The Devil's Garden (25 page)

Already struggling to breathe from the negative publicity surrounding the Mallard case, the Walsham Three case puts further pressure on the WA police. What started as a group of young people – Salvatore Fazzari, Jose Martinez, Carlos Pereiras and a juvenile – enjoying a night out on 27 February 1998 ended with convictions for murder and a verbal brawl between certain members of the media, police and judiciary. The case centres on the death of heavily intoxicated 21-year-old Phillip Walsham, who fell from a pedestrian footbridge over a freeway early in the same morning that Fazzari's group was out partying. What is not in contention is that the group, armed with tyre levers, had earlier attacked Walsham without provocation as he sat alone near a train station, cradling his head in his hands.

But this is where the story veers off. The jury, according to the boys' supporters, got it wrong. Horribly wrong. The girls in Fazzari's group, disgusted at the unprovoked attack, say Walsham was still sitting on the bench after the boys had left. The boys say they went to McDonald's. The police say they returned to the footbridge and either pushed or threw Walsham off of it.

Charged with assault in 1998, the boys thought that was the end of the story. But in 2001 Inspector Scott Higgins reviewed the case. Two years later, the matter was before State Coroner Alistair Hope, who decided Walsham had been beaten and then pushed or thrown off the bridge. The DPP agreed, and in March 2004 the four boys were each charged with wilful murder. Advocacy groups, the boys' families and journalists, including Bret Christian, took up the rallying cry.

Christian shakes his head. 'Look, if they did it, fine. But this case overlooks some basic facts. There are no witnesses to him being pushed or thrown and no forensic evidence that says the boys murdered Walsham. And some evidence is missing. Again.'

What is
not
missing is the crucial evidence of a witness who does not claim to have seen Walsham pushed but who says she saw Walsham backflip off the bridge and bounce onto the road. Just prior to that happening, she told the court, he had been surrounded by a group of men. As the men continue to fight to have their convictions overturned, the police and judiciary are equally adamant that they got it right the first time. This campaign to free the boys, Inspector Scott Higgins told
The Australian
, appeared to be predicated on the assumption that justice in WA is completely rotten. 'It is a symbiotic relationship because the defendants all want to get off, the journalists want a good story and maybe a book or prize and the lawyers want the publicity.'

But mistakes were made. Bad mistakes, including that the four men were charged before a medical report was released as to whether Phillip Walsham was pushed off the footbridge or drunkenly fell over. When they did come in, the results were inconclusive. Neither was there an investigation into whether Walsham was hit by a car after he landed on the road.

In March 2006, after a first trial resulted in a hung jury, the men were each convicted of either throwing or pushing Walsham to his death off the footbridge and are serving 10-year prison terms.

Tom Percy QC, defending the boys, says some of the cases that he has seen over the past 30 years support his contention that Western Australia police simply choose who they will prosecute and then run with it. It is a viewpoint that DPP Robert Cock vehemently rejects, as does Karl O'Callaghan. But O'Callaghan did not avoid the subject of some missing evidence. The system, he admits, needs to do better. Future exhibits need to be more carefully guarded and more carefully preserved.

In April 2004 – just months before a state election – WA Police Union President Mike Dean tells the press that it is faster to get a pizza delivered in Perth than it is to get police to attend to serious crimes. Caporn had vacated his position as head of Macro in late 1998, leaving for a promotion, and the taskforce has had several leaders since. In this atmosphere of discontent, the Macro taskforce is now under the steward-ship of nuggety Detective-Sergeant Martin Crane, who took over responsibility in October 2003 following Detective-Sergeant Anthony Lee's departure on transfer after a brief four-month tenure.

Crane is standing at Norma Williams's doorstep, flashing a search warrant. She groans.
Not again
. It is now seven years after Ciara was found murdered. When are they going to let up? Resigned to the intrusion, she lets them pass. It's a repeat performance of the first time: the house teeming with officers, drawers and cupboards turned out, the smallest item of interest scoured. In their home for hours, police give her a cursory nod when they have finished. She closes the front door, leans against it and draws a deep, unsteady breath.

Talk of justification for redress or compensation for 'persons of interest' or 'prime suspects' who have been publicly outed is summarily dismissed by Macro insiders. 'The taskforce,' Tony Potts tells me, 'always operated ethically and lawfully within the boundaries of propriety and morality. I do not consider there is any justification or avenue for Lance Williams or anyone else to cry otherwise.'

One of Barry Matthews's last hurrahs before he left office in June was to announce the team that would form the independent review into the Claremont killings. Unless, he said, positive lines of inquiry could be followed, then the taskforce would be disbanded. The decision caused a furore. The inquiry was, in police words, still 'on-going'. How could they collapse a taskforce that had achieved no results?

