Snowtown

by Jeremy Pudney

  A security camera recorded the image of the man using the service station’s ATM. It was John Bunting. He was filmed again eight days later.

  By April detectives were considering the possibility of a fifth victim. Suzanne Allen’s former lover, Ray Davies, had apparently vanished in late 1995. At the time he’d been living in a caravan in Suzanne’s back yard. Neither family nor friends had heard from him since.

  Trouble was, he too was still being paid a government pension. In keeping with the pattern, regular withdrawals were being made from his account.

  Police obtained security vision from the Australian Central Credit Union branches where the six most recent transactions on the Ray Davies account had occurred. The first two were at Murray Bridge, the others in Adelaide’s northeastern suburbs.

  These transactions had been over the counter. On each occasion the same man had posed as Ray Davies.

  Again, it was John Bunting.

  John Bunting believed he would never be caught. As is typical of serial killers, he thought himself smarter than the police. After all, he’d gotten away with murder—more than once.

  The truth was, Bunting had been lucky, and his luck was running out.

  Ironically, it was Bunting and his right-hand man, Robert Wagner, who led police to the breakthrough they’d been hoping for. Literally.

  Late in the morning of Sunday, 16 May 1999, Craig Patterson and Brian Swan headed north out of Adelaide. With them was field intelligence officer Vicki Ramm. The detectives had been monitoring calls made by Bunting and Wagner on their mobile phones and come up with a lead. Call charge records revealed that the suspects had placed calls to addresses at two country towns north of Adelaide—Snowtown and Moonta. Patterson and Swan were going to check those addresses; the first stop was Snowtown.

  About halfway along the highway Patterson received a call from the police surveillance team assigned to watch the suspects. They too were on the highway—and not far behind.

  The major crime officers parked their car out of sight, then waited. At 12.20 p.m. they spotted Robert Wagner’s brown Ford station wagon travelling along the highway towards them. As it drew closer, the detectives could see Wagner was driving, Bunting in the passenger seat. Several police surveillance cars trailed behind as the suspects sped past.

  Wagner and Bunting were still being tagged as they cruised into Snowtown. At 1.07 p.m. they parked outside their friend Simon Jones’s house on Railway Terrace and went inside. A short time later the pair walked towards the centre of town, undercover officers losing sight of them. A few minutes later they returned to Wagner’s car and drove away. They’d been in town for less than an hour.

  Patterson, Swan and Ramm waited until the suspects had left before making their way to Snowtown. Being there at the same time as Bunting and Wagner was far too risky. The Major Crime officers parked not far from 25 Railway Terrace West—the address listed on the mobile phone records, which they had come to check. It was the same house Bunting and Wagner had just visited.

  Patterson and Swan stayed in the car while Ramm walked cautiously past the house, to check if there was anything of interest.

  There was. In the driveway was a two-tone Toyota Land Cruiser.

  The distinctive four-wheel drive had come to the attention of police months earlier. The broken-down Toyota had once been a permanent fixture outside Mark Haydon’s house. About the time Elizabeth Haydon vanished, a neighbour had seen the vehicle being packed with garbage bags. The next day, it was gone.

  Simon Jones was petrified. He had not been blessed with a sharp intellect, but he knew something serious was happening. And it seemed to be happening to him.

  It was lunchtime when the police knocked on his door. He was home alone; his wife was in hospital and their kids at school.

  The shorter detective, Steve McCoy, told Jones that police were looking for a missing woman named Elizabeth Haydon. They were interested in the old Toyota Land Cruiser in his driveway.

  Jones explained that his friends John Bunting and Robert Wagner had towed the vehicle to Snowtown. Inside the Land Cruiser had been several large black drums. Their foul odour had been so powerful that they’d been moved across the road, to the old bank.

  As he waited in the small room at the Snowtown police station a few hours later, Simon Jones lamented ever having laid eyes on the four-wheel drive. He had directed the detectives to the old bank, and whatever they found there had created quite a stir. More police were arriving all the time.

