Snowtown
Page 23
‘None of that happened?’
‘No.’
‘And you’ve got no idea what was in the barrels in a vault that you were renting?’
‘No, I didn’t know what was in them.’
‘Never asked?’
‘No.’
‘And you were renting the bank at Snowtown with John Bunting, I suggest, to store the bodies of victims of the murders that you were involved in and the victims of murders that John Bunting, Robert Wagner and Vlassakis had been involved in?’
‘No.’
‘Just didn’t happen?’
‘No.’
In her summing up of the defence case, Marie Shaw described Mark Haydon as a man who loved his wife and believed he was loved in return. He was not involved in her murder.
‘Mr Haydon did not join with Bunting, Wagner and Vlassakis in these atrocities. The prosecution, at the very least, has not proved beyond reasonable doubt that he joined with them. At the very least you must be left with doubt about the proof of each of the charges. The prosecution has not proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Vlassakis is a credible, trustworthy witness. You must be left with a doubt about the proof of each of the counts.
‘Mr Lyons, Mr Abbott and myself have endeavoured to assist Mr Haydon to present his answer to the charges to the court. Our responsibility for him has now come to an end. We now pass him into your hands and we ask you find him not guilty on each of the counts.’
Ms Abraham urged the jury to convict.
‘I suggest the Crown has proved that Mark Haydon became involved in these activities with the murder of Troy Youde. He was party to that murder, in particular circumstances, and thereafter he stored the body, not only of Troy Youde, but the bodies of Bunting and Wagner’s previous victims and thereafter he continued to agree to store the bodies of victims killed by Bunting or Wagner, and in some instances Vlassakis. He did so knowingly, and he did so obviously with the intention of assisting them to escape apprehension—as I said they were pretty successful for an extraordinarily long period of time.
‘He then became involved in the murder of his wife. He stored her body, as he stored the others. He continued to associate and indeed was much closer in association. He was involved in the activities in the bank. He was involved in activities relating to the barrels. And then, when the next victim was murdered—indeed, there’s quite a long gap you might think, because of the fact the police had been involved looking for Elizabeth Haydon—then, in May 1999, whilst you might think he’s getting the benefits from the victims, two of the victims whose bodies he’s storing, he knows or believes that David Johnson has also been murdered, and he continues the lease allowing that body to be stored with the others in the bank.
‘I suggest that we’ve proved the case in relation to the murder of Troy Youde, Elizabeth Haydon, and, indeed, that he was assisting them escape apprehension in relation to the other six bodies. That is a matter now for you.’
On Wednesday, 15 December 2004, the jury in Mark Haydon’s trial retired to consider its verdicts. The legal teams, police and media virtually camped outside the courtroom door as South Australia again held its collective breath, waiting to see if yet another man would be convicted over the infamous crimes which had scarred the state forever.
Three days later the jury returned briefly, to tell Justice Sulan they were decided on five of the assisting offenders charges, but still deadlocked on the sixth, and undecided on the two murder charges. They were sent back for further deliberations.
The following afternoon, Sunday, 19 December, the jury returned to say nothing had changed—and nothing would.
Mark Haydon was convicted of five counts of assisting John Bunting, Robert Wagner and James Vlassakis. The jury had decided Haydon helped hide and move the barrels, knowing there were human bodies inside.
However, the jury was deadlocked on the question of whether Haydon took part in the murders of Troy Youde and Haydon’s wife, Elizabeth, and was also unable to agree on the sixth and final count of assisting in relation to the murder of David Johnson.
It was a victory of sorts for Mark Haydon and his legal team; by law, he was not a killer. However, he was now a criminal, convicted of helping to cover up five murders, assisting serial killers as they continued their evil acts. Haydon could have prevented victims’ deaths. Instead, he concealed them.
As Justice Sulan remanded Haydon in custody, to be sentenced later, the prosecution indicated that they would again force him to stand trial for murder. Regardless of any retrial, it would be a long time before Mark Haydon would see the outside of a prison.
TWENTY-SIX
It is a routine which will change little for the rest of John Bunting’s life. Every morning, at about 7.30 a.m., the breakfast trolley rattles its way from one prison cell to another, eventually stopping at Bunting’s door. The small hatch in the door is opened and Bunting is allowed to choose from two types of breakfast cereal. His choice is scooped into a plastic bowl, and he’s handed half a litre of milk—his ration for the day. Four slices of toast complete his morning meal.
Once breakfast is over, Bunting must stand against the back wall of his cell as the door is unlocked and then step outside while it is searched by prison officers. Finally he is handed a mop to complete his morning ‘muck out’.
At the time of writing, John Bunting is being held in E Division in Yatala Prison, South Australia’s maximum security jail, located in Adelaide’s northern suburbs. His cell has a small television, a kettle and some personal effects like a toothbrush and razor. The room has concrete walls and floor, a single window, and a stainless steel toilet and basin. There are two bunk beds, but Bunting has no cellmate. He brags to other prisoners how he’s told authorities he’ll attack anyone placed in his cell, so he’s left alone. At least for now.
