If you don’t want your life then give it away.’
I was confused. She said, ‘Since you don’t want your
life, give it to someone who does’.”
Nothing, it seems, will put a dent in Mia St John. At
least not one that the eye can see. Once just a pretty
face, a gloved-up gimmick in a pink costume that
the boxing world refused to take seriously, St John is
now seen as a trailblazer for the female code. But far
better than that, she’s the mother who made sure her
son’s death did not go to waste. bnTHE EARLY DAYS:
St John, in trademark
pink, with mascara-
stained cheeks
Photo: ACTION IMAGES/REUTERS