How bank robber's son broke cycle of crime and chaos to become a CEO

In a regional Victorian courtroom that day, Norris already knew he was on a slippery slope.

As the youngest son of convicted felon Clarence "Clarry" Norris, he had to make the gutwrenching decision to cut ties with his beloved father, who was in and out of jail and always on the run from police.

The next time his dad showed up, he couldn't go with him.

"I had to make a big, brave decision to not follow him," he said.

"Had I followed him that day, I've got no doubt that I would have been probably in jail or not alive.

"So as hard as it was and as heartbreaking as it still is, it was still the right decision."

Sitting in the lounge at Club Corowa, where he oversees 80 people in his job as chief executive, Norris is living proof of the power to shape your own destiny despite unimaginable odds.

When he was on the run with his dad and two sisters, he turned to theft to raise money for his family.

Every time his dad was jailed for robbing banks, Norris suffered physically, mentally and emotionally after the child protection system and even the church failed him myriad times.

Raised by a foster family for the first time from the age of 18 months when his parents split, he felt like he never belonged.

His early foster care experiences were traumatic, but later state protection proved even more brutal.

"I stopped trusting the decisions of adults, and particularly, the state of Victoria, which was empowered to look after me as my legal guardian," Norris said.

"They made some really poor decisions on my behalf, which was why I ended up on the streets and homeless."

After hearing the Shepparton judge and landing in a soft place with a kind foster family at Kyabram in the Goulburn Valley, Norris knew what he had to do.

To this day, he said it was the toughest decision of his life.

"Dad had escaped jail so many times before and come back and found me," he said.

"On that day, it was really no different for him; he was ready to go on the run again.

"And I just looked at him and we were both crying, and I just said to him: 'I can't. I want better for myself'."

Now living at Corowa and a dad to daughters aged 13 and 20, Norris was a foster carer himself these days.

He offered respite care on weekends to vulnerable kids in the system.

"Having those lived experiences, I know the important thing is just safety, being able to go to sleep feeling safe; we kind of underestimate that," he said.

"A bedtime story, routine, having someone to tell you to brush your teeth is actually really important.

"Structure is really important, with affection; a little hug here and there, just that feeling of love and support and kindness.

"Those fleeting moments of kindness I was shown by individuals have had such a massive impact on my life."

At 11 and tall for his age, Norris got a job at a Kmart store in Western Australia, where his dad had assured the manager that his son was 15.

When the police eventually detained both father and son, the latter in the store where he had been promoted to oversee four sections, the company boss slipped him a note, which read: "You'll become a great leader one day!"

Wrestling with the idea of getting his story down for the past decade, Norris said his new memoir, The Bank Robber's Boy, turned out to be a cathartic process.

He worked on it for two years, writing 400 words a night.

"Just sitting alone with my keyboard and writing, even those things I'd forgotten just kind of popped up or resurfaced," Norris said.

"I spent many a night with tears hitting my keyboard, which was probably why 300 or 400 words a night was my limit."

Sharing memories with his eldest brother to fill gaps in his knowledge about their turbulent upbringing, Norris said he went to painstaking lengths to not glorify his dad's life of crime despite loving him fiercely.

He never saw his dad again after they went their separate ways; he died in custody from early-onset Alzheimer's disease.

"I'd give anything for another day with Dad," he said.

"I adored him as a father, but I was also really adamant that I just didn't want to become him, as much as I loved him.

"A lot of people have asked me how I have managed to turn my life around and not become part of the family business, essentially.

"But every time I saw an act of violence or heard a story, for me, that just solidified more and more that that's not what I wanted to become.

"I don't understand why that worked that way for me; a lot of people who have been through those things don't break the cycle."

Sadly, Norris said his brother had followed in his dad's shadowy footsteps.

Like their father, he was charismatic and a loving family man.

"Determination and courage are massive to break the cycle," Norris said.

"But clearly, there is a lot of luck, potentially, and hope.

"For those months that I was in Baltara Reception Centre [Victorian interim accommodation for boys aged 10 to 14 and a remand centre until 1992], where I had horrible things going on around me and to me, I was still able to see a flicker of light in the darkness.

"It was a decision that things can't really get worse than this, so there's better coming.

"A great example of this was when the other inmates broke out of Baltara, and I didn't go; I just wanted to wait to get back to my family. So those sorts of mature moments where I made adult decisions."

Having never shared his story before penning the book, Norris said he had overwhelmingly positive feedback from readers and, in particular, the club's staff.

Never one to raise his voice, the team now better understood his ability to remain calm in chaos.

"Perspective is really important," Norris said.

"I also have the ability to be a bit of a chameleon; I'm just as happy sitting next to a homeless person in the street, having a chat as I am with a multi-billion dollar corporation.

"I'm sort of comfortable wherever I am and with whoever I am."

Now a motivational speaker for corporate groups and doing book tours on top of his day job, Norris said exercise was his salve.

Having been a runner since childhood, he now spends most of his downtime at the gym.

He also coached his youngest daughter's Aussie rules team this year.

"It's just about giving a little bit back to the football community," he said.

"It's been a juggle with the book, but the messages I've been getting about it have been incredible.

"People are saying to me: 'I've made some really poor decisions in life recently, and this book has given me the bravery to start making better choices'.

"That's really what I wanted to get through in the story."

With four print runs since March and the audiobook coming out in November, negotiations are already under way to turn the story into a television series.

Among an excellent line-up of authors, Norris will also appear at Mount Beauty Writers Festival, which runs on Saturday, October 18.

For a full program, go to: mountbeautywritersfestival.com