Opinion: Why Should I Believe You This Time?

Ali Cook, Phoebe Robertson

CW: Sexual Violence, Secondary Trauma, Cops

On Wednesday, October 1, 2025, Detective Scott Rankin called me into the Wellington Police station. I hadn’t heard a word from him since February, when Stuff was told an extradition file was being prepared for the Vietnamese officials who sexually assaulted me. At 6:30 p.m., sitting in a bland police office under fluorescent lights, Rankin told me the file was being dropped.

When I pressed him—why?—he couldn’t give me an answer. He said his boss, Detective Inspector Nick Pritchard, had been told “last week” by Crown Law that extradition wasn’t going ahead. I asked him when exactly he was told. He refused to say. All he would repeat was that Crown Law had decided there would be no extradition.

The last time he told me that extradition wouldn’t be a possibility, it was over the phone. I broke down sobbing. This time, I wasn’t crying. I was furious.

Rankin seemed to think he was doing me a favour just by meeting me. He reminded me of it again and again—as if “fitting me in” was a great act of generosity. As if speaking to the victim of a crime was going “out of his way.” I’m sorry, but you don’t get credit for the bare minimum. Meeting with me is not kindness. It is your job.

And then came the timing. I asked him why, after months of silence, I was suddenly summoned into the station. He admitted he knew Salient had a new media request in, due at 9 a.m. Thursday morning. But no, he insisted, that had nothing to do with me being called in at 6:30 p.m. the night before. What a coincidence.

This struck me as strange because only five days earlier, on September 26, Salient had asked the Police for an update. The official line came back: the investigation remains ongoing… Police, with the assistance of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade, continue to liaise with Vietnamese officials. Liaising with foreign law enforcement and officials is a complex process which can take some time…

So which is it? On September 26, Detective Inspector John van den Heuvel tells the media the case is ongoing. By October 1, Detective Rankin tells me extradition is off the table, because Crown Law supposedly decided “last week.” Who’s lying? The Police Media team didn’t respond to Salient’s request for clarity regarding this timeline. 

The next day, Salient received a statement from Wellington District Commander, Superintendent Corrie Parnell, confirming that “efforts to extradite two Vietnamese nationals have been unsuccessful.” He admitted the men had been wanted for interviews in relation to two complaints of sexual assault in Wellington in March 2024, and that while Police knew this would be “disappointing for the complainants,” extradition was simply “not possible.” Instead, Police said they were now “in discussions with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Crown Law to consider other steps,” and that travel alerts had been placed to flag the men should they re-enter New Zealand. The case file, they said, would remain technically open, but there were “no further lines of investigation.”

That phrase—“the file on this case will remain open”—is perhaps the most convenient part. By keeping it open, Police buy themselves an indefinite excuse to dodge questions from both the media, and from me. They can stonewall the Official Information Act request Salient lodged for the extradition documents, just as they’ve brushed off other media questions on the grounds that the matter was “ongoing.” 

They can continue to refuse my repeated requests for my own case file. Yet, if extradition is impossible and there are no active lines of investigation, what exactly is “open” about it—besides the loophole that lets them avoid accountability?

After hearing that, my disbelief settled in alongside my anger. For over a year, the Police have lurched back and forth, making and unmaking promises about extradition. Why should I believe them this time?

Here is the record of their contradictions:

• March 2024 — Assault happened.

• April 2024 — Extradition “not possible,” but Vietnam would handle punishment.

• December 10, 2024 — MFAT: “Police have exhausted all possible avenues.”

• December 12, 2024 — My assault is made public in Stuff.

• December 13, 2024 — Police Commissioner says extradition still possible.

• January 23, 2025 — Extradition off the table; crime “not serious enough.”

• February 7, 2025 — An extradition file is being prepared.

• October 1, 2025 — Extradition “not possible.” No reason given.

• October 2, 2025 — Superintendent Parnell publicly confirms extradition has failed, with no new avenues.

• 
  

The reason? In my opinion: cowardice.

We’ve seen what courage looks like. In 2014, a Malaysian diplomat accused of indecent assault (the same crime I have accused the officials of) was extradited to New Zealand—even though we had no treaty with Malaysia. Why? Because then–Prime Minister John Key raised it directly with his counterpart. An urgent debate was held in Parliament. Political leadership forced accountability.

In my case? Silence. No urgent debates. No Prime Minister standing up in Parliament. Just a shrug and a line about it being “a police matter.”

Meanwhile, New Zealand has been deepening ties with Vietnam. In March 2025, Police proudly extended their Memorandum of Agreement with the Vietnamese Ministry of Public Security—the very ministry my alleged offenders worked for. The text itself admits that “cross-border criminal activities between New Zealand and Vietnam may pose a real danger.” Exactly. So why wasn’t extradition part of that agreement?

I can connect the dots. Before the agreement was signed, extradition was on the table. After it was signed, it was “impossible.”

And in February 2025, Prime Minister Christopher Luxon inked a Comprehensive Strategic Partnership with Vietnam, touting “political trust” and “prestige.” Another handshake. Another photo-op. Another agreement that treats my assault as inconvenient background noise.

This government loves to say it’s “tough on crime.” That toughness vanishes the moment a crime touches diplomacy. When it threatens trade. When it risks political discomfort. Then the line hardens: it’s an operational matter, not for us to comment.

When Salient asked the Prime Minister’s office about my case, his spokesperson said: “The Prime Minister’s thoughts are with the victims… It would not be appropriate to comment.” When pushed on whether John Key was “out of line” in 2014, when he personally intervened with Malaysia, the spokesperson replied: “We don’t have anything further to add.”

No spine. No leadership. No justice.

So when Detective Rankin asks me to accept that this is “final,” that there’s nothing more to be done, I can only ask: why should I believe you this time?