The Devil's Garden Page 3

  The Birnies had planned to abduct and rape girls a year before they took their first victim, 22-year-old Mary Neilson. The student had ventured to the Birnies' house to buy tyres; instead, she was forced to submit to a brutal rape, which Catherine watched after David steered the petrified young woman into the bedroom at knifepoint. Raped again in the forest where they had planned to bury her, Mary was mutilated after death and then buried.

  The Birnies' next victim was 15-year-old Susannah Candy. Imprisoned for days, during which time she was repeatedly raped, Susannah was finally strangled by Catherine Birnie, who had grown tired of her husband's sexual obsession with the teenager. Their next victim, Noelene Patterson, a 31-year-old airline stewardess, had met the Birnies prior to her abduction. After helping push her car to a nearby service station for petrol, Noelene endured the same terrifying ordeal as the other women, raped repeatedly at the Birnie home before being murdered days later at Catherine's demand. Jealous of the attentions David had shown the attractive woman (he would later describe to Paul Ferguson that it was not rape, but that he and Noelene had 'made love'), when Catherine showed police where Noelene was buried, she vented her contempt by spitting on her grave. 'That's where we got rid of the bitch,' she told police.

  The final victim was 21-year-old computer operator Denise Brown. As the wind howled through the pine plantation, she was raped for days, and finally stabbed while being sexually violated where she was murdered. Frustrated that her death was taking so long, Catherine expedited the process by handing her husband a larger knife.

  The Birnies' reign of terror finally ended three days after Denise Brown's murder when a 17-year-old, semi-naked and hysterical girl ran into a supermarket, screaming that she had been raped. Dragged into the Birnies' car the evening before from where she was strolling near her home in the elite suburb of Nedlands (near Claremont), the girl had been tied to a bed in chains and subjected to repeated rapes by David. Either deliberately or through carelessness, Catherine left her alone and unchained when David went to work the following morning. The girl seized the opportunity to escape through an open window. Within the hour, police had the Birnies in the station for questioning.

  Paul Ferguson led the gruelling eight-hour interview. Near the end, he appealed to Birnie to confess for the sake of a victim's mother. When Birnie asked if he could see Catherine, Ferguson knew he had him. 'How many are there?' Ferguson asked.

  Birnie shrugged his shoulders, nonchalantly. 'Four.'

  'But why did you kill them?' Birnie's response was typically psychopathic.

  'Well, if you kidnap someone and rape 'em, you've gotta kill 'em, dontcha?'

  Catherine Birnie – a cold-faced sexual monster with an icy demeanour – sickened investigators when she calmly recounted details of what was done to the victims, including her taking photographs as David raped them. While the defence painted a picture of Catherine as a subversive woman who desperately needed to satisfy her husband's insatiable sexual desires, Ferguson saw this 'witch', as he would dub her, very differently. Women, she had told Ferguson, were put on earth to satisfy men. Regardless of what men did, that was a woman's role. Each sentenced to life imprisonment, Justice Wallace showed the court's disgust at the premeditated, shocking crimes. David Birnie, he ruled, 'should not be let out of prison – ever'.

  But despite the judge's warnings, it is not the last time Paul Ferguson would see David Birnie.

  If the Birnies' deplorable crimes riveted Western Australia, other murders and attempted abductions, equally as heinous, made the news for a short time before sliding off the front page. In 1991, 18-year-old Kerry Turner was last seen hitch-hiking to a girlfriend's house in a Perth suburb after partying all night at a city nightclub. With no money to pay the fare, a taxi driver first dropped her at an all-night café; shortly after revellers described to police a woman fitting Kerry's description climbing into a Datsun sedan. One month later her clothed body, still adorned with jewellery, was found by picnickers near a gravel track off an access road at Canning Dam, 15 kilometres from where she was last seen. Her church-going family, frustrated at their daughter's classification as a missing person, organised their own desperate searches. Police refused to let them see her body, leading to rumours that she had been mutilated. As they would later do with taxi drivers in the Claremont case, police home in on all drivers of blue Datsun 240c cars.

