by Peter Cotton
‘First up, let me explain that, in analysing this case, I’ve assumed that the people who killed Mrs Wright now have their hands on Mr Proctor. So let’s get down to business. As many of you will know, when building a criminal profile we employ the same six questions that journalists commonly use — who, what, when, where, how, and why.
‘Let’s begin with the “who” in this case. Both victims were associated with the government. They knew each other. Were they specifically targeted? Given their association, I think that’s probable. Now, if that’s correct, then, in purely definitional terms, the perpetrators here are not serial killers. That is, for them this was more than a case of inclination meeting opportunity. Rather, they’re spree killers — people who are driven by a single overwhelming impulse to commit a number of murders.’
It gave me a bit of a lift to hear Thorne echo what I’d said to McHenry. I glanced across at the boss, hoping to catch his eye, but he had his head down, taking notes. Regardless, I knew that Thorne’s words would register with him.
‘The second and most important part of the “who” question comes under the heading “Who dunnit?”. And, in addressing that, I think we can broadly say that the people we’re looking for here are very organised. Or at least one of them is. Mrs Wright was not an easy target. She was lured, or entrapped, and then captured. Later, she was despatched and dumped. All of the above required considerable planning and effort.
‘The perpetrators were probably familiar with her routine, including her usual route home. They knew about her after-work party, and maybe they were even there. And the document they leaked to the media demonstrates a desire to do damage to the government. In other words, at least one of the perpetrators is well informed and probably highly intelligent — just as you’d expect of an organised, violent offender.’
‘Just to interrupt for a moment, Alan,’ said McHenry, causing Thorne to lower his notes. ‘Leaking a document like they did, during an election campaign, not only demonstrates some knowledge of politics. It was a very political act, in and of itself. So is it possible we’re looking for some sort of militant political types here?’
Thorne removed his glasses and considered the question for a moment.
‘I think it’s much more likely to be an avenger,’ he said finally. ‘Someone whose life has gone bad, who blames the government for it, and who’s organised others to help him exact his revenge. It’s a simple but common explanation, I’m afraid. These people murdered Mrs Wright, but I believe that any government target would have suited them just as well. And it means that things look bleak for Mr Proctor, too. You see, the government will continue to irritate our avengers, and now that they’ve embarked on this course, I fear they’ll continue with it until they’re caught. Or killed.’
‘Are you saying the prime minister’s at risk here, too?’ I said.
‘Certainly at risk,’ said Thorne. ‘Very much at risk. I see his security’s tighter than ever, and so it should be.’
McHenry finally looked around at me, and I was surprised to see that he was scowling. Maybe I was getting a preliminary blast for my contact with Jean. Or maybe he was still smarting over my prodding of Lansdowne. Whatever it was, I blanked him out and concentrated on what Thorne had said about people with a grievance.
‘Alan, you’ve no doubt read our interview with Tom Hanley,’ I said. ‘The guy’s barely functional, and, on the face of it, not a fit for the profile you’ve worked up here. But is there any way he could be involved?’
‘Only as a support player,’ said Thorne. ‘But, of course, if he is a support player, who’s he supporting? As I’ve said, it’s likely to be an organised violent offender, with an anti-social personality disorder. His or her profile could include sexual aggression, poly-substance abuse, sexual perversion, and possibly even a history of mutilating animals — all characteristics that the FBI lists as possible markers for this sort of personality.’
‘One of them certainly ticks the box on mutilation,’ said Smeaton. ‘Given what they did to the cat.’
‘Possibly, except that the cat wasn’t mutilated,’ said Thorne, eyeing him over the top of his glasses. ‘In fact, it was treated in much the same way as Mrs Wright, which brings us to the question of “what”. What was the cause of death? Well, it was highly unusual. That, too, tells us something about our perpetrators, even though what it tells us contradicts the personality markers I’ve just outlined. Because one must say that the killers were unusually gentle with Mrs Wright. She was anaesthetised before she was gassed. Her body, when it was dumped, was not presented so as to shock or offend. She was not sexually interfered with. She was fully clothed. Her dignity in death was maintained. That’s why I believe this was not so much an act against Mrs Wright, but more an attack on what she represented. So, anomalies abound, but nothing’s ever neat, is it?’
The prime minister had given me a verbal whacking when I described Wright’s killers as gentle, so he would have hated Thorne’s description of her death as dignified.
‘Moving on to “when”,’ said Thorne, jolting me from my thoughts. ‘When did the crime occur? Was there anything significant about the time of day, the month, or the year? Well, yes, of course there was. We’re nearly at the end of an election campaign, and two significant actors have been removed from the stage. Clearly, not a coincidence. Clearly, connected to the motivation of the perpetrators, as I’ve said.
‘The next question is “where”. Where was Mrs Wright murdered? If you can answer that, you’ve probably found the killers. And where was she abducted? Another big unknown. The third part of the “where” equation is “Where was she dumped?” That we do know. By the lake, of course. So, did the lake mean something to our killers? Or to Mrs Wright? Well, forgive me if I digress into the language of symbolism here, but, in the absence of firm evidence, it’s as close a reading of these actions as I could come up with. Lakes feature in the mythology of a number of ancient cultures, where they’re generally linked to a transition to death. In Greek mythology, for instance, the god Dionysus descended into the underworld through a lake.’
