The Devil's Garden (24 page)

ABC television journalist and producer Wendy Page has been producing stories in WA since
Australian Story
's inception in 1996. Although not her exclusive patch, her interest in justice issues in the West started with a story she produced in July 1998 about Tony Cooke, son of serial killer Eric Edgar Cooke. One story led to another; over the following years, her interest remained aroused with the number of overturned convictions and cases she believed were brought to trial on the flimsiest of circumstantial evidence and seriously flawed police investigations.

In February 2004 Page, who won the prestigious Walkley Award for her insightful and poignant programs on the Cooke story, aired a program on the Claremont killings. Entitled 'He Who Waits', it was a no-holds-barred exposé of the girls' families' grief, their opinion of how the investigation was handled and alternative ways of examining the evidence. If ever the WA Police Service was under the pump it was here, on national television, when opinions were aired that the investigation needed to be ramped up and that it was highly likely that more than three girls had fallen victim to the Claremont killer. While the program received extremely positive feedback from the public, the WA police were less than enthusiastic. Page and her team, they said, were afforded a lot of time but, despite that, a great deal of what they told Page ended up on the cutting-room floor.

'I had contacted
Australian Story
through their Brisbane office,' Paul Coombes says, 'and was put onto Wendy Page. My idea was to do a program on the Spiers family, to air their grief and to see if we could get some positive feedback about the Claremont girls from the public. But instead the program, to our disappointment, was used as a free kick against the police. Almost none of the interviews I had organised for Wendy ended up on air. It was very disappointing.' It is not an argument with which Page agrees. The story, she says was poignant, sensitive and fair. The police were given an opportunity to speak and did so. In a half-hour show, she argues, the challenge is to fit in all points of view. Some just did not fit the Macro line. Others did, providing police with a prime opportunity to show what they were searching for.

'I think one of the very tangible ways that this crime could be solved is in the tracing of the particularly significant items of jewellery that are missing in relation to this case,' Caporn told the program. Anthony Lee showed replicas of the clothing worn by the girls the night they disappeared. 'Starting with Sarah's clothing, and in particular we'd like to locate a key ring, a sunflower key ring. Most notable with Jane's clothing and property is the small bag. And with Ciara's clothing, the most notable is a small brooch.'

Despite this, it is this program that police claim changed the parameters of their relationship with the media, a reason Page – who would later do an
Australian Story
segment on Andrew Mallard and a three-part special on the so-called Walsham Three, boys now serving time for a murder many believe they did not commit and which was, they claim, accidental death – also does not buy. But Robin Napper, who ventilated his opinion on the program that an independent review should be undertaken, finally got his wish. The day after 'He Who Waits' aired, police announced that just such a review would take place. Review number 11. Napper was not invited to join it.

'Look,' he says, 'I offered to help in the meeting I had with the assistant commissioner and the following year some members of the International Homicide and Investigators Association – of which I'm also a member – came over to Perth and also put their hand up to help, free of charge. That offer was also rejected. Why? Who knows? But I wasn't about to offer help again if all I got in return was a door slammed in my face.'

With no trace of embarrassment that the announcement of the review so quickly followed 'He Who Waits', Assistant Commissioner Ian Johnson made it clear to ABC radio that the investigation was about Sarah, Jane and Ciara. 'If these people can get together as a team and come up with some new lines of inquiry or validate what we've done, then that's what we're here about.' Johnson defended the officers who worked on the Macro taskforce as being dogged by the desire to bring a resolution to the case. 'We don't have a closed mind, we've never had a closed mind on Macro,' he said. 'All we want to do is solve the bloody thing.'

The fallout from the program was enormous. Napper's criticism of the way Western Australian police handled the Claremont investigation and his suggestions for how to improve their work are met with outright hostility from within the force. They fight fire with fire.

Police invite journalist Luke Morfesse to look up a report by the NSW Police Integrity Commission, known as Operation Malta. They also suggest Luke take a closer look at a review into the 1998 investigation of Wagga Wagga triple murderer, Matthew James Harris. Morfesse followed the suggestion and duly reported in the newspaper what he found. If police had hoped to publicly embarrass Napper from the story, it worked. It also soured Morfesse's previously cordial, professional relationship with Napper. 'The next time I saw him, at the university where a few journalists had gone for a story, he pulled me aside and said the article I had written was professionally damaging for him,' Morfesse recalls. 'Other journalists were pumping up his tyres but, as much as we sometimes like to, unfortunately we can't decide not to run a story just because it may offend someone. We constantly run the risk of losing contacts because of that, but we have to tell it like it is. So I ran the report.'

