Ned Kelly: The Outl4w Who Built Armor to F1ght the British Empire
Australia, a continent Britain claimed in 1788 after Captain Arthur Phillip raised the Union Jack at Sydney Cove. This became the start of a penal colony experiment. For decades, ships arrived packed with men and women sentenced to transportation, thieves, political dissidents, Irish rebels, the poor and the desperate.
Nearly 162,000 convicts would be sent across the world to serve the crown at the far edge of the empire. But exile did not freeze the colony in time. By the 1850s, gold was discovered in Victoria and everything accelerated. Ships that once carried convicts now brought fortune seekers. Former pr1soners stood beside free settlers. Irish Catholics worked claims next to English Protestants.
Some struck it rich overnight. Most did not. Wealth pooled quickly at the top. Land disputes intensified. And beneath the rush for gold, old resentments followed people across oceans. Cla.ss distrust, religious suspicion, and a quiet h0stility towards Irish families already viewed as trouble. Victoria was no longer just a penal colony.
It was a young society trying to decide who belonged and who didn’t. Irish immigrants arrived in Australia carrying more than luggage. They came with memory. The Great Famine had devastated Ireland in the 1840s. Over a million d1ed. Many believe British policy had made the catastrophe worse through indifference, land seizures, and forced exports of food while Irish families starved.
They also remember generations of penal laws that restricted Catholic rights. They remembered landlords backed by British authority, evictions carried out under armed supervision, and they remembered rebellions crushed and the Irish nationalists transported across the world in chains. Some of those men ended up in Australia.
So, when the Irish settlers encountered colonial police forces in Victoria, they did not see neutral authority. Many saw uniforms representing the same empire that had dispossessed their families. Police records from the period show that Irish communities were often stereotyped as vi0lent, unreliable, or inherently criminal.
For British officials, Irish Catholics were a population to monitor. Police in rural Victoria were often Protestant, often aligned with landed elites, and often heavy handed. Out in the bush, law traveled slowly, corruption traveled faster. Small farmers stru.ggled with debt. Land selectors clashed with squatters.
W4rrants were issued easily, and arr.ests were rough. Reputation meant nothing if a const4ble decided you were trouble. And in colonial Australia, once the government labeled you an outlaw, you weren’t just wanted, you were legally k1llable. Anyone could shoot you on sight. That was the world growing up around the boy named Ned Kelly.
So, if your family had been evicted, starved, and shipped across the world under British rule, would you trust the man wearing the same Empire’s uniform? When the law serves the powerful first, is resisting it rebellion or surv1val? Let’s try to find out. Hello, I’m Mike Droberg, Marine Corps veteran and filmmaker, and we will try to answer these questions on today’s episode of Forgotten History.
The beginning of the toughest 26 days in Marine Corps history. With confidence in our armed forces 36th President of the United States d1ed this afternoon. There are children and women in here. They called it off. Ned Kelly was born in 1854 in Beveridge, Victoria, into a struggling Irish Catholic family.
His father, John “Red” Kelly, had been transported to Australia for stealing pigs. He served his sentence, earned his freedom, and tried to build a life as a small farmer. But land in colonial Victoria was rarely secure for poor selectors. Drought, debt, and police scrutiny followed families like the Kellys. His mother, Ellen Quinn Kelly, was Irish born and fiercely protective of her children.
Ned had several siblings, including his younger brother Dan and a group of sisters who helped keep the household running. The Kelly home was crowded with eight children constantly under strain. When Ned was 12, his father was arr.ested again for possession of stolen meat. He served 6 months of hard labor. He came out of his impr1sonment weakened and d1ed shortly thereafter.
From that moment on, the Kelly family was marked. Police attention became routine. The Kelly name appeared in reports long before Ned ever led a gang. Some 1ncidents were minor. Some were vi0lent. What is clear is that the relationship between the Kelly family and the local const4bles was already adversarial by the time Ned reached his teens.
By 16, Ned had served time for a.ssault and theft. The record is messy. Witness statements contradict each other. Police accounts often painted the Kellys as habitual criminals. Supporters later claimed hara.ssment and fabrication. But in 1878, everything exploded. Const4ble Alexander Fitzpatrick rode out to the Kelly home to arr.est Ned’s brother Dan on a horse theft warrant.
