Black Widow, The: How One Woman Got Justice for Her Murdered Brother

by Lee-Anne, Cartier,

  On the Wednesday I went to a counsellor to help me prepare for giving evidence, and did my usual trip into the court with lunch. The afternoon was filled with collecting the girls from school after camp and taking them to the hairdresser. The girls weren’t feeling the best after camp so stayed in bed the next day.

  When I headed up to the court at morning-tea time on Thursday with some food I received a phone call from Greg Murton. As I started to speak to him I walked to the Crown room where he normally hung out but he wasn’t there. He said he was out by the lifts so I walked out to him, wondering why he was calling me, was something wrong? He asked me to be ready after the lunch break to go on the stand.

  I was speechless — I was not ready, I hadn’t even looked over my statements. This wasn’t meant to happen till Monday. I went into a spin and found Jayne, who came back to the apartment to help me to get ready. My friend Lisa also came over, armed with a ‘nerve calmer’. After the first glass of wine I stopped spinning out and calmed down a bit.

  I arrived as everyone was waiting to be allowed back into the courtroom. Greg took me into the prosecution room to sit and wait. He asked me about the date I’d arrived in New Zealand for Lance’s 21st, and said they were getting confirmation from Immigration to combat something the defence was trying to pull. There was some legal discussion with only the lawyers in the court before the afternoon session started.

  I’d thought I would be first batter up after lunch but I was down the order. They managed to get through the four before me between 2.10 p.m. and the afternoon adjournment at 3.16 p.m. No wonder I was up two days early! It was a relief that they were running ahead of time, so there would be no chance of the jury being under duress to come back with a verdict — quickly. I was called to the stand by Crown Prosecutor Brent Stanaway at 3.46 p.m. He worked through my statements, asking me questions about how things occurred. Even though it seemed like forever he was finished by 4.40 p.m., when court adjourned for the day. It had seemed like I was up there for hours. The next morning was the defence’s turn at cross-examination.

  As on every other night from when the trial began, the story was plastered over the news on every channel, but tonight it wasn’t just talk about me and what everyone had had to do with me, it was me there giving evidence. I tried to read through my statement that night but it just seemed like blah blah blah. So I finished the bottle of wine and tried to get a good night’s sleep.

  I got up early and prepared some food and raced to the supermarket. The hotel staff brought up the Christchurch Press every morning; I had been dreading seeing this morning’s paper and there was my face plastered on the front page, my mouth wide open like I was about to catch something in it and my hands telling a story of their own.

  I picked up Jayne and as we drove back to get Mum and Dad she read my statements to me. This was the best way of me processing the information.

  I was on edge, not wanting to be late. We parked in the lot across the little side street from the court, and as we crossed the road two men came from the front of the court, yelling and threatening a third man. The one being threatened jumped into a rubbish truck and pulled out a hammer, shouting at the other two who were coming at him. Jayne grabbed my parents and took them inside and got security while I turned on my phone camera and stood in the middle of the road, recording the action, in case someone was injured in the meantime. It took me a few seconds to realise how stupid and unsafe this was but I was frozen there, panicking that any minute they were going to turn and come after me.

  Jayne returned with some security staff and she took me inside as they dealt with the fight. I really felt for Jayne; she was there to support our family but had been thrown in the middle of this happening in front of us. The murderer of her beautiful daughter Brittany had tried to kill her with a hammer, so it wasn’t the nicest situation for Jayne to view.

  I was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. We went straight to the Crown room, where police officers viewed the footage on my phone. The men fighting were apparently family or friends of the victim and the perpetrator of the murder hearing from High Court One. I could understand their hurt and anger but violence wasn’t the way to deal with it.

  One of the officers from our case let us know there was a slight delay — Helen was having a diabetic low but things should get going again soon as they had called in the paramedics to check her. The media had been kicked out of the courtroom as they dealt with this and everyone was seated in the waiting area.

  We sat there waiting for what seemed like forever. The man next to Dad spoke to him and said he was a photographer for The Press. I leaned forward from the other side of Dad and asked what he was thinking when he let them print the photo of me with my mouth wide open. He tried to build it up as a perfect action shot but still wasn’t winning my vote. I told him not to dare print another ugly photo like that again and we all had a good laugh.

  Court went from being delayed to the morning break to starting after lunch at 2.15 p.m. Justice Gendall addressed the jury, saying, ‘Just before we begin this afternoon, members of the jury, my apologies for the delay and our commencement today. I just wanted to talk to you briefly about the reasons for that delay. As you will have heard, the defendant Ms Milner is a diabetic. There has been a health issue with maintenance of her insulin. She has seen a doctor this morning and that is being addressed and resolved, so we’re able to start this afternoon, albeit late, but we will finish at five this evening, thank you.’

  We were told that Helen had said she hadn’t been given her insulin the night before in prison. In my opinion after I had been thrown on the stand earlier than she expected she was in no hurry to see me back up there the next day.

