Michael Ormsby, the boy who died because we didn't do enough this is a gut wrenching story you must read

MICHAEL Ormsby was cheeky and lovable, but you couldn't take your eyes off him. Everyone knew that, so why did he die in respite care?

BEFORE Michael Ormsby got into mischief, his big brown eyes would dob him in. They would start smiling and people knew he was up to something.

He'd wander off, out of sight, chuckling at his plans. Delighted at how clever he was.

He liked getting into strife almost as much as he loved oranges, the smell of eucalyptus and being king of the castle.

When he played on swings he wouldn't swing. He'd climb to the highest point and stand with his hands in the air. It was the top of his world and he'd never fallen. Not in all his nine years.

He'd splash around in the bath, play for hours feeling the water wash over his perfect skin. And when it tired him out he'd burrow his face into someone's shoulder for a hug.

Michael would grab his carer's fluffy, black blanket and drape it it over his body as he fell asleep soaking in the smell of someone he loved and who loved him back. Unconditionally - that's how you loved little Michael.

For all the work looking after this cheeky little autistic boy, he was lovable.

He was also quick. Everybody from Kyneton who met him knew he was fast. Everyone knew you couldn't take your eyes off him. So when word spread on Sunday, May 9, last year, a car had hit a nine-year-old boy running in the dark evening, people started wondering.

An accident had happened just outside a set of units - Kyneton Bush Resort - where Michael would be taken to give his weekday carer a break.

Michael had died in the blinding light of an oncoming car, with a screech of tyres on asphalt and a groan of horror from the driver.

"It's a little kid. I've hit a little boy," she said over and over after she saw him curled up, deathly still on the road.

It's hard to know who to blame for what happened that night. Lots of little things went wrong. Some of them could have been avoided.

But most importantly, nobody heeded the warnings of people who loved Michael, one of the most difficult kids in DHS care.

A tough life

For nine years, people who looked after Michael had fed him, changed his nappies, dressed him, brushed his teeth. They had hugged him and sometimes he hugged them back. They had endured his tantrums and laughed with him. They had protected him.

But in the end, the system set up to keep him safe failed just once, good and proper. For a boy like Michael, once was all it took.

Michael entered the world in the same way he left it - by surprise. Not even his own mother knew he was coming.

On June 19, 2000, a woman went into hospital emergency. She had a bad backache which turned out to be labour. And Michael was born shortly after.

There are stories about Michael's mum having Asperger's syndrome. They say she had been a clever girl at university when she was struck by a brain illness. One person who met her in recent years said she seemed like a "10 or 11-year-old".

She didn't want her baby. She must've known she couldn't care for a youngster.

Hospital staff learned that nine months earlier she had a brief relationship with a man, Michael "Mick" Ormsby. At the time, he was a 45-year-old drug addict who moved around a lot.

Somebody tracked him down through a squat house and to a hospital.

They shook his hand: "Congratulations, Mr Ormsby, you're a dad."

Right then, Mick could've said he didn't want to be a father to anyone. He could've turned his back on his newborn son. But he didn't.

He was taken to meet his baby boy. He kicked his drug habit. If ever there was a father-son bond forged in fire, this was it.

In those two months, Mick learned how to be dad to a little boy. The two moved to the country, eventually to Kyneton. Mick smoked dope, did some low-end dealing and got pinged for some petty crime. But he was a good dad. The two didn't have much, but they had each other.