In the dim corridors of power, where accountability is meant to be the bedrock of justice, a festering wound has been uncovered. The Independent Police Conduct Authority's (IPCA) 135-page report, released on 11 November 2025 after a protracted battle against suppression orders, lays bare the "significant failings" and "serious misconduct" at the highest echelons of the New Zealand Police.
This is no isolated lapse; it is the latest chapter in a grim saga of institutional protectionism that has shielded predators while revictimising the vulnerable. At its core lies the complainant, known only as Ms Z, whose desperate pleas for justice against a sexual predator and former Deputy Commissioner, Jevon McSkimming, were not just ignored but weaponised against her.
On Wednesday, 1 News reported:
Timeline: How the Jevon McSkimming scandal unfolded over nine years
A Facebook post in 2018. A LinkedIn one in 2023. 105 in 2024. Complaints against Jevon McSkimming surfaced for years but were never properly investigated. 1News traces the timeline of how police failed to act on allegations against one of their own, based on an explosive IPCA report.
The establishment's concerted effort to bury this scandal, through delayed investigations, manipulated protocols, and prosecutorial overreach, demands accountability. The fight to unearth the truth was itself a Herculean struggle. Ms Z's allegations, spanning years of emails and social media posts, documented sexual assaults, threats involving intimate recordings, and misuse of police resources to groom a junior employee, were largely ignored by authorities.
Suppression orders gagged the media and the IPCA, ostensibly to safeguard McSkimming's reputation as he vied for Police Commissioner. RNZ, NZME, and the IPCA opposed these in Wellington District Court, arguing public interest trumped the accused's career ambitions. Only on the report's release day did the veil lift, revealing how senior officers sought to narrow the IPCA probe's scope and timeline to spare McSkimming's promotion bid. This was no oversight; it was a deliberate cover-up, echoing the "culture of scepticism" Dame Margaret Bazley decried in her 2007 inquiry into police sexual misconduct.
Ms Z's ordeal perpetrated by a repeat offender exemplifies this rot. From 2018, she sent police hundreds of communications, emails to McSkimming's work address, anonymous posts, and 105 hotline reports, alleging rape, blackmail, and exploitation. But rather than probe these serious allegations, police dismissed her as a "fixated threat," charging her under the Harmful Digital Communications Act (HDCA) in May 2024.
On Thursday, The NZ Herald reported:
Jevon McSkimming case: Police defend decision to prosecute Ms Z over alleged abusive emails to the detective who arrested her
Senior police are defending the decision to prosecute the woman at the centre of the Jevon McSkimming scandal for emails she allegedly sent to the detective who arrested her and his wife.
This is despite Police Commissioner Richard Chambers apologising to the woman for how the previous police leadership mishandled her original sex allegations against the former deputy commissioner.
Earlier this week, the Herald revealed that instead of investigating whether the sex claims could be corroborated or not, the anonymous emails were used as evidence to prosecute her for a harassment campaign against McSkimming.
She was arrested and charged under the Harmful Digital Communications Act in May 2024, placed under restrictive bail conditions and silenced by wide-ranging suppression orders.
Crown Law even gave the victim an ultimatum. Discharge without conviction only if she recanted her claims against McSkimming, despite no investigation being undertaken into the alleged crimes at the time. This coercive bargain, tying absolution to false confession, reeks of abuse of process, undermining fair trial rights and natural justice. The charge was withdrawn in September 2025, not from ethical awakening, but because McSkimming balked at testifying.
However, another HDCA case still lingers against Ms Z for sending 10 emails to the detective in charge of her investigation, a vindictive pursuit that Police Commissioner Richard Chambers must halt forthwith. This isn't justice; it is revictimisation, a perversion of the law meant to shield the vulnerable.
Worse, the coverup extended to the Beehive. Police Minister Mark Mitchell's office fielded 36 such emails since December 2023; Prime Minister Christopher Luxon received 10 more in late 2023 and early 2024. Mitchell now claims that then-Commissioner Andrew Coster directed seconded police staff to forward these complaint emails to headquarters, discuss them with no one, including ministers. But is this true?
The IPCA report doesn't explicitly confirm such an instruction. The claim rests on a police memo reviewed by media and Mitchell's own statements. No secondee has publicly corroborated it. No verbatim directive has surfaced. Given the pattern of police secrecy, it may well be accurate, but without independent verification, we must treat the National Minister's claims with scepticism. Regardless, the emails were supposedly not properly escalated, and the No Surprises protocol was once again breached without consequence.
Mitchell claims ignorance until November 2024; Luxon cites "normal" triage. This strains credulity. With explicit subject lines such as "A complaint regarding McSkimming", we are meant to believe that no junior staffer, political advisor, or secondee felt obliged to flag them as important enough to bring to the Ministers attention? The No Surprises doctrine, enshrined in the Cabinet Manual, demands escalation for "matters of significance," especially scandals imperilling public trust. But here we have a government that ignores their directives, particularly when it is politically beneficial.