  I thought Brent had finished with me the day before but the questioning started again, with Brent asking about my parents’ email address and asking me to confirm that I had arrived in Christchurch mid-afternoon on 9 June for Lance’s 21st, which I had. He went on to ask me when I first saw the email to my parents from Helen dated 8 June about the DNA test results. I clicked about why Greg had asked me about that arrival in New Zealand the day before — it was an attempt by the defence to try to suggest I had got on Helen’s computer and had sent the email to my parents myself.

  I couldn’t wait for the cross-examination. I was aware that the defence had been asking all the witnesses about their interactions with me. Lance was disappointed that when he got on the stand they didn’t try to use the ‘you’re just going along with what your mother told you to say’ line, because he had the most honest and true answer ready to throw back: ‘Really, do you think I listen to my mother and do what she tells me?’ in his mocking tone. That would have shut down the defence for a few seconds.

  At times the questioning from Margaret Sewell left me wondering if she’d come to the wrong place and should have been down the road at Court Theatre. After I stated that I’d known since June 2009 that Helen had killed Phil, Sewell said, ‘Well you believed you had known, you’d believed she had.’ She spoke down to me like I was delusional. I continued what I was saying: ‘… and I tried to keep friends with her and sympathise with her and hope that she would let something slip’, Sewell said in a snarky tone, with her glasses on the end of her nose like a superior headmistress, ‘Yes, you did, didn’t you, Ms Cartier, you became a sort of detective, didn’t you … self-appointed detective?’

  I cut in to set her straight. ‘My brother had died and I needed to know the truth and I think anyone here in this room would have done that too.’

  But she kept snapping back, ‘So now we’re going on to look at what you did do, and of course anyone in this room will decide … whether they would or wouldn’t have done this … You set about your own investigation and then you would send off anything you could to feed the police if you thought you had any relevant information, wouldn’t you?’

  This was one of the times I questioned the logic of this woman; of course anything I thought relevant I would pass on, I wasn’t ther
e to help Helen get away with murder.

  Sewell put a lot of drama and effort into reading the text messages I sent Helen, in an attempt to make me look a bad person. The questioning got more and more aggressive, making out that I’d made up the story about Helen saying the funeral director got the DNA test done as an excuse for me to ring the funeral director so I could stir up trouble.

  THE COURT ADJOURNED IN THE middle of my cross-examination for a quick afternoon break. I knew I was still under oath while on the break and I was taken to the Crown room but neither Greg nor the Crown lawyers were in there. A police officer and I were making jokes about not talking to anyone when Rupert Glover burst into the room like a headmaster from an old private school in his cloak and went off at me, demanding I get back into the courtroom and stay there and not talk to another person.

  Ben was on the stand after me but they didn’t complete questioning him before court was adjourned for the weekend. He was also reminded he was still under oath and was not to discuss the case with anyone. This was so unfair — he was Phil’s son and the youngest witness, who had already endured years of Helen’s behaviour.

  Ben was staying with my sons until the trial resumed on Monday. Lance understood that as a witness he could not be alone with Ben at any stage. On the Saturday, Aaron contacted me and asked me to take Ben to the shops but I made them send an independent person with us and at no time did I speak to Ben. It was horrible but we couldn’t risk a mistrial.

  I was quite worried about what people — and the jury — would think of me regarding the text messages I’d sent Helen. I didn’t have a chance to talk to Jayne after court as she raced to catch the bus. I rang Ruth after I’d seen a particularly colourful one had been posted online in a media report. Ruth reassured me, saying that many people would have thought ‘Is that all she said? I would have said a hell of a lot more than that.’ When I spoke to Jayne later that night she said people in the courtroom let out a laugh. Blair from The Press had dared another reporter into putting the text message in an online article because he had thought the message amusing, but I told him I’d get him back for it. And I did, just a few days later.

  ANDREW AND HIS SON FLEW in from Brisbane on the Saturday. I went out to the airport to meet them, along with his friend Duane and his family. Duane gave me a big hug; it was so good to see him as it had been such a long and stressful road for our family since the day he met me at the Hornby Police Station for me to make my first statement four and a half years earlier. It seemed almost a lifetime ago but now we were finally getting justice. I am so appreciative of him being there that day backing me up and not questioning my sanity. Duane and Kath voiced their shock at how much the trial was out there in the media and how big it had become.

  I had been looking forward to spending every minute in court after I had finished on the stand but Greg pulled me aside and said they would prefer I didn’t. He felt that the jury could see it as me exerting some sort of influence over the other witnesses, as the defence was trying to infer. Also, if I was in court I would need to sit in a back row and nowhere near Helen, so nothing could be misconstrued as intimidating her.

  This upset me: she was the murderer, I was just the one who had had to do the job of the police. Why was I the one now restrained from seeing all the trial? I understood how important perception was, however, so I made sure I went back to our apartment to prepare food and picked the girls up from school on the days they attended in the second week of the trial, and picked which witnesses I particularly wanted to see.

  Andrew and Lance arrived at court on the Monday, ready to give evidence. Lance was in a suit and tie but as the day drew on the jacket came off, then the tie, then the shirt became untucked as he lay across the chairs, bored and over waiting. Neither of them made it onto the stand that day. It wasn’t until the Tuesday afternoon that they were finally called, and I had to leave part-way through Andrew’s testimony to pick up the girls from school.

