Nearly six years ago a troubled, predominantly indigenous housing estate in Central NSW made national headlines.
The Gordon Estate in Dubbo was, almost everyone in this regional city of 42,000 admits, a hotbed of crime.
It was controversially pulled down in 2006 after media outlets reported a New Year's Eve riot.
Controversial, because families were uprooted, with some sent out of town to alternative public housing across NSW.
The government claimed success in reducing crime and anti-social behaviour, but there's now concern that high levels of entrenched disadvantage have shifted to another estate across town.
While some residents fear their homes could also be demolished, others on the Apollo Estate are working to make sure that doesn't happen.
Single mother Phyllis Snelson hadn't lived in her Apollo Estate home for long, before a night-time home invasion last year.
"They got through my daughter's bedroom window, they've smashed it or something, used a screwdriver to get in," she tells me.
She has three young children, one of whom has autism. By any measure Phyliss is doing it pretty tough.
Her daughter - one of three children - is too scared to go the bathroom alone at night since the home invasion.
"This where they broke my window," she shows me.
It wasn't the first night-time burglary - her former partner was home for that, and he received a shovel blow to the head for his troubles.
Going to the police made the matter worse. "We were called dogs and whatever because we've rang the police - and I said 'what are we supposed to do? I'm on me own with the kids."
The NSW housing department told SBS it had invited Phyllis to discuss her situation, but it found claims of ongoing harassment to be unfounded.
TOUGH TALK
Key crime indicators in Dubbo fell after the government pulled down the Gordon Estate in 2006. But since families were moved on - some to the Appolo Estate - the issues of arson, drugs and alcohol, truancy and claims of police harassment, are now commonplace here, too.
It's the perceived success of that last demolition that has some in Dubbo - including its mayor - keen on the same drastic solution for the Apollo, even if, as residents and police agree, the situation is nowhere near as dire.
Yet much of the crime behind Dubbo's recent high ranking on the NSW tables happens on the Apollo Estate - and the police presence shows it.
In one fifteen-minute period at the front of the local community centre at 10am, two marked police cars cruised by, followed by a dog squad unit, in addition to what locals assured me were two more unmarked cars. More than one person complained of intimidation.
Dubbo's Nationals MP Troy Grant has been tasked by NSW Community Services Minister Pru Goward with working towards a solution.
The former long-serving police officer denies police are too tough. For him, radical solutions are required. But these don't include demolition.
'We need some game-changing decisions to be taken now that will not only benefit East Dubbo [the Apollo Estate] but will benefit every community that will have these same sorts of social issues.'
He wants a better mix of social and private housing - not the use of bulldozers.
Dubbo's mayor, Mathew DIckerson, is "entitled to his opinion" about dismantling the estate, Mr Grant says, but he believes such talk is not helpful.
People on the estate agree, saying such proposals do nothing for the esteem of its tearaway kids. Cr Dickerson wasn't prepared to be interviewed for this story.
COMMUNITY SPIRIT
Time and again, people on the estate said they were sick of the surrounding crime, and that it was was committed by a small minority in the community - a view with which Mr Grant agrees.
But they're also tired of their names being dragged through the mud by what they see as constant negative front pages in the local paper and misreporting by local commercial news stations.
At the Apollo House community centre, a dedicated group of people are working with locals young and old, providing activities and services with NSW government funding.
People like Max, a Wiradjuri elder who saw how bad the Gordon Estate got. It's his daughter Phyllis who has been targeted in her home, but he's sure talk of pulling the estate down doesn't help the community's mood.
Then there's Riverbank Frank Doolan, a man that the teenage boys ducking off school are happy to converse with; the kind of boys government service providers consistently struggle to reach.
And there's Lionel Wood, a young man who grew up on the Gordon Estate, before being moved along with his neighbours.
He now works with teens and others at the local community centre, and will soon take up a career with the police after completing a training program for young indigenous people.
He points out something I'd noticed over the two days spent here - that despite the graffiti and the burnt-out houses, everyone is, simply put, plain friendly.
"I've never seen the true sense of the word community until I've been working here, where everyone knows everyone, not just on their street, but five streets over," Lionel says.
There are real problems on this estate. But there's also optimism from some of the people who know it best
Ms Goward's action group will report back in the new year.
