标签： Oceania

A 33-year-old former Aboriginal community board member who stands accused of fatally stabbing her long-term partner has been granted bail by Victoria’s highest court, in a ruling that cited highly unusual personal and procedural circumstances as justification for the decision.

Megan Solomon is charged with the murder of 43-year-old Leon Strickland, who died following a single stab wound to the heart during an altercation at the couple’s shared home in the small eastern Victorian country town of Orbost in December 2024. Police allege the romantic pairing, which began in 2011, had long been a volatile, mutually abusive dynamic, with both parties telling loved ones they had been on the receiving end of family violence from the other.

Court documents outline that the fatal confrontation unfolded on the evening of December 11, when an argument escalated after Strickland allegedly attempted to headbutt Solomon in their kitchen. Prosecutors allege that after Strickland laughed at the small paring knife Solomon had picked up during the clash, she stabbed him once through the chest, piercing his aorta and causing a fatal 5-centimeter wound. Following the stabbing, Solomon immediately contacted emergency services and began administering CPR to Strickland as he lost consciousness, court documents confirm.

Solomon applied for bail ahead of her scheduled murder trial, which is not set to begin until February 2027. After a two-day hearing, Supreme Court Justice Amanda Fox granted the bail application on Thursday, ruling that Solomon’s unique circumstances qualified as extraordinary grounds for release ahead of trial.

Key factors that swayed the court’s decision included the comprehensive support network already arranged for Solomon: she has secured pre-approved housing and dedicated mental health counselling, and has received an offer to return to her role at the Victorian Aboriginal Education Association. The court also noted Solomon had no prior criminal convictions, an extensive, well-regarded professional history working in Aboriginal community health and education, and a record of significant contributions to Indigenous communities across the state through her service on the boards of multiple Aboriginal and Koori community organizations.

Justice Fox further found there was no credible evidence to support claims that Solomon would pose a risk of interfering with witnesses if released, and the court heard that her physical and mental health had declined sharply during her time in pre-trial custody.

During the hearing, Homicide Squad Detective Senior Constable Cassandra Syddall told the court that hundreds of audio recordings recovered from Solomon’s phone document the couple’s “extremely toxic” relationship. Syddall highlighted two particularly aggressive recorded statements from Solomon, including one where she said “I wish someone would punch your head in so you can understand better” and another where she urged “you should just kill yourself, no one would miss you.”

Justice Fox confirmed in her ruling that Solomon’s legal team will mount a self-defence argument at trial, noting that the question of whether prosecutors can prove the necessary murderous intent will ultimately be decided by a jury. Solomon will next appear in court for a case management hearing in October 2025.

Strict bail conditions have been imposed to govern her release: she is barred from leaving Victoria, must report to local police twice weekly, and is prohibited from entering Orbost except for visits to her father’s residence.

Nestled in the quiet alleys of Mia Village on the northern outskirts of Seoul, 86-year-old Song Oh-soon sits in her cramped studio — which doubles as both her home and consultation space — waiting for clients who rarely come. Song is one of the fewer than 20 remaining visually impaired fortune-tellers in a community that once hosted 70 to 80 practitioners, a centuries-old tradition that is now being rapidly outcompeted by the artificial intelligence tools that define modern South Korean life.

For generations, this enclave of blind fortune-tellers drew crowds of South Koreans from all walks of life, who traveled here seeking guidance on everything from chronic illness and financial struggles to romantic troubles and existential questions about fate. Today, however, most people opt for the convenience of AI-powered divination chatbots and mobile fortune-telling apps, leaving the village’s narrow lanes quiet and its traditional shopfronts dark behind faded, weathered signs.

Unlike the automated algorithms that have captured most of the modern fortune-telling market, Song has remained deliberately offline. She still relies on braille copies of the ancient “Four Pillars of Destiny” astrology text and the empathetic, attentive listening she has honed over 40 years of practice — a human touch she argues no AI can replicate. Over her decades of work, she has talked suicidal visitors through their darkest moments, even drawing on her own experience: after losing her sight to childhood illness before the Korean War, Song once contemplated ending her own life before finding purpose in fortune-telling. “I persuaded them to keep living,” she told AFP. “I also once wanted to die, but I found this work and survived.”

Contrary to common assumptions, interest in fortune-telling has not declined in South Korea — it has simply shifted online. Data from startup analysis firm InnoForest shows the national fortune-telling industry is actually growing, reaching a total value of 1.4 trillion won (approximately $986 million) in 2024. A 2024 survey from market researcher Embrain confirms that most modern consumers now turn to popular AI tools including ChatGPT and Gemini for fortune readings, rather than seeking out in-person consultations.

Occasionally, though, people still seek out the human connection that only a traditional practitioner can offer. Oh Ji-hye, a 44-year-old university professor, relied on AI fortune-telling during her daily commute for years before she reached out to Song for a phone consultation amid rising anxiety about her career. “It felt good that someone rather than AI was concentrating on and listening to my story,” Oh explained.

