Then his son started finding notes in his school bag. Notes like this one: “You’re just like your father, you filthy scum.’’ This politician shakes his head. Why didn’t his son speak up? If he’d known, he just might have been able to stop it before it got to crisis point. He doesn’t want to go into that. Loading Politician two is a mother, and she loves her children’s engagement in social media. The whole family shared a group chat, and that made it easier for her to stay in contact when her duties took her away from home. She had always been close to her daughter, and wondered why her daughter had broken up with her boyfriend.

But her daughter didn’t speak until they sought the advice of local police. That was after her ex said he didn’t like her talking to other boys, seemed to know what she was up to constantly, and was becoming abusive. She was just 16. Politician three is weeping over a cup of coffee. Their daughter's year from hell almost broke the family. “Ignore their taunts,’’ they told her. It was ruthless and unrelenting. Now their daughter is at another school, and fingers crossed, she is starting to find that spring in her step again. “But I’ll do anything to help, please. I don’t want someone else to go through that,’’ this politician told me, shortly after the state’s anti-bullying taskforce was set up. Politician four urged me not to advocate for bans on mobile phones at school because his daughter was being bullied and it was important for the teenager to be able to spend the lunch hour on the phone to her mother. Really important.

Politician five told his daughter to report the bullies who were attacking her online, each day. “I told her - don’t let them get away with it.’’ She reported the three girls. “Oh, and how wrong was I,’’ her father says. “They found out, and told her they’d get her.’’ He’s angry at himself. Loading Five politicians. Different parties. Different genders. But they are all parents, desperate to protect their children. None of those politicians gave evidence to the taskforce. They just wanted me to understand how pernicious the problem had become.

And it has, in a way that we might find hard to fathom. The nastiness of cyberbullying can be delivered at any time of the day or night, and often under the cloak of anonymity. While the brunt of our recommendations this week focused on providing parents and schools with the tools they need, it’s also crucial for social media companies to balance the enormous access they have to our children with a touch more good corporate citizenship. You can read the report and response here. That support is bipartisan. One recommendation didn’t see much public debate, but it’s crucial. We called on MPs - and other community leaders - to show more respectful behaviour, be better role models for our children, and to commit to better leadership.

We all have to change if we genuinely want to press the mute button on cyberbullying. We all have to be a bit kinder, and to show a touch more patience on the roads, in shopping queues and how we talk to her children’s teacher. After 10 months’ of investigation, and talking to people across the state, I got an almighty dose of perspective on Monday morning. Suicide rarely has one cause, and is always complex - but I spent a couple of hours with Tick and Kate Everett, parents of 14-year-old Dolly Everett. Her life was short, but her message is a powerful legacy. We all need to speak up, even if our voice shakes. And that is as relevant to our children, who spot a case of bullying and decide not to act, as it is to the rest of us.