  TEN

  By early evening on 20 May 1999 more than a dozen police, mostly detectives and crime scene officers, had assembled in Snowtown. They met at the local police station, their cars parked at the side of the building so as not to attract attention. The night’s activities would have to be as discreet as possible—the last thing police needed was to be hindered by curious onlookers or, worse, hounded by the media. There was also the risk that the suspects would get wind of the find and set about destroying evidence. It was, however, less likely that they would be able to flee—covert surveillance teams had already swung into place.

  Inside the police station the officer in charge of the Major Crime Branch, Detective Superintendent Paul Schramm, briefed his team. They discussed a cover story to fend off curious locals—a drug bust seemed the best scenario.

  As nightfall approached the police made their way to the bank, walking in small groups to avoid suspicion. They congregated in the yard at the side of the bank, behind a tall fence, and gathered around the small LCD screen on a police digital camera to watch a replay of the horrific discovery.

  This time entry to the old bank building was gained solely by crime scene examiners, dressed in overalls and wearing gloves. They cleared a designated path into the building and began scouring for clues. Senior Constable Gordon Drage recorded every step on video, first as he walked through the kitchen and toilet area, then the main part of the building. He filmed the junk stacked on top of the customer counter and on the floor nearby; there were old televisions, video recorders, computer parts and boxes. In cupboards under the counter he found garbage bags, rope, an empty soft drink bottle and a half-eaten packet of chips, plus a Stanley knife and two electric cables. Both cables had been tampered with and one was fitted with alligator clips.

  Inside the vault officers labelled the large black drums with the letters A through F. It was 10.10 p.m. when the go-ahead was given to open the first of the barrels. The presence of acid had prompted concerns the contents of the barrels could be toxic, so Senior Constable Drage wore breathing apparatus as he made his approach. He carefully removed the plastic screw top lids of barrels A and B, then prised out the internal caps underneath.

  Inside both human remains were visible, partly submerged in a murky liquid. As he filmed the contents Drage could see items of clothing and discarded rubber gloves.

  Gradually the other barrels were opened to reveal similarly gruesome contents. From inside barrel E, human hands were protruding as though they were reaching out. At the top of barrel F were feet which had been cut off at the ankle.

  The operation at the bank had been as low-key as possible, but still attracted the attention of some locals. One of them was sitting across the road on the balcony of the local pub.

  About half past eleven, quarter to twelve, the police backed the trailer into the gutter. It was an unmarked four-wheel drive with a trailer attached.

  I could smell something, it smelled like chemicals, you know.

  It was about quarter past twelve when they started shifting the barrels out. The police were wearing overalls; they were bringing the barrels out on a sack truck.

  One guy stayed on the trailer the whole time; the rest kept going back and forth.

  The barrels looked pretty heavy, it took three or four people to lift them onto the trailer. The last one I reckon there was five.

  By one o’clock in the morning on Friday, 21 May 1999, the last of the six barrels had been loaded. Their destination: the
State Forensic Science Centre in Adelaide.

  Almost fourteen hours had passed since police arrived at Snowtown. They had gone there investigating the disappearance of five people, looking for answers. Now they were left with many more questions. The most pressing was: how many bodies did the barrels contain? One thing was for certain—it was more than five. That meant more victims.

  Dr John Gilbert cast his eyes from one barrel to the next. There were six of them, still on the trailer. As he stood in the State Forensic Science Centre’s vehicle compound, he was already planning one of the most gruesome tasks he would ever have to perform.

  Suggestions of acid in the barrels meant pH testing would have to be done first, for safety’s sake. A chemist was called in; the pH in five of the barrels was neutral, in the other it was weakly acidic.

  At precisely 1.20 p.m., Dr Gilbert, three technicians and the mortuary manager began their delicate operation. Their job was to recover the barrels’ contents and preserve any evidence. It was slow and painstaking work.