What happened next is still deb4ted. Say bye bye to receding gums. Gum recession is not just cosmetic. Millions of people deal with bleeding gums, tooth sensitivity, and even tooth loss. And once gums start pulling back, most toothpastes do absolutely nothing to help. Meet Smile, the Wellness Company’s next generation toothpaste designed to support gum repair, strengthen teeth, reduce sensitivity, and gently whiten your smile.
Thanks to the Wellness Company for sponsoring this episode. Smile is powered by healing peptides like BPC 157, known for helping reduce inflammation and supporting repair of gum and bone tissue. The formula uses advanced Aquazone technology, a mini liposomal shield that protects these peptides and delivers them directly to the damaged gum tissue.
It also includes GHKCU peptide to support collagen and healthier gum structure, probiotics to help balance the oral microbiome, and PAP whitening that removes stains without harsh peroxide. The result is stronger gums, healthier teeth, and a brighter smile. Get 10% off every order plus free shipping for US residents with code forgotten headed twc.
health /forgotten to get 10% off every order with code forgotten by visiting twc.health/forgotten. Fitzpatrick claimed Ned sh0t him in the wrist. The Kelly family claimed Fitzpatrick was drunk and inappropriate with Ned’s sister. He flirted with Ned’s sister Kate, grew handsy, and sparked a stru.ggle inside a cramped farmhouse.
In their telling, he was disarmed, struck, and fled in humiliation. The bull3t wound to his wrist, they insisted, was no heroic 1njury from Ned’s revolver, but an accident or exaggeration meant to justify retaliation. Fitzpatrick’s official report said Ned sh0t him while resisting arr.est. The family said that never happened.
The event triggered warrants, pr1son sentences, and a manh.unt. Ned and Dan fled. Their mother, Ellen Kelly, was arr.ested and later sentenced to 3 years in pr1son for attempted murd3r. Three of Ned’s sisters received pr1son terms as well. A widowed mother was removed from her children. The farm was left vulnerable, and the message to the district was unmistakable.
Cross the police, and your entire family could pay for it. Now, the conflict was no longer about small thefts or petty charges. It was war. Ned and his younger brother Dan disappeared into the bush. They were soon joined by two friends, Joe Byrne and Steve Hart. The four young men began living rough, moving through the dense forest country north of Mansfield.
Police were under pressure to bring them in. In October of 1878, a search party of four officers tracked the gang to a remote campsite near Stringybark Creek. What happened next still splits historians. The police claimed they approached cautiously and were 4mbushed without warning. The Kelly gang later claimed they had no intention of k1lling anyone.
According to Ned, the officers surprised them. A stru.ggle followed, sh0ts were fired. When it was all over, three policemen were de@d. Const4bles Thomas Lonigan and Michael Scanlan were k1lled in the first exchange. Sergeant Michael Kennedy was sh0t and k1lled while attempting to escape through the bush. The fourth officer, Const4ble Thomas McIntyre, survived and carried the official version back to authorities.
Three de@d policemen changed everything. This was no longer a dispute over warrants or alleged hara.ssment. This was murd3r. The colonial government responded swiftly. Rewards were issues. Informants were encouraged. Sympathy for the Kelly family became d4ngerous. Under the Felons Apprehension Act of 1878, Ned Kelly and his gang were declared outlaws.
That meant any citizen could legally shoot them on sight. No trial or surrender was required. The empire had spoken. And now Ned Kelly was not just running from the law. He was running from everyone. In February of 1879, the gang rode into Jerilderie and executed a carefully planned takeover. They captured two local policemen, locked them in their own cell, cut telegraph lines, and confined the townspeople inside the Royal Hotel to prevent interference.
Then they robbed the Bank of New South Wales. During the takeover, Ned dictated what became known as the Jerilderie Letter, a 7,000 plus word manifesto defending his actions and condemning police corruption. He accused officers of hara.ssment, brut4lity, and fabricating charges. He framed the Stringybark k1llings as self defense.
He invoked Irish suffering under British rule and cast his stru.ggle as resistance to oppression. The letter was never widely published at the time. Authorities suppressed it. But the document survived. Today, it reads less like a confession and more like a declaration of grievance. When the robbery was complete and the message delivered, the gang released their captives and disappeared back into the forests of northeastern Victoria.
