Salim Mehajer’s latest attempt to appeal his convictions for domestic violence and fraud offences have been rejected on the grounds the evidence he claims could prove his innocence was ‘highly speculative’.
Furthermore, his request for bail was knocked back after the NSW Court of Criminal Appeal found he had sufficient resources and facilities at his disposal in prison.
As Mehajer’s bid for freedom fails, Daily Mail Australia journalist Steve Jackson recounts his surreal encounter with the disgraced property developer when he was last released from custody in 2019…
Salim Mehajer and I are hurtling through the Snowy Mountains Highway in a rented black Mercedes-Benz with Australia’s most ferocious paparazzo in hot pursuit.
The convicted fraudster is glancing in the rearview mirror, agitated.
But it soon becomes apparent he couldn’t care less about the dogged photographer on our tail.
‘Did you think I looked fat?’ he demands.
‘What?’
Salim Mehajer walks free from Cooma Correctional Centre, in southern New South Wales, on May 21, 2019 after spending 11 months in prison for electoral fraud
‘When I came out of prison, did you think I looked fat? Because I’m not.’
He looks in the mirror again and sighs.
‘Actually, can you pull over?’ he says. ‘I want to look at the photos again.’
It is May 21, 2019, and the disgraced former deputy mayor of Auburn has just walked free from Cooma Correctional Centre, about an hour south of Canberra, after serving 11 months behind bars for electoral fraud.
Along with a crew from 60 Minutes, I’ve just picked him up outside the medium security prison with plans to whisk him back to Sydney along a complicated set of backroads designed to give rival outlets – and paparazzi – the slip.
We have been discussing the possibility of interviewing Mehajer on 60 Minutes with his lawyer Zali Burrows for weeks and, while no deal has been done, she thinks the road trip could provide the perfect opportunity to hash out the details.
But as I soon come to learn, Salim is not a details kind of guy – unless they relate to his appearance and celebrity aspirations.
Image is the most important thing in his world.
Journalist Steve Jackson (right) was there to meet Mehajer (left) with a film crew from 60 Minutes in a rented black Mercedes Benz
For Mehajer, leaving prison is not a walk of shame, it’s a red-carpet moment with him as the star attraction.
Burrows has even brought along a brand-new designer suit for Mehajer to be photographed in as he struts to our waiting van – which we are told needs to be a suitably upmarket luxury model in line with his ‘prestigious’ public profile.
In the end, the new outfit proves too tight and he is forced to suffer the ignominy of walking free in the same blue suit in which he was arrested.
Unfortunately, it too is bursting at the seams and is so snug he has struggled to zip his fly all the way up.
But there are no such sizing issues with Mehajer’s new Louis Vuitton tie and black sunglasses, as he strides confidently out of the jail at 8.45am with a file in his hand and the air of a busy and important man.
‘You missed your opportunity, I actually had something to say but it will have to wait until next time,’ he tells the respectably sized media pack that has converged on the prison for his release before ducking into our van.
Mehajer exited prison in the same suit he was wearing the day he was arrested
Mehajer told the assembled press pack outside prison that they had missed their opportunity to interview him before we whisked him back to Sydney on a network of backroads
Under his strict parole conditions, Mehajer is prohibited from using a mobile phone or accessing social media – but nothing is going to prevent him from basking in the glow of this glorious moment.
Can I scroll through the news websites on my phone and hold it up for him to take in all the coverage?
Not a problem, Salim.
As it turns out, Daily Mail Australia is the first site to report Mehajer’s release.
But he doesn’t like what he sees – the Mail has noticed his ill-fitting suit and is commenting on how tight it is.
The pictures are particularly confronting for him.
Can I urgently contact someone at Daily Mail Australia and explain that it isn’t because he’s fat – because he’s not. It’s because he has been pumping iron in the prison gym throughout his lengthy incarceration.
Not a problem, Salim.
I soon realise that we, too, are just another one of his designer props.