In 1998 Matthew Harris was charged with strangling to death three people in the space of 35 days. Napper was approached by NSW Police Comissioner Peter Ryan to take a fresh look at the triple killings. Ryan had raised concerns that some of the information surrounding the case was incorrect and approached Napper because of his experience with cold-case reviews in the United Kingdom. Putting his concerns in writing to Ryan, Napper suggested two of the murder charges against Harris be revised. This was despite Harris' own admissions, during a police record of interview, that to murder, keep murdering and to get away with it was an achievement. 'I'd still be going if I hadn't been caught,' he boasted. On the strength of Napper's recommendations a new investigation, codenamed Operation Novassa, was initiated. It drew blanks and the charges against Harris stood. Pleading guilty, he was imprisoned for life with no parole. 'When
The West Australian
asked Mr Napper if he had recommended that the charges be dropped,' Morfesse wrote, 'Napper said: "On the material that was made available to me, that's correct." Later, Mr Napper said that he had only suggested that the charges be referred back to the DPP. But a source close to Operation Novassa . . . claims he clearly sought to have the charges against Harris dropped.' Morfesse didn't stop there. Writing that Napper had denied that his work on the Harris case could be called a review, he added that 'the NSW Police Integrity Commission report on Operation Malta clearly states: "Ryan requested that Napper and (fellow seconded officer) Seddon review the investigation . . ." '

Why has Napper been overlooked by the West Australian police? His work was fundamental in solving the horrific rape case of a 91-year-old virgin in Wee Waa, NSW, on New Year's Day, 1999. Implementing mass DNA testing, the prime suspect cracked under the pressure while waiting for the results from his mouth swabs to come back from the lab. The result did not surprise Napper, but the DNA testing almost didn't take place. The plan was initially met with outright hostility and opposition by the NSW Assistant Commissioner Clive Small, who had commanded the Ivan Milat backpacker murders. Small told Napper that that type of technology 'would not work in the scrub'. The bad blood between Small and Napper was spectacularly aired at the Police Integrity Commission (PIC) hearing, when Small described Napper as an 'outright liar' who appeared disconnected from the real world. His attack was savage. 'In my view, Mr Napper was a well-trained and highly polished second-hand car salesman and an operationally incompetent officer,' he continued. Small did, however, make one concession, acknowledging that Napper had done an 'excellent job' of selling DNA testing. In retaliation to Small's less than flattering assessment of his work, Napper sniped to
The West Australian
that Small was 'the most un-forensically directed head of a crime organisation' that he had ever come across.

Napper's critics also point to his boast that the UK DNA database has 'hundreds of hits per month' as being a little off the mark. In reality, they claim, many of these 'hits' are for crimes that have already been solved, such as a confession that had already been made. Napper also, they say, ignores the difficulties experienced by the UK program, including the huge numbers of UK police who point-blank refused to provide their own DNA for elimination purposes, lest it could be used in paternity suits, or the furore that evolved when it was found that the UK Forensic Science Service had illegally stored the DNA profiles of thousands of innocent people.

It was one of the more sensational scandals in Western Australian history, one that saw police pitted against police, with allegations of corruption, sexual abuse and preferential star treatment and, when it finished, it was a scandal that left more questions than answers. At its heart was Deputy Police Commissioner Bruce Brennan, who had overall operational command of the police force, Superintendent Dave Caporn and Inspector John Brandham. It also pivoted on a woman codenamed at the subsequent Kennedy Royal Commission as Q1 and a legendary sports star who would come to be known as Q2.

In 1998, months before a review of the Child Abuse Unit showcased serious deficiencies in the system, a woman in her 40s complained to the unit that for years, from the age of 13, she had been systematically sexually abused by the sporting hero. Taking the distressed woman's statement was Detective-Constable Cristina Italiano. In light of Brennan's perceived friendly association with Q2, in August, Detective Senior-Sergeant Mick Miller briefed Caporn and Brennan about the investigation.

By October 1998, Caporn was reviewing the file. The following month, he advised Brandham that there was insufficient corroborative evidence against the suspect to proceed. But this did not change Caporn's belief, proven in a document later tendered to the Royal Commission, that Q1 was telling the truth about her claim of sexual abuse.

In the explosive atmosphere that had been generated by Operation Cathedral, an inquiry into international paedophile rings which involved more than 100 search warrants being executed in no less than 13 countries, Caporn described it as a 'judgment call' as to whether this case was the Child Abuse Unit's most important one.

With the fallout from the allegations and counter-allegations becoming a lethal time bomb, Brennan steadfastly denied a friendship with the sporting legend. Despite this, over the next few months, Brennan met or telephoned the sports star five times.