But the Jerilderie incident did not weaken the government’s resolve. It hardened it. Rewards increased. Informants multiplied. Police patrols intensified. The gang could rob banks, but they could not outrun the entire colony forever. Eventually, there would be a confrontation. And when that moment came, it would not be a brief exchange of g.unfire in the bush.
It would be a siege. So, they began preparing for that future. Hidden in remote clearings and bush hideouts, they started forging armor using stolen plowshares and farm equipment. They heated and hammered thick iron into crude body plates. Each suit covered the torso, shoulders, and head. The helmet was cylindrical with narrow eye slits.
The metal was thick enough to deflect handg.un rounds at a distance. Each suit weighed roughly 90 lb. They were not elegant, but meant for one purpose. To walk into g.unfire and survive. The plan forming in Ned’s mind was bold. Lure a police train to a rural town, derail it, take hostages, force negotiation, spark uprising among poor farmers who felt abused by colonial authority.
And in June of 1880, he put his plan into motion. Ned Kelly and his gang rode into the small town of Glenrowan and took over the local inn. They cut telegraph lines and held roughly 60 residents hostage. They even tore up sections of railway track, but one hostage slipped away under the cover of darkness and warned authorities.
The train slowed and did not derail. Just before midnight on June 27th, police surrounded the Glenrowan Inn. More than 30 officers took position in the darkness, rifles trained on the building. Inside were not only the Kelly gang, but dozens of hostages, including children. Gunfire erupted shortly after. Bullets tore through the timber walls.
Windows shattered. Smoke thickened. Inside, the hostages dropped to the floor as sh0ts cracked overhead. Amid the cha0s, Joe Byrne was sh0t through a gap in his armor and was mortally wounded and d1ed. As the siege stretched into the early morning hours, Ned Kelly reportedly ordered many of the hostages to lie flat and when possible to leave the building.
Several slipped out during lulls in the shooting. By dawn most civilians had escaped or been released, though some were wounded in the crossfire. One local man, Martin Cherry, would later d1e from g.unsh0t wound sustained during the siege. At some point before first light, while police concentrated on the front of the inn, Ned Kelly slipped out of the back.
He was wearing his armor. Nearly 90 lb of forged iron covered his chest, back, shoulders, and head. But his arms and legs were bare. The helmet’s narrow slit limited his vision but shielded his face. Moving through darkness and scrub, he circled behind the police line. Then he stepped forward and @ttacked. Officers saw a metal figure advancing out of the morning haze.
They fired instinctively at his chest. Bullets struck iron and glanced away. The figure kept coming. For a moment, the armor worked exactly as intended. Then someone aimed lower. Shots tore into his exposed legs. He staggered but continued firing. More rounds struck his thighs and knees. Finally, he collapsed.
When police reached him, they found him alive, bleeding heavily but conscious. The siege did not end immediately. Dan Kelly, and Hart, remained inside the inn. By mid morning, police set the building ablaze. When the fire burned down, both men were found with g.unsh0t wounds, de@d inside. It was over. Three gang members de@d, one captured, civilians shaken, but largely alive.
The iron suit that had defied bull3ts lay dented in the dirt. Ned Kelly was taken to Melbourne in chains and placed on trial for the murd3r of Const4ble Thomas Lonigan. The outcome was never really in doubt. Three policemen were de@d. The colony had been embarra.ssed. The siege at Glenrowan had turned the outlaw into a spectacle.
Authorities were determined to rea.ssert control. The trial moved quickly. Kelly attempted to defend himself. He claimed persecution. He insisted that the Stringy Bark Creek k1lling were acts of defense, not murd3r. The court was unmoved. He was found guilty. The sentence was de4th by hanging. When the judge pronounced it, he reportedly said, “May God have mercy on your soul.
” In which Kelly replied, “I’ll see you there when I go.” On November 11th, 1880, at the old Melbourne Gaol, Ned Kelly was executed at the age of 25. That could have been the end of the story, but it wasn’t. Within years, ballads were written about Ned Kelly. Stories spread. Painters and writers reimagined him. To some, he was a murd3rer who sh0t police officers in cold bl00d.
To others, he was like an Australian Robin Hood. The son of Irish immigrants who refused to bow down to a corrupt colonial system. His armor survived. It sits today as one of the most recognizable artifacts in Australian history. A crude iron suit forged in defiance. So, what was Ned Kelly? A vi0lent criminal who escalated every conflict? A hero or a product of a young colony still deciding who justice belonged to? Let us know your thoughts about Ned Kelly in the comments below.
