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File No. 2026-007 - She Could Have Been our Australian of the Year.

Writer: Tracy Riddiford
Tracy Riddiford
Oct 5
4 min read

Updated: Oct 6


She was the sort of person organisations like to have at the front of the room. Passionate. Accomplished. Articulate. A champion for migrant and refugee women.


Eman Sharobeem had built an impressive public reputation after arriving in Australia from Egypt. She became CEO of the Immigrant Women's Health Service and was also in day-to-day charge of the Non-English Speaking Housing Women's Scheme.


She was invited to government events. She advised on issues affecting multicultural communities. She received awards and recognition. And in 2015, she was nominated as a NSW finalist for Australian of the Year.


She had the sort of CV that made people sit up. Two PhDs. A master's degree. Psychology qualifications. A long list of achievements.


There was just one problem.


Much of the story didn't hold up under scrutiny.


THE PhDs


When questions were eventually raised about Sharobeem's qualifications, her explanation was extraordinary.


She said she had received an honorary PhD from the American University in Cairo for her work and research on women, girls, microfinance and management. She said a professor had told her the university was planning to award it. Later, someone in the human resources department of the organisation where she worked congratulated her on receiving the degree.


She was given a business card identifying her as Dr Eman Sharobeem and from then on, she used the title.


But.


She couldn't produce the certificate.


She had an explanation for that too. She told ICAC that the document proving the honorary degree had been destroyed when the National Council for Women building was burned during the Arab Spring. All attempts to find another copy had failed. So ICAC checked.


The American University in Cairo had no record of ever awarding Eman Sharobeem a degree, honorary or otherwise. ICAC concluded that she had never received the honorary doctorate.


And that wasn't the only qualification that came under scrutiny.


Sharobeem had represented herself as a qualified psychologist and used her claimed qualifications in applications for paid government appointments. She also provided psychological treatment to vulnerable people - but she was not a qualified psychologist.


The CV that had helped establish her authority was starting to look very different.

And once investigators started looking behind the reputation, they found something else.


THE MONEY


The money wasn't disappearing into some complicated offshore structure. It was being spent on things you could put on a shopping list - if you were a Kardashian.


  • A $20,000 diamond necklace

  • A Mercedes-Benz for her husband

  • Jewellery

  • Holidays

  • Furniture

  • A dishwasher

  • A fridge

  • Home renovations

  • Hair and beauty treatments

  • Dental work

  • A fountain

  • And, according to evidence before ICAC, liposuction for her son.


ICAC ultimately found that Sharobeem had engaged in serious corrupt conduct involving up to $773,000 in public funds, benefiting herself and members of her family.


Up to $443,000 was transferred from the Immigrant Women's Health Service to her own bank account as purported reimbursements for goods and services. Another $35,211 was spent directly on the organisation's credit card for personal goods and services. And $13,500 went from the organisation to a jeweller for personal purchases.


The more investigators looked, the stranger it became.


THE RECEIPTS


There were invoices, reimbursements, credit card transactions, payments to family members, invoices for services that apparently never happened, receipts that had been altered -

and some claims that raised questions about whether the work could possibly have occurred as described.


One son was employed by one of the organisations. Another received a $5,670 motorcycle purchased with organisation funds.


There was an $18,000 contribution towards a vehicle for her husband. And there were payments and arrangements involving family members that should have prompted questions about who was benefiting from the organisations' money.


But then came another problem.


THE NUMBERS


The organisations were receiving government funding to provide services to vulnerable women. So the numbers mattered.


How many women were being helped? How many attended programs? How much activity was taking place?


ICAC found that Sharobeem had falsified statistics.


One yoga program was reported as having almost 2,000 participants. The evidence suggested the actual number was closer to 20.That isn't a rounding error. It's a completely different story.


And now the picture was coming together.


The extraordinary qualifications.


The prestigious appointments.


The Australian of the Year nomination.


The government funding.


The impressive numbers.


The personal spending.


The family payments.


The false invoices.


The false qualifications.


The inflated statistics.



THE UNCOMFORTABLE PART


She didn't simply steal money. She built credibility first. And credibility is powerful.


People trusted the qualifications. They trusted the title. They trusted the reputation.

They trusted the story. They trusted the numbers. And perhaps most importantly, they trusted the person delivering the story.


That's why this isn't really a story about a woman with a credit card buying a diamond necklace. It's a story about how easily trust can become a substitute for verification.

Because once someone is regarded as extraordinary, asking ordinary questions can suddenly feel unnecessary.


Where's the degree? Check the university.


Where did that $20,000 go? Look at the receipt.


Why are 2,000 women attending this program when the room holds 20? Check the numbers.


Why is the CEO reimbursing herself? Look at the transactions.


Why is the organisation paying a family member? Ask the question.


None of these things requires sophisticated corruption detection. They require somebody to be willing to say: "Hang on. That doesn't quite make sense."


THE LIFT LESSON


The danger isn't simply the dishonest person. It's the culture that makes them difficult to question.


The charismatic founder. The respected CEO. The person with the extraordinary CV.

The person everyone knows. The person who has done so much good that challenging them feels almost disloyal.


That's when reputation can become a governance risk. Because trust is not a control.

And the more trusted the person, the more important it is that the controls continue to operate.


Not because you expect them to be corrupt. Because no organisation should depend on one person's character as its primary control system.


Even if she's been nominated for Australian of the Year.


THE QUESTION


If someone this impressive walked into your organisation tomorrow, how much of their story would you actually verify?


Behind every file, there's a story.


Source: NSW Independent Commission Against Corruption, Operation Tarlo. ICAC made 24 findings of serious corrupt conduct against Sharobeem, including findings concerning false qualifications, misuse of public funds, personal expenditure, family benefits and falsification of organisational statistics.

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