Bingo. Now it all came back.
Ten months earlier, besides the house, there was only one ramshackle implement shed on the property. Now, there was a new concrete driveway leading from the road to a large, brand-new garage. In fact, now that he thought about it, there were nice new concrete paths all around the house. Inside was a new Kent indoor heater; the old clothes-wringer had been replaced with a top-of-the-range Dishmaster dishwashing machine, and the whole family looked to be wearing newer, flasher clothing.
In order to be able legally to detain him while they pored over the robbery investigation file to try to make a connection, Trevor Nash was charged with receiving £235, being the amount of money found in his coat pocket when he was booked. He wouldn’t say where this money came from, so he was deemed to have obtained it illegally.
He was safely in the cells, but he couldn’t be held for long, so the entire detective branch worked around the clock to try to build up a case.
— — —
In May 1957, Nash had obtained a building permit from Papatoetoe Borough Council for the addition of a 28-foot by 12-foot (8.5-metre by 3.7-metre) garage on his section. Receipts showed £170 cash was paid to Harman Builders, all in £5 notes. Records showed that, while the property at 8 Bridge Street, Papatoetoe, had been purchased with a mortgage from the State Advances Corporation several years prior, the mortgage had been paid off within the last twelve months.
Police went door to door along Bridge Street, making enquiries of Nash’s neighbours. Although almost ten months had passed since the Waterfront payroll robbery, and although Nash had never previously been in the frame, his neighbours thought they could remember exactly what happened at number 8 on the night of 27 November 1956. An immediate neighbour said he had lived at his address for four years but had only ever talked with Nash once. He recalled with certainty that on the night of 27 November, Nash drove off at 9 pm and returned in the early hours. The neighbour said he had been awoken by the sound of the car door closing and thought this unusual. A few nights later, he saw Nash crawl under his house with a spade. He saw him go back under later, carrying what appeared to be a bundle of newspapers.
The neighbour on the other side stated that Nash kept irregular hours and occasionally left home in the middle of the night. He had read about the robbery in the newspaper and it struck him that, after this, Nash seemed to begin keeping more regular hours, never venturing out at night anymore. In fact, he rarely seemed to leave the house at all. He thought Nash must have come into some money, because he had put up new Venetian blinds in all the rooms, bought a brand-new Masport lawnmower and had a fair bit of concreting done around the place. He had also arrived home just before Christmas with a fold-up (a 12-foot folding caravan) and had taken the family to the beach for four weeks. Detectives learned that Nash had purchased the fold-up in December 1956, paying £90 in £10 notes to the vendor.
In August 1957, Nash engaged a local contractor to concrete his driveway and to lay several paths alongside the house and garage at a cost of £95, which was paid for in £5 notes by Mrs Nash. Meanwhile, renovations carried out in and outside the house over and above these major improvements were estimated to have cost £704.
When Hoy stopped to think about it, the house was outfitted with many extravagant items a man on a modest income could ill afford. The average annual wage for a working man in New Zealand in 1956 was £715 (before tax). On this basis, in the past ten months, Nash had spent almost an entire year’s wages on renovations and home appliances alone.
Nash’s union card described him as a cargo worker. Employment and union-card records showed he had been working a regular five-day week (plus overtime) until October 1956, but in the ten months from November 1956 to the time he was detained he had only worked a total of 100 days.
With Nash’s car impounded in the police garage, Hoy placed three oxygen bottles and one acetylene bottle similar in size to those found in the commission office in the boot and found they fitted perfectly. There was even room for a few more tools and implements.
The odds were stacking up against Trevor Nash.
— — —
Detective Sergeant Wallace Chalmers supervised the identity parade on 16 September 1957. With the time Nash could be legally detained fast running out, it was crucial to bring in all potential witnesses: bank tellers, Newmarket shop assistants and anyone previously interviewed who might possibly link him to the crime. Nash was brought out with eight other men of similar build, height and age, and he chose to stand at number three in the line-up. Just before they began parading the witnesses, someone spotted he was the only one not wearing a tie. The duty sergeant offered him a selection, but Nash insolently pointed at the tie worn by Detective Sergeant Chalmers, who obligingly took it off and handed it over.
