The woman - who escaped Sri Lanka with her family and spent time in the asylum-seeker system in Indonesia before being rehomed in New Zealand - was too terrified to be identified, even years after leaving her homeland.
Her reasons for leaving were simple. After her daughter had suffered life-threatening burns to half her body from an attack, and various relatives had been "disappeared" into white vans in the night, never to return, she knew she had to leave or face the same fate.
She left, she said, specifically because she would rather risk death on a boat across the Pacific than see her daughters raped by government soldiers. The family stole away in the middle of the night with only the clothes on their backs.
These people had to leave or die, the way they tell it, and they didn't have time to be dissuaded by legislation, whatever Immigration Minister Michael Woodhouse maintains. In his view, "[They] may be less likely to endanger their lives by attempting to travel to New Zealand by sea if they know they must wait for three years and have their claim reassessed before they can apply for residence".
It's the same wrong-headed reasoning that has led to horror across the Tasman. This week two boatloads of Tamil refugees struck trouble near Australia's Christmas Island - broken down, no water or food, and at least two very sick children aboard. Immigration Minister Scott Morrison - with fellow "committed Catholic" Tony Abbott - refused to even acknowledge the catastrophe. Even children, it seems, can be left to die on a boat in Australian waters, and if not, they can be kept indefinitely in refugee detention centres with no lawyers, no oversight, and no hope.
Again, is this the way we are moving, in the direction of xenophobia, hysteria and ugliness? And is that the right path for a country that seeks to set a great example to the rest of the world, based on our enlightened common sense? As violence flares around the world, and more and more people are driven to take drastic steps, we certainly need to set our own boundaries for action, but where we once seemed to offer a great example of humanitarianism, we now copy the worst example we can find.