Haros, who had just sent the confidential memo to Folau, was sitting on the other side of the table, along with industrial relations Queen's counsel Stuart Wood, two of Wood's junior barristers, Nico Burmeister and Eddy Gisonda, and publicists Jason Aldworth and Chris Newman.

The meeting, assembled at 48-hours' notice, would form the basis of a legal-media strategy that drove Rugby Australia to offer deal after deal out of desperation to end a campaign that was not only challenging the sport's very identity, but Australia's relationship with religion.

The pitch

Wood and Unkovich did most of the talking. Maria Folau lightened the mood now and then. Israel, a shy man, was mostly quiet. Unkovich had watched Folau tried by Rugby Australia's hand-picked tribunal, which had determined that the Instagram post constituted a "high-level" breach of his employment contract.

Unkovich knew Folau through his partner of five years. Hernon, a prominent sports physiotherapist, had been friends with Maria Folau since she was a 17-year-old netballer in the New Zealand national team. Caught in a process he didn't understand and couldn't control, the 30-year-old rugby player had reached out to Unkovich, 24 years his senior.

Maria Folau competing for New Zealand against Uganda during the Gold Coast Commonwealth Games in 2018. AAP

Appreciating the case operated at the intersection of the law, business, politics and public opinion, Unkovich went looking for an aggressive Queen's counsel backed by a strong legal and public relations team.

A retired MinterEllison partner, Lloyd Baggott, suggested Stuart Wood, a 51-year-old Victorian barrister. Wood had worked on some of the biggest cases in industrial law, including the firing of marine scientist Peter Ridd from James Cook University, the construction union's boycott of Boral concrete in 2012, and the famed Patrick stevedores waterfront dispute of 1998.

Unkovich introduced himself on the phone to Wood, and asked who he would use as a solicitor. Even though the barrister had started his legal career at Collins Street institution Freehill Hollingdale & Page, he was concerned a big-firm corporate lawyer would struggle to bond with the Folaus through what was almost certainly going to be an emotional fight.

He proposed Haros, a 45-year-old industrial relations specialist at mid-sized firm Macpherson Kelley. Another Freehills graduate, Haros carried himself with the intensity and sociability of a successful sportsman and business owner. Unkovich agreed to fly to Melbourne with the Folaus to scope out the team face-to-face.


PR versus the law

In the conference room, which was on the same floor as his chambers, Wood introduced the team. He talked up publicists Newman and Aldworth, who had run public relations for his cousin, hockey gold medallist Danni Roche, in her unsuccessful 2017 challenge against John Coates for the Australian Olympic Commission presidency.

Rugby Australia's media briefing needed to be aggressively countered because it was harming Folau's reputation, Wood said. As a junior barrister on the Patrick waterfront case, Wood had seen the massive media coverage leave the lawyers subordinate to the public relations strategy.

Instead of a high-paid sportsman who broke his contract, the story was of a humble man denied the right to express his religious beliefs by an employer.

When it came to the Folaus – and Maria's reputation would be damaged by the case too – Wood proposed a co-ordinated PR-legal strategy.

"The two most important people in this room are Jason and Chris," he said, according to a person present. "It's very important to get your story out there so people understand what is going on."

They were going to reframe the debate. Instead of a high-paid sportsman who broke his contract, the story had to become the defence of a humble man denied the right to express his religious beliefs by an employer.

Coverage needed to be moved from the sports sections to the news and op-ed pages, the PR experts said, where larger audiences would maximise the pressure on Rugby Australia. Instead of subjecting Folau to questions at press conferences, he would communicate through professionally produced videos, which sympathisers could distribute across the internet.

The other side

Over at Rugby House, the sport's Sydney headquarters, Raelene Castle knew she had a public relations disaster on her hands. Castle had offered to pay Folau to leave the game quietly.


He had decided to fight the code in a tribunal hearing that took two-and-a-half days. He had lost, but didn't look like he was going to give up.

Representing fans stretching from Church-going Christians to same-sex married couples, Castle didn't want a fight with a rugby superstar. But she wasn't going to reverse her decision. Activists said Folau's post would contribute to an anti-gay stigma that could lead to violence, especially against young people.