The review, Matthews announced, would be a 'big bang' to see if anything further could be done to successfully conclude the case. The team: Superintendent Paul Schramm, veteran of more than a hundred homicide investigations, including the biggest serial-killing case in Australian history, the chilling 'Bodies in the Barrels' murders in South Australia where 11 people were murdered, eight of whom were interred in barrels of acid. Hard-nosed NSW Detective-Inspector Russell Oxford, an experienced homicide investigator who had reviewed other serial-murder cases. Dr David Barclay, head of physical evidence at the National Crime and Operations Faculty in the United Kingdom. Malcolm Boots, a forensic expert with vast experience in reviewing homicides. Matthews does not name the fifth team member whom, it transpires, is former international policewoman of the year, Joy Kohout, who has 30 years experience in investigating sexual homicide.

The 'big bang' will start with raids on the property of a high-profile Perth citizen – former Claremont mayor Peter Weygers.

Tom Lawson, a colleague of Weygers, met him in 1999 and since then has become something of an apologist for both the man and his divisive character. In between bites of food at his favourite Indonesian restaurant in Northbridge, Lawson quotes a saying from Kentucky, where he grew up. 'There are them as swear by 'im, and them as swear at 'im.' A high-profile civil libertarian known for his outspoken ways, Weygers has upset many people in powerful places and it is this, coupled with other reasons, that Lawson believes made him a target as the Claremont serial killer. Warned by his lawyer, eminent QC Tom Percy, not to make any further comments in the press – including talking to me – Weygers is now forced into uncharacteristic silence. Lawson chuckles.

'Trust me, Peter finds being quiet harder than anything. Well, almost anything. In a small city like Perth, being a suspect in Claremont was an unmitigated nightmare, and one I believe that was a carefully orchestrated and politically motivated campaign against him. People run on the premise that where there is smoke there's fire, but the point is, who started the fire? He has powerful people against him.'

A former school psychologist in Perth primary schools, Weygers has outraged and ostracised many people with his strident and inflammatory viewpoints. Once his nettle is up, he is renowned for flooding newsrooms with his opinions, not letting up for months at a time. One such issue was the suicide of Penny Easton, which put him on a direct collision course with the government and with Carmen Lawrence, the first female premier of an Australian state.

In 1992, a petition was tabled in WA parliament by a Labor member alleging that Penny Easton – then embroiled in an ugly and protracted divorce settlement with her powerful public servant husband, Brian Easton – had perjured herself in the Family Court. The petition also alleged that then-MP Richard Court had leaked documents to Penny Easton to help her divorce case. The story may have been shelved as just another grubby political exercise but for one tragic fact: four days after the petition was aired, Penny Easton committed suicide. Her family laid the blame for her death squarely on the tabling of the petition and also made explosive claims that Lawrence had authorised it to damage her political rival, Richard Court.

The Easton affair seemed an old scandal when Keith Wilson, a now-retired minister in Lawrence's cabinet, agreed to reminisce about it with a journalist a few years later. While Lawrence had long denied any knowledge of the petition, Wilson insisted she was privy to discussions about it prior to it being tabled. What followed was a political stoush of Shakespearean proportions.

In February 1993 Richard Court won the premiership. In mid-1995 he established the Marks Royal Commission into the saga. In this, he had the full support and assistance of Peter Weygers, a close ally of Easton's mother, Barbara, who had pushed for her daughter's suicide not to be forgotten. Charged with three counts of perjury following the commission's adverse findings against her, at her trial Lawrence claimed loss of memory about the affair so often that the press endowed her with the title 'Lawrence of Amnesia'. Found not guilty, the fallout nonetheless did not help her political career. Viewpoints that Weygers expresses about notorious serial rapist Gary Narkle are not well received either and do little for his mayoral career.

In April 2004, when Narkle was freed on a technicality after his alleged 14th victim was too distressed to testify against him, Weygers supported him. Narkle, he said, should fear women more than they fear him. Comparing Narkle with soccer star David Beckham who, like Shane Warne, was in the limelight as much for sex scandals as sporting prowess, Weygers said the accused rapist is inevitably blamed when women voluntarily have sex with him and later regret it. 'He is a sensitive person; he is an artist,' he said. His statements attracted the ire of community groups, the Education Department and Attorney General Jim McGinty, who described the comments as bizarre and shallow.

'Weygers has that effect on people,' Lawson says. 'Some people think he walks on water, others that he should be taken out and shot.'

Premier Alan Carpenter, formerly the Minister for Education and Training, has been vocal in trying to have Weygers removed from the Education Department on charges of sexual harassment. One of the charges was from his immediate superior, a male, who said that Weygers looked him up and down and made him feel uncomfortable. Lawson scoffs at the concept of Weygers being in any way interested in men. 'He is heterosexual to the core,' he says. 'Men do not appeal to him.' But women do. 'Okay, he has sometimes been guilty of bumbling with women, perhaps saying inappropriate things,' Lawson admits. 'He loves women, but it is a bloody long stretch from that to being a serial killer.'