Mia Village’s story of fortune-telling by visually impaired practitioners dates back to 1966, when the first blind fortune-teller settled in the neighborhood. When Song arrived in 1984, the area was booming alongside Seoul’s rapid post-war economic growth: low rent and steady foot traffic created a thriving hub for the trade, which for decades was one of the only viable career paths open to visually impaired people in South Korea, particularly women facing systemic discrimination. “Back when I lost my sight, there was nothing else I could do besides this job,” Song recalled. “Nowadays, if a visually impaired person is musically talented, they can pursue a career in music.”

Song’s lifetime has tracked South Korea’s extraordinary transformation: from the devastation of the 1950–1953 Korean War and decades of military rule to the 1990s Asian financial crisis, and finally its rise as a global economic powerhouse and leading producer of AI microchips. Rising prosperity has changed client needs too: people who once came to fortune-tellers for guidance on untreatable illnesses now rely on modern hospitals instead. But the biggest shift has come from technology itself: AI offers free or low-cost readings that undercut Song’s 50,000-won sessions, and most remaining traditional practitioners have no online presence, making them invisible to users searching for services on major search platforms.

“I don’t think people are less interested in fortune-telling,” Song observed. “But these days, they look online, so they do not come all the way to us.” For now, despite the loneliness of declining clientele, Song holds to her core belief that fate is not predetermined. “If you put in the effort and make wise judgements, good fortune will come your way three times in your life,” she said.

Three days after Colombia’s strongest earthquake in a century struck, rescue teams entered what national officials have termed the “final phase” of search operations on Wednesday, racing against the critical 72-hour window that experts identify as the period with the highest odds of pulling trapped survivors alive from collapsed infrastructure.

The 7.4-magnitude seismic event, which hit central and western Colombia on Monday, has already left 265 people dead, more than 3,500 injured, and nearly 500 unaccounted for, according to updated local government data. Official assessments confirm over 11,000 residential structures have been completely destroyed, leaving thousands of families homeless, with many forced to sleep outdoors amid ongoing aftershock fears and persistent power outages.

In the hard-hit city of Pereira, rescue crews have centered their urgent efforts on the rubble of a collapsed bakery, where they hold out hope for street vendor Pablo Loaiza, who has been trapped since the quake struck. Using specialized vibration-detecting equipment, teams detected faint potential signs of life from Loaiza, drawing anxious family members to the site to wait for updates. Relatives reported that Loaiza appeared to respond to rescuers’ instructions to knock twice, then three times from beneath the debris—a small, hopeful development that drew quiet applause from gathered onlookers. “They tell us it could be him,” said Sara Loaiza, Pablo’s 16-year-old niece, her voice breaking. “My heart is about to burst out of my chest.”

Across affected regions including Cali and Pereira, emergency teams and volunteer rescuers have prepared to work through their third consecutive night, relying on a combination of bare-hand digging, heavy cranes, and sniffer dogs to navigate unstable rubble. Operations pause every half hour to let crews fall silent and listen for any signs of trapped people, a painstaking process that has already yielded three rescued survivors and three recovered bodies in the area, according to volunteer Johana Sanchez.

Cali Mayor Alejandro Eder clarified that entering the final phase of search operations does not mean efforts to find survivors will end entirely. “That doesn’t mean there won’t be survivors afterwards, but it is more difficult,” he explained Wednesday, acknowledging the grim reality of post-72-hour rescue efforts.

The disaster has prompted urgent action from Colombia’s newly sworn-in presidential administration, which has declared an “economic emergency” in affected regions and ordered three days of national mourning. “We will do what is necessary,” government spokesperson Abelardo de la Espriella said in a public statement, vowing that the country would “emerge again as a country and as a society.”

For residents across the impacted zone, the immediate aftermath has been marked by uncertainty and loss. In the mountain town of El Cairo, residents gathered at community-run soup kitchens Tuesday as power outages continued, with most still refusing to return to damaged homes. “People don’t want to go inside their homes, people don’t want to sleep, people don’t know what to do,” local resident Adriana Gonzalez told reporters.

In nearby Roldanillo, Yuliana Mendez sorted through the rubble of the beauty supply store where she worked, one of hundreds of local businesses destroyed by the quake. “It’s like starting over from scratch,” she said. In Pereira’s Providencia neighborhood, lawyer Ana Paulina Crosthwaite joined other residents hauling salvageable belongings from their condemned apartment block, still reeling from the sudden upheaval. “We’re in a state of shock,” she said. “We’re not prepared to tell our children that we have to pack whatever we can and start a new life.”

Amid the widespread devastation, a wave of grassroots solidarity has swept across Colombia, with ordinary citizens mobilizing to support affected communities. Thousands of residents have traveled to impacted neighborhoods to deliver bottled water, non-perishable food, and emergency supplies, while long lines of donors formed outside blood banks across the country to contribute to emergency medical efforts. “It’s about wanting to help your community, your city and your country,” said Ferney Cabrera, one of the dozens of donors who turned out to give blood.