Rugby Australia chief executive Raelene Castle tried to settle with Folau five times. AAP

Advertisers, drawn to rugby's popularity with the upper middle classes, didn't want the sport sucked into a bitter debate over religion and homosexuality. Jaguar Land Rover, HSBC, Accenture, InterContinental Hotels, RM Williams and Bose were all Wallabies sponsors. If the fight got too nasty, it was possible some would walk.

'Our bulldog'

Wood's main legal advice was to forget about appealing against Rugby Australia's own tribunal, which had given Castle the green light to fire Folau, and included barrister Kate Eastman, a prominent gay rights advocate. The tribunal was limited to interpreting Folau's contract, leaving him unable to claim protection from the law.

Wood dismissed the tribunal as a "kangaroo court", and sketched out an alternative plan. Folau would claim unlawful termination under the Fair Work Act. Not only would he have far more legal options, but if he lost Folau would not have to cover the other side's legal costs, which would be considerable if the case ended in the High Court.

"This case might go all the way so it has got to be set up properly and we have got to make every claim we can possibly make," Wood said, according to a person present.

The option of appearing before the Supreme Court of NSW was dismissed. Wood was worried the Sydney bench would be receptive to Rugby Australia arguments that what was a contract dispute had been resolved by rugby's in-house tribunal. In the federal system, it would be easier to introduce evidence to show that Folau's contract was a sideshow.

The tribunal appeal cut-off was 11.38am the following day. If Wood and his team were hired, it would be ignored.


Unkovich was impressed with the presentation. "This is the A-grade team," he said. "We need to get on board."

The Folaus, Unkovich and Heron went on their own into Wood's wood-panelled office, where a portrait of the barrister hung from a wall. When they came back, they told Wood he had been hired.

"We've found our bulldog," Unkovich said.

"He even looks like a bulldog," Maria Folau chipped in.

George Haros (left) and and Stuart Wood on August 13 in Melbourne after the Federal Circuit Court chief justice agreed to an expedited hearing. It was a turning point in the case. AAP

Free advice

Wood's lawyers identified 60 possible legal challenges to Folau's firing. They included the Australian constitution, international treaties Australia had signed, and the common law of torts, which allows a person to sue for damages for harm.

There was no shortage of advice. Folau, a Christian of Tongan descent, was an international sporting star. Despite having played the sport for only seven years, he had represented the Australia national team 73 times, had scored the most tries in Super Rugby history and the fourth-most for the Wallabies.

Lawyers from New Zealand, South Africa and elsewhere added to the cacophony of voices at home expressing outrage at what they felt was religious persecution. Folau's broader social circle fed the views to him. Simultaneously, the government was writing a law to protect religious free speech, a step critics said was an unnecessary sop to the Christian right.

Some political figures wanted Wood to turn the case into a fight over whether the constitution protected religious beliefs. A High Court showdown over the right to quote the Bible on Instagram could have marked the apex of the culture wars, and provided the political impetus for the Coalition's religious freedom bill.


The team had three weeks to file with the Fair Work Commission. Folau's termination letter was included as an annex to the 10-page document, which placed an X in a box next to religion in a list of 13 forms of unlawful discrimination.

"As a manifestation of Mr Folau’s religion, he is compelled to communicate the word of God and the message contained within the Bible (Biblical Teachings) (the doing of which he considers to be a loving gesture to others)," the claim said.

"In this context, in April 2019, Mr Folau communicated certain Biblical Teachings on his personal Instagram account. Rugby Australia and Waratahs demanded that Mr Folau renounce the April 2019 Religious Message. Mr Folau refused to do so, and Rugby Australia and Waratahs terminated his employment."

'Without fear of retribution'

Wood and the team were concerned that Rugby Australia might try to wear down the Folaus by dragging out the case over two years – if roles were reversed, they would have done the same. Relentless public criticism quickly destroys the negotiating willpower of almost any person.

Their best chance of a quick hearing was in the Federal Circuit Court, a lower-cost version of the Federal Court. After two years in charge, Chief Judge William Alstergren had sped up trial times and come down on delaying tactics.

Before the case could be switched to Alstergren's court, however, there had to be a genuine attempt to settle.

