School captain Tarran’s life became a living hell when she was targeted in an explicit deepfake scandal at just 16. Here’s how she survived

Tarran Frost vividly remembers the moment a rumour began to follow her through school corridors – and soon spiralled into relentless bullying.

The now-19-year-old from Melbourne has spoken out about the years she spent navigating blurred lines between ‘traditional’ schoolyard cruelty and something more modern and invasive.

‘It started as a falling out with a friend and an ex-boyfriend… At first it was just laughing and putting me in a bad position. But it got really bad really quickly,’ she told the Daily Mail.

By Year 10, what had once been low-level tension had morphed into constant harassment. And then came the rumours – deeply personal, sexualised claims that spread across the school and reshaped how people saw her.

‘That was probably the worst part. It was really embarrassing,’ she said. 

At the age of 16, a digitally manipulated image – what she would later come to understand was a deepfake – began circulating among students, AirDropped across phones on a school bus and shared beyond her immediate social circles.

‘At the time, I didn’t even know what it was… I remember someone telling me there was a nude photo of me going around, and I was just like, “What are you talking about?”‘ she recalled. 

When she finally tracked down the deepfake, what upset her most was not the content itself, but the fact someone had deliberately created an AI-generated image of her with the intention of humiliating her.

‘It was obviously fake – really badly edited. But the guy who sent it to me thought it was real. And I just remember thinking, “why would someone go out of their way to make this?”‘

A deepfake is typically an image or video in which a real person’s face or body has been digitally altered to create a false depiction. 

She suspects the person behind the deepfake was someone she once considered a friend – but she’ll never know for sure. 

The image didn’t exist in isolation. It fed directly into the rumours already circulating, reinforcing a narrative Tarran had no control over.

‘It changed my identity. People started believing things about me that weren’t true. It shaped how they saw me – and that soon began to change how I saw myself,’ she said.

What made the experience particularly overwhelming was its persistence. The bullying didn’t stop when Tarram left school grounds – it followed her home, onto her phone, and into the night.

‘There were prank calls constantly. My number was being given out to random people. They were sending me videos, calling me through the night. It was non-stop.’

Even milestones meant to mark achievement were disrupted. When she delivered her graduation speech as school captain in Year 12 – a role she had worked hard to earn – an air horn was blasted mid-speech.

‘It was just always a constant effort to make everything I did really difficult,’ she said.

The impact of the stress soon began to manifest physically.

Each morning, Tarran would catch the bus with friends she liked – but as the school approached, her body would react before she could.

‘I’d get this stomach ache every day. My body was physically reacting to being bullied,’ she said.

Soon, the symptoms intensified. Tarran developed rashes across her body and began to worry something more serious was wrong.

‘I went to the doctor thinking maybe I had an allergy to gluten or something. They did all these tests, and eventually my doctor said she thought something else was going on,’ she said. 

‘I just broke down when I realised the bullying was affecting me physically. It was coming out on my body.’

By the end of each school day, she was exhausted.

‘I’d come home at four o’clock and just lie in bed. I had used so much nervous energy just getting through the day,’ she said.

Despite the severity of what was happening, Tarran said the response from her school was inconsistent – shaped in part by staffing shortages and ongoing disruptions following the pandemic.

‘Every time I told a teacher, they’d leave. It was too hard to keep explaining everything again and again,’ she said. 

While some individual teachers offered support, broader action was limited. The school arranged for her to be separated from certain students in class, but the underlying issues were never fully addressed.

‘The person behind the deepfake was never tracked down. No one was really questioned. It felt like they were moving me out of the situation instead of dealing with it,’ she said.

For Tarran, the lack of resolution added another layer of confusion. She struggled to even name what was happening at the time.

‘I didn’t even know it was called a “deepfake” until my first year of uni. At school, it was just this photo I had to deal with.’

The uncertainty fed into a deeper internal struggle. For a long time, she questioned whether she was somehow to blame.

‘I still thought the best in everyone. I think I was in denial that I was being bullied. I thought it was my fault – or that I would get in trouble if I contacted the police,’ she said.

That self-doubt, she says, is one of the most damaging aspects of this kind of harassment.

‘When you’re being bullied, it becomes part of you. You know it’s not true, but when people keep saying it, you start to believe it.’

Support from her parents – and later, a close circle of friends – became critical in countering that narrative.

‘They reminded me that not everyone hated me,’ she said. ‘That I was a good person.’

‘Defensive mode’ 

Professional support also proved pivotal. After her doctor recommended she see a psychologist, Tarran began unpacking the constant state of alertness she had been living in.

‘I was in such a defensive mode. I was so used to having to defend myself at every turn.’

Even after finishing school, the effects lingered, and moving into university accommodation brought unexpected triggers as certain behaviours in others mirrored what she had experienced.

‘I remember thinking, “Why am I still panicking? It’s over”,’ she said.

It wasn’t until she began speaking openly about her experience – and hearing how others perceived it – that the full weight of what she had endured became clear.

‘[Telling my university friends about what I went through] was the first time I really realised how rough it had been,’ she said.

Now, with distance from those years, Tarran describes her life as ‘completely different’.

‘I don’t think my 17-year-old self could have imagined what my life looks like now,’ she said.

Tarran is now studying, teaching, playing sport, and reconnecting with passions she once abandoned – including music. 

After stepping away from guitar during high school out of fear of judgement, she recently won a competition, taking home a guitar signed by Ed Sheeran.

‘I feel valued now’ 

In the coming months, she is set to travel to the United States to work at a summer camp, teaching guitar and other activities – a step that once would have felt unimaginable.

‘I feel valued now,’ she said. ‘My life is so much more productive and exciting.’

Her experience has also reshaped her ambitions. After initially studying occupational therapy, she is now considering a future in education – driven by a desire to improve how schools respond to bullying.

‘I think there’s a lot of change that can be made. And having gone through it, I can help make that change.’

Tarran is speaking out to highlight Do It For Dolly Day, Australia’s national day of action to end bullying, now in its eighth year.

She hopes other young Aussies going through similar experiences will feel less alone – and more hopeful about what comes next.

‘It does get better. Even if it doesn’t feel like it at the time,’ she said.

‘I made it through bullying, but there are a lot of kids out there who don’t’ 

Tarran knew about Dolly Everett’s devastating story from the news, and started looking into it when things were particularly difficult at her school. 

‘I found a lot of security in knowing that it wasn’t my fault and I wasn’t alone. I made it through bullying, but there are a lot of kids out there who don’t,’ she said. 

‘I want other children to know that reaching out for support made it a lot easier for me.’

Dolly’s Dream 

Kate Everett co-founded Dolly’s Dream to honour her daughter Dolly, who took her own life at the age of 14 in January 2018 – after years of bullying.

‘Eight years on, the love Australians have shown for Dolly and for our cause never ceases to move us,’ Kate said. 

‘We are asking every Australian to go BLUE and help us reach $2 million for the very first time. Every single dollar goes straight to supporting the many thousands of kids and families impacted by bullying right now across Australia. 

‘We want them to know they’re not alone.’

Sally Sweeney, Head of Dolly’s Dream, added: ‘Bullying doesn’t stop at the school gate – it follows young people via their phones into their bedrooms and into their sleep.

That’s why Do It For Dolly Day and the funds we raise this week matter so much,’ she said.

If you or a young person you know is struggling with bullying, please call 13 DOLLY on 13 36 55 or use the webchat through the Dolly’s Dream website. 

‘For kids and teens, it’s there 24/7,’ Sally added.