Australia, a continent Britain claimed in 1788 after Captain Arthur Phillip raised the Union Jack at Sydney Cove. This became the start of a penal colony experiment. For decades, ships arrived packed with men and women sentenced to transportation, thieves, political dissidents, Irish rebels, the poor and the desperate.
Nearly 162,000 convicts would be sent across the world to serve the crown at the far edge of the empire. But exile did not freeze the colony in time. By the 1850s, gold was discovered in Victoria and everything accelerated. Ships that once carried convicts now brought fortune seekers. Former pr1soners stood beside free settlers. Irish Catholics worked claims next to English Protestants.
Some struck it rich overnight. Most did not. Wealth pooled quickly at the top. Land disputes intensified. And beneath the rush for gold, old resentments followed people across oceans. Cla.ss distrust, religious suspicion, and a quiet h0stility towards Irish families already viewed as trouble. Victoria was no longer just a penal colony.
It was a young society trying to decide who belonged and who didn’t. Irish immigrants arrived in Australia carrying more than luggage. They came with memory. The Great Famine had devastated Ireland in the 1840s. Over a million d1ed. Many believe British policy had made the catastrophe worse through indifference, land seizures, and forced exports of food while Irish families starved.
They also remember generations of penal laws that restricted Catholic rights. They remembered landlords backed by British authority, evictions carried out under armed supervision, and they remembered rebellions crushed and the Irish nationalists transported across the world in chains. Some of those men ended up in Australia.
So, when the Irish settlers encountered colonial police forces in Victoria, they did not see neutral authority. Many saw uniforms representing the same empire that had dispossessed their families. Police records from the period show that Irish communities were often stereotyped as vi0lent, unreliable, or inherently criminal.
For British officials, Irish Catholics were a population to monitor. Police in rural Victoria were often Protestant, often aligned with landed elites, and often heavy handed. Out in the bush, law traveled slowly, corruption traveled faster. Small farmers stru.ggled with debt. Land selectors clashed with squatters.
W4rrants were issued easily, and arr.ests were rough. Reputation meant nothing if a const4ble decided you were trouble. And in colonial Australia, once the government labeled you an outlaw, you weren’t just wanted, you were legally k1llable. Anyone could shoot you on sight. That was the world growing up around the boy named Ned Kelly.
So, if your family had been evicted, starved, and shipped across the world under British rule, would you trust the man wearing the same Empire’s uniform? When the law serves the powerful first, is resisting it rebellion or surv1val? Let’s try to find out. Hello, I’m Mike Droberg, Marine Corps veteran and filmmaker, and we will try to answer these questions on today’s episode of Forgotten History.
The beginning of the toughest 26 days in Marine Corps history. With confidence in our armed forces 36th President of the United States d1ed this afternoon. There are children and women in here. They called it off. Ned Kelly was born in 1854 in Beveridge, Victoria, into a struggling Irish Catholic family.
His father, John “Red” Kelly, had been transported to Australia for stealing pigs. He served his sentence, earned his freedom, and tried to build a life as a small farmer. But land in colonial Victoria was rarely secure for poor selectors. Drought, debt, and police scrutiny followed families like the Kellys. His mother, Ellen Quinn Kelly, was Irish born and fiercely protective of her children.
Ned had several siblings, including his younger brother Dan and a group of sisters who helped keep the household running. The Kelly home was crowded with eight children constantly under strain. When Ned was 12, his father was arr.ested again for possession of stolen meat. He served 6 months of hard labor. He came out of his impr1sonment weakened and d1ed shortly thereafter.
From that moment on, the Kelly family was marked. Police attention became routine. The Kelly name appeared in reports long before Ned ever led a gang. Some 1ncidents were minor. Some were vi0lent. What is clear is that the relationship between the Kelly family and the local const4bles was already adversarial by the time Ned reached his teens.
By 16, Ned had served time for a.ssault and theft. The record is messy. Witness statements contradict each other. Police accounts often painted the Kellys as habitual criminals. Supporters later claimed hara.ssment and fabrication. But in 1878, everything exploded. Const4ble Alexander Fitzpatrick rode out to the Kelly home to arr.est Ned’s brother Dan on a horse theft warrant.