In his role as mayor, Weygers was highly visible. Everyone knew him. '
The West Australian
reported that he trawled the streets at night,' Lawson says. 'It's true; he did. It was called the Mayor's Walk, when he looked into dark corners to see if there was any trouble. We are not privy to the reasons why Macro named him as a "person of interest" but it could almost be funny. He's big and ruddy-faced with a shock of silvery hair. When the killings started he had been mayor for 11 years. Everyone knew him. If he had been skulking in the byways of Claremont waiting to murder beautiful young girls, you can be sure someone would have hailed him and said "Hi Peter! What are you doing out this time of night?" It's simply nonsense to claim that he could prowl the streets for innocent young girls without being noticed.'

Taxi driver Steven Ross, who had volunteered to police that Sarah Spiers was in his taxi the night before she disappeared, lives in a transportable behind a house owned by Weygers in suburban Embleton. He has known Weygers since the early 1990s when Weygers successfully acted on his behalf in a complaint matter laid against him by a passenger. In 2001 financial strife had forced Ross to sell the property he owned at Embleton, and Weygers bought it. Ross had hoped to stay in the house with Weygers but told the media, in his inimitable fashion, that he wasn't welcome. 'They didn't like my smell and reckoned I stunk the house out and they put me out the back. All I do is work and sleep. I eat the wrong food and fart a lot. They found out I was pissing in the esky instead of going to the toilet.'

With the tenth review of the Macro taskforce in the offing, on 25 August 2004, police issue a search warrant against Steven Clegg (Ross). It is specific, citing 'reasonable grounds' for suspicion: 'Clothing and jewellery belonging to Sarah Ellen Spiers, namely tailored Portman's beige shorts, light-coloured t-shirt, black denim jacket and beige suede shoes... and a yellow metal keyring in the shape of a sunflower. Clothing and jewellery belonging to Jane Louise Rimmer, namely blue denim Billabong jeans, long-sleeve dark-blue stretch top, short jacket in blue corduroy, elastic-sided black shoes and a small handbag with a long strap.' Ciara's belongings include the fun items she had bought in preparation for her sister's hens night. 'Clothing and jewellery belonging to Ciara Eilish Glennon, namely a black woollen Bracewell suit jacket, yellow metal circular Claddagh brooch, large black shoulder bag, black leather slip-on shoes, brown rimmed sunglasses, a little vibrating Softee vibrator and child dummy in the shape of a penis.'

The warrant also seeks documents and records relating to Spiers, Rimmer and Glennon and fibre, blood and soil samples.

In a highly public move, on 5 September 2004 plain-clothed police swoop on the house Weygers owns in Embleton where Ross lives out the back. It is, according to Lawson, a move akin to American wrestling – all choreographed hype and little substance. 'Plain-clothed police jumped over the back fence and scared the hell out of Weygers's tenant,' Lawson says. 'He thought it was a home invasion, with police roaring through doors and swarming all over the place. Weygers rang the local police station and the boys in uniform turned up. They had to tell them that the "thugs" were plain-clothed coppers. It seems the police joined the dots and decided on a huge show of force, with the press watching. But how did the press know about this raid? Did they suddenly develop telepathic powers?'

Asked how they got the information, journalists responded that neighbours had tipped them off. When Weygers checked the veracity of this story, the neighbours all denied it.

The Macro officers seize two vehicles. Accused of being the 'delivery man' for Peter Weygers during a police interview that lasts more than two hours, Ross is also forced to provide a DNA sample. After being brought a pie and a drink, taskforce officers ask him to sign a confession admitting that he had picked up all three girls in his taxi and had delivered them to Weygers's house. Ross baulked. 'I'm innocent,' he spluttered. 'I'm not signing nothing.'

In a lengthy, unsigned statement to the press, formulated in his lawyer's office, Ross details his claims that police had attempted to get him to make false admissions about Weygers the day before the raid on the civil libertarian's home. 'The police made derogatory remarks about Peter Weygers and implied that I was involved in a homosexual relationship with him,' he wrote. 'I denied that I was in a homosexual relationship with Peter Weygers and that he was not my boyfriend. The police alleged that Peter Weygers exerted an abnormal influence over me, which I denied. The police alleged that Peter Weygers gave me orders that I carried out, which I denied. The police then stated words to the effect that Peter Weygers "wanted" young girls.' Approached to make a comment, Crane refused.

