On Thursday, September 19, 2019, a High Court judge found that Colin Craig sexually harassed his former press secretary Rachel MacGregor for years. This interview with MacGregor was first published in September 2018.

rdinarily it would seem an exaggeration or perhaps even an elevated sense of self-importance. But when Rachel MacGregor describes the “really bad soap opera” of her life, it’s pretty hard to disagree. That soap opera has had the most public of airings, through the courts and all over the news, for four years now. But Rachel MacGregor has never had control of any of it. And she still doesn’t. As she sits down with Stuff Circuit for an interview she'd probably rather not do, she asks for time to compose herself and her answers.

“Because I haven’t actually talked about this in a lot of depth with anyone, really”, she says. “And I assume you’re going to ask me questions that I actually haven’t spoken about before.”

She’s nervous because she knows Colin Craig will be watching and reading every word.

If it is a soap opera, she’s right - it’s a bad one. Tawdry and crass, with enough sense of scandal for cliffhanger after cliffhanger.

But the real life version, played out in private, is one of endless stress, staggering expense, and the impacts of a monumental imbalance of power.

“Intense stress, over a long period of time”, she says. “Stress has affected just about every area of my life, actually.”

Press secretary to Craig, the then-leader of the Conservative Party, MacGregor resigned suddenly, two days before the 2014 election, and on the very same day lodged a claim of sexual harassment against Craig, with the Human Rights Commission. (Till then, the Conservative Party had been doing quite well in the polls. Did MacGregor’s resignation contribute to it falling short on election day? Maybe. It certainly was the beginning of a slow train wreck that ultimately saw Craig stand down as leader nine months later).

At mediation, MacGregor discussed the sexual harassment claim and a financial dispute - the details of which are complicated, but important.

Following her resignation, MacGregor had filed an invoice for $47,000 for work she’d done during the election campaign, from which she expected Craig to deduct two $10,000 advances, and a loan of $18,990. The interest rate on the loan was zero for the first six months, then 4 per cent for the next six months.

After she lodged the sexual harassment claim, Craig increased the interest rate to 29 per cent.

In the settlement agreement, MacGregor withdrew her claim, and over the next two days the pair’s lawyers exchanged letters which saw MacGregor paid $16,000 and have the loan wiped. At the time, it was all covered by confidentiality, meaning that should have been the end of it.

But as we all now know, it wasn’t.


Colin Craig’s first breach of the gagging order which both parties had agreed upon, came in that now notorious interview in a sauna, with TV3’s David Farrier.

Craig then went on to breach the agreement further, repeatedly, in a series of media conferences and interviews.

Rachel MacGregor sat back and watched in horror.

And it still wasn’t over.

Because then came court cases - two of them, both defamation trials - after some details of MacGregor’s time working for Craig were published by a blogger.

She was merely a witness, roped in. But she needed legal advice, of course. And now her four-year navigation of the legal system has left her with a lawyers’ bill of $80,000 - a bill which is about to be multiplied many times, because yet again, Rachel MacGregor finds herself in court: this time being sued by Colin Craig for defamation, and she responding with a counterclaim, also of defamation.

MacGregor feels she has no choice but to defend herself. But she can’t afford it.

“I don’t have any assets”, she says. “I am just absolutely nowhere near as wealthy as Colin Craig. There’s no way I could even dream of paying for this case myself. I guess it’s sort of chalk and cheese, if you like, my financial position, and my opponent’s.”

acGregor laughs frequently, but there’s a sense that she’s sussing us out; that trust doesn’t come easily anymore.



We meet in a Takapuna cafe, her favourite, partly because they let her bring her Golden Retriever, Stanley. “The centre of my world.”

A world which has changed awfully over the past four years.

And Stuff Circuit is told by several people who know MacGregor how much she has changed herself - something she frequently acknowledges.

She speaks of how tired she’s become. She makes repeated reference to the amount of weight she’s gained. She says she rarely goes out - she’s quieter, socially withdrawn - and her relationships with her friends are altered.

Partly that’s because the strict terms of the confidentiality agreement mean she can’t even talk to her friends and family about what happened.


And because of that agreement there are often lengthy pauses in conversation. She’s thinking - over-thinking - about what she’s allowed to say, because there’s so much she’s not allowed to talk about, including, of course, all the questions people want answers to: what did actually happen when she was working for Craig? What was the basis of her sexual harassment claim?

Can she answer that? No, because of that seemingly now illogical confidentiality agreement.

“I have to honour that. That’s a legal agreement that was signed on May 4th 2015 and as a result of that, all I can say about that whole time is that Colin Craig and I met and resolved our differences.”

That’s it. We’ve met and resolved our differences. No addressing the reason for her laying the complaint in the first place, no answering his denial of any sexual harassment and claim instead that there had been “inappropriate contact”. No comeback. No nothing.

“I haven’t been able to tell my story on my terms and it’s really frustrating. Really frustrating.”

The only time she has been able to speak has been in court, but that’s brought no satisfaction, because, as a witness, “When I’ve been asked questions… they have been worded by Mr Craig or his lawyer. And so again, the narrative is very much his narrative.”

Her enforced silence has contributed to what she calls the “disaster” of her life.

Such as when she resigned from a PR job because of stress, was unable to work because of anxiety and depression, and had to apply for a sickness benefit.

With a limited income, and with Stanley in tow, it was hard to find somewhere to live.

“I had to rent this really cold and damp house and, you know, my life just completely changed.”

The role she was assigned in that bad soap opera is the character no-one would want to be.