On 10 November 1998, Caporn instructed Italiano that, regardless of whether the suspect confessed, he was to be released without charge so that Caporn could reassess the evidence. A week later, when Italiano and another officer surprised Q2 at his home early in the morning she was surprised when he invited them to come in. 'I've been expecting you,' she recalls him saying – a comment Q2 would later deny.

Taken down to the station, Q2 was not charged. The inference in Italiano's statement was undeniable. If the sports star had knowledge of their impending arrival, it was reasonable to believe he could have been tipped off about the visit. Shortly after the November interview, Brennan and Q2 went bike riding together around the Swan River. The investigation, they would later say, was not discussed. By December 1998, Brennan wrote a letter supporting Q2's application for a youth grant.

Distressed at what she regarded as senior police interference in the inquiry, Italiano had originally taken her complaint to Anti-Corruption Commission investigator Paul Lines, who warned her that she should 'watch her back'. Caporn, Italiano later told the ACC, had told her to terminate the interview and issued an order that even if the suspect had confessed, he must not be charged. This was, in her opinion, corrupt. ACC chairman Terry O'Connor QC did not agree, insisting that there was nothing improper in Caporn's instructions. Italiano's complaint, and that made by the woman at the centre of the allegations, were dismissed by the ACC, as was the allegation that Brennan was a friend of the sports hero. The officer in charge of the unit stopped the interview with the former footballer, he said, because the man's lawyer wished to be present.

When the matter reached the Kennedy Royal Commission in 2002, with a brief to investigate whether Brennan and Caporn had interfered in the case prior to the termination of Q2's interview, the former officer in charge of the abuse unit, Detective Senior-Sergeant Mick Miller, said he had never seen a case handled as this had been. It was, he said, tantamount to 'death by memo' from senior officers – 37 memos that just kept coming. Both Caporn and Brennan defended the allegations made by the four detectives originally involved in the case. Brennan, who described his friendship with Q2 as 'professional', denied any interference. Caporn – at the time of the allegations head of Macro as well as the Personal Crime Division, which included homicides and sexual abuse – suggested that the idea was nothing more than a conspiracy theory in the minds of the alleged female victim and Italiano and that suggestions of a corporate cover-up were baseless. His involvement came about because the case had not been handled at all well by the junior officers.

'I did nothing more than my job,' he declared resolutely. 'There is no whitewash here. I sit here with absolute confidence that any reasonable thinking person who examines all of the material on this could not come to this conclusion.' Brandham, who had been handed responsibility for the Child Abuse Unit in September 1998, said some junior detectives would not accept that there simply was insufficient evidence to charge the suspect and that he was in full support of the review undertaken by Caporn.

The outcomes left a rancid taste in Italiano's mouth. In a letter to the Royal Commission she said she requested and received a transfer. 'It got me out of Curtin House, which was where Mr Caporn was working from,' she wrote. She was, she added, still not satisfied that there was no interference in the investigation.

An editorial in
The West Australian
was also scathing. Why, it asked, was Q1 never interviewed by the ACC? Why did the Royal Commission not delve into claims that Caporn had told a child abuse detective that he would have lost his job if Q2's arrest had gone through? Why, of all the cases investigated by the child abuse unit, was this the only one that had the imprimatur of senior officers? '. . . Here is a case where four serving detectives have clearly stepped outside the so-called blue wall of silence to name their own and have been stopped in their tracks. It is safe to say that nowhere is the Australian tradition of not dobbing as strong as it is in the force. More importantly, why would they risk their careers and hard-won reputations by accusing Superintendent David Caporn and other senior police of improper conduct if there was nothing in it . . .?'

The 'State of Excitement' as WA is called has another side, a darker side not mentioned in the postcards. As the gateway to Asia, its untamed, unwatched coastline is the perfect door through which to import hard drugs and its massive, remote cattle stations are ideal for growing marijuana crops. Where there is money in drugs, there are major organised crime syndicates. And where there are crime syndicates, there is corruption. It was the brief of the Kennedy Royal Commission to discover the extent of the police corruption in WA.

It opened in an explosive fashion, with the hearings of the so-called 'Kalgoorlie Six' detectives, alleged to be involved in morphine deals and high-level subterfuge. By the time the commission opened, two of the six had been sacked and two had resigned. It would continue over the next 18 months, dragging from one allegation of corruption to the next and cost a staggering $28 million. The inquiry would pit cop against cop and elicit this warning to corrupt police from John Quigley, their former saviour. 'They're not going to look after you, fellas! From here on it's every man for himself.'

