Danny Shannon: The Road to Redemption (Part 1) | Sharing Stories Changing Lives
Join us in this powerful two-part interview as we delve into the remarkable journey of Danny Shannon, a reformed addict turned advocate.
Dive Deeper: The Full Conversation with Danny Shannon
The Core Story
In the first part, we explore Danny's turbulent past, marked by the gripping challenges of addiction, a stint behind bars, and a daring escape. Against all odds, Danny's resilience shines through as he shares the raw and unfiltered details of his life's darkest chapters. This is a story of redemption, and the road to a brighter future begins here. Listen now to witness the transformative tale unfold and find inspiration in the face of adversity.
The Cycle of Incarceration
Danny spent a decade cycling through Parramatta, Goulburn, Silverwater, and Parklea. He describes a life of "pink clouds" (the methadone program) and the brutal pecking order of maximum security, where you are locked in a cell for 17 to 23 hours a day.
"I always thought my life was going to be: Jails, institutions… and death."
The "Great Escape"
The highlight of this episode is Danny’s play-by-play of his escape from Silverwater:
The Weakness: Noticing a flaw in the 24-foot fence barrels.
The Shimmey: Using garbage bin handles to scale the wire during a prayer circle.
The Leap: Skipping over razor wire and breaking his arm upon landing.
The River: Diving into the bull shark-infested Parramatta River and crawling through chest-deep "GI Joe" mud.
The Catch: Being caught on Valentine’s Day after fleeing to Western Australia.
The Turning Point: Christmas Day 2009
After 49 failed attempts at detox, Danny entered his 50th. He describes the pivotal moment at Town Hall Station where he stood between two paths: Right (towards Kings Cross and heroin) or Left (the bus back to rehab). For the first time, Danny used "consequential thinking" and chose the bus. He has been clean for over 14 years.
Time-Stamped Breakthrough Moments
[00:06:20] – The "Shonky" Influence: How his father taught him to build skate ramps out of stolen timber.
[00:11:45] – The Heroin Grip: How the "taste in the back of the throat" told Danny he was about to overdose.
[00:15:30] – Life in Max Security: The reality of the 17-hour lockdown and the drug culture inside.
[00:21:00] – Scaling the Fence: The terrifying climb and the moment an officer spotted him on the barrels.
[00:26:50] – The Mud Crawl: Evading PolAir and the dog squad in the mangroves of Duck Creek.
[00:32:15] – Consequential Thinking: The "aha" moment at Town Hall Station on Christmas Day.
[00:37:00] – The Rawness of Recovery: Why getting clean was more painful than being an addict.
Full Episode Transcript
I would like to acknowledge the Guringai people and pay my respects to the Elders, both past and present. The Guringai people are the traditional custodians of the land on which we meet today.
If you or someone you know needs assistance with addiction or is experiencing a mental health crisis, call Lifeline’s 24-hour support service on 13 11 14. If you’re overseas, please contact the relevant support network in your location.
Karen:
Welcome to a compelling two-part episode of Sharing Stories, Changing Lives. Today, we delve into a narrative that revolves around addiction, resilience, redemption, and empowerment.
Our guest, Danny Shannon, is the founder of Encapsulator, a powerful video journaling tool. His story is nothing short of extraordinary.
On this podcast, I have the privilege of interviewing individuals from all walks of life, each with their own powerful and inspiring stories. Our guests share their lived experience, and in doing so, they celebrate the transformative magic of storytelling.
To learn more, visit www.storyroomglobal.com and explore the private membership area, The Backstage Pass.
Danny, welcome, and thank you for joining me today.
Danny:
Thanks so much, Karen. It’s an absolute pleasure to be here.
Karen:
Danny, when I first heard your story, I was absolutely gobsmacked.
You were on stage at my live event, The Story Room, and you had the audience in the palm of your hand. They were just watching, staring, and listening as you recounted your story of addiction and the lunacy of all the things you got up to during that time.
And then you started talking about your jailbreak — and that absolutely floored them.
This is the Northern Beaches, by the way, so it’s not exactly everyday conversation. I’m not going to say we don’t have anyone up here who’s been in jail… but still!