After Bunting has completed his morning routine, he is allowed into the Association Area, a room where inmates gather to watch television, play games and drink coffee. Later he is free to move into the weightlifting area or exercise yard. While Bunting does not lift weights and plays no sport, he often walks around, stopping to talk with other inmates.
John Bunting has learned quickly how to survive in prison. Although a short man, he is strongly built and has struck fear into fellow inmates with his bravado and talk of violence. He makes much of his reputation as Australia’s worst serial killer. Bunting has attacked another inmate who belittled him on at least one occasion, and he has been known to arm himself with a pencil which he regularly dips in faeces, warning others that the stab wound from the pencil would not be nearly as bad as the infection they would get afterwards.
Those who choose to listen say Bunting speaks incessantly of escaping from prison and taking revenge on those who put him there. He mentions police officers by name and describes what he would like to do to them. Bunting also brags about his crimes, about the pain he inflicted on his victims as they were tortured. John Bunting’s new life is one of fantasy, spent reliving all he has done, and yearning for the chance to do it again.
Only every now and then does Bunting catch a glimpse of his mate Robert Wagner. The men are held in separate sections within the same prison. At the time of writing, Wagner is an inmate in Yatala’s B Division.
Wagner’s daily routine is much the same as Bunting’s, although he lives in a single-person cell. Wagner has spent time as a ‘unit worker’, dishing out meals and collecting laundry, for which he earns about $40 a week.
Inside B Division, Wagner has befriended another convicted killer, with whom he spends much of his time. Wagner likes to big-note himself and brags of his crimes, often telling horrible tales of murder and talking of his hatred for those he believes are paedophiles. Unlike Bunting, fellow inmates are not frightened of Robert Wagner, and many refer to him with contempt as a ‘thick head’.
Mark Haydon also serves his time in Yatala’s B Division, but in a different section from Wagner. He has assimilated more willingly into the prison population,
but often keeps to himself. As was the case on the outside, Haydon has a reputation for being a quiet man. It is likely that Haydon will be transferred out of Yatala not too far into his sentence, to one of the prisons in South Australia’s country areas—perhaps Port Augusta to Adelaide’s north, or Mobilong to the west.
As for James Vlassakis—his exact whereabouts remain a closely guarded secret. Having turned on his co-accused and testified against them, Vlassakis is seen as a ‘dog’, not only by those he spoke against, but by most other inmates. Vlassakis serves his time under a false name, for his own protection. A court order forbids the South Australian media from publishing Vlassakis’s location, or even showing his face. Authorities believe that if this were to occur, Vlassakis’s life would be in danger.
The term ‘serial killer’ inspires not only a chilling, fearful reaction in many, but also fascination. Perhaps it is true-life tales dating back as far as Jack the Ripper which have served to arouse people’s interest. Perhaps fictional characters like Hannibal Lecter, depicted in the movie Silence of the Lambs, have served to glorify the worst kind of human being.
Indeed, much has been written and said about serial killers. In modern times they have been studied, analysed and even allowed to speak for themselves. The US Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) classifies a serial killer as a person who murders on at least three occasions, with a break or ‘cooling off’ period in between. The profile of a ‘typical’ serial killer is said to be a Caucasian male, aged between eighteen and forty, of above average intelligence and quite often personable, even charming. Contrary to popular belief, they are not freaks who stand out from the crowd. Serial killers are most often blue-collar workers or unemployed, and many have come from dysfunctional childhoods where they were emotionally, physically or sexually abused. Much of this is certainly true of the Snowtown killers, although no killer fits perfectly into the profile. What sets the Snowtown killers apart from so many others is the fact that they formed a murderous group rather than acting alone. This, history tells us, is rare.
However, perhaps the most striking characteristic about John Bunting, Robert Wagner, James Vlassakis and Mark Haydon is their cowardice. Bunting and Wagner preyed on unwitting, vulnerable victims who did not deserve the torture and death inflicted upon them. The pair believed they were on a mission to rid society of paedophiles when, in reality, most of their victims were innocents. These killers overpowered their victims using surprise, and then killed them for their own sadistic pleasure.
For their part, Vlassakis and Haydon were too cowardly to extricate themselves from Bunting’s evil circle. Their cowardice allowed the murders to continue. They too have blood on their hands.
The tourists had travelled a long way and, having finally arrived, they could hardly contain their excitement. One of the women in the group used the car’s rear-view mirror to fix her hair as her husband fiddled with his camera. The couple and their two friends had taken a stop on their driving holiday which, if their car’s registration plates were anything to go by, had brought them from Australia’s east coast to the small hamlet of Snowtown. It was a few months since Snowtown had been changed forever by the discovery of eight bodies, in barrels, in the vault of the town’s old Bank SA building.
A handful of locals was watching discreetly as the tourists struck a pose outside the building—like dozens before them, they had come to have their photograph taken outside the infamous bank.