‘If we’re talking about symbolism,’ said Smeaton, ‘any idea what the cat means?’
Thorne stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger while he considered the question.
‘The cat clearly had special significance to at least one of the perpetrators,’ he said at last. ‘Perhaps they were telling us that the cat’s life was of equal value to the minister’s. As to your question about symbolism, that’s very interesting. The cat was a symbol of cleverness in some ancient cultures. And cats have always been considered remarkable for their powers of transformation. They have fast-dilating pupils. They’re able to sheath and unsheath their claws at will. And they can turn from a sleepy bundle of fur into a beast that lashes out without conscience. It’s why different cultures have radically different takes on the cat. I mean, it’s an animal that was sacred to the ancient Egyptians, but it’s never been very popular with Buddhists; in their tradition, the cat was the only creature, other than the snake, that failed to cry when the Buddha died.’
Thorne let that one sink in. Then he scanned his notes briefly before removing his glasses. He was coming to the end of his spiel.
‘Finally, there’s the “why” of it,’ he said. ‘What motivated the murderers? Why did they do it? Well, in the end, it could be that they think they’re protecting themselves. Or someone they love. That is, their motive is survival. Their other motivation could be the pursuit of happiness. Happiness achieved through an act of revenge against someone who has harmed them, or their loved ones, in the past. There are any number of permutations to these two motives, but I feel the truth lies with one of them. Or somewhere in between, perhaps. Keep them in mind as you continue your investigation, and they’ll help steer you towards the perpetrators.
‘I’ll put these thoughts and some substantiat
ing materials up on PROMIS. I hope they help you in this important task. Now, are there any other questions?’
No hands went up, so Thorne re-scanned his notes to make sure he’d covered everything. Satisfied, he put the notes back in his briefcase, thanked McHenry, and walked from the room.
Channel Four Live Cam
Saturday 3 August, 1.30pm
Good afternoon, Jean Acheson with the Live Cam, and up to half a million people have converged on the centre of Sydney for Susan Wright’s state funeral, which is due to get underway here within the hour.
Prominent business people, politicians, and celebrities are still arriving at Saint Mary’s, and police have barricaded roads around the city centre to give mourners easy access to the service. Most of Mrs Wright’s cabinet colleagues have already taken their seats, and Prime Minister Michael Lansdowne’s motorcade is due any minute now.
Meanwhile, giant screens relaying the event have been set up throughout the city in an effort to relieve the crush around the cathedral. And Macquarie Cemetery has placed a strict limit on numbers for the funeral service to be held out there later this afternoon.
For the record, the previous biggest state funeral in Australia was that of Sir John Monash. More than three hundred thousand people lined the streets of Melbourne in 1931 to farewell the World War I leader. This is Jean Acheson. Back with more in a moment.
15
WHILE THE REST of Australia watched the state funeral on TV, everyone in the Major Incident Room was glued to a computer screen, viewing several minutes of CCTV footage that had just gone up on PROMIS. The footage showed that, despite her denials, Janet Wilson had indeed opened Proctor’s file as she was bringing it up to Wright’s party.
Wilson hadn’t rifled through the file as such, but footage from the night showed her getting into a lift on the ground floor. The next shot was from inside the lift as the doors closed: as the lift ascended, she opened the lid of the file and had a lingering look inside; then, as the doors began to open at the first floor, Wilson quickly closed the file. A corridor camera caught her a few seconds later, scooting into the party. The footage finished with her handing the file to Proctor as he stood at the door to Wright’s office.
In the segment that followed, Wilson got a drink from the kitchen and returned to reception, where she chatted to various people. Ten minutes later, Proctor’s deputy, Penny Lomax, tapped her on the shoulder and the two of them moved into a short corridor and put their heads together for a few minutes.
In the final shots, Wilson returned to reception, and Lomax headed for the toilet. The minister’s private office and the staff toilets were the only areas of the office suite not covered by CCTV cameras. This raised the possibility that Lomax had called or texted someone to tell them what Wilson had seen in the file.
When I discussed the footage with McHenry, he was all for going up to the Hill and charging Wilson with obstruction. I advised against it. Yes, she knew things she hadn’t told us. In fact, she’d lied. But I didn’t see her as one of our killers. And given her nervous disposition, if we made a big show of arresting her, it might tip her over the edge and cruel our chances of getting anything from her.
McHenry heard me out, and then told me to handle it whatever way I wanted to — so long as I got to the bottom of it. That would mean hauling Lomax in again, too, I told him, to see what she and Wilson had talked about after Wilson delivered the file to Proctor. And, more importantly, I wanted to know if Lomax had contacted anyone while she was in the toilets, after she’d chatted with Wilson.
‘That’s a lot to cover,’ said McHenry. ‘You’d better get on with it.’