How did you start using drugs, and what were those early years as an addict like for you?
Danny:
Yeah, sure, Karen. And just on the jail escape — it is a pretty unique thing. Not many people can say they’ve escaped from Silverwater Prison, so yeah, that tale always gets a bit of attention.
I picked up drugs and alcohol at the age of 14.
I always talk about my mum being this beautiful, loving mum, and I think it’s important to acknowledge a bit of my childhood. Mum was this loving, caring woman, and I truly believe the values and morals I have today came from her.
My dad, on the other hand, is an absolute legend, but his nickname is Shonky. He taught me everything I shouldn’t know.
So I had this beautiful loving mum, who kind of moulded this beautiful-spirited kid… and my dad, bless him, who showed me all the stuff I shouldn’t have been doing.
At 14, I picked up alcohol, pot, and nitric oxide — which is still a big thing. They call them nangs. Horrible, putrid drug that kids get stuck into, inhaling gas.
I got on those three substances and that night I was at an outdoor roller-skating rink up in Bundaberg. First time I’d picked up like that. I was with a bunch of mates I’d only just met, and we were all out there partying.
I vaguely remember drinking myself unconscious, then waking up and seeing broken glass and bodies lying around. And I remember thinking:
“That was mad. Let’s go again.”
That was my introduction to drugs and alcohol. And it just escalated from there.
Karen:
Yeah, a bit crazy. And there are probably many kids out there whose journey starts in a similar way.
But Danny, your journey from the streets to incarceration is truly mind-blowing. The audience absolutely loves that story.
As we delve into that part — can you shed light on the circumstances that led to your time behind bars? What were the factors that resulted in you being locked up?
Danny:
Look, it’s pretty simple.
I picked up heroin at the age of 15.
By that stage, I’d already tried speed, ecstasy, LSD, alcohol, pot — all of that. I’m sure none of it was good for me, but it wasn’t until the day I picked up heroin that it really became the beginning of the end.
It didn’t take long. Within about six weeks, I was locked up in boys’ homes at the age of 16.
By then, I’d started writing fraudulent cheques in my own name — I thought I was a genius. I had many warrants too, because I’d never pay train fares or fines. Back then, if you had warrants or fraud charges, you’d get picked up and they’d send you into juvenile detention.
They sent me to Minda / boys’ homes (juvenile detention) and I had to do about 21 days because I had a couple of thousand dollars’ worth of warrants. Unless someone paid, I had to do the time.
By the age of 18, I was locked up in Parramatta Prison. I spent my 18th birthday in Parramatta Jail — the big boys’ jail.
It escalated quickly. The heroin had such a hold on me. I really was a decent kid once — good heart, good mum, good values. I was popular. I was a good skateboarder. Because of that, we’d built skate ramps at my house out of stolen building-site timber — again, thanks Dad. So all the kids would come and skate and hang out. I kind of had a little bit of a name.
But once heroin came into my life, those friends started to peel away. And then quickly.
By the time I started going to prison, people just thought, “This guy is a bit too crazy for us now.”
I started breaking into building sites, stealing from schools, doing break and enters, stealing cars, getting involved in high-speed police pursuits.
I shouldn’t be proud of this, but I would never pull over. And half the time I got away. That of course created more trouble.
Between the age of 18 and 28, I spent the majority of that time in prison — all over Sydney and parts of New South Wales:
Bathurst, Goulburn, Junee, Parramatta, Silverwater, Parklea… all the jails.
The truth is, I was in an obsession and compulsion to get and use more heroin. I was an animal in every sense of the word. I had no real care for community or family. All I cared about — or all I was able to focus on — was getting and using more drugs on a daily basis.
I overdosed many, many times. I’ve even had broken ribs from paramedics giving me CPR.
I am absolutely blessed to be alive.
Whenever I’d have a big shot, I’d get this taste in the back of my throat. You can tell by the strength of that taste if you’re going to drop. I became so good at it that I knew when I was going to overdose. I’d walk out somewhere where someone could find me.
Once, I overdosed in the back of a block of flats. Someone just happened to walk through at the right time — otherwise, I’d be dead.