  HELEN’S BOYFRIEND BARRY WAS CALLED by the Crown as their last witness. It was obvious that Helen knew he would be up that day — everyone noticed she had put a lot more effort into her appearance and spent his time on the stand smiling at him.

  The Crown finished presenting their evidence at midday on the Friday of week two of the trial. The judge was happy with the progress of the case and adjourned court till 10 a.m. on Monday for the defence witnesses, with Tuesday for the Crown and defence to sum up and Wednesday morning set down for His Honour’s summing up and for the jury to retire before lunch that day.

  I had missed most of the morning session on the Friday while I attended the junior awards ceremony at the girls’ high school. The girls made me so proud, both receiving an excellence in music award. Funnily enough, the music teacher was my music teacher when I attended the same school 30 years earlier! I struggled to hold back tears as I questioned if leaving Christchurch again was the right thing to do; the girls had been so happy here and really enjoyed the school. But I knew the reason for returning to Australia was my parents; they weren’t getting any younger and their health had quickly deteriorated since Phil’s death.

  The principal spoke to me after the ceremony and commended me on my hard work bringing Helen to justice. He wished us well for our future back in Australia. We said goodbye to the girls’ teachers and headed off. Since the trial had started I tried to avoid people as much as possible, as I felt some people who recognised me stared at me like I had two heads.

  The weekend went quickly. We spent a lovely day in town with friends going on the tram and looking around the shops. Before we knew it, it was 10 a.m. Monday and we were back in court.

  The defence called its witnesses — that in my opinion amounted to nothing more than a waste of time for everyone involved — and was all over by mid-afternoon.

  Court commenced at 9.30 a.m. on Tuesday with the summing up of the Crown, followed by the summing up of the defence. On Wednesday, Justice Gendall summed up the case and explained to the jury the process if they had any questions, then spoke to them about their verdicts and unanimity.

  ‘Your verdicts on each charge are to be simply guilty or not guilty as the case may be. No reasons or explanations are required. The law requires you to try and reach a unanimous verdict. A unanimous verdict means that all twelve of you must be agreed.

  ‘You may know that it is sometimes possible to bring a majority verdict. That can only happen if various circumstances exist, which will not arise for some time. As and when that arises I will explain it further. You should be aware, however, that a majority verdict, if we get to that point, will still require at least eleven of you to agree.’

  I was totally shocked: I never realised a majority verdict was possible in New Zealand on a murder trial. The jury retired at 11.05 a.m. to consider their verdicts on the two counts of attempted murder and one of murder.

  It had been a long and tiring two and a half weeks. Now it was time to wait for the jury to make their decision.

  Phil and me, taken 11 June 2006, before we fell out over Helen’s issues with Lance.

  Nineteen

  The Verdict

  We all headed back to the apartment to wait some more. After four and a half years of waiting, this was going to be the hardest part ever.

  We had some lunch and chatted amongst ourselves. We all took guesses at what time the jury would come back, some guessing that day and others the following day.

  My girls wanted to make M&M cookies so my nephew Rhys and I made a mad dash to the supermarket. We knew that once the jury came back with a verdict we only had a small amount of time to get to the courtroom or the verdict would be delivered without us.

  When we had left the court that morning, Blair from The Press had asked me to give him a call if I heard anything, as he was in the building next door to our apartment and would be doing the mad dash back to court as well. I still owed Blair one for getting someone to print my text message, so on our return from the supermarket we stood outside the
Press building. I rang Blair and quickly said, ‘The jury is back, see you there’, and hung up before he could reply. It didn’t take long for him to come running out the front door, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Then he spotted me. I looked at my phone and told him he had made good time. He failed to see the funny side of it but hey, we were even, and it made everyone laugh when we returned to the apartment and told them.

  We got a call from the police just after 5 p.m. to say the jury had retired for the night and would be back in the morning. I dropped a few people home then tried to keep busy to keep my mind off it.

  I woke early the next morning, threw some flour in a bowl ready to make pinwheel scones and went to the supermarket to get the ingredients I was missing. Friends and family arrived at the apartment and I headed off to meet Ruth at the court and to pick up a family friend. We caught up with Greg Murton, and as we left Ruth said, ‘See you in an hour.’ As we walked out the door we passed Blair and I also said we’d be back in an hour. Both men looked at us strangely, but somehow those predictions paid off.

  Back at the unit I stood with all the ingredients in front of me, trying to work out if I should risk starting to bake. I could just imagine getting the phone call and running out the door with the scones in the oven, and us returning from court to the building on fire. I considered calling the police to see if they knew where things were at but didn’t want to sound like a total egg asking if they thought I had time to make some scones!

  I said to the others that I didn’t believe we would get a guilty verdict on the first attempted murder charge; that the defence had created enough interference to cause reasonable doubt, and that the jury wouldn’t risk the other verdicts being quashed for the sake of that one. I said the verdicts would be given in order of occurance — the two attempted murder charges, and then the actual murder charge. I said that if they found Helen guilty of the second attempted murder then the murder would definitely be a guilty verdict, and reiterated to them not to stress or worry if the first attempted murder verdict came back not guilty.