Snowtown

by Jeremy Pudney

  Vlassakis: Yeah, the machine all set up is it?

  Bunting: Yeah.

  Vlassakis: Yeah, cool, no drama. Okay, we’ll see you when we get up there.

  Bunting: No worries, bye.

  Vlassakis: Take it easy.

  Vlassakis and David Johnson arrived a little over an hour later, parking outside the old bank. They strolled through a gate along the side of the building, Vlassakis accidentally kicking a piece of metal and causing a loud crash. The elderly lady who lived in the former bank manager’s residence peered out her window. Vlassakis gave her a wave as he and Johnson entered the bank’s side door.

  Inside a computer was sitting on the floor, set up and switched on. John Bunting was standing nearby, clearly visible, but Robert Wagner was out of sight. James Vlassakis walked towards the computer:

  John said hello and then I went to the computer, said to David, ‘This is the computer, come and have a look.’

  As I turned around, Robert had David around the throat and John was putting the handcuffs onto David.

  David Johnson was led into a small partitioned area which had once been the bank manager’s office. An old TV being stored in the building was lifted into the room, and David was forced to sit on it.

  Frightened, David asked Bunting, ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You’re right,’ was the reply. Once David had answered some questions, Bunting told him, ‘You’re going home in half an hour.’

  Vlassakis played along, knowing only too well that David Johnson would not be going home:

  He [David] was asking a lot of questions and he was…panicking and his legs were shaking and that—just shaking. I mean, you could see him shaking and he was shaking all over, and he was looking around; didn’t know what was going on.

  David…asked me if he was going to go home. I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘Do you promise?’ and I said, ‘Yes, I promise’, and that was it.

  Handcuffed, confused and perched on the old TV, David Johnson was forced to hand over his wallet. Bunting rifled through its contents, pausing to examine the bank keycard, demanding to know David’s PIN. Next Bunting’s computer was shifted into the small room, its microphone perched on a cardboard box in front of the prisoner.

  During past murders Bunting had forced his victims to repeat phrases—some abusive—which were later tape-recorded and played on the telephone to family and friends, creating the impression that the victims had not vanished but had run away. This time Bunting had devised a more high-tech approach. He would use his computer, with a special software program, to record David Johnson’s voice, forcing the victim to recite numbers, names, words and even full sentences. Bunting could then piece them together electronically.

  John Bunting presided over the recording session as Wagner held a notebook for David to read from. It was Vlassakis’s job to activate the recordings. The first commenced at 8.41 p.m.:

  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90 100

  Greg, Tom, Paul, Roger, Steven, Paul, John, Robert, Fred, Chris, Adrian, Marcus, Amanda, Tony, Darren, Robbie, Nicole, Tina, Jenny, Michael, David, Nigel, Helen, Tracey, George, Brad, Bradley, Joe, Ben, Barry, Vanessa, Eddie, George, Colin, Mitchell, Michael, Adam, Len, Clint, Alan, Peter, Josh, Randy, Ray, Raymond, Kathy, Kathy, Karen, Julie, Fiona, Lisa, Tammy, Vicky, Troy, Dillon, James, Evonne, Simone, Toby, Kathy, Kathleen, Emma, Trisha, Trish, Teresa, Heather, Emmanuel, Linda, Trevor.

  These were the names of as many of David’s family and friends as Bunting could think of. Next came words and phrases which could be used to link or create sentences in David Johnson’s voice:

  And, not, no, never, soon, too soon, can, can’t, yes, yeah, yer, maybe, no, nup, fuck off, could be, could, do, don’t, I, want, need, needing, am, ing, in, computer, hay, hey, heey, service, them, come, go, stick, stuff, fuck, fuck you, fuck off shit head, on, off, why, if, what, when, where, who, say, shit, so what, so, was, watch me, hotel, pub, hey, fuck off shit head, no.

  John Bunting then reeled off dozens of sentences which David Johnson was ordered to repeat. Among them:

  Fuck off.

  Piss off shithead.

  How many times do you need to be fucking told?

  Why are you phoning me?

  Never phone me again.