He wants to be seen to be an interesting and important man with something to say – and being picked up by a big-budget TV crew is the ultimate accessory.
But he has little interest in our plan to keep out of the public eye and secrete him back to Sydney via a road trip that would eventually take an exhausting 10 hours.
Instead, he asks if we can make repeated stops – ostensibly so we can check the latest headlines on my phone but also so he can ‘unknowingly’ pose for the trailing paparazzi.
Not a problem, Salim.
The former deputy mayor was continually photographed as we made numerous stops on the trip, including a visit to the Bateman’s Bay Soldiers Club for lunch
When it comes to talk of the 60 Minutes interview, he is less concerned about what he will be asked than how he will look when he is asked it.
What angles would we be filming him from? What would the lighting be like? Should he get Botox? Did I think his left or right side would favour him more?
When the serious – and often confronting – allegations against him are raised, he is less talkative.
Electoral fraud, assaulting a taxi driver outside the Star casino, making sexual abuse and death threats, collapsed business deals, unpaid debts, intimidating the father of a Lindt Cafe siege survivor, an apprehended violence order taken out by his ex-wife Aysha Learmonth.
The image-obsessed Mehajer knows none of this is a good look.
Ultimately he would go on to be quietty sentenced to more than seven years in prison in May 2023 after being found guilty a raft of offences including domestic violence and fraudulent use of documents.
The 38-year-old failed in his bid this month to be released on bail as he fights to overturn those convictions in the NSW Court of Criminal Appeal.
Mehajer rose to prominence in 2015 after his lavish wedding to now ex-wife Aysha Learmonth involving helicopters and sports cars shut down of a Sydney street
Back in 2019 though, the then newly freed Mehajer is keen to steer the road trip conversation away from criminal proceedings and towards his proceedings with criminals.
He wants to explain how highly regarded he is behind bars.
How all the other inmates hadn’t initially warmed to him, only for him to become the most popular prisoner in the place – even amongst the guards.
A true prince among thieves.
He is also happy to discuss his meteoric rise to prominence after his lavish 2015 wedding to Learmonth – featuring a fighter jet, four helicopters, a fleet of sports cars and a seaplane – shut down streets in Sydney’s west, outraging his neighbours.
Does he think the furious public backlash to his over-the-top ceremony proved that one of the greatest crimes you can commit in Australia is showing off your opulent wealth?
A Cheshire cat grin.
‘Did you think it looked opulent?’ he asks.
Despite the rampant narcissism, there is something disarming and oddly charming about Mehajer.
He is also, at times, quite funny – though even his jokes are generally limited to his favourite topic of conversation: himself.
When we discuss potential story titles for his big tell-all, I suggest ‘The Real Salim Shady’ might be an appropriate option.
He smiles.
‘Just so long as it’s not Fatboy Salim,’ he laughs.
But there is another, darker side to Mehajer simmering just beneath surface.
Then comes the moment when he finally erupts.
The convicted fraudster was more concerned about his ill-fitting suit than the serious allegations levelled against him during the day-long road trip
Mehajer and his lawyer Zali Burrows buy a drink and a snack during yet another stop
It happens during one of our many stops to check the latest Mehajer headlines.
Someone from 60 Minutes has told the Sydney Morning Herald that he approached us with the idea of doing a sit-down interview.
He is outraged.
No, no, no – you need to call them immediately and let them know that 60 Minutes approached me, he demands.
I haven’t even asked for anything, I don’t need to ask journalists to interview me.
The calls are made. The story altered.
Mehajer’s rage is contained – though not entirely defused.
He could forgive the incident, however, he suggests, if we are able to arrange for him to attend the TV Week Logie Awards.
Mehajer is quite taken with the idea of walking an actual red carpet alongside Australia’s real, bona fide celebrities.
In the end, that doesn’t happen… and neither does the 60 Minutes tell-all.
Mehajer decides an adversarial interview might not be the best thing for his image after all.
Not a problem, Salim.
