As Pauline Hanna’s sister Tracey prepares to mark World Mental Health Day on Thursday, she writes a letter to her late older sister, raising some of the issues her sibling endured, in the hope of encouraging others who may be struggling to seek help. 

OPINION 

Pauline, I am sorry. I failed you; we failed you. 

I am sorry that you were punished by the success penalty that incited an intolerable workload, that the alleged workplace bullying you endured became insufferable, and that your attempts to navigate a highly political health system, unprepared for a global pandemic, became so overwhelming that you tragically fell victim. 

I am sorry your medication was inadequately governed, your medical check-ups infrequent and your exhaustion unnoticed. I am sorry the police, desperate to justify their unprecedented investigation, crossed their fingers and made the arrest, under pressure to deliver a result. 

I am sorry that, in the years since your passing, your reputation has been redefined. The most intimate details of your life laid bare for public consumption, your private words recorded and uploaded in what I believe was an unforgivable act of betrayal by people you trusted. The beautiful tributes shared at your funeral overshadowed by the ugly aftermath that followed. 

'This was around 1972. Our age difference is stark here [11 years], but with every passing year of adulthood, we found much common ground, including current affairs, politics, and most recently, the economic and social consequences of the global pandemic. I learned a lot about economics from Pauline.' 

I am sorry the trial became clickbait in our post-truth, Trumpian world. A world where facts are dismissed, and science is treated as optional. The truth buried beneath the imaginations of those who cast themselves as heroes in the murder mystery they plotted. 

If I hadn’t known you both so well, I might have been swayed by the whispers of foul play. I considered the possibility. 

Philip Polkinghorne had been selfish and unfair; I wish you had had the strength to move on. 

But the forensic evidence? There is none. And despite my belief in the principle of the Bill of Rights Act, which presumes innocence until guilt is proved, prosecutor Brian Dickey quite astonishingly scorned me. Inevitably, the resolute jury grasped their responsibility and united around the only verdict possible. 

Pauline Hanna and Philip Polkinghorne married at her family home in Hawke's Bay in 1997: 'Our mother was in her element as the hostess of the occasion, and I was tickled pink to serve as her bridesmaid. Pauline looked a million dollars.' 

Your husband has been punished. 

He’s been interrogated, vilified, and humiliated; his life laid bare for the baying crowds and trolls to judge, convinced of his guilt simply because they don’t like the man. 

But I know you never would have wanted this. Not for him. And certainly not for yourself. 

You would have been appalled at the waste - of time, of energy, of taxpayer funds. You, who could have so skilfully redirected every dollar into purposeful healthcare. Instead, all those resources squandered on an unsubstantiated case, resulting in a broken husband, confused and devastated nephews, and a family in despair. 

'Pauline and my boys in London - this would be the last time they saw her in person. She had treated them to a day out at the London Aquarium. They are teenagers now, but still speak fondly about that day. She will be forever missed in our lives.' 

I reflect on how far we have come as a society in terms of tackling mental health. Members of Gen Z and the millennial generation speak freely now, and difficult conversations aren’t avoided the way they once were. 

I can only hope that your life, along with your tragic death, serves as a powerful reminder of how dangerous poor mental health combined with the immense pressure to succeed is. A toxic cocktail shaken and stirred behind closed doors, until it’s too late. 

While the media fixated on the villain in the story, I have thought of you - of your considerable achievements, your impressive status, but mostly of your suffering and loneliness. That email you sent to yourself, signed with kisses, was so terribly heartbreaking. 

As we prepare to say one final goodbye, I hope more than anything, that you may finally find the peace that eluded you in late life. 

Rest now, Pauline. Rest in peace. 

Pauline Hanna with her nephews: 'During a family holiday in Port Douglas, Australia, Pauline had just arrived back from one of her legendary long walks, and my boys were thrilled when she jumped straight into the pool to play with them. Their young lives were so enriched by her presence.' 

SUICIDE AND DEPRESSION

Where to get help:
• Lifeline: Call 0800 543 354 or text 4357 (HELP) (available 24/7)
• Suicide Crisis Helpline: Call 0508 828 865 (0508 TAUTOKO) (available 24/7)
• Youth services: (06) 3555 906
• Youthline: Call 0800 376 633 or text 234
• What's Up: Call 0800 942 8787 (11am to 11pm) or webchat (11am to 10.30pm)
• Depression helpline: Call 0800 111 757 or text 4202 (available 24/7)
• Helpline: Need to talk? Call or text 1737
• Aoake te Rā (Bereaved by Suicide Service): Call 0800 000 053
If it is an emergency and you feel like you or someone else is at risk, call 111.