  In March 1996, two months after Sarah Spiers disappears, a 21-year-old woman is bashed and indecently assaulted in a lane behind Claremont's Club Bayview. The assault is investigated and no one charged. Police would ask themselves if this, too, was the handiwork of the Claremont serial killer, desperate to strike again.

  On 12 January 1996 Detective-Sergeant Dave Caporn – whose name will shortly become synonymous in Perth with the Claremont investigation – is assigned to a murder in Geraldton that will lead to the exposure of a large-scale organised crime syndicate whose currency is cannabis crops, illegal guns and explosives and which will end, sensationally, with the acquittal of a man who was provided with the perfect alibi: another man's confession to the shooting.

  While Wayne Tibbs' murder led to the establishment of one of the biggest police taskforces ever seen in Western Australia, police juggle the inquiry into Sarah Spiers's disappearance at the same time. The victimology between the two people could not be more different, but with the clean-up rate for major crime high – about 60 per cent of murders in WA are crimes of passion – in 1996 police can boast that there are only two unsolved murders on file over the past four years.

  With the Claremont killings, that is about to spectacularly change. Of equal importance, the West Australian Police Service is about to enter a protracted and uncomfortable period during which they will fight with everything at their disposal to protect their reputation. It is the Pamela Lawrence murder.

  5

  In 1994 the Major Crime Squad investigated another brutal murder in the suburb of Mosman Park, near Claremont. By the time this case finished, most people had heard of Andrew Mallard. Of more importance to WA police, they also knew the names of those police officers who had investigated him. This will become one of the most talked about police stories in a decade, involving the top echelons of lawyers, police and politicians.

  On 23 May 1994, 45-year-old Pamela Lawrence was found dying in a pool of blood, violently bludgeoned with a blunt object at her chic jewellery store in wealthy Mosman Park. She died soon after and her apparently motiveless murder, with no eyewitness and no murder weapon ever found, would set in place events that would expose serious flaws in the police investigation into her shocking death and have ramifications far beyond it.

  Claremont Criminal Investigation Branch (CIB) started the investigation into Pamela Lawrence's death. Maverick lawyer turned MP, John Quigley would take a keen interest in the Mallard inquiry. 'I am told' – he elongates and leans hard on the word told – 'but have been unable to confirm – that according to high-up police sources there was huge political pressure to get a result in the Lawrence murder. If that is the case, would it be because it fell within the elite electorate of Nedlands – then Premier Richard Court's electorate?'

  The Major Crime Squad appointed five investigating officers to the case: supervising officer, Detective-Sergeant Mal Shervill; principal investigator, Detective-Sergeant Dave Caporn; assistants, John Brandham; and detectives Mark Emmett and Alan Carter. More than 130 possible suspects fell under suspicion but by 10 June – less than three weeks after Lawrence's murder – the team singled out 31-year-old Andrew Mallard for questioning. Mallard, an awkward delusional man with drug-induced psychosis, had come to their attention with his odd behaviour. Discharged on 10 June from a psychiatric hospital to attend a court hearing on another matter, he was taken to the police station and subjected to an eight-hour, unrecorded interview – then legal – by Dave Caporn. During this interview Mallard offered bizarre theories on who may have committed the murder, and how. At his trial, he commented that during that inter
view he had been in 'total confusion to the point where anything that Caporn suggested to me I would adopt'. He was not cautioned or charged during or immediately before the interview.

  At the end of the interview, a tussle took place between Mallard and Caporn. 'Mallard's story was that he was attacked by Caporn, and Caporn said that he was the victim of an attack by Mallard,' Quigley would later submit in parliament. 'In any event, Mr Mallard was charged with a minor assault and admitted to bail. It is remarkable that the police let him loose on the streets of Fremantle given they thought he had confessed to murder.' Seven days later, Mallard had a second, unrecorded interview with Brandham, now Detective-Sergeant. To the detective's knowledge, Mallard had spent most of the previous evening at a nightclub where he had been assaulted, and he had had little sleep. After recording the end of this interview, Mallard was formally charged with Lawrence's murder.

