Perfect Victim (42 page)

I contacted the Office of Public Prosecutions saying that even if only our own Victim Impact Statements could be read I would be happy.

It felt as though I was fighting a new battle now, a battle against our own team. But it was pointed out to us by an American friend of my father and stepmother, who was a forensic psychologist, that if my reason for wanting the VIS to be read out in court was for Caroline to hear and digest its contents, then it simply would not happen. She would tune out or even disrupt the proceedings in the court, and the judge probably would not consider this favourably. I could not believe we were changing our minds. Again – for the security of the trial.

Prosecutor Jeremy Rapke, QC, offered to see us in his rooms on the day of sentencing before the procedure began. He told us that having the VIS read out was not usual and strongly, but caringly, advised against it. He was a lovely man. However, if we insisted, he said he could make the request to the judge and had also taken the liberty of informing the defence counsel it was a possibility. But we found ourselves agreeing it would not be in the best interests of sentencing proceedings.

I recall the defence QC referring to our Victim Impact Statement as a remarkable document and, looking back over this document, there are a number of issues I wish to share now.

Mike and I never believed in capital punishment and still don’t. No amount of tears (and there will continue to be many) or revenge can ever bring our beautiful girl back. She has proudly left her mark on those who knew her. She will always be remembered with love.

Capital punishment is too easy. If someone has committed such a heinous crime as this they need to be made accountable for it in
this
life. Caroline not only broke the law of God, she broke the law of the State.

As a result of this tragedy our family was shattered beyond belief, and even though we try so hard to repair ourselves there is always some memory tearing at a repaired seam. My fear is, what will happen when we have stitched so many times that the seam can no longer be repaired?

We were once a very ordinary family and now our family has ceased to trust. We taught our children trustfulness and respect, and to be understanding of others. Yet sadly we now feel this willingness to have faith in people cost our daughter her life. No parents can protect their children from so evil a crime.

Rachel must have suffered both mentally and physically, and will never be in a position to share this abominable horror. Someone has had to be her scribe. Someone has had to try to tell her story, and our story. Megan and I have endeavoured to do this. After Rachel’s murder nothing was going to bring her back, but Rachel had always wanted to make a positive impact on the world. She wanted to be a dancer. She wanted to be a star. As Rachel’s mother, I hope the writing of this story will, in some way, do for Rachel what Caroline robbed her of. I hope her short life can have a positive impact on others – somehow.

Up to the time of sentencing we had not been made privy to the full evidence, as I have said, and were still greatly troubled by the many unanswered questions, some of which remain. On which day did our daughter die? At what time did our daughter die? What happened to our daughter’s jewellery, her shoes and her Humphrey Bear? And …
why
?

Our inability to understand the trauma Rachel suffered haunts us still. Was she taunted with the prospect of her death? What did her killer mean when she suggested meditation to Rachel, to help with ‘unpleasant things’? Did Rachel know, then, that she could not escape? All questions that unceasingly rock our being.

We understand that the defendant killed Rachel possibly because she was consumed with envy of her happy life. It is tragic that Caroline had never seen the Rachel who had not been happy. The Rachel who struggled academically at school, the Rachel who gave up dance at thirteen due to ill health and an over-disciplinary dance teacher. The Rachel who at fourteen told her father something we had known since she had left her dancing school: ‘I know why I am so
miserable
, it is because I am not dancing.’ And finally, the Rachel who decided to return to dance, but to musicals and contemporary dance because she was now afraid of her first love, classical ballet.

Although sometimes frustrating, as teenagers can be, Rachel was an exciting and fun girl. We allowed her to leave school at fifteen so that she could follow her dream and because we wanted her to be happy. Everyone talked of how beautiful she was but she had an inner beauty, an inner joy too. An ability to bring joy to others – though her sisters are the first to remind me that they did argue at times as well.