Karen:
Well, I actually know why you are here today and why you didn’t die — because you’re doing such amazing work now.
And what I’ve come to know of you, Danny, is that I absolutely love you. You keep me smiling when I talk to you, because your life is so different from mine. You are amazing.
What’s a day in the life of jail like in maximum security — maybe after your escape?
Danny:
Yeah, sure.
A day in jail is exactly the same as yesterday and it’ll be exactly the same as tomorrow.
You’re locked in your cell for about 17 hours a day minimum. Sometimes it’s 23 hours, depending on the situation. Through COVID, I can guarantee those guys probably didn’t get out for weeks.
You’re locked in around 3:30 pm and you might get out around 8:00 am. They literally come to the big thick doors, drop your breakfast at the door, then open up and kick your breakfast tray into the cell.
About half an hour later, they let you out — and you’re usually kicked straight out into the yard. It’s not as if you can hang around the cells and be comfy. Out in the yard, there’s a lot of wheeling and dealing going on, a lot of trouble that carries over from outside.
It can be a very dangerous place. I got hurt my fair share of times. But I’ve always had this ability to connect with the roughest, toughest, most tattooed, scary-looking blokes. Not always — there are some people who are just bad, who get off on hurting people — but in general, I managed to keep myself relatively safe.
Prison is a pecking order. People get picked off. It’s a horrible environment.
I can’t say I was in fear the whole time, because I honestly didn’t care much for my life back then. I was on the methadone program as well, so I was stoned in jail pretty much every day from the age of 21 to 33. I’d have a big drink of methadone — a synthetic heroin — 120 mls. I was basically on a pink cloud.
I was constantly stoned for about 13 years. Methadone every day. Smoke a bit of pot in there. Get on the speed if it was around. There’s a lot of drugs in jail. If you’ve got money for buy-up, you can get some. Not copious amounts — we’re talking tiny cones, like the size of a pen lid. But it’s enough to get you through.
It’s a horrible life, but I had to come to the idea that this is my life and just make the most of it.
I couldn’t see beyond that for a long time. I had hopes to get out, make some money, use more drugs — but that was about it.
I always thought my life was going to be:
“Jails, institutions… and death.”
I used to tell people that being on heroin or methadone was like being a diabetic — I just need my insulin every day. I told myself, “It’s not that bad, guys. It’s okay. Don’t worry about me.”
I just succumbed to that way of life.
Karen:
I’m calling this part of your story “The Great Escape.”
If you’re interested in getting more involved in our community and connecting with people who share your interest in stories and lived experience, you can visit our website at www.storyroomglobal.com.
Now, I want to hear the story that everyone always wants to hear — how you escaped out of Silverwater Jail.
Can you set the scene?
Danny:
I love telling this story.
It was the 6th of February. It was actually my partner Michelle’s birthday. She was pregnant with our unborn child at the time.
I’d been attending a religious event that was held in the visiting area. Now, I should be clear — I used to go to this religious event because they had great coffee and biscuits. I was on methadone and I always had cravings for sugar. Any opportunity to get out of the cell and be part of something, I took it.
I should also mention my partner had about $30,000 cash of mine stashed outside, and that was definitely playing on my mind.
I’d spent about two years in that same prison over the years, and I’d noticed this one little weakness in the security of the fence. These fences are 24-foot fences with big aluminium “barrels” on top that roll, so it’s almost impossible to climb over.
But there was one spot in the jail — and it just so happened that this spot was connected to the visiting area — where two barrels met and one was facing the other way. I thought, I could get up there. I reckon I could scale that.
Back then, I only weighed about 65 kilos. I was agile, I was young.
So at the end of the religious service, everyone was holding hands saying a prayer. I ducked out the back. Even the officers were involved in the prayer, so I had a small window.
I shimmied my way along the back of the visiting area and managed to start scaling this 24-foot fence using garbage bin handles and little metal clips in the wire. I was on the corner of the fence, which helped me get up there.
I got to the top and remember thinking:
“If I fall now, I’m dead. I’ll break my ribs, I’ll break my back.”