  Each barrel was weighed before being opened and tipped slowly onto its side. Fluid from each was decanted into a corresponding 44-gallon drum. The fire brigade had supplied the drums, which were lined with plastic. While large solid matter sank to the bottom of the barrels, smaller pieces had to be caught in a sieve, then placed in buckets, also labelled A through F.

  At 4.40 p.m., the recovery of body parts and other items from the barrels was complete. Dr Gilbert telephoned the State Coroner, Wayne Chivell, to notify him that the remains of eight people had been found. He later compiled a detailed list:

  Barrel A:

  Total mass: 113.5 kg.

  Contents: One intact male body wearing a jumper.

  Tattoos noted on chest. This body was placed in a body bag designated as Al.

  Two matted lumps of hair.

  Four slabs of skin and underlying muscle.

  Two disarticulated femurs with traces of muscle and tendon tissue attached.

  One disarticulated right lower leg with the foot missing.

  One disarticulated left lower leg with partially disarticulated left foot.

  These items were placed in a body bag designated A2.

  Also within barrel A were pieces of plastic, electrical wire and numerous rubber gloves.

  Barrel B:

  Total mass: 155.5 kg.

  Contents: One clothed male body with tattooed arms.

  This body was placed in a body bag designated B.

  Other items found in the barrel included part of a syringe, a plastic bag and a perforated black plastic mat was found at the base of the drum. These items were placed in separate labelled plastic bags.

  Barrel C:

  Total mass: 119 kg.

  Contents: Male body, handcuffed, legs tied, plastic bags over head and legs. Soft tissue loss noted around one of the knees with the corresponding patella (kneecap) loose in the barrel.

  The body was placed in a body bag designated C.

  Barrel D:

  Total mass: 168.5 kg.

  Contents: Clothed male body missing lower legs and feet.

  Yellow tape around head. Rope around neck.

  This body was placed in a body bag designated D1.

  Left and right lower legs, each with attached feet. Each foot bore a sock.

  A loose disarticulated left foot.

  These items were placed in a body bag designated D2.

  Clothed male body missing the left foot but otherwise intact. Rope around neck.

  Earring in left ear.

  This body was placed in a body bag designated D3.

  Barrel E:

  Total mass: 163.5 kg.

  Contents: A complete female body, clothed, with tape around the mouth and rope and fabric tape intertwined loosely around the legs.

  This body was placed in a body bag designated E.

  Barrel F:

  Total mass: 192.5 kg.

  Contents: A complete male body dressed in underpants.

  There was skin and soft tissue loss over the right lower thigh and right knee joint.

  The barrel also contained a rectangular piece of skin and subcutaneous tissue corresponding in size to the right thigh defect.

  These items were placed in a body bag designated F1.

  Male body missing legs and with incisions in anterior abdominal wall. Tape around head. Rope around neck. A loose right foot.

  These items were placed in a body bag designated F2.

  Other items located in the barrel included loose rubber gloves and the barrel of a syringe with attached needle. These items were placed in separate labelled bags.

  ELEVEN

  The adrenaline was still pumping, and it was just as well: it was 4.30 a.m. when Paul Schramm and his team arrived back in Adelaide. The drive from Snowtown had seemed to take forever and the briefing was only thirty minutes away.

  Dozens of officers had been recalled to duty. Many had been on days off; one was due to start holidays. All had been told to report to Major Crime by 5 a.m. and few were told why. The briefing began right on time and Paul Schramm did the talking. He gave a synopsis of the case, explaining how detectives had linked the disappearances of five people and the investigation pointed to at least three suspects. Next Schramm outlined the chain of events which had led to the previous day’s discovery at Snowtown. It was likely, he added, that the barrels contained the remains of more murder victims than police had expected.

  There was an intense silence as the video footage filmed inside the Snowtown bank vault was played on a large television. Eyes were fixed