  If I never see you again it will be too soon.

  You’re not my brother, you’re a waste.

  Your mother’s a whore.

  This is David, I’m not here right now, leave your name and shit and I’ll get back to you.

  Some of the recordings were intended for specific people. If Bunting wasn’t happy with David’s delivery, he would order him to ‘do it again’.

  Marcus, I’m going to Perth.

  Toni, I’ve fucked my car up, when you see Jamie tell him to meet me at Roger’s.

  Tell Amanda to eat shit and die.

  The recordings continued for almost an hour before Bunting and Wagner began their murderous ritual. Music was played in the background—again the Live album Throwing Copper.

  Back inside the small manager’s office, black plastic sheets were spread over the floor. Forced to lie on the plastic, David Johnson’s jeans were removed and his T-shirt was cut from his body with a knife. His shoes and socks were also removed, one of the socks stuffed into his mouth and silver duct tape wrapped around his head to hold the gag in place. Vlassakis stood back as Wagner and Bunting let fly with a savage attack:

  That’s when Robert walked up to David and put David’s head in between his knees and started hitting David on the back…just kept hitting and hitting and hitting.

  Then it just became like a frenzy. After Robert started hitting into David, John jumped on—went down on the floor and started grabbing…David’s legs. Then he said to help him, because David was starting to kick and that; told me to get down and help him. I got down there and grabbed the other leg of David. John hit David in the balls. John told me to hit him so I hit him.

  As quickly and suddenly as it had started, the beating stopped. Wagner sifted through a plastic bag sitting nearby, retrieving rubber gloves, cigarette lighters and boxes of sparklers. Before the torture began, however, Bunting had a task for his accomplices; he wanted to be sure David Johnson hadn’t lied about his banking details, so the bankcard and PIN would have to be tested. Bunting wrote the PIN on Vlassakis’s hand, before ordering him and Wagner to drive to a service station at nearby Port Wakefield to test the card.

  Robert sat on about 160 [kilometres per hour] or so. He really thrashed it going down there. Really, really fast and I thought he was going to lose the car because…it was going all over the road.

  We arrived at the service station, I said to Robert, ‘Go in there and use the card’, but he didn’t want to, so we—I went in but Robert went in behind me.

  And I asked the guy there at the front [counter], I just said, ‘Can I try this for five dollars?’ and he just swiped the card and I put in the PIN number, and it just came back, ‘Not authorised, cancelled’.

  As Vlassakis and Wagner returned to the car, Vlassakis spoke to Bunting via mobile telephone. Like the calls made earlier that night, it was intercepted by police:

  Bunting: Hello.

  Vlassakis: Hello.

  Bunting: How is it?

  Vlassakis: Um, says not authorised, cancelled.

  Bunting: Oh, in other words [not audible] broke, there’s no money.

  Vlassakis: Yeah, I tried to phone.

  Bunting: Okay.

  Vlassakis: It’s okay.

  Bunting: Hello.

  Vlassakis: Hello.

  (Call interrupted by poor reception)

  Bunting: Where are you?

  Vlassakis: Um, Port Wakefield.

  Bunting: Get back here.

  Vlassakis: Okay, see you in five.

  Bunting: No worries.

  Vlassakis: See ya.

  When Vlassakis and Wagner returned to the bank they entered through the side door. David Johnson was lying on the bl
ack plastic, face down. He was dead, a belt looped around his neck.

  While alone with John Bunting, David had courageously decided to fight for his life. He had manoeuvred his shackled hands to the front of his body and a violent scuffle had erupted, the killer suffering cracked ribs as he was kicked by his would-be victim.

  David lunged for a Stanley knife lying on the floor, forcing Bunting to retreat. Knowing full well Wagner was out, Bunting called out to his friend to ‘come here’. The distraction worked, and as David glanced towards the door, worried that Wagner had returned, Bunting overpowered him.

  Using the victim’s own belt, John Bunting choked the last breath out of David Johnson—the force of the stranglehold so great, Bunting crushed his thumb.