What happened next is still deb4ted. Say bye bye to receding gums. Gum recession is not just cosmetic. Millions of people deal with bleeding gums, tooth sensitivity, and even tooth loss. And once gums start pulling back, most toothpastes do absolutely nothing to help. Meet Smile, the Wellness Company’s next generation toothpaste designed to support gum repair, strengthen teeth, reduce sensitivity, and gently whiten your smile.
Thanks to the Wellness Company for sponsoring this episode. Smile is powered by healing peptides like BPC 157, known for helping reduce inflammation and supporting repair of gum and bone tissue. The formula uses advanced Aquazone technology, a mini liposomal shield that protects these peptides and delivers them directly to the damaged gum tissue.
It also includes GHKCU peptide to support collagen and healthier gum structure, probiotics to help balance the oral microbiome, and PAP whitening that removes stains without harsh peroxide. The result is stronger gums, healthier teeth, and a brighter smile. Get 10% off every order plus free shipping for US residents with code forgotten headed twc.
health /forgotten to get 10% off every order with code forgotten by visiting twc.health/forgotten. Fitzpatrick claimed Ned sh0t him in the wrist. The Kelly family claimed Fitzpatrick was drunk and inappropriate with Ned’s sister. He flirted with Ned’s sister Kate, grew handsy, and sparked a stru.ggle inside a cramped farmhouse.
In their telling, he was disarmed, struck, and fled in humiliation. The bull3t wound to his wrist, they insisted, was no heroic 1njury from Ned’s revolver, but an accident or exaggeration meant to justify retaliation. Fitzpatrick’s official report said Ned sh0t him while resisting arr.est. The family said that never happened.
The event triggered warrants, pr1son sentences, and a manh.unt. Ned and Dan fled. Their mother, Ellen Kelly, was arr.ested and later sentenced to 3 years in pr1son for attempted murd3r. Three of Ned’s sisters received pr1son terms as well. A widowed mother was removed from her children. The farm was left vulnerable, and the message to the district was unmistakable.
Cross the police, and your entire family could pay for it. Now, the conflict was no longer about small thefts or petty charges. It was war. Ned and his younger brother Dan disappeared into the bush. They were soon joined by two friends, Joe Byrne and Steve Hart. The four young men began living rough, moving through the dense forest country north of Mansfield.
Police were under pressure to bring them in. In October of 1878, a search party of four officers tracked the gang to a remote campsite near Stringybark Creek. What happened next still splits historians. The police claimed they approached cautiously and were 4mbushed without warning. The Kelly gang later claimed they had no intention of k1lling anyone.
According to Ned, the officers surprised them. A stru.ggle followed, sh0ts were fired. When it was all over, three policemen were de@d. Const4bles Thomas Lonigan and Michael Scanlan were k1lled in the first exchange. Sergeant Michael Kennedy was sh0t and k1lled while attempting to escape through the bush. The fourth officer, Const4ble Thomas McIntyre, survived and carried the official version back to authorities.
Three de@d policemen changed everything. This was no longer a dispute over warrants or alleged hara.ssment. This was murd3r. The colonial government responded swiftly. Rewards were issues. Informants were encouraged. Sympathy for the Kelly family became d4ngerous. Under the Felons Apprehension Act of 1878, Ned Kelly and his gang were declared outlaws.
That meant any citizen could legally shoot them on sight. No trial or surrender was required. The empire had spoken. And now Ned Kelly was not just running from the law. He was running from everyone. In February of 1879, the gang rode into Jerilderie and executed a carefully planned takeover. They captured two local policemen, locked them in their own cell, cut telegraph lines, and confined the townspeople inside the Royal Hotel to prevent interference.
Then they robbed the Bank of New South Wales. During the takeover, Ned dictated what became known as the Jerilderie Letter, a 7,000 plus word manifesto defending his actions and condemning police corruption. He accused officers of hara.ssment, brut4lity, and fabricating charges. He framed the Stringybark k1llings as self defense.
He invoked Irish suffering under British rule and cast his stru.ggle as resistance to oppression. The letter was never widely published at the time. Authorities suppressed it. But the document survived. Today, it reads less like a confession and more like a declaration of grievance. When the robbery was complete and the message delivered, the gang released their captives and disappeared back into the forests of northeastern Victoria.
But the Jerilderie incident did not weaken the government’s resolve. It hardened it. Rewards increased. Informants multiplied. Police patrols intensified. The gang could rob banks, but they could not outrun the entire colony forever. Eventually, there would be a confrontation. And when that moment came, it would not be a brief exchange of g.unfire in the bush.