Israel Folau at Sydney Olympic Park in August, about halfway through his fight with Rugby Australia. Steve Christo

On June 27, a Thursday, both sides gathered in conference rooms at the Fair Work Commission offices on William St in East Sydney, a short walk from the once-seedy Kings Cross nightclub strip.

Interest from the media was intense. The previous night Folau had been followed by paparazzi from the city to the Sky News offices at Macquarie Park, in the city's north, where he told sympathetic broadcaster Alan Jones that he wanted an apology.


He was then followed back into the city, according to his team, which posted a video on YouTube of Folau reading from a script that publicised his position without subjecting him to journalists' questions.

"First and foremost, I am hoping for an apology from Rugby Australia and an acknowledgement that even if they disagree with my views, I should be free to peacefully express my religious views without fear of retribution," Folau said.

"I want to thank you all for your prayers and your support. You have made it possible for me to stand up for every Australian of faith."

Followed by photographers

On the street, press photographers became so aggressive that Haros was smacked in the head with a camera. Paparazzi raced Folau to the Westin Hotel, where one journalist walked in after him. A fed-up Unkovich called the police for help, who arrived quickly and escorted the entourage inside.

The negotiations failed, which meant the case could be switched to the court system. But Folau was under huge pressure, and the physical confrontations with the media had put everyone on edge.

Intense media interest: Israel Folau after the June 28 conciliation hearing at the Fair Work Commission in Sydney. AAP

Many fans hoped Folau could play in the World Cup in Japan, which started on September 20. But people who know him said Folau was jaded about his treatment by rugby authorities and concerned about working with Castle and teammates who opposed his position on homosexuality and other people described as sinners in the Bible.

Castle, for her part, said Folau had promised her several times he wouldn't post inflammatory material on the internet and was undermining a game trying desperately to attract fans.

Folau started spending more time in Adelaide, with Maria. Wood and Haros decided the case needed to be shifted to Melbourne, where Folau was barely known and there was less interest in the story. They convinced the Fair Work Commission to issue a statement that Folau had "reasonable prospects of success" in court, which under the industrial relations system maintained his shield from the other side's legal costs.


Meanwhile, Aldworth's publicity team had set up a call for donations to cover Folau's costs (which included their fees) on GoFundMe.com. After raising some $650,000, the website shut down the appeal, which it deemed to be against its pro-gay rights position.

The Australian Christian Lobby's managing director, Martyn Iles, offered to host the campaign. With the encouragement of conservative media outlets, it was swamped with $2.2 million in two days. Experts wondered how he would spend it. Industrial relations lawyer Josh Bornstein estimated Folau's legal bills should top out at $400,000.

The donations gave Folau huge leverage. He could fight all the way to the High Court, at little financial risk. Even if Rugby Australia won, it would have to cover its own legal costs.

In the meantime, the case was dividing the nation over religion – it was even raised during a leaders' debate in the election campaign – and imposing a heavy cost on Rugby Australia's reputation.

Despite what the other side alleged, Castle said there was no public relations campaign to denigrate Folau. Damaging information that could have hurt him was kept private.

Castle tried again to settle. Over the six months Rugby Australia would make Folau five separate offers, according to a person involved in negotiations. He would reject each one.

Legal conference

On the weekend of June 29 and 30, Folau's team gathered in Macpherson Kelley's Sydney offices. Almost everyone was there: Folau, Unkovich, Wood and his juniors, Burmeister and Gisonda. Haros brought along Stella Gehrckens, a recent law graduate and the only woman working on the case. Aldworth was present too.

Burmeister and Gisonda had spent six weeks analysing 60 legal arguments. Over an exhausting two days, the team went through every one. There were pros and cons for each. Some were legal. Others were strategic or practical.

A constitutional challenge was attractive from an intellectual perspective. Defining the law on religious freedom in the High Court would have made legal history.


It would have also exponentially complicated the case by involving the federal Attorney-General, Christian Porter, and possibly his state counterparts, who might be tempted to take political positions.

Another option was to sue Qantas Airways, the code's biggest sponsor. Led by Australia's most prominent gay businessman, Alan Joyce, the airline had sided against Folau, and many believed its position was pivotal in his sacking.

Dragging in Qantas would embarrass the airline and Rugby Australia. But Qantas was far wealthier than the sporting code, making it a dangerous legal adversary.