Anyway, I managed to get up onto the barrel.
But I was still about 100 metres inside the jail. I’m on top of the fence, heading towards the outside.
As I’m creeping along this barrel, an officer spots me. Poor Mr Singh — you can imagine his reaction. He’s seen me up there and gone straight on the radio.
My plan was blown.
I had to run along the barrel and jump. At the end, there’s about five metres of razor wire. I’m trying to skip over it, and I cut my legs up pretty badly. Then I launched off the top.
By this time, they’d called the MEU (Metropolitan Enforcement Unit), the police, the dog squad — everyone. I landed hard. My arm went black and blue from shoulder to wrist. I basically broke my arm when I hit the ground.
I sprinted down Hawker Street, which runs down to Parramatta River. I jumped a couple of fences — with one working arm — and by then I could hear the dog squad on their way.
I could hear the dogs. I could see the torches.
I made it to the riverbank and dived into Parramatta River — bleeding, with a busted arm, in a bull shark–infested, pitch-dark river.
At that point in the river, it’s about 100 metres across. I’d always had this plan in my head to swim the river. Looking back now, I think: What was I thinking? I’d never jump in that river now.
But the adrenaline was pumping and I just swam.
The water police were on the river. PolAir, the helicopter, was above with the spotlight.
I got to the other side and ended up in thick mud and mangroves — up to my chest in sludge. The water police were about 20 metres away. PolAir was overhead. But they couldn’t see me.
I crawled — like GI Joe — through the mud and mangroves, getting cut to pieces by whatever was in there.
Later, I learned from the police report that they shut down the whole Parramatta River further downstream. But I’d taken a little offshoot called Duck Creek.
Eventually, I came out near Parramatta Speedway, in an old demolition graveyard of smashed cars. It was raining, and the rain started to wash the mud off me.
By the time I reached James Ruse Drive — a big multi-lane highway — I looked slightly more human again.
Earlier, from the prison phone, I’d called Michelle. You know that standard message:
“This is a call from Silverwater Remand Reception. If you do not wish to take this call, please hang up now.”
She answered and I said:
“Michelle… happy birthday. If I could come home tonight, would that be okay?”
I wanted her permission. She said, “Yeah, sure, Danny,” probably rolling her eyes.
I said, “Make sure you get some money.”
Next minute, I’m in a cab out the front of her house, whistling out to her.
She came out absolutely freaking out — as you can imagine.
She got in the cab with some money and about half an hour later, the police raided her house, my mum’s house, and my dad’s house.
But we made it to freedom — for a while.
We got to Western Australia the next day. New South Wales detectives were chasing us all over the country. They eventually got me on the 14th of February and extradited me back to Sydney.
I always say: I got pinched on Valentine’s Day. My poor girlfriend got charged with harbouring a criminal. Honestly, she had no choice.
That’s The Great Escape.
Karen:
Oh my goodness. At some stage I really do need to record that whole story as a stand-alone episode. It’s incredible.
Was there a moment — an “aha” moment — when you realised you wanted to seek redemption and change the direction of your life? If so, what motivated you?
Danny:
You know what, Karen? There wasn’t an “aha” moment… not at first.
I honestly thought this was my life.
But one thing I did keep doing — because of my mum — was going to detox and rehab. I’d go just to shut her up.
I had 49 attempts. I’ve been to every public detox and rehab in Sydney. I was known on a first-name basis. Staff would say, “Oh, Danny’s back. Danny’s back.”
Finally, on 13 September 2009, I entered my 50th detox. That’s the detox where my life changed forever.
I wasn’t there for me. I just wanted a break. I was using a lot of amphetamines and heroin. I’d go into detoxes to rest and restore my system so I could come out and give it another nudge.
While I was in there, I rang a few rehabs. One thing led to another; I got into a 28-day short-term program, then into another program for six months, then into a halfway house for a couple of years.
But the day my life changed forever was Christmas Day 2009.
I was in rehab, about 60–70 days clean and sober. I was in the horrors — full of fear, anger, anxiety. I did not like life clean and sober.
