What They Didn’t Tell You About Alan Jones

There is a principle of justice so elementary that we teach it to schoolchildren: an accusation is not proof.

Yet in the case of Alan Jones, much of Australia appears to have forgotten it.

Jones has been one of the most powerful, controversial and polarising voices in Australian public life. He has accumulated enemies over decades, political enemies, media enemies and professional rivals.

None of that makes him guilty of any crime.

And what has been emerging from the courtroom deserves considerably more attention than the sensational headlines that accompanied his arrest.

At one stage, the case against Jones consisted of 44 charges involving 11 complainants.

That enormous number naturally created an impression of overwhelming evidence, accusation piled upon accusation, complainant piled upon complainant, until sheer volume began to look like proof.

But the case has been steadily collapsing in size. Charges have been withdrawn. Complainants have disappeared from the prosecution case. The most serious charges were downgraded. By September, Jones faced 21 charges involving only five complainants.

Six of the original 11 complainants were gone. That completely changes the picture Australians were originally presented.

Then there are the people who helped bring allegations against Jones into the public arena.

Ray Hadley was hardly a detached observer. The court heard that Hadley had signed an arrangement under which he would take over Jones’s coveted 2GB breakfast program, reportedly doubling his salary, only for Jones subsequently to remain at the station.

Hadley’s private messages revealed extraordinary hostility towards Jones. He called Jones a “parasite”. He told one complainant that Jones “needs to be destroyed”. As allegations were preparing to explode publicly in 2023, Hadley wrote that he would not rest until they “bury him”, adding “figuratively speaking or literally”.

Peter FitzSimons was another figure connected with the emergence of allegations. He openly acknowledged his hostility towards Jones and proudly stood by his description of him as a “tumour on the body politic of this city, state and country”.

Then there is what has emerged under questioning.

One complainant who accused Jones of sexual misconduct continued sending extraordinarily warm messages afterwards. He told Jones that seeing him was “the highlight of my day”, said he missed him and his hugs, praised Jones for treating him with “great decency and tremendous generosity”, and invited him to his wedding.

Another complainant, a prominent athlete, initially gave police an account suggesting little subsequent contact with Jones. Yet, under questioning, it emerged he had dined with Jones. He asked to work with him. He asked to stay at Jones’s property and visited it more than once. He even sent Jones a shirtless photograph of himself.

Then there was a supposedly significant message from Jones referring to “kisses”. The defence produced another Jones message using the same affectionate language on a day when the complainant agreed they had not even seen each other. What looked sinister in isolation looked rather different with context.

Another complainant wrote about the need for everyone’s stories to “align” and said he hoped he could “help get Alan for others”. Yet after the alleged incident involving Jones, that same complainant spoke positively about him and advocated for Jones to be invited back to future events.

Another piece of evidence concerned messages sent after a woman provided a police statement supporting a complainant. The complainant told her that what she had done “could change my life for the better” and promised: “Once it’s all over, I promise to look after you.”

These are facts Australians did not hear when Jones was first buried beneath an avalanche of accusations.

There is another uncomfortable aspect to this story. Alan Jones is gay. His sexuality has been publicly discussed for decades.

Yet we now live in a culture where many of the loudest defenders of the LGBTIQ community insist that homosexuality must never be treated as shameful, suspicious or evidence of bad character. Somehow, when the target is Alan Jones, his attraction to men hangs over the case as though it makes allegations involving men inherently more believable. That is an extraordinary double standard.

Being gay does not make a man a sexual predator. Attraction to men does not prove that Jones assaulted any particular man. Yet the nature of the allegations and decades of gossip about Jones’s sexuality have inevitably been allowed to bleed together in the public imagination.

The extraordinary nature of this case makes one wonder if there is more to it.

Jones left Nine-owned 2GB in 2020. He subsequently left Sky News and moved into independent online broadcasting with ADH TV. Then came the public explosion of allegations in 2023 through Nine-owned newspapers.

Meanwhile, one of Jones’s fiercest former radio rivals, himself associated with 2GB, had privately talked about Jones needing to be “destroyed” and later “buried”.

Alan Jones was effectively tried in the media before he ever entered a courtroom. The public heard the accusations at maximum volume.

Now charges are disappearing. Complainants are disappearing. Earlier accounts are being challenged. Messages are emerging. Continuing relationships are being exposed. Bitter rivalries are coming into view.

Alan Jones has spent decades challenging powerful institutions and making powerful enemies.

Perhaps that is precisely why Australians should refuse to convict him by headline. He is entitled to the presumption of innocence. And judging by what has emerged in court, that presumption matters more than ever.

“Falsehood flies, and Truth comes limping after it.”
– Jonathan Swift