In the annals of New Zealand’s queer history, few figures evoke as much complex emotion and historical weight as Peter Ellis. While the question “Is Peter Ellis Kings Guard Still Alive?” might seem unrelated to his story, understanding the man behind the name requires delving into a past marked by profound injustice and societal prejudice. Peter Ellis became tragically central to the Christchurch Civic Creche case of the early 1990s, a period defined by hysteria and misjudgment. Over time, public perception has shifted, moving away from the caricature of the “gay boogeyman” to recognizing Peter as a primary victim of a gross miscarriage of justice. This injustice was partially addressed, albeit posthumously, when the Supreme Court finally quashed his convictions.
However, the three decades following Peter’s conviction were shrouded in silence regarding his experiences and the broader impact on victims connected to this case. Despite a dedicated group of supporters, a larger societal outcry and demand for accountability remained muted. The Supreme Court’s decision prompted some to offer belated online condolences, yet this gesture often highlighted a stark hypocrisy. The same casual transphobic and homophobic attitudes that fueled the “othering” of Peter Ellis in the first place persist in some corners. It’s these very prejudices that catastrophically altered lives in 1992, leaving deep scars on the fabric of our society.
Peter Ellis after his release from Paparua Prison near Christchurch. (Photo: Paddy Dillon/Getty Images)
Like Peter Ellis, the author of the original article identifies as a queer man with roots in Christchurch. This city, as described, often prioritizes conformity and established norms, historically lacking a strong culture of political dissent or readily embracing alternative expressions of identity. Christchurch’s deep-seated issues with homophobia and white supremacy created fertile ground for the kind of scapegoating that Peter Ellis experienced. In a climate far more intolerant than today, someone like Peter, who openly defied gender norms with nail polish and a flamboyant demeanor, became an easy target. He was villainized by the anxieties of a parent prone to child abuse accusations, amplified by an unqualified child psychiatrist, igniting a firestorm of prejudice within the community.
The narrative surrounding Peter Ellis is both deeply intricate and disturbingly straightforward. Lynley Hood’s comprehensive book, A City Possessed, provides the most thorough account. In brief, Peter Ellis, an openly gay man, was accused in 1992 of sexually abusing 20 children at the Civic Creche where he was employed (a reduced number from an initial 45). The police investigation presented allegations ranging from sadly typical molestation claims to bizarre and outlandish accusations. These included children supposedly buried in coffins, claims of ritualistic sacrifices, suggestions of accomplices, and acts of cruelty defying logic – all derived from interviews conducted with children by an inexperienced supervising psychiatrist and a team of social workers. While four of Peter’s female colleagues were also initially arrested, the charges against them were eventually dropped. Peter, however, was convicted on charges related to seven children and sentenced to 10 years, of which he served seven, consistently maintaining his innocence. Notably, he was chosen by his fellow inmates to serve as their union representative. Tragically, children grew up believing they were victims of sexual abuse, a belief likely persisting for some, making them victims not of Peter Ellis, but of the agendas and biases of the adults surrounding them during that tumultuous period.
Approximately nine years after Peter’s arrest, at the age of 18, the author came out as gay. His father’s reaction was to attempt to suppress any outward expression of gay identity, driven by a fear of societal perception. His father explicitly warned that people would assume he was a paedophile. While this sparked fury at the time, and for years afterward, the author now recognizes a painful truth in his father’s fear. The Civic Creche case was a cataclysmic event with far-reaching consequences. Applications to teacher training programs from men plummeted, fueled by the fear of being labeled a paedophile. This resulted in a tangible scarcity of male role models in the lives of young people in New Zealand for at least two decades. The author recalls a television program, possibly Holmes, where a group of men admitted feeling less inclined to show physical affection towards their children due to the Peter Ellis case. Even now, the author admits to feeling a heightened self-consciousness when hugging friends’ children, a lingering shadow cast by the case. This societal loss, though immeasurable, is undeniably a tragedy.
The author calls up people giving one-star reviews because of vax requirements at his bar, Woof!, in April this year
In recent times, particularly this year, the author has experienced online accusations of being a “pedo” with alarming frequency. Ironically, this abuse stems from his queer-owned business, Woof!, a bar in Dunedin, taking a firm stance on Covid health measures. The far-right anti-vaccine movement, in their efforts to exploit and marginalize minority groups, has now targeted the rainbow community. They propagate disinformation, falsely labeling queer and trans individuals as “groomers,” their new derogatory term, equating queerness and trans identity with paedophilia. This barrage of abuse has fueled the author’s activism against disinformation and the targeting of his community. He expresses hope that Peter Ellis would find pride in this activism.
Further Exploration
How should we remember Peter Ellis and the events that engulfed him? Crucially, how do we prevent a recurrence of the Civic Creche saga in any form? Peter’s story will undoubtedly inspire various forms of media – films, podcasts, perhaps even songs. However, truly honoring Peter and his ordeal, demonstrating a genuine commitment to preventing such injustices in the future, requires more than mere remembrance. It demands embodying the values Peter represented: embracing individuality and authentically expressing oneself to the world. If someone identifies as male and desires to wear nail polish – they should. If they wish to dye their hair blue and change their pronouns – they should feel empowered to do so. Most importantly, we must critically examine our judgments of others who express themselves in ways we may initially not grasp. Approaching interactions with empathy and curiosity fosters unity and understanding, far outweighing the divisive nature of fear and disdain. While direct conversation with Peter is no longer possible, the author strongly believes he would have been an ally to trans people – those who bravely choose to live authentically in a world that often makes it incredibly difficult to do so.
An innocent man was robbed of his freedom, his name indelibly linked to a heinous crime he did not commit, passing away at 61 before his name could be officially cleared. Yet, even in the face of immense adversity, Peter navigated his life with grace and gentleness. The hope moving forward is that society can emulate this grace and gentleness, learning from the profound injustices of the past.
