Where monsters grow old: Unprecedented access inside Australia's most secretive prison hospital for notorious inmates spending their final days - and the brave women who look after them

Published: 10:38, 7 June 2026 | Updated: 10:43, 7 June 2026 Could you save the life of a serial killer? What about a terrorist? A sex offender? A murderer serving life behind bars? For most Australians, the answer may not come easily, but for the correctional officers working inside Sydney's Long Bay prison hospital, it's a situation they could face in the blink of an eye. The Daily Mail was granted rare access inside the secure facility, where frontline guards walk a delicate line between humanity and survival while caring for some of the country's most dangerous inmates. Behind those heavily guarded gates is where serial killer Ivan Milat spent his final days; where alleged terrorists have been treated; and where disgraced detective-turned-murderer Roger Rogerson received medical treatment under armed guard. It is equal parts psychiatric ward, aged care facility and hospital. But when the emergency alarm rings, the staff know exactly who they are running towards. For senior correctional officer Chelsea Walsh, that means putting aside any personal feelings the moment inmates come through the hospital doors. Senior correctional officer Chelsea Walsh (pictured) says she makes a point of putting aside any personal feelings the moment inmates come through the hospital doors 'I do try to leave it at work. I try not to take an emotional toll home with me,' Senior Correctional Officer Megan Dwyer told the Mail's Jonica Bray when she visited Long Bay Jail Hospital 'It can be quite daunting,' she told the Mail.  'At the end of the day, I come into work and I know they're here for some reason. I know they've done something wrong, but I have to treat them all the same.' For Chelsea and her colleagues, that may mean making their final days on earth more comfortable, getting to know them on a deeper level, or smiling as they show off their latest artwork from one of their many therapeutic classes. And she believes to do that, you can't dwell on what you've read in the headlines. 'There's always going to be that little initial feeling,' Chelsea said, 'but you end up being able to just see them as the individual person. 'Yes, they've done something wrong. Yes, they've got themselves into jail. 'But the individual person is coming to you with something that they need or something that they're worried about.' Many of the patients who arrive at Long Bay Hospital are at their most volatile. Serial killer Ivan Milat spent his final days in Long Bay Jail Hospital When shown videos of his victims' families during his final days, Milat said: 'They only say what you expect them to say... I don't feel sorry for them. Why should I feel sorry for them?' The complex houses a mix of inmates across two main units with around 320 beds.  Inmates within the hospital may be living with a range of health conditions requiring care, and correctional staff work in tandem with Justice Health nurses, doctors, psychologists and psychiatrists to facilitate that care. Across the hospital, there are three mental health units, an aged and frail unit, and a medical-surgical unit. Not all the patients are convicted criminals. The Mail is aware of at least one accused terrorist, still awaiting his day in court, who was treated at the facility.  Due to strict privacy and security requirements, Chelsea can't talk about this man's time at the facility where he also underwent extensive psychiatric assessments. But in a place where emotions can erupt without warning, Chelsea says she relies on something unexpected to keep situations under control. 'I find a way to relate to them,' she said. 'You have to be a people person and be able to talk to people. 'Whether it's simply talking about cars or going to the beach, or letting them know, "It's okay, you don't want to talk to me, I get it." 'Especially working down in the mental health wards when they're at the absolute peak of a mental health crisis, being that person that's listening and actually taking in what they're saying. 'A lot of the time they come in and think no one cares. "No one's listening to me. No one's actually wanting to know what's going wrong."' Officers who have spent months getting to know inmates can often calm situations before they spiral into violence - but it doesn't always work and Chelsea has been assaulted during her shifts. 'Unfortunately, it's part of the job,' she said. 'A lot of the time they don't mean to be coming straight for you. It's happened in a heated moment and I've come in to break it up and I've copped a swing to the face and things like that.' 'It builds you a bit of a tough skin, which is good. 'I started the job when I was 21, and it made me a lot more mature than many other people my age.' But the emotional burden of the job does not disappear when a shift ends, with staff having to navigate their own emotions after being exposed to trauma, self-harm and psychiatric emergencies. It is why many develop strict routines to stop work following them home. 'Once the uniform is off, I'm switched off,' Chelsea said. 'My boots are off, they're left at the door and so is my day.' Senior Correctional Officer Megan Dwyer uses much the same approach. For her, surviving in one of Australia's most confronting workplaces means learning how to leave it behind. 'It's one of the benefits of the job that we don't really have to take our work home with us,' she said. 'I do try to leave it at work. I try not to take an emotional toll home with me.' And while it may feel tempting to run a name through Google and pore over headlines and victim impact statements about the men in her care, she knows it won't help in the long run. 