It is this that makes the crime so unbearable, even more evil and cruel from Rachel’s point of view because she had so much hope and promise for her future. She had struggled through school and with herself, but had always persisted. Rachel’s school friends remember how she was always going on about this. One friend in particular told us that Rachel would say, ‘It’s important to believe in yourself and follow your dreams.’

In taking Rachel’s life so cruelly Caroline stole Rachel’s dreams and hopes, and ours for our daughter. The most shocking aspect of this crime is that it was so carefully planned and carried out, with no conscience or consideration for the suffering it would cause our family, or her own.

Rachel was vibrant. We torture ourselves daily with the thought that someone so physically alive and spirited could have been wiped out so suddenly, so unexpectedly. Our deepest sorrow is for Rachel – not for ourselves – at the moment when she must have realised that she had been baited and caught.

We have been helpless in our grief because we were unable to say goodbye. And every time we visit her grave we are faced with the reminder of so many unknowns. In March 2002 we still wonder what date to put on her headstone. Police are confident she died on the night of the 1st, but should we put 1 March or 2 March 1999? If we were to ask her killer, could we believe her? I think we will take the advice of Rachel’s sister, Ashleigh-Rose, now fourteen, who feels we should put 1 March 1999 as it represents the day Rachel was lost to us.

We went through a period of isolation too, because even friends were afraid, and we found ourselves taking on their grief, their awkwardness, their attempts at saying the right thing.

One friend said after Rachel’s funeral, ‘Elizabeth, my mother said, let this be a warning never to let even teenagers out of your sight.’ I replied, ‘She was coming home from school, in daylight. How many children travel on buses, trams and trains daily, to and from school? We were not being irresponsible.’

Another friend said before the committal hearing, ‘Elizabeth, don’t blame yourself. All teenagers go through rebellious periods.’ I replied, ‘Only trouble is, Rachel was not going through a rebellious period.’

Both of our breathing beautiful children kept us focused as we struggled to support them through the traumatic time no child should ever have to experience. We are tempted to continue to teach them at home, as we did for the last school term of 2000, but we feel that this is not in their best interests. I know Heather would love it – but would she thank us for it later? If we fail to respond to the needs of Ashleigh-Rose and Heather, if we crumble, what good will we be as parents?

As I indicated earlier, Ashleigh-Rose and Heather did not know how their sister was murdered until December 1999, when we told them at the kitchen table, sitting with their counsellor. Ashleigh-Rose says of her counsellor, ‘Catherine is a great help. She is helping to show me how to release my anger by screaming into pillows, and screaming in the pool.’

Ashleigh-Rose is always angry about her sister’s death and is quite unforgiving. She wrote in her journal when she was twelve: ‘I miss you so much, Rachel. All I want to do is scream at every one I know. Inside I’m screaming for help but I just don’t know how to tell everyone how to give me that help, because I don’t know what type of help I need. I mean, I have counselling, and that is one type of help, but I feel closed in. Sometimes I don’t know
what
to do, like whether to just go to my room and listen to music or just think of all the good times we used to have, Rachel. And I’m grateful for the times we had together but Rachel, I only had you for eleven years, and I can only remember about six of them with you. I was too young to remember earlier. Mum and Dad had you for fifteen. Right this very moment I feel like crying but it won’t come so I hold it in. I know it’s bad to hold it in but sometimes you have to. I don’t like knowing that you are gone, Rachel, and knowing that the murderer of you is still alive …’

And after the sentencing, Ashleigh-Rose said at the Supreme Court: ‘She took my sister’s life. I hate her for that and will hate her for ever. I used to be the middle sister, now I am the oldest daughter in our family. I wasn’t supposed to be and it is all her fault. Our lives will never be the same now.’