  The pain from his injured ribs was acute, and John Bunting struggled as he unlocked the vault door, manipulating the lock with a piece of bent wire. Bunting told Vlassakis he would have to help Robert Wagner with the body.

  Robert then said to me that it would have to be a ‘slice and dice’ and there would be a lot of blood involved. And John was saying, ‘You’re going to have to do it’—they were both talking to me.

  As Wagner and Vlassakis carried David Johnson’s body, Bunting removed a strip of tape to open the slit in the black plastic which covered the vault’s entrance. Bunting instructed Vlassakis to put on the white overalls he normally wore while working inside the vault. Bunting referred to the overalls as his ‘playsuit’.

  He went and got that, and told me to put that on. So I had to take my clothes off down to my jocks and put that over the top.

  Robert got me to put gloves on and that before we carried David into the vault, so I was wearing gloves. Robert Wagner had gloves.

  When we were in the vault, Robert lifted the barrel [lids] and chose one. David was laying [sic] on the floor…Robert grabbed his keys and took the handcuffs off David.

  We lifted David into the barrel headfirst and Robert grabbed knives which were on the…lounge that was in there.

  Robert grabbed the knife and told me to hold David’s leg and he started cutting David at the knee. I wasn’t watching Robert all the time cutting it…too gross…couldn’t watch it. As he was cutting…I could see quite clearly that David was just going to fit in there without having to cut and I told Robert that he was going to fit.

  John Bunting stuck his head through the slit in the plastic sheets covering the vault entrance. He warned the pair that they had an unexpected visitor.

  Simon Jones had visited the bank that night out of curiosity. As he would later detail in a police interview, Jones had dropped his wife at a nearby town, returning home about 10.30 p.m.:

  I noticed there was a note on my front door at home; it asked me to ring Robert’s mobile phone number. There was a number on the piece of paper, I rang that number and spoke to John Bunting. I asked John where he was and he told me he was in Snowtown. He told me he was only a couple of minutes away and that he would be over soon. I got curious about what he said, so I went over to the bank, I used my key to get in the side door, I opened it but the chain was attached on the inside.

  I called out, and John came to the side door and let me in. I went through into the main area of the bank and I saw that he had his computer on the floor. John then said, ‘Come and have a look at this’; he wanted me to have a look at some programs that he had on the computer.

  As he looked at Bunting’s computer, Simon Jones’s attention was drawn to the bizarre screensaver displayed on the monitor:

  It started off as a picture of a graveyard, and then all these skeletons dig themselves out of the graves and then start running around the graveyard bumping into things.

  About one or two minutes after I sat down at the computer, Jamie Vlassakis walked out of the vault. The door was open. I could see the black plastic and that there was a slit…you could see the [vault] wall through the slit in the plastic.

  As Jamie walked out I could see he was wearing overalls, white overalls, I think they were disposable. I don’t recall the exact conversation with him, but at some stage, I think as I was about to leave, Jamie said, ‘Give me a hug’. He took a step towards me and put his arms up as though he was going to hug me. I just said, ‘Get lost.’ He stank of the rotting meat. When he said this to me, he was laughing. I noticed that he had some gloves on.

  I saw Robert Wagner walk out of the vault; he was wearing his yellow CFS overalls—Country Fire Service overalls. He had gloves on too. He had a very strange look on his face; he was staring at me intensely. Thinking back…I think he may have thought that I had seen something that I shouldn’t have.

  After Robert gave me that stare, I talked to John for a bit and then, as I was leaving, Robert said, ‘Give us a hug.’ I told him to ‘piss off’. He chuckled, John then opened the door and I said I would see them later and I went back home.

  With Simon Jones out of the way, Robert Wagner emerged once again from the vault, telling Bunting he had a ‘surprise’. He held up a surgical glove with a piece of human flesh inside. It had been sliced from one of David Johnson’s legs.

  James Vlassakis felt ill as he walked with Bunting and Wagner across to Simon Jones’s house. Wagner was carrying the flesh in the glove.

  In the days after David Johnson’s murder, John Bunting concocted a story to explain his victim’s disappearance. He instructed James Vlassakis to begin spreading the lie among David’s family and friends.