An hour later, when she walked into the interview room, Wilson looked shaky — as though she knew something was up. When Smeaton told her we had new information about Proctor’s file, her jaw started to quiver.
‘W-w-what information?’ she said, her fingers splayed across her mouth.
‘It might have escaped your attention,’ said Smeaton, leaning across the table towards her, ‘but there are cameras all over Parliament House. So what do you suppose those cameras recorded when you were bringing Proctor’s file up to the party that night? Think about it — you and the file, in the lift, alone together.’
‘Okay, okay,’ she said, letting out a giant sigh, as though suddenly relieved. ‘I didn’t tell you the exact truth the other time. But you already know that. Well, okay. I did look in the file, but I didn’t take anything from it. But you know that, too. And the thing with the file is, I didn’t really see what was in it. Just some documents, that’s all.’
‘How many documents?’ said Smeaton.
‘There were five of them.’
‘And what can you tell us about them?’
‘Nothing, really. They were in those heavy plastic covers you can’t see through.’
‘The opaque ones?’ said Smeaton.
‘Yes, that’s right. They were opaque.’
‘What about one of these?’ Smeaton said, sliding a micro-cassette across the table towards her. ‘Did you see one of these in there, too?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said, looking like she was going to crack up. ‘Yes, there was one of them in there, too.’
‘So, you remember the cassette now, do you? Well, go on then. Tell us about it.’
‘There’s nothing to tell, really. It was just like that one. Except the one in the file had a word written on it.’
‘And what word was that?
‘It just said “Mondrian”.’
Smeaton and I exchanged a knowing glance. There it was again — Mondrian, the banker’s bank. So what, if anything, was recorded on the cassette in the file? Only God knew the answer to that one. And Proctor, if he was still alive.
We told Wilson she’d be charged if she held anything else back. Then I asked her what had made her open the file. She said it had been a rare opportunity, being alone with a dirt file like that, and she hadn’t been able to resist the temptation. I asked if she’d told anyone else about what she’d seen in the file.
‘Only Penny,’ she said, wiping vainly at the tears streaming down her face. ‘Penny Lomax.’
‘Why her?’
‘Because she’s my boss, and I tell her everything. What I hear around the place — the goss and stuff.’
‘Do your efforts for her often involve sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong?’ said Smeaton. ‘Like poking around in secured files?’
‘No! That’s the first and last time ever. And, truly, it’s like I said. I never had the opportunity before.’
‘So how did Penny Lomax react when you told her what you saw?’
‘She was not happy. She told me it was the wrong thing to have done and that I’d be turfed out of the office if ever Mr Proctor found out about it.’
Thirty minutes later, when Penny Lomax walked into the interview room, she looked less than poised. As soon as she was seated, she said she had something she wanted to tell us. Then, in what sounded like a well-rehearsed statement, she said that on the night of the party, Wilson had opened up to her about having a peek inside Proctor’s file. Wilson had also told her about a cassette inside the file, she said. And that cassette had had the word ‘Mondrian’ written on its spine. She apologised for having failed to say anything about these things when we’d first interviewed her. These declarations were no surprise, really. Lomax would have known that we were talking to Wilson again, and she would also have known that Wilson was likely to buckle under pressure.
‘So why didn’t you say anything about this when we first spoke to you?’ said Smeaton, a disbelieving smile on his face.
‘I didn’t think it was important then,’ said Lomax, struggling to maintain her composure. ‘But thinking about it since, I now recognise it as something you’d want to know.’
‘So you didn’t think the
word “Mondrian” on that cassette case would interest us?’
‘I’m sorry, but at the time I was thinking, like, Mondrian? It’s a bank — so what? But then I Googled it, and saw how it was linked with Mrs Wright in the past.’
‘I don’t believe you for a second. So why don’t we start again. And this time, I advise you to think carefully before you respond.’
Lomax dropped her head and ran her tongue over her lips. She looked up at Smeaton, and then swung a look my way. The usual hint of defiance was gone from her eyes. She was finally feeling some pressure.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘Yes, I should have said something. I was vaguely aware of the Mondrian thing. But it was so long ago, I didn’t see anything in it. And I was more focused on Janet. Alan would have sacked her if he’d found out, and I couldn’t let that happen. She’s my eyes and ears up there.’
Self-interest seemed a much more plausible explanation than ignorance, but Smeaton wanted to give her another push.
‘And when you had your little tête-à-tête with Wilson at the party,’ he said, ‘did you tell her to keep quiet about what she’d done?’
‘Well, sort of. But, not really. I mean, I was angry that she’d been poking around in things that weren’t her business. And I told her she’d jeopardised her job and that she should keep her mouth shut about what she’d done.’
‘And after you had a go at her, you went to the ladies’,’ I said. ‘Did you call or text anyone while you were in there?’
‘In the toilet?’ she said, screwing up her face at the suggestion. ‘No. Why would I do that?’
That was the question, but in the absence of a ready answer, my only option was to check her phone records to see if they contradicted her. I cautioned Lomax not to hold anything back in future, after which Smeaton saw her out.