Heather found it difficult to discuss Rachel with anyone, relating to her counsellor more as a friend with whom she can chat about school and other friends. We have encouraged this relationship, so she will know that her counsellor will be there for her when she needs her. Ashleigh-Rose noted that when anyone mentioned Rachel’s name, Heather would quietly remove herself from the room. So it surprised me how open Heather became to the press, and that she had spoken freely to one journalist: ‘After the sentence Heather Barber, ten, who bears a striking resemblance to Rachel, said she was still worried about Robertson but was glad she would serve at least another thirteen years in jail. “I was very worried, especially when I heard about it the first time,” said Heather, who plans to take up dance studies next year. “People say I’ve got the same actions as Rachel. I keep thinking about it [the killing].” ’

Heather, then aged ten, said in her Victim Impact Statement: ‘I feel very, very angry for what Caroline has done. I knew she was weird the first time I saw her. I loved Rachel because she was my sister. But I hate Caroline because she killed my loving sister Rachel. And I hate her for what she did. And I mean that. I think she is a, excuse my language, but a
bitch
, more than that which I won’t say. I really do hate Caroline, really I do.’

As their mother I was concerned with the degree of hate expressed by Rachel’s sisters, but having spoken to my counsellor and theirs, I realised it was important for them to express their grief as
they
experienced it.

The police believe that the girl who reported seeing Rachel on the tram, Alison Guberek, would still have been alerted to her disappearance by the media attention that was created on the Tuesday of the second week. But if we had given up and gone home on that first Thursday and not continued with our poster campaign, what then? If Alison had not come forward on the Monday night, would the press release still have gone out on the Tuesday? Would there still have been a gut feeling that urged the Missing Persons detectives on?

We felt compelled to continue our search for Rachel, whatever the cost. Michele said to me much later in regard to our Church Street escapade, ‘You remember our fear. We weren’t being irrational. No one else was helping. Our feelings were right.’

It is chilling to think that Caroline chose a perfect victim but it is even more chilling to think that this was also very nearly the perfect murder. I wonder how many children sleep on the streets at night because parents are advised to go home and seek special counselling, as we were by the local police. And I wonder how many of those children have been murdered, but were presumed to be runaways because the teenager just happened to fall into a high-risk group. Even if there was just one, like our Rachel, it leaves parents and police in a very difficult situation because there are no answers.

Rachel was dead that first night. Even if the local police attitude had been different in the first week, the outcome would still have remained. At the same time though, if sales staff in the retail industry treated customers the way we perceived ourselves to have been treated, many customers would be lost. Perhaps what I am referring to is courtesy.

But maybe the issue of understaffing and stress-related issues in the police force should not be ignored. Detective Chief Inspector Rod Collins said on the radio some months after Rachel’s murder (after having spent many police hours searching for another girl they believed had been abducted, only to discover she
had
indeed run off), ‘We’re damned if we do and we’re damned if we don’t.’ I think that sums up the impossible situation police in general find themselves in with regard to missing teenagers.

In telling our story I must emphasise that I have never been out for blood. It is Caroline Reed Robertson, formerly known as Caroline Reid, who killed Rachel. Nothing the police could have done would have ever altered that. The only thing that a swifter police reaction could have achieved would have been a lessening of our suffering in that period when Rachel was missing. The waiting game would not have been so appalling.

I discovered some long months after the murder of Rachel that a part of our trauma was misplaced anger. To be fair to the police, the highly unusual circumstances surrounding Rachel’s disappearance must have placed the local police in a no-win situation. But we found their apparent lack of concern hard to accept. Although with time and with counselling and further meetings with the local police in the presence of our psychologist, we came to approach the situation with some understanding.

So we acknowledge the burden for police, regarding missing persons, as an extremely onerous one, particularly with missing teenagers because they are the most likely to return. Is it any wonder some local police would prefer to delegate missing persons to a separate police department, with a staff of twenty? The catch cry: in an ideal world. Even in our non-ideal world, I personally feel the Missing Persons Unit should remain a separate department. During 1999, the Missing Persons Unit, with a staff of ten, was amalgamated with Homicide. If one rings the Missing Persons number one is greeted with the response, ‘Homicide Department’. Yet police still adamantly say Missing Persons is separate, but under the umbrella of the Homicide Department. Couldn’t it at least have its own telephone number?