Normally Snowtown residents are friendly and helpful, always willing to point a visitor in the right direction. But not today. There were two old bank buildings in Snowtown, and these visitors were posing for photographs outside the wrong one. For once the locals had the last laugh as the insensitive visitors drove out of town.
It was not the worst of what the people of Snowtown have been forced to endure. There were also the tourists who would stop outside the old bank, get down on their hands and knees and sniff under the door, hoping for a whiff of death. There were rats in the ranks, too, like the shopkeeper who tried to cash in on the town’s grisly reputation. He began selling sick souvenirs—fridge magnets displaying cartoon drawings of a skeleton in a barrel, along with the words ‘I’ve been to Snowtown—and survived’. Another magnet showed eight barrels with the slogan ‘Snowtown SA—You’ll have a barrel of fun’. Locals and victims’ families were outraged, and the glare of negative publicity was once again on the small town.
For the people of Snowtown there is no escape from the harsh reality of all that has happened there. It is true that only one victim was actually murdered in Snowtown, but it is equally true that it was the place where the killers chose to conceal their evil acts, and the place where the police eventually discovered them. Since then, some Snowtown residents have felt compelled to leave. Others have rallied together to get life back to normal—even make it better. Each of us has our own way of coping with adverse circumstances. But the people of Snowtown, past and present, must hope and anticipate that their home will pass back into anonymity.
One day.
Photographic Insert
(L to R) Robert Wagner, John Bunting and Mark Haydon are led into court on the day of their arrests, 21 May 1999.
Robert Wagner gesticulates to the camera as he is taken with Mark Haydon (left) and John Bunting (second left) into the Adelaide Magistrates Court for their committal hearing.
John Bunting sitting at the table of his home at 203 Waterloo Corner Road, Salisbury North. Two of his victims were buried in the back yard.
John Bunting at the motor museum, where he worked in 1988.
Bunting in custody in 1999.
A young Robert Wagner poses with his puppy. He named one of his dogs Adolf, after Hitler.
Wagner peers out of a prison van.
Mark Haydon in custody.
James Vlassakis in custody. His face is obscured due to legal restrictions in South Australia.
The Snowtown house where the killers had stored Mark Haydon’s four-wheel drive, with the bodies in the barrels inside.
The home shared by Mark and Elizabeth Haydon, where she was murdered and bodies were stored in the garage.
A police guard outside the former Bank SA building in Snowtown in the days after the bodies were found in the bank’s vault (BELOW).
Paul Schramm speaking at the 1999 press conference announcing that bodies had been found in Snowtown.
Robert Wagner, in handcuffs, being led through the streets of Snowtown as part of a jury viewing during his and Bunting’s trial.
Workers gather at John Bunting’s former home at 203 Waterloo Corner Road to excavate the back yard.
Detective Brian Swan emerges with a bag containing human bones.
Detective Craig Patterson (centre, overalls) uses a sieve to locate human remains.
An aerial view of the excavation at 203 Waterloo Corner Road.
Elizabeth Harvey, James Vlassakis’s mother, in the Waterloo Corner Road house. The two victims buried in the back yard included Ray Davies, whom Harvey helped murder.
Harvey’s eldest son Troy Youde (ABOVE) and stepson David Johnson (BELOW), both victims of the killers.
Clinton Trezise (ABOVE) was Bunting’s first victim, and came to his attention because of his association with Barry Lane (FURTHER BELOW), the fifth victim. Thomas Trevilyan (BELOW) helped Bunting and Wagner murder Lane, then became their next victim.
Clinton Trezise’s skeletal remains, found in Lower Light, SA.
Second and third victims Ray Davies and Suzanne Allen. They met Bunting through Barry Lane.
Mark Haydon with his wife, Elizabeth, who became the second last victim. Police attention after her disappearance slowed down the killers’ pace.
Fred Brooks, who was Elizabeth Haydon’s nephew.
Gary O’Dwyer, who resembled Troy Youde too much for Bunting’s liking.
Michael Gardiner’s only crime seemed to be annoying Robert Wagner.
Vlassakis’s friend Gavin Porter, the seventh victim.
Police officers (L to R) Craig Patterson, Brian Swan and Bob Stapleton outside the SA Supreme Court building in September 2003.
Acknowledgments
Many people helped me tell this story and I owe thanks to them all. In particular I am grateful to Tony Love, Fiona Clark, John Merriman and Sophie Hamley. There are also those who I cannot thank by name. They know who they are.
Most of all I would like to thank my family for their tolerance and support, especially my wife, Melissa.
About the Author
Born in Adelaide in 1974, Jeremy Pudney was also raised in the South Australian capital. He completed a Journalism degree at the University of South Australia and began his journalism career in 1993.
Jeremy was a police reporter at South Australia’s only daily newspaper, The Advertiser, when the Snowtown murders story broke. He is now a television reporter with Network Ten in Melbourne. Primarily a police reporter, he is also assigned to major national and international stories, including the recent tsunami disaster.