  They were told that David had taken up with a thirteen-year-old girl who’d fallen pregnant and, to make matters worse, he’d crashed his car and was hiding from the police. Among the first to be told the tale was David’s father, Marcus Johnson.

  Two days after the murder, Bunting sent Vlassakis to the flat Marcus Johnson had shared with his son. James told Marcus the cover story, claiming David had asked him to fetch clothes and documents he needed to claim his unemployment pension.

  Vlassakis delivered the papers to John Bunting and, days later, returned to the flat with Robert Wagner to gather up David’s furniture.

  Others to be told the false story by James Vlassakis were the two girls David Johnson had been seeing at the same time—unbeknownst to each other. The more recent of the girlfriends, Amanda, was puzzled by David’s sudden disappearance; so too her close friend Toni, who had introduced the couple. The girls were more upset when Toni received two bizarre phone calls, apparently from David himself:

  My phone rang and when I picked it I heard a male voice speak and he said, ‘Toni you’re a fucking liar.’

  I said, ‘What, who is this?’ He then said, ‘Toni you’re a fucking liar, is Amanda there?’

  I said, ‘No, who is this?’ There was silence for a couple of seconds and then the phone hung up. I did not recognise the voice on the phone.

  After I hung up I rang Amanda and spoke to her for a couple of minutes and then, as soon as I hung up from her, the phone rang again. I answered it and heard the same male voice.

  This time I recognised the voice as David’s but it sounded to me like it was being played on an answering machine.

  David’s long-term girlfriend, Linda, had last seen him on Mother’s Day—the day of his murder:

  David had stayed at my home overnight Saturday 8th May and left at about 12.30 p.m. on the Sunday. When he left he told me that he was going to pick up a computer somewhere north of Gawler. He said he was buying it from a contact provided by his stepbrother Jamie [Vlassakis]. I don’t know exactly where he was going but he made the comment, ‘Knowing Jamie it’s probably two hours past Gawler’, something along those lines.

  He told me his stepmother’s de facto, John Bunting, had a computer and that he wanted one like that. He said that he was to pay $200 to the person selling the computer and $200 to Jamie for providing the contact.

  I remember thinking at the time that it was a cheap price and I thought the computer may be stolen. I told David to be careful about what he may be getting himself into and he replied, ‘I’m all right.’ />
  Four days later, when she hadn’t heard from David, Linda and her mother visited his flat. Vlassakis and Wagner were there, collecting some of David’s property. Linda spoke to Vlassakis at the door:

  On arrival I knocked at the front door. Jamie answered and we spoke.

  ‘Is David there?’

  ‘No, I haven’t seen him.’

  ‘He told me he was going with you Sunday night.’

  ‘He’s at a friend’s place, why?’

  ‘Because I’m his girlfriend and I’m worried about him.’

  ‘Why? He says he hasn’t seen you for three or four years.’

  ‘You’re joking?’

  ‘No, he’s got a thirteen-year-old girl pregnant and he’s seeing someone else.’

  Upset and uneasy, Linda didn’t know what to believe:

  Before I left the flat that day I told Jamie to tell David to call me. I said I would call the police and report David missing if I didn’t get a call.

  The threat prompted a hasty telephone call from Vlassakis to Bunting, which was recorded by police:

  Vlassakis: Guess who I had a visit from.

  Bunting: Who?

  Vlassakis: Linda and her mum.

  Bunting: Who, Linda?

  Vlassakis: Yeah.

  Bunting: Yeah, what about it?

  Vlassakis: Don’t you know David’s been going out with her for eight years?

  Bunting: For eight years.

  Vlassakis: Yep, and still going out with her.

  Bunting: Did you tell her the good news?

  Vlassakis: Yeah, I said that David was going out with this bird Amanda in the flats. He is going out with Jenny as well, who’s thirteen and pregnant.

  Bunting: Yeah.

  Vlassakis: If David doesn’t ring her tonight or today sometime…

  Bunting: Yeah…

  Vlassakis: They are going to call the police tomorrow.