The arguments were whittled down to six: restraint of trade, unlawful termination, termination that was contrary to public policy, misconstruing Folau's contract, a lack of good faith over Folau's in-house trial, and that it was absurd to punish Folau for the post.

Qantas was left out. There was no constitutional challenge. Wood asked for an injunction, reinstatement, compensation and a financial penalty against Rugby Australia. The total would start around $10 million and rise to $14 million as a trial drew nearer.

The chief decides

On August 13, lawyers from both sides gathered at the Federal Circuit Court in Melbourne for a hearing to decide the path of the case through the legal system. Alstergren, the chief justice, officiated.

Rugby Australia's barrister, Adam Hochroth, asked for the case to be moved to the Federal Court or the Sydney branch of the Federal Circuit Court. Wood accused Hochroth of delay tactics that would increase Folau's legal costs – without mentioning they had already been covered multiple times over by donors.

Will Alstergren, the chief judge of the Federal Circuit Court, promised a prompt trial.

Alstergren then gave Wood exactly what he wanted: a Melbourne trial in six months. “I am not going to allow anything to delay proceedings,” the judge said.


After the hearing Haros spoke to reporters, Wood by his side, silent. He reiterated that Folau was prepared to settle in return for an apology, and emphasised that the rugby star hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. He portrayed Folau as the unfortunate victim of religious prejudice who hoped for a fair settlement.

A bishop's evidence

Facing the trial of their lives, the pace accelerated. The team met for a full day twice a week. They debated everything. Unkovich, known to all as Zell, acted as Folau's supporter, confidant and negotiator. He was also the team's devil's advocate, probing the arguments and decisions.

Some 100 witnesses needed to identified, approached and convinced to give evidence. Some lived overseas.

Two Wallabies players planned to testify they weren't offended. The Anglican Archbishop of Sydney, Glenn Davies, a former theological college lecturer, agreed to explain the Bible and the theological questions raised by Folau's post, which included a quote from Saint Paul in the ninth book of the New Testament, Galatians, that lists un-Christian sins (homosexuality isn't included).

Sydney Anglican Archbishop Glenn Davies agreed to give expert evidence on the Bible. Kate Geraghty

In between the celebrity witnesses, two little-known business experts – one in crisis management, the other in sports sponsorship – were going to be pivotal.

Wood planned to use the witnesses to make two primary arguments. Folau's post hadn't damaged the popularity of professional rugby, which relies on on-field success. On the contrary, by firing Folau, Rugby Australia had turned a short-lived burst of outrage into one of the biggest news stories of the year. Presumably, Wood wouldn't emphasise that the controversy was fanned by Folau's own publicists.

Folau's cross

Before a trial, a final, formal settlement attempt was required. Folau had long insisted on an apology, which would reflect he hadn't acted out of malice and believed he was spreading the word of God.


Without one, he had vowed not to give up. "This is my cross and I am still carrying it," he had told Unkovich.

On the morning of Monday December 2, both sides gathered at the Federal Circuit Court in Melbourne. Photographers and cameramen had camped outside Haros' offices looking for the Folaus, who were secluded at the Westin, five blocks on the other side of the city.

Haros emerged shortly before 10pm, and revealed there still was no agreement. The talks were scheduled to resume on Wednesday morning. It was probably the last chance to avoid a trial.

Maria and Israel leave the Federal Circuit Court in Melbourne on Monday, December 2. They would get a deal two days later. Getty

The team was waiting for news at the Westin, where a kindly manager had given up a private dining room. Mid-morning, Folau and Maria were standing alone together in the corridor outside the room when Unkovich approched.

There had been a breakthrough. Both sides had a deal they could live with, including mutual apologies. Maria burst into tears.

“While it was not Rugby Australia’s intention, Rugby Australia acknowledges and apologises for any hurt or harm caused to the Folaus," the statement said. "Similarly, Mr Folau did not intend to hurt or harm the game of rugby and acknowledges and apologises for any hurt or harm caused."

Folau gathered the team in a circle. Wood, Haros and the other lawyers bowed their heads. "Dear Heavenly father," Folau began.

The rugby prodigy thanked God for delivering him a capable team, which answered in unison, "Amen".