Rhys Bellinge: The inside story of rich-lister obstetrician’s life in prison unit reserved for the worst

Rhys Bellinge, the rich-lister obstetrician who killed a woman in a drunken car crash in Dalkieth, is living in a prison unit known as Fraggle Rock because it is home to the State’s worst paedophiles. Bellinge has been moved to an area reserved for inmates who will likely get extorted, bashed or killed if they mix with the general prison population. He is neighbours with Claremont serial killer Bradley Edwards and also the twisted pervert who was leader of the Evil Eight paedophile ring. Inquiries by The West Australian have shed light on Bellinge’s life in WA’s toughest prison. The 45-year-old doctor has been in the maximum-security jail since February 21. He was taken there after five days in hospital for injuries sustained in the crash which killed Elizabeth Pearce, 24, and left her Uber driver, Muhammad Usman, in critical condition. Bellinge, who is the son of successful doctor and entrepreneur Bruce Bellinge, last month pleaded guilty to manslaughter and dangerous driving occasioning grievous bodily harm under the influence of alcohol. He is due to be sentenced early next year. Bellinge spent his first few weeks in jail in Casuarina’s crisis care unit, a medical area for inmates considered suicide risks. It was there that he forged a reputation as a whinger. Staff grew to despise the entitled inmate because he complained constantly about how he had been treated unfairly by the justice system. Bellinge was in the critical care unit with Terence Kelly, the deranged Carnarvon man who kidnapped Cleo Smith. The wealthy doctor has since been moved to Casuarina’s notorious unit six, where Kelly is likely to join him in coming weeks. The prison’s “protection unit” is home to child molesters, jailhouse snitches and high-profile inmates who would be in danger if they were not kept separate to the rest of the jail. Edwards has been there since he was arrested in 2016. The psychopath who terrorised Claremont is one of the few inmates who has his own cell, with most forced to share. Bellinge’s cell is the size of a modern bathroom. It has one window and a bunk bed takes up half the floor space. Opposite the bed is a long shelf running most of the length of the wall. At the end of that ledge is a bookshelf. A toilet sits at the foot of the bunk. A perspex barrier extends to the top mattress but whoever is on the top bunk can see into the ablution area. Many prisoners erect temporary barricades to give themselves some privacy, taking down the structure each night to ensure guards can see into every part of the cell. Bellinge’s day begins at 7am, when his cell door is unlocked. Dressed in prison greens he joins the scores of prisoners from the unit’s four wings as they shuffle their way to a communal area known as the day room. It is there that he has breakfast not far from Edwards, eating porridge or Weet-Bix served with milk supplied by the Wooroloo prison farm. Breakfast is followed by a daily ritual known as the “medication parade”. Any medication prescribed for the back pain Bellinge complained of after his car crash is dispensed from an ultra-secure area that looks like a large gun safe. A guard will inspect his mouth to ensure he has swallowed the pills and isn’t storing them under his tongue to sell to fellow prisoners. Three times a day he is counted in the muster. The first happens while prisoners are still in bed. They are each asked to “show movement” before the cells are unlocked. Another head count occurs at lunchtime and again at 3.30pm. Prison guards believe Bellinge has a prime opportunity to use his medical skills to curry favour with fellow inmates, many of whom suffer from health problems the prison system doesn’t address. His ability to write coherently would also be prized, give many prisoners are illiterate. So far, he has been reluctant to become friendly with his colleagues. Every prisoner at Casuarina is assigned work duties, either inside their unit or in the prison industries sections. Many unit six inmates work in the textiles area, manufacturing bags and clothing for use in the prison. When the protected inmates are moved to their work zone, the areas of the prison ahead of them are locked down by the three “recovery teams” who patrol the prison yards in golf buggies. That protocol was put in place years ago after a prisoner in general population strapped knives to his arms and slashed a protected inmate in a bloody frenzy. After earning hundreds of thousands of dollars a year as an obstetrician, Bellinge is today reduced to the most meagre of wages. The most he can earn each week is $76, and that is assuming he works the maximum number of hours allowed and has secured a top-tier “level-five” job. The most sought-after jobs are in the kitchen. The cooks are called “regi chefs” in a nod to the commercial Regi-Thermic ovens that re-heat food rather than cook it. The lunch and dinner menus vary but came as a culinary shock to Bellinge, which has dined in some of the world’s great restaurants. The better regi chefs stockpile leftover ingredients from previous meals to make the bland more interesting. At least one day a week Bellinge eats a hotdog for lunch, smothering the red Frankfurt sausage with tomato sauce. Any money Bellinge earns is deposited into a bank account and can be spent at Casuarina’s canteen. His family is allowed to deposit money into a separate “private” account but the balance cannot exceed $200. The canteen has a staple array of snacks, toiletries and stationery. A pack of Tim Tams is about $4 and tins of tuna and packets of crackers are under $2. Bellinge can buy a deck of Uno cards for about $5 and write letters with a biro he bought for about 75¢. A writing pad is a bit over $1, a sketch pad is under $5 and a set of water colours about $30. Bellinge can apply to have up to $500 deposited if he requires a particular item, such as shoes, but the windfall amount must be spent on that item only. He is allowed to make phone calls to an approved list of numbers. Each conversation is monitored. There’s a connection fee of about 35¢ and calls are charged at 5¢ per minute. The typical call is about six minutes, meaning each conversation with his father — a reproductive biologist credited with establishing Australia’s first private IVF fertility treatment clinic, Concept — costs about 65¢. He can have up to $200 in his phone account at any one time. Bellinge isn’t charged if he dials the WA Ombudsman, Australian Taxation Office or his lawyer, Karen Espiner. Conversations with his counsel are likely to happen more frequently as his pre-sentence committal hearing occurs in February. He also has four outstanding charges — one count of dangerous driving and three counts of reckless driving exceeding the speed limit by 45km/h or more — all allegedly committed six days before the crash that landed him in prison. Bellinge was driving from the home of his estranged wife on The Avenue, Nedlands, to his father’s mansion on Jutland Parade when he lost control of his Jaguar on February 16. After travelling a distance of 1.5km, he hit a kerb and veered on to the wrong side of the road before smashing into Mr Usman’s Honda Jazz on Birdwood Parade. Ms Pearce, a marine science student, had just got into the passenger seat of the rideshare vehicle. Bellinge allegedly reached speeds of 130km/h and had a blood alcohol reading of 0.183 — almost four times the limit.