Hot on the heels of the
Australian Story
exposé, on 2 March 2004 Royal Commissioner Geoffrey Kennedy delivered his much-anticipated findings into the West Australian Police Service. While some of former Commissioner Bob Falconer's Delta reforms, which saw the rationalisation or abolition of some branches within the service, were commended, overall the report was blistering in its criticisms. Spanning 1000 pages, Kennedy shone the spotlight on what he perceived as significant, sustained conduct by more than 50 past and present police officers that was both corrupt and criminal. Police culture and poor management, he found, had allowed the corruption to flourish. Officers had been involved in drug dealing, fabrication of evidence, assaults and burglaries. The force was insular and riven by different factions. In short, he found, this service was the most mediocre in the country. The final report of the Royal Commission concluded that, '...[The West Australian Police Service] has been ineffective in monitoring those events and modifying its procedures to deal with that conduct and to prevent its repetition ...The fact that there remain in WAPS a number of officers who participated in this conduct, and who not only refused to admit it but also uniformly denied it with vehemence, is a matter of concern.'

Kennedy, who did not make a ruling on whether an officer was innocent or guilty was circumspect, warning that the age of the allegations would ensure that they would be difficult to prove and that, as a result, many officers would not be prosecuted. That decision would be left to the Corruption and Crime Commission, the police commissioner and the DPP. Kennedy did not mince words. Recommended in the clean-up was the appointment of a new police commissioner, two deputies and an executive director who was not serving in the force.

Former Premier Geoff Gallop described the findings as revealing a totally unacceptable situation. 'We set this report up to tell us the truth... the truth carries a very, very significant message and I think what we've got to do is respond to that message,' he told the media. But his views weren't shared by Falconer, who was cautious in his assessment of the report. 'The people who put this report together I think have underdone the achievements and the good work of a whole host of honest police who thank goodness are the majority,' he told Perth's ABC Morning program. Outgoing Commissioner Barry Matthews was aggrieved. The Royal Commission, he griped, was a political decision. But the challenge now was to find a new broom to sweep the force clean. A new commissioner.

He was in their own backyard – Karl O'Callaghan, then acting deputy commissioner. This time the government would ensure the top job went to an officer from within Western Australia's own police ranks.

Forty-seven years old, O'Callaghan – the first WA police commissioner to boast a PhD and the youngest ever appointed to the position – joined the service in Western Australia at 17. One of his first priorities is to put in place the recommendations of the royal commission – and to choose an executive team. In line with addressing the findings of the Kennedy commission, O'Callaghan looks to driving the police forward with a new philosophy: sending the right person to the right place at the right time to do the right thing. He introduces the 'Front Line First' policy and an organisational name change. From now on, the force will be known as Western Australia Police. O'Callaghan is also not adverse to courting the press. Journalists speak of enjoying curry nights with the commissioner, who is a known raconteur with a broad range of interests, from playing guitar to enjoying his home indoor theatre.

Margaret Dodd is not interested in his extracurricular activities. Within a short time of his taking office, O'Callaghan becomes the recipient of her letter-writing campaign.

Firstly please except [sic] my congratulations on the appointment of your new position; I look forward to the possible changes to improve our police ...I ask that the same level of commitment that has been afforded to operation 'Macro' be also afforded to operation 'Bluegum'. A blind man could see the huge difference in resources used in the Claremont case and that of the Hayley Dodd case. An explanation was once given to me by the Police Minister as to why this was the case. 'The business community was outraged that this should happen to one of their own.' Well WA is not made up of business people alone and any decent person would be outraged that these sorts of crimes can be committed against anyone at all, no matter what their social standing was . . .

Continuing a blistering attack on how she regarded the way police had treated the case, she concluded that she wanted an independent review of every detail of Hayley's case. A return letter from the commissioner, dated 24 November 2004 assured Margaret that two internal reviews of Hayley's case had been conducted in May and October 2002 and that the findings were that the police response was both 'appropriate and timely'. The Macro review panel had also, he wrote, been given details of Hayley's case. Margaret fired a letter back.

In five years, she wrote, she had received just one letter from former Commissioner Matthews regarding Hayley. Where was the substantial number of police O'Callaghan claimed had been involved in the first critical 48 hours after her disappearance? Her recollection of the Major Crime Unit was not of a professionally managed team but of one that was inconsistent, frustrated at the lack of resources provided and lacking in either compassion or understanding. Finally, she concluded, '. . . on reading this communication [my family] found it to be constructed in a fashion that is repulsive and bombastic, in fact, it was the most repulsive and bombastic peace [sic] of literature we have ever had the misfortune of reading, it lacked any human emotion, understanding or compassion. And we find it abhorrent that such a letter could be constructed by someone so highly educated.'

Within weeks, Margaret receives lengthy letters from Dave Caporn, trying to placate her. It doesn't work.