We’ve seen plenty of dodgy businessmen and corrupt politicians end up in the slammer for their dastardly deeds.
But few have captured the imagination of the public like Salim Mehajer, the crooked property developer and disgraced former deputy mayor of Auburn.
His million-dollar wedding to wife Aysha cemented him as a tabloid fixture.
Then a little-known western Sydney pollie, he hired four helicopters, a fighter jet, a fleet of luxury cars and a camera crew, before closing off an entire street for his big day.
But his remorseless displays of wealth only brought more focus on his shady criminal behaviour that would eventually be his downfall.
Now sitting in a cell in John Morony Correctional Facility where he is serving time for a string of offences including fraud and domestic violence, we’ve heard Salim is making a name for himself behind bars.
And not in a good way.
The prison, which houses more than 400 inmates, is a far cry from his former luxury home, with his sports cars and designer suits.
Despite being declared bankrupt in 2018, Salim Mehajer is still flashing his cash behind bars
Now sitting in a cell in John Morony Correctional Facility (pictured), Salim is spending big on ‘buy-ups’, which means he can trade his merchandise for whatever he pleases
But it seems old habits die hard and Salim, despite being declared bankrupt in 2018, is still flashing his cash behind bars.
He’s spending big on ‘buy-ups’, a prison term that refers to an inmate’s approved purchase of products like toiletries, snacks and drinks.
Inmates in maximum, medium and minimum-security correctional centres can spend up to $100 each week on their grocery ‘buy-up’. But the black-market jail economy often means prisoners can get access to more, including contraband items.
Salim, like any banged-up crim, is perfectly within his rights to max out his weekly spending. But the fact he’s loaded and always has plenty of ‘buy-up’ is riling up other prisoners who can’t scrape together $100 a week for a big haul.
And it’s not because they’re jealous of his chips and soda. It’s because within the walls of prison, ‘buy-up’ is used as currency that can be exchanged for favours.
He’s now buying anything he wants on the prison black market which, combined with his legit purchases, means he can trade it for protection, perks – even friends.
‘He is buying everything in there and he has got a lot of vultures because he can pay top dollar for things,’ former cellmate Nathan Paddison tells Daily Mail Australia.
Another jail insider adds: ‘You can get a tiny mobile phone, alcohol [on the black market]… and while some prisoners don’t actually want any of those items, they can be handy to pay others should you need to.’
Popularity has clearly always been important to Salim, as evidenced by his obsession with flaunting his wealth online. He is pictured with his wife Aysha on their $1million wedding day
After the media firestorm that followed his $1million wedding, Mehajer became a household name – and soon caught the attention of police.
He has faced a series of serious criminal charges, including a bizarre plot to stage a car crash.
Popularity has clearly always been important to Salim, as evidenced by his obsession with flaunting his opulent wealth on social media.
His barrister, Ian McLachlan, previously told a court that Mehajer’s 2018 bipolar diagnosis was a causal factor in his offending, suggesting he was suffering ‘grandiose thinking’ at the time of his crimes.
According to psychologists, grandiose thinking is an unrealistic sense of self-importance that can range from inflated self-esteem, to a feeling of superiority.
During a brief prison release in 2019, Mehajer made a point of telling journalists how highly popular he was behind bars.
He told a reporter how ‘all the other inmates hadn’t initially warmed to him, only for him to become the most popular prisoner in the place – even amongst the guards’.
But since returning to jail and spending like he’s Mr Big, it no longer seems like his fellow inmates regard him as a ‘prince among thieves’.
COMING THIS WEEK: Exclusive to Mail+ subscribers, we reveal how some of Australia’s most notorious criminals are handling life behind bars…
Inside my bizarre 10-hour prison getaway with Salim Mehajer: Notorious criminal’s diva demands, surprising trait – and the moment he lost his cool
Daily Mail Australia journalist Steve Jackson recounts his surreal encounter with the disgraced property developer when he was last released from custody in 2019…
Salim Mehajer and I are hurtling along the Snowy Mountains Highway in a rented black Mercedes-Benz with Australia’s most ferocious paparazzo in hot pursuit.
The convicted fraudster is glancing in the rearview mirror, agitated.
But it soon becomes apparent he couldn’t care less about the dogged photographer on our tail.
‘Did you think I looked fat?’ he demands.
‘What?’
‘When I came out of prison, did you think I looked fat? Because I’m not.’
He looks in the mirror again and sighs.
‘Actually, can you pull over?’ he says. ‘I want to look at the photos again.’
It is May 21, 2019, and the disgraced former deputy mayor of Auburn has just walked free from Cooma Correctional Centre, about an hour south of Canberra, after serving 11 months behind bars for electoral fraud.
Along with a crew from 60 Minutes, I’ve just picked him up outside the medium security prison with plans to whisk him back to Sydney along a complicated set of backroads designed to give rival outlets – and paparazzi – the slip.
Salim Mehajer walks free from Cooma Correctional Centre, in southern New South Wales, on May 21, 2019 after spending 11 months in prison for electoral fraud
We have been discussing the possibility of interviewing Mehajer on 60 Minutes with his lawyer Zali Burrows for weeks and, while no deal has been done, she thinks the road trip could provide the perfect opportunity to hash out the details.
But as I soon come to learn, Salim is not a details kind of guy – unless they relate to his appearance and celebrity aspirations.
Image is the most important thing in his world.