It would be a siege. So, they began preparing for that future. Hidden in remote clearings and bush hideouts, they started forging armor using stolen plowshares and farm equipment. They heated and hammered thick iron into crude body plates. Each suit covered the torso, shoulders, and head. The helmet was cylindrical with narrow eye slits.
The metal was thick enough to deflect handg.un rounds at a distance. Each suit weighed roughly 90 lb. They were not elegant, but meant for one purpose. To walk into g.unfire and survive. The plan forming in Ned’s mind was bold. Lure a police train to a rural town, derail it, take hostages, force negotiation, spark uprising among poor farmers who felt abused by colonial authority.
And in June of 1880, he put his plan into motion. Ned Kelly and his gang rode into the small town of Glenrowan and took over the local inn. They cut telegraph lines and held roughly 60 residents hostage. They even tore up sections of railway track, but one hostage slipped away under the cover of darkness and warned authorities.
The train slowed and did not derail. Just before midnight on June 27th, police surrounded the Glenrowan Inn. More than 30 officers took position in the darkness, rifles trained on the building. Inside were not only the Kelly gang, but dozens of hostages, including children. Gunfire erupted shortly after. Bullets tore through the timber walls.
Windows shattered. Smoke thickened. Inside, the hostages dropped to the floor as sh0ts cracked overhead. Amid the cha0s, Joe Byrne was sh0t through a gap in his armor and was mortally wounded and d1ed. As the siege stretched into the early morning hours, Ned Kelly reportedly ordered many of the hostages to lie flat and when possible to leave the building.
Several slipped out during lulls in the shooting. By dawn most civilians had escaped or been released, though some were wounded in the crossfire. One local man, Martin Cherry, would later d1e from g.unsh0t wound sustained during the siege. At some point before first light, while police concentrated on the front of the inn, Ned Kelly slipped out of the back.
He was wearing his armor. Nearly 90 lb of forged iron covered his chest, back, shoulders, and head. But his arms and legs were bare. The helmet’s narrow slit limited his vision but shielded his face. Moving through darkness and scrub, he circled behind the police line. Then he stepped forward and @ttacked. Officers saw a metal figure advancing out of the morning haze.
They fired instinctively at his chest. Bullets struck iron and glanced away. The figure kept coming. For a moment, the armor worked exactly as intended. Then someone aimed lower. Shots tore into his exposed legs. He staggered but continued firing. More rounds struck his thighs and knees. Finally, he collapsed.
When police reached him, they found him alive, bleeding heavily but conscious. The siege did not end immediately. Dan Kelly, and Hart, remained inside the inn. By mid morning, police set the building ablaze. When the fire burned down, both men were found with g.unsh0t wounds, de@d inside. It was over. Three gang members de@d, one captured, civilians shaken, but largely alive.
The iron suit that had defied bull3ts lay dented in the dirt. Ned Kelly was taken to Melbourne in chains and placed on trial for the murd3r of Const4ble Thomas Lonigan. The outcome was never really in doubt. Three policemen were de@d. The colony had been embarra.ssed. The siege at Glenrowan had turned the outlaw into a spectacle.
Authorities were determined to rea.ssert control. The trial moved quickly. Kelly attempted to defend himself. He claimed persecution. He insisted that the Stringy Bark Creek k1lling were acts of defense, not murd3r. The court was unmoved. He was found guilty. The sentence was de4th by hanging. When the judge pronounced it, he reportedly said, “May God have mercy on your soul.
” In which Kelly replied, “I’ll see you there when I go.” On November 11th, 1880, at the old Melbourne Gaol, Ned Kelly was executed at the age of 25. That could have been the end of the story, but it wasn’t. Within years, ballads were written about Ned Kelly. Stories spread. Painters and writers reimagined him. To some, he was a murd3rer who sh0t police officers in cold bl00d.
To others, he was like an Australian Robin Hood. The son of Irish immigrants who refused to bow down to a corrupt colonial system. His armor survived. It sits today as one of the most recognizable artifacts in Australian history. A crude iron suit forged in defiance. So, what was Ned Kelly? A vi0lent criminal who escalated every conflict? A hero or a product of a young colony still deciding who justice belonged to? Let us know your thoughts about Ned Kelly in the comments below.
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