'I see them all the same, I treat them all the same, and try not to look too much into what crimes they may have committed because it's not going to make my job any easier.' But it was not always that way. It is only over time that she has learned that dwelling on the crimes committed by inmates can become emotionally draining. 'When I first started the job, I probably took on a lot more than I do now,' she said. 'I found, over the years, it has got a lot easier to leave it at the door.' That ability to switch off becomes even more important when caring for ageing inmates approaching the end of their lives. Long Bay's aged care and palliative units house some of Australia's most notorious offenders during their final years, including men whose crimes left victims' families shattered. It is a place where hardened criminals grow old and frail, needing help for almost everything. Men like backpacker killer Ivan Milat. At one time, merely the mention of his name was enough to send shivers down your spine. The Mail spent time in that same ward. Fifteen men were gathered around tables in the aged care facility, sipping on endless cups of tea and playing bingo with a coveted prize of a miniature bar of chocolate. They looked harmless, blankets on their knees and their hands shaking as they fumbled to pick up their dabbers for the next game. Behind the locked doors, far from the headlines that once made them infamous, age and illness have caught up with them. It's easy to feel sad for them in that moment, but these men are lifers and no small crime sees you spending your final days behind bars. Milat, who was convicted of seven murders but suspected of having links to dozens more, sat in that very same room. Detectives visited him in both Long Bay Jail Hospital and Prince of Wales Hospital eight separate times during his final weeks. They played videotapes of his victims' grieving families to appeal to his conscience. Milat, who maintained his innocence, dismissed the footage, asking investigators, 'What do you want me to watch this for?' He added, 'They only say what you expect them to say... I don't feel sorry for them. Why should I feel sorry for them?' Asked whether she ever thinks about those victims while caring for offenders in their final days, Megan is candid. 'I try not to think about that too much,' she said. 'At the end of the day, we do have a job to do and it's not our position to judge them. 'That's why we have the whole justice system to take care of that side of things. 'Once they're in here, we just try to treat them all the same and give them what they're entitled to and manage them while they are here with us.' In the aged and frail unit, inmates drink endless cups of tea and play games. It's easy to forget the serious crimes they have committed  A hospital room at Long Bay Jail Hospital One of the rooms in Long Bay Jail Hospital is pictured The public fascination with Milat and notorious inmates often centres on whether, burdened by decades of secrets, they will suddenly confess when they are dying. According to Megan, deathbed confessions are far rarer than most people imagine. Milat left a final note for his family in which he demanded Australian taxpayers fund his funeral and added: 'I am innocent of the crimes convicted of.' But if an inmate suffering dementia, terminal illness or a sudden change of heart reveals information about crimes, officers have strict procedures they must follow. 'Anything to do with things they might say that are a bit out of the norm, we do have pretty strict reporting systems,' she said. 'We're able to write reports. We do case notes. Daily Mail Senior Reporter Jonica Bray went inside Long Bay Hospital to speak to the staff who care for Australia's most dangerous inmates when they need medical care  'If they have a particular person who works with them, we can pass that on as well. 'We have a pretty clear ranking structure, so we would generally pass it up to the person above us and complete any reports that need to be done.' But like Milat, many notorious offenders never provide the answers people are hoping for. Criminologists have long noted that some killers maintain their innocence until death, while others appear to enjoy retaining control over information that could bring closure to victims' families. Despite the daily risks, violent offenders and confronting situations, Megan says she still loves coming to work. The reason has little to do with the inmates and everything to do with the people standing beside her. 'I actually really enjoy this job. I always have since I started,' she said. 'One of the best things is our colleagues. 'It's one of the few places you can't have a mobile phone with you, so it's nice to actually have genuine conversations with your colleagues. 'You get pretty close to everyone. You know everything about their life and we all look after each other. 'You develop very, very close friendships.' No comments have so far been submitted. Why not be the first to send us your thoughts, or debate this issue live on our message boards. By posting your comment you agree to our house rules. Do you want to automatically post your MailOnline comments to your Facebook Timeline? Your comment will be posted to MailOnline as usual. Do you want to automatically post your MailOnline comments to your Facebook Timeline? Your comment will be posted to MailOnline as usual We will automatically post your comment and a link to the news story to your Facebook timeline at the same time it is posted on MailOnline. 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