I went home to visit my family on Christmas Day. There I was at a table with about 15 family members I’d hurt, stolen from, and robbed over the years. I couldn’t cope with the shame and guilt.
I left with some cash in my pocket — bless them for giving me money — and I thought:
“Stuff this. I can’t do this. I’m going to get on.”
I was at Town Hall Station. Across the road to my left was the bus that would take me back to rehab. To my right was Kings Cross — and that’s where I could buy heroin and cocaine.
I knew exactly what would happen if I went right: I’d use, I’d blow everything up again, I’d end up back in jail or back in rehab. I’d done it 50 times.
But I had no idea what would happen if I didn’t.
And that day, for the very first time in my life, I did consequential thinking.
I told myself:
“Today I’m not going to do it.
I’ll do it tomorrow.
But I’m not going to do it today.”
And I got on the bus back to rehab.
That day, I made a different decision for the first time in my life.
A miracle happened to me that day, Karen. I lost the obsession and compulsion to use drugs. I have not come close to picking up another substance since Christmas Day 2009.
That’s over 14 years ago now.
Karen:
Well, congratulations on choosing to go left instead of right.
That was your turning point. Your aha moment.
And that’s what I love about you, Danny. You’re not afraid to share this story. It inspires others — that’s why people love hearing you at The Story Room. You’re so frank and honest. You’re a real, bigger-than-life person.
In recovery, what have been your biggest challenges? And what kind of help was available to you?
Danny:
The biggest challenge in recovery is living life on life’s terms without a drink or a drug.
I’d been numbed for 17 years — constantly stoned from heroin or methadone. Imagine taking that away. That was my coping mechanism.
I thought life was about changing the way I feel — f**king myself up every day.
So the biggest challenges were anxiety, fear, anger, sadness, madness — all raw, all unguarded.
I was incredibly uncomfortable in my own skin. I was terrified of people. I wouldn’t even ask someone for directions — not because I was ashamed, but because I just didn’t have it in me.
Today, you can’t shut me up. But that’s taken time.
And this is a big statement, but it’s important:
Through my 17 years of using, I never once thought about taking my life. It wasn’t until I got clean that I thought:
“I just want to walk in front of this bus.”
Recovery was that hard, that raw. But I held on.
I was about 10 months clean the first time I felt something different. I looked up at the moon one night after a meeting, and for the first time, I felt this spiritual connection — like:
“Wow. I’m alive.”
I felt gratitude — properly — for the first time in my life. That was like a spiritual awakening. I realised there was more to life than just using.
I got a job about six months clean. I had no licence — I’d lost it for 40 years because I’d been caught driving stolen cars before I was even old enough to get a licence. So in early recovery, I had no licence, no car, just buses and trains.
And in a way, I’m grateful. No speeding fines, no debt. All I had to focus on was me.
I got heavily involved in Narcotics Anonymous, the 12-step fellowship. I connected with hundreds of people who were absolutely killing it in recovery. I studied community services, I started saving money, travelling — Bali, Thailand, America — many times.
Recovery opened up a whole new world.
Karen:
I know your mission is to bring happiness and empowerment to people’s lives as a human being and a man in recovery. You do that by inspiring others through your incredible story.
I’m going to wrap it there for today — but will you come back next week so we can talk about Encapsulator and the work you’re doing now?
Danny:
I’d love to, Karen. I’d really love to come back and share my journey with Encapsulator. Thanks for having me.
Karen:
So, until next week, Danny — because this really is such an amazing story.
If Danny’s story resonated with you in any way, please share your thoughts on our Facebook page. To learn more about Danny and Encapsulator, you’ll find links in the podcast description.
Thank you for tuning in to Sharing Stories, Changing Lives.
We’d like to invite you to support us by purchasing a Backstage Pass, costing about the same as two cups of coffee each month. With the Backstage Pass, you’ll gain access to workshops and exclusive content, including videos from our live events.
You can do this by visiting our website at www.storyroomglobal.com, so together we can continue to show that sharing stories changes lives.
Access Exclusive Extended Videos
Join the Backstage Pass for the extended video interviews where our podcast guests share even more raw, personal, and uncut background details you won't hear on the podcast.