  However, the police realised there were inherent difficulties in the prosecution case, which was outlined to then-Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP), John McKechnie QC. Not least of this was part of Shervill's report, where he noted that,'. . . the rambling admissions made by the accused during interview left doubt in the minds of some investigators as to whether the accused had in fact murdered Pamela Lawrence'. Another problem was the state pathologist's view that the murder weapon – a wrench – that Mallard had hypothesised would have been used to kill Lawrence, could not have caused her injuries. But at no stage during the trial was this mentioned by either police or the crown prosecutor. 'The police must have known . . . that if the evidence went before the court, there was a real chance that the prosecution case would fail,' Quigley said. He also outlines how, prior to the trial, the investigating police changed or excised parts of the witness statements.

  Found guilty in 1995, Mallard was sentenced to life imprisonment. Determined to prove his innocence, his family sought and received help from a team of people, including Perth journalist Colleen Egan and highly respected Perth lawyers. While Mallard languished in prison, the case picked up its own steam. By the time the appeals finished, it had claimed more casualties than a wrongly convicted man and exposed faultlines that placed extreme pressure on the investigating police officers and the DPP.

  6

  Police target rogue taxi drivers, getting them out of business and off the road. Cut-out stickers and two magnets slapped together on the roof with the 'taxi' sign could convert a vehicle into something that resembles a cab within 15 seconds. Demand for taxis from people spilling out of nightclubs in Claremont is always high, creating a perfect cash industry for people prepared to take the risk and pose as a reputable driver. With women making up more than 50 per cent of the user group, it could also prove a lucrative killing field. The order comes from both the taxi industry and the police: shut down every rogue driver, right now.

  Don Spiers descends into a black hole of chronic depression, from which he has to fight and claw his way back, over and over again. He resorts to anti-depressants to reduce his stress, requiring 32 times more than the medication usually prescribed for a patient to feel normal. The crank calls are just as bad as clairvoyants. Anonymous people with malice in their voice call and accuse him of murdering his own daughter. Letters sent to the police from armchair detectives offer bizarre theories.

  Life is a torment of unanswered questions and a bottom-less, aching emptiness but the family are also the recipients of random acts of kindness from strangers. Shortly after Sarah goes missing, a man knocks on their door and gives them his mobile phone. 'Take it,' he says. 'It will give you more mobility in your search.' The Spiers family tries to adjust, taking counselling, advice and help but nothing alleviates their pain. In an open, full-page letter in The West Australian two months after she disappears, headed 'Please, tell us where Sarah is', they open their hearts to the public.

  It is eight weeks since Sarah went missing and our lives have been absolute hell ...Sarah was part of a close and loving family and showered us with her love. We miss her so much ...The lack of information is worse than the worst possible news...We don't know what to do other than to hope someone comes forward and is willing to say what happened to her. At least one person knows and I urge that person, if they have any feeling for the anxiety and suffering they have caused us and Sarah's friends, to please ease some of it...This is the worst feeling any parent could have – being absolutely helpless and not being able to do a single thing for our daughter.

  The phone rings incessantly following publication of the open letter, but none of the calls take the family any closer to finding Sarah's whereabouts. Perth remembers Sarah, shock and sympathy spilling out in letters to the press and warnings to take special care. And the young people do. For a time.

  Summer turns to autumn, leaves turn russet and gold and temperatures plummet as the hot, still nights become clear and chilly. But as autumn passes the baton to winter, memories fade.

  And another girl goes missing.