Five of the seven witnesses could not pick out Nash. One confidently picked out an entirely different fellow. Two others stood behind him and tapped his shoulder. After everyone had left, Nash asked for a tally. ‘Two? That’s hardly enough!’ he scoffed.
But William Burgoyne from A. R. Ryan was particularly nervous when he was in the room. He had no idea how identity parades worked, and when he saw the tough-looking, suit-wearing, burly detectives in the room, he was afraid they were gangsters of some description. After fudging his identification of those in the line-up, Burgoyne pulled Detective Sergeant Chalmers aside as soon as they were out of the room and told him that he had instantly recognised the man standing third from the right as the man who ordered the modifications to the brick bolster.
It was three out of seven.
Later that afternoon, Nash was brought out again for one last line-up, this time with the ace police witness, Eric Thomas, who had seen two men leaving the rear of the Northern Steamship Company building on the morning of the robbery. Thomas had been confident he would easily recognise both suspects, but after four days of skimming through the rogue’s gallery he couldn’t pick out either of the men. Police held out hope, but Thomas walked right past Nash and picked out Constable Paterson, who had donned civvies to make up numbers in the line-up.
Senior detectives held a late conference with the chief, Finlay, who was relieved they finally had a suspect in custody. After hearing the evidence at hand, he supported an arrest.
‘If there is sufficient evidence enabling him to be charged with this offence [the Waterfront payroll robbery],’ Finlay pointed out, ‘then there is sufficient evidence to enable him to be charged with the theft of the gas apparatus found at the scene of the offence.’
On 20 September 1957, seven days after Nash had been detained, Detective Sergeant Irving asked him if he would like to talk with a lawyer. Nash made no reply. He was then placed under arrest and charged with the following:
• Count 1: Breaking and entering counting-house of the Waterfront Industry Commission and committing the crime of theft therein;
• Count 2: Breaking and entering the counting-house of John Jones and committing the crime of theft therein [relating to the acetylene gauge and gas-bottle key];
• Count 3: Theft of three bottles of oxygen and three bottles of acetylene gas of a total value of £115.10s.0d., being the property of New Zealand Industrial Gases Limited;
• Count 4: Theft of one cutting torch and two Meco oxygen regulating gauges, of a total value of £22, being the property of Mason Brothers Limited.
The news was reported to Detective Superintendent Aplin at Police National Headquarters, who relayed it to other parties. Whether it was received with any special interest is unknown, but it is unlikely. At best, it was probably a relief from a niggling worry. The government had other, more pressing concerns. Prime Minister Holland had eventually returned to full duties after his illness, but he was ailing again. Confidence in the government had further declined and, with an election looming in November, senior ministers gathered in August 1957 to encourage Holland to step down, which he grudgingly did, paving the way for Keith Holyoake to take over as prime minister, with
Jack Marshall as his deputy.
CHAPTER 9
TRIAL
The matter of R v Nash was set down for late October, leaving little more than a month for police to prepare a strong case to hand over to Crown Prosecutor Graham Speight. During his first briefing with Irving and Walton, Speight told them frankly, ‘You simply don’t have enough evidence to place Nash at the scene of the crime. You have strong evidence that he’s linked to it, in that he was found with some of the stolen banknotes and that he was spending well beyond his means. That just proves he had the possession of monies connected to the robbery. It doesn’t prove he actually committed the robbery. What of his accomplices?… Of the witnesses, Burgoyne is our strongest if he can say with absolute certainty that Nash was the customer who brought him the brick bolster which was found at the scene of the crime. We can perhaps connect Nash that way. I’m hesitant about the merit of the neighbours’ testimony. Both by their own admission had little or nothing whatsoever to do with him, yet they reckon they’ll stand in the box to recall what happened almost eleven months ago?’