'Weygers had cautioned Steven not to put his hand up and say that he had had Sarah in his taxi, but he did it anyway,' Lawson says. 'But instead of being thanked for the information, he got on the Macro taskforce database. That's one free list you don't want to be on. It's easy to get on the list, but bloody hard to get off.' Lawson says it appears that when police gave up on the theory that Weygers may be the killer, it was then they concocted the idea that he was the brains behind the outfit and that there was a 'catcher' involved: Steven Ross. 'When police raided Ross's house, Ross was driving the same car, a Falcon station wagon that he had been using as a taxi when the girls went missing. When the taxi registration ran out, Ross bought the car.'

Lawson looks incredulous when he recounts the theory about how Ross was embroiled in the investigation. 'The thought that this self-confessed grub could somehow entice the girls into his car and take them back to Weygers's house is astonishing. People who know Ross understand there is no way that this bloke in his late 40s could seduce those classy girls into his cab. To say he's not exactly a smooth talker is an understatement.' Told by police that the taxi booking readings on the computer were blank for the nights all three girls disappeared, Ross was refused permission to see the readings. Scared of what may happen, he then beseeched the press for help. 'Police are trying to frame me,' he said. 'If they can't find the killer they are going to put someone away. I want youse guys to protect me.'

A meticulous search of the Embleton house, including the use of Luminol which detects the presence of blood, produces nothing. Throughout most of the search Weygers's stepson cannot leave the property and Weygers, refused entry to the property, impotently watches proceedings from the gate. Soon after the raid, Weygers airs his grievances on ABC radio, denouncing the raid's objective to distract the public's attention from the real issues: the water, power, prison and crime crises, and the dysfunctional health and education systems.

Ten days later, Crane and his sidekick, Detective Cleal, call on Peter Weygers at his Education Department office, seeking a few words. Weygers is not expecting them. 'They just lobbed at his work, unannounced,' his then-solicitor Grant Milner says. 'Refusing to leave, he instead sent out his boss to convey to them the message that he was not coming outside.' Through Milner, Weygers agrees to meet them at his Claremont office. It is a highly inflammatory meeting, with Weygers invoking the spectre of high-profile miscarriages of justice cases in Western Australia. 'He gave the police a mouthful,' Milner laughs. 'Martin Crane is a tough little cookie who looks and acts like something out of
The Bill
, and he warned Weygers he didn't appreciate being spoken to in those terms. But Weygers looked after himself. I didn't need to say much at all.' When the situation calmed down, Milner advised Weygers of his rights regarding the taking of a DNA sample. 'The new law is such that if police require you to, they can insist on taking DNA,' he says. Weygers agreed to have it taken initially but then changed his mind. Milner recalls he asked Crane if they could do it in his presence. 'They didn't give an iron-clad commitment to that, but it was certainly my understanding that I would be there.'

Crane has other ideas. Calling Milner the next day, he tells the lawyer they are going to take Weygers' DNA their way. In a dramatic display of police power, in broad daylight, two unmarked police vehicles sandbag his vehicle at traffic lights. Weygers – extremely well known and with his distinctive appearance – is forced out of his car and his body is spread-eagled against it. Kicking his legs apart at the ankles, he is body searched and told that for the purposes of taking DNA, he is 'being arrested'. But not then, or in the hours that follow, is he
formally
told he is under arrest. Terrified, his girlfriend, Vicky, sits stunned in their car at the traffic lights as Weygers is ordered into the police vehicle and driven at breakneck speed to police headquarters. Detective Symonds sits in the rear of the police car with Weygers. On the way, Weygers alleges, Symonds abused and threatened him, ripping a magazine out of his hands. 'Don't you fucking read!' he yelled. 'Look at me!' Sick with laryngitis, Weygers says he tried to explain he was on his way to the doctor, but he was ignored.

Desperate for help, Vicky calls Tom Percy QC, who advises her to follow Weygers to CIB headquarters. According to Weygers, he is locked in a room and a video camera turns on without his knowledge. With Grant Milner and two Macro taskforce detectives in the room, he is advised that police have an order to take his DNA. On the advice of barrister Ross Williamson, he tells Crane and Cleal that he would happily volunteer a sample of DNA if they tell him why they want it. They refuse to give a reason and tell him they will get a court order and return.

Demanding to see the warrant that shows 'reasonable cause' for taking his DNA, Weygers is shown an internal police memo that they tell him sets out their rights. No memo is attached to the paper. 'I am not going to give you my DNA with consent,' an increasingly belligerent Weygers tells Crane. 'This is body banditry. I will give it to you voluntarily if you show reasonable grounds.'

After hairs are extracted from his arm, Weygers hears a voice he thought was Crane's call out 'Camera off!' from an adjacent room. Moving to leave, he is stopped by two detectives. 'You're not going anywhere yet!' Symonds shouts. After a few minutes, Crane appears in the room. 'We have a search warrant for your Claremont property,' he tells Weygers. 'We're going there.'

Assigned an escort, Weygers is taken out of the building and back to Claremont. Waiting outside the house is a lone reporter, but within minutes the numbers have swelled to represent all media organisations in Perth.