  7

  The Rimmer family has lived in their modest, spotlessly clean home in leafy, politely affluent Shenton Park, ten minutes from Claremont, for 35 years. Jane, 23, was the youngest: her sister, Lee, is six years older; her brother, Adam, is three years her senior. Family pictures jostle for supremacy on the sideboard: the entire family at Adam's wedding; Jane as a young girl; Jane with her siblings. They are a close-knit family who always gathered at home every Sunday for an anticipated roast lunch or dinner. Protected and adored, Jane was a quiet girl, placid by nature who became a popular scallywag as she grew older. 'Janie', as they called her, finished her mandatory education at Hollywood High and never wavered in what she wanted to do. Her dream was to work with children, babies through to toddlers. And she fulfilled it. Bouts of depression dogged her in her early 20s, born of a lack of self-confidence, but by the time she disappears she is living independently in her first flat and driving her first car. She loves her car, with its natty sunroof.

  Jane calls in to see her parents, Trevor and Jenny, every night after work. On the weekends her beloved West Coast Eagles play football; she barracks so hard her head often hits the overhead light. Generous spirited, she empathises with Sarah Spiers's disappearance, fretting about the young woman who simply vanished into the night. She worries so much for the girl who never came home that she pays her girlfriends' taxi fares instead of allowing them to risk getting into a car with a stranger. Jenny and Trevor also warn Jane to take care. They talk at length about Sarah Spiers, how they are grateful it is not their daughters who are missing. How shocking it must be for Sarah's family to endure this pain.

  In between boyfriends, Jane rings her brother, Adam, on 9 June 1996 to ask if he would accompany her to the movies. They are extremely close; Jane lived with Adam and his wife for a short time after first leaving home, before she moved into her first flat. But Adam can't make it. It is a refusal that sets in place the first chain of events that will lead Jane – buoyant, fun-loving with a cheeky approach to life – to Claremont and for which Adam will never forgive himself. From this time on, he will live in the netherland of 'if only'. 'If only I had gone with her ...If only I had said yes.' He is constantly reassured it is not his fault, but guilt plagues him.

  Jane phones another friend, who is also too busy to go to the movies. However, she hears that some girlfriends are heading into the Continental Hotel for a few drinks. The Conti: its architecturally designed bar shaped like an unburnt match, the decadent décor evocative of the Garden of Eden. It sits opposite the post office and across from the railway line; Club Bayview is nearby. The places to go in Claremont. The young people know the rules, plastered on the Bayview's front door. 'A neighbourhood cocktail bar for those who look over 25. If you're turned away, please do not be offended but rather fade away quietly only to return another night, dressed to kill and looking very, very mature.' Jane changes her mind about the movies. It's Saturday night after all. She'll head out to party instead.

  Trevor picks her up from her flat and drops
her at the Shenton Hotel for a drink with her mother before she heads into Claremont by taxi with her friends. She is in high spirits, looking forward to a night out. Trevor is proud of his daughter. Since she has moved out of home, he has got to know her again as a young woman, as opposed to his baby. 'See you tomorrow for lunch,' she says, as she gives him an airy kiss goodbye.

  She doesn't turn up. Jenny is worried sick; it is so unlike Jane not to let them know she can't make it. She calls Jane's flat and when it rings out, she and Trevor take the spare key Jane has given them and go over. Her bed has not been slept in.

  Jenny traces patterns on the table with her fingers as she discusses her daughter. There is a feeling in the room, like sombre background music, a feeling that pervades all. As though Jane's spirit hovers over us as we talk, gently whispering to us. There is an acute sense of something missing in this neat, suburban home; a void that no other person can fill. Jenny gives up the pretence at calm, covers her eyes with her hands. 'Sorry,' she stumbles. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to break down.' She inhales a shaky breath. 'We knew Sarah Spiers was missing and that she had last been seen in Claremont. I had a feeling of dread that something was wrong.' By 9 pm, they report Jane as a missing person. Basic details: age, description, clothes she was wearing. Jenny, sighing and restless through-out the long night, calls Jane's employer at the child care centre as soon as it opens to see if she has turned up. They draw another blank.