These emails were clearly not spam; they were screams for help from a systemically silenced young woman who had been abused by a man in a position of power the system was desperately trying to protect. The apparent protocol breach here, as in Mitchell's office, protected McSkimming, at the victim's expense, as well as those who should have acted in her best interests, namely those elected to represent the general public.
This pattern of secrecy is depressingly familiar. Recall the sexual deviant Michael Forbes, Luxon's former press secretary, whose 2024 filming of woman in private places and recording of prostitutes prompted police alerts to executives (including McSkimming) yet there was supposedly no ministerial knowledge until the media reported on details of his serious offending. Ministers feigned ignorance, police helped Forbes clean his devices and dithered on prosecution despite substantial evidence, mirroring the McSkimming inertia. Both cases reek of the old boys club and political insulation, where "no surprises" means keeping things hush hush so there's no inconvenient truths for the top echelon.
Former Police Commissioner Andrew Coster, who failed to disclose McSkimming's affair during his 2023 vetting process was clearly incorrectly appointed. He improperly pressured a rushed "quasi-investigation" to clear promotion paths for McSkimming, and lobbied the IPCA for premature closure of their investigation. Now on leave from the Social Investment Agency, he must be dismissed outright, no cushy payouts for one who subverted justice and the police's integrity. Not to mention his deputy commissioner Tania Kura, who dismissed the claims about McSkimming's impropriety as mere office gossip.
Deeper still, buried beneath layers of institutional denial and public outrage, lies a profoundly historic plague of police-perpetrated sexual violence that has scarred New Zealand's law enforcement for generations. The infamous Louise Nicholas saga stands as a harrowing centerpiece: in the 1980s, she endured repeated rapes at the hands of serving officers Clint Rickards, Brad Shipton, and Bob Schollum, crimes that were systematically covered up for decades through a web of complicity, intimidation, and fabricated alibis among colleagues. This long-suppressed scandal eventually erupted into the public eye, triggering the damning 2007 Bazley inquiry, which laid bare "systemic flaws" in police handling of complaints and a deeply entrenched "culture of scepticism" that routinely dismissed and discredited victims, prioritizing the protection of officers over justice.
More recently, the 2022 conviction of Whangārei officer Jamie Foster, who was jailed for six years and nine months for raping a vulnerable female colleague in a secluded Northland motel room, serves as a stark reminder of the persistent “bad apples” rotting within the New Zealand Police. The victim, a fellow constable seeking safety after a work event, endured a “gross breach of trust” (as Judge Greg Davis ruled), yet the case exposed institutional failures: delayed suspension, a flawed internal probe, and a defence plea for home detention that echoed past leniency toward officers. Despite IPCA oversight and reform pledges, such abuses continue to fester, underscoring how judicial reluctance and police self-protection still shield predators and silence victims.
After McSkimming was found to have been accessing child and bestiality pornography on his work computers, the NZ Police were forced to conduct a wider investigation, but have been silent on how many other officers have been found to be exploiting vulnerabilities in internal systems to view objectionable material. The discovery of McSkimming's sexual deviancy, which emerged during Operation Jefferson, a probe into Ms Z's allegations of his sexual misconduct, uncovered thousands of pornographic searches on his police-issued iPhone, including 68 images of child sexual exploitation and 812 of adult bestiality material, spanning at least five years.
This led to an internal review of internet access controls, which revealed systemic weaknesses: unmanaged devices, limited monitoring, and the potential for staff to bypass filters and "exploit vulnerabilities to access inappropriate content." Documents from the review, obtained by RNZ, highlighted "urgent need" for policy changes, yet as of November 2025, Police Commissioner Richard Chambers has not disclosed exactly how many other officers the audit has implicated or if it has resulted in further disciplinary actions beyond McSkimming's admission of guilt and resignation. The opacity raises troubling questions about the extent of a wider culture of impunity within the force, where senior leaders' devices go unscrutinised until scandal forces accountability, potentially shielding numerous Officers at the expense of public trust.
This type of institutional corruption ensures most sexual assault victims, disproportionately women and Māori, find no justice. Only 9% of sexual assault offences are reported; of those, a mere 31% reach prosecution, with 42% convicting, yielding an under 5% rate for overall imprisonment for sexual assault. In New Zealand, lifetime prevalence of being a rape victim hits 23% for adults, yet systemic bias, doubting "desperate" complainants like Ms Z, still perpetuates impunity, and fosters an increased prevalence of offending.
How many more scandals simmer unseen? The IPCA's call for an Inspector-General is a good first step, but insufficient to clear the deep rot within the force. A widespread investigation and purge is imperative: mandatory reporting, independent probes, and leadership clean-outs to remove the old boys club mentality are clearly required.
Ms Z's bravery, commended by survivors like Louise Nicholas, has forced somewhat of a reckoning. But until the establishment prioritises victims over vested interests within the police and government, trust in our so-called guardians will erode even further.