For Mehajer, leaving prison is not a walk of shame, it’s a red-carpet moment with him as the star attraction.
Burrows has even brought along a brand-new designer suit for Mehajer to be photographed in as he struts to our waiting van – which we are told needs to be a suitably upmarket luxury model in line with his ‘prestigious’ public profile.
In the end, the new outfit proves too tight and he is forced to suffer the ignominy of walking free in the same blue suit in which he was arrested.
Unfortunately, it too is bursting at the seams and is so snug he has struggled to zip his fly all the way up.
But there are no such sizing issues with Mehajer’s new Louis Vuitton tie and black sunglasses, as he strides confidently out of the jail at 8.45am with a file in his hand and the air of a busy and important man.
‘You missed your opportunity, I actually had something to say but it will have to wait until next time,’ he tells the respectably sized media pack that has converged on the prison for his release before ducking into our van.
Under his strict parole conditions, Mehajer is prohibited from using a mobile phone or accessing social media – but nothing is going to prevent him from basking in the glow of this glorious moment.
Can I scroll through the news websites on my phone and hold it up for him to take in all the coverage?
Not a problem, Salim.
As it turns out, Daily Mail Australia is the first site to report Mehajer’s release.
But he doesn’t like what he sees – the Mail has noticed his ill-fitting suit and is commenting on how tight it is.
The pictures are particularly confronting for him.
Can I urgently contact someone at Daily Mail Australia and explain that it isn’t because he’s fat – because he’s not. It’s because he has been pumping iron in the prison gym throughout his lengthy incarceration.
Not a problem, Salim.
I soon realise that we, too, are just another one of his designer props.
He wants to be seen to be an interesting and important man with something to say – and being picked up by a big-budget TV crew is the ultimate accessory.
But he has little interest in our plan to keep out of the public eye and secrete him back to Sydney via a road trip that would eventually take an exhausting 10 hours.
Instead, he asks if we can make repeated stops – ostensibly so we can check the latest headlines on my phone but also so he can ‘unknowingly’ pose for the trailing paparazzi.
Not a problem, Salim.
Salim was continually photographed as we made numerous stops on the trip, including a visit to the Bateman’s Bay Soldiers Club for lunch. (Steve Jackson is pictured on the right)
When it comes to talk of the 60 Minutes interview, he is less concerned about what he will be asked than how he will look when he is asked it.
What angles would we be filming him from? What would the lighting be like? Should he get Botox? Did I think his left or right side would favour him more?
When the serious – and often confronting – allegations against him are raised, he is less talkative.
Electoral fraud, assaulting a taxi driver outside the Star casino, making sexual abuse and death threats, collapsed business deals, unpaid debts, intimidating the father of a Lindt Cafe siege survivor, an apprehended violence order taken out by his ex-wife Aysha Learmonth.
The image-obsessed Mehajer knows none of this is a good look.
Ultimately he would go on to be quietty sentenced to more than seven years in prison in May 2023 after being found guilty of a raft of offences including domestic violence and fraudulent use of documents.
The 38-year-old failed in his bid this month to be released on bail as he fights to overturn those convictions in the NSW Court of Criminal Appeal.
Mehajer rose to prominence in 2015 after his lavish wedding to now ex-wife Aysha Learmonth involving helicopters and sports cars shut down of a Sydney street
Back in 2019 though, the then newly freed Mehajer is keen to steer the road trip conversation away from criminal proceedings and towards his proceedings with criminals.
He wants to explain how highly regarded he is behind bars.
How all the other inmates hadn’t initially warmed to him, only for him to become the most popular prisoner in the place – even amongst the guards.
A true prince among thieves.
He is also happy to discuss his meteoric rise to prominence after his lavish 2015 wedding to Learmonth – featuring a fighter jet, four helicopters, a fleet of sports cars and a seaplane – shut down streets in Sydney’s west, outraging his neighbours.
Does he think the furious public backlash to his over-the-top ceremony proved that one of the greatest crimes you can commit in Australia is showing off your opulent wealth?
A Cheshire cat grin.
‘Did you think it looked opulent?’ he asks.
Despite the rampant narcissism, there is something disarming and oddly charming about Mehajer.
He is also, at times, quite funny – though even his jokes are generally limited to his favourite topic of conversation: himself.
When we discuss potential story titles for his big tell-all, I suggest ‘The Real Salim Shady’ might be an appropriate option.
He smiles.
‘Just so long as it’s not Fatboy Salim,’ he laughs.
But there is another, darker side to Mehajer simmering just beneath surface.
Then comes the moment when he finally erupts.
Mehajer and his lawyer Zali Burrows buy a drink and a snack during yet another stop
It happens during one of our many stops to check the latest Mehajer headlines.
Someone from 60 Minutes has told the Sydney Morning Herald that he approached us with the idea of doing a sit-down interview.
He is outraged.
No, no, no – you need to call them immediately and let them know that 60 Minutes approached me, he demands.
I haven’t even asked for anything, I don’t need to ask journalists to interview me.
The calls are made. The story altered.
Mehajer’s rage is contained – though not entirely defused.
He could forgive the incident, however, he suggests, if we are able to arrange for him to attend the TV Week Logie Awards.
Mehajer is quite taken with the idea of walking an actual red carpet alongside Australia’s real, bona fide celebrities.
In the end, that doesn’t happen… and neither does the 60 Minutes tell-all.
Mehajer decides an adversarial interview might not be the best thing for his image after all.
Not a problem, Salim.