— — —
Nash was remanded to Mount Eden Prison and made himself available for all police interviews, but he refused to answer any questions. At a meeting just prior to the magistrates’ hearing, Detective Sergeant Irving urged him to give up his associates.
‘There’s no doubt about it. You’re in a tight spot, Nash. We don’t believe for one moment that you orchestrated this heist, but if you don’t help yourself you’re going to end up bearing the full brunt and you’ll go down for a very long time. Do yourself a favour.’
Nash broke his silence. ‘I’m not a fuckin’ rat,’ he sneered. ‘I’ll take my chances in court.’
‘Fair enough.’ Irving sighed. ‘But I suggest you get a good mouthpiece [lawyer].’
The magistrates’ court had no hesitation in committing Nash to trial on all charges.
— — —
Detective Ivan Hoy was despatched to 8 Bridge Street to see how Maria Nash was coping, and took the opportunity to gently encourage her to ask her husband to name names and save himself. Maria insisted her husband couldn’t have been involved in the crime, because he had spent the night of 27 November at home, and they celebrated his birthday the next day. She was under considerable stress. She had three children under the age of five and another on the way. She had lost her husband, the breadwinner, and as there was little social welfare support for single mothers in her predicament she had no income on the horizon. To make matters far worse, she was receiving unwelcome telephone calls late at night and cars were driving slowly past her house. She was afraid word was out amongst the criminal fraternity that she was home alone and sitting on a goldmine of ill-gotten gains.
Hoy assured her he would ask for more patrol cars to be deployed to the area for the duration of the trial.
— — —
The trial opened in the Auckland Supreme Court on Tuesday 29 October 1957. There had been little media interest and the arrest had passed virtually unnoticed, apart from a few lines in the papers. John Wilson of The Auckland Star was the only reporter in court, and besides him the only people in the public area of the courtroom were Nash’s close family and as Truth, groping for sensationalism, put it, ‘a handful of dubious-looking men in suits’. Mr Justice Finlay presided over the case. Finlay was a favourite of Jack Marshall, likely because Finlay was noted for his conservatism and the severity of the punishments he handed down. His Honour had made headlines two years earlier when he sent Albert Black to the gallows for the Jukebox murder. Black’s friends had been confident he would escape the murder charge on the grounds of self-defence or, at the very worst, be convicted of manslaughter. Unhappily for Black, Finlay seemed to have taken against him from the outset, possibly influenced by the moral crusades of that year. His Honour had made disparaging comments about Black and his peer group in the very early stages of the trial, and some believed these had prejudiced the jury against him.32
There is no clear evidence to suggest it, but it was popularly rumoured Marshall still had enough influence to pull strings to have Finlay preside over the case against Nash. At the time of the trial, Marshall was in the final stages of the election campaign and wanted no distractions. Mr Justice Finlay was a safe pair of hands in a case like this. There would clearly be no comfort for Nash when he looked to the bench.
— — —
In the lead-up to the magistrate’s hearing, Nash showed no interest in engaging a lawyer and did nothing to help himself, so Auckland barrister Mr Ronald Davison was appointed as his counsel, assisted by Mr J. G. Jamieson. Davison met with Nash, but he seemed indifferent to the whole affair and gave no instructions, effectively leaving it to Davison and Jamieson to do what they could to formulate a defence based on the evidence disclosed by the Crown.
The trial was set down for two days with a total of 62 witnesses listed to give evidence.
In his opening address, Crown Prosecutor Speight presented the police reconstruction of how the robbery unfolded, noting that it was expertly carried out by an offender or offenders who left no clues at the scene. Since only Nash was on trial, Speight was careful to lay the blame squarely at his door, but he left open the possibility that Nash might have been part of a highly organised criminal gang that planned and executed the robbery, and he was the only one caught. Speight stressed that, although nobody actually saw the crime being committed and charges were based on circumstantial evidence, the jury was entitled to take into account the chain of circumstances that linked Nash to the crime.
Many of the early witnesses were those who had been present immediately after the robbery was discovered and they set the scene for the jury. An electrician was brought in to testify how the wiring had been severed and how this isolated only part of the Northern Steamship Company building. The safe was wheeled in and an expert demonstrated how, after failing to blow the safe open, the offender had cut through the top with the gas-cutting torch and the equipment that had been produced in court as exhibits.
An intricate set of diagrams was chalked up on to a blackboard to demonstrate for the jury the journey the money had taken—from its origins at the Reserve Bank, where it was stored in brand-new blocks of numerical sequence, through the next stages, where blocks were separated and broken down several times, to the point when Waterfront Industry Commission payroll staff built up smaller bundles comprising a mix of brand-new and old notes. The point of this was to show how the authorities could determine which banknotes were stolen. It was a drawn-out and complicated explanation, but Speight was able to show that the banknotes Nash spent in Newmarket and those found in his possession were one and the same with the notes stolen from the Waterfront Industry Commission safe.
As a cargo worker, Speight reminded the jury, Nash would have been familiar enough with the workings of the Waterfront Industry Commission to know that a large quantity of money would have been stored on the premises the day before payday.
In the ten months leading up to November 1956, Nash had worked diligently at the wharves and records showed he’d had only nine days off work during that year. But in the ten months after the robbery and until his arrest he had a total of 60 days off and had not worked any overtime. Yet he was found with 165 £10 notes and had spent the equivalent of a year’s wages on home maintenance and extravagant purchases. At the time of his arrest, he wasn’t actively employed at all.
The brand of the box of matches that was found amongst the items in Nash’s car was the same brand as that which was found at the scene of the crime.
The round rubber heel-mark found on the back stairwell of the Northern Steamship Company building was a match for the size and type of shoe found in Nash’s wardrobe during the search of his house.
Two neighbours had observed Nash leaving his home late at night ‘around the time’ of the robbery. They didn’t hear him return home until the early hours of the next morning. One added that he had seen Nash secretively carrying it
ems underneath his house.
Knowing that it was the strongest strand of evidence at his disposal, Speight kept returning to the banknotes. Witnesses were called who positively identified Nash as the man making small purchases with £10 notes at businesses in Newmarket. All the notes that he had tendered belonged to the sequence with the serial number beginning 4/F 879, which was part of the sequence from the stolen payroll.
‘What are the chances of one man taking out of his pocket two ten-pound notes with consecutive serial numbers?’ Speight asked the jury. ‘It is remote. But here is a man who has one hundred and sixty-five ten-pound notes in perfect numerical sequence!’
Then the Crown called a witness whom they regarded as their trump card, Professor Kenneth Griffin, the government analyst. He had been given twelve packets of the recovered £10 notes to analyse. There were 165 notes in total belonging to the series 4/F 879601 to 4/F 879799. He was also given the Marcovitch cigarette tin containing a piece of oily rag smudged with green dye that had been found in Nash’s Ford Anglia. Many of the £10 notes had been smeared with a greenish substance to give the appearance of being used or aged. Even where this treatment wasn’t obvious to the naked eye, Professor Griffin explained, it could readily be detected under ultraviolet light, where the substance with which the notes were smeared produced a brilliant white fluorescence. No fewer than 26 banknotes exhibited this fluorescence under a UV lamp.
Methodically led by Speight, Professor Griffin explained that he had examined samples of oil from seven bottles found in Nash’s home during the search. He confirmed that the green compound found smudged and partly removed on the cloth matched Kema oil. It had proved difficult to be certain that some of the notes had received the Kema treatment, because it appeared that an effort had been made to wash off the staining after it had dried. Griffin thought petrol might have been used for this. The effect was to make the notes look older than they were, because—quite apart from the fact that their edges were sharp, and not feathered as would be the case with used notes—these ‘aged’ notes were from the 4/F sequence, which were newly issued.
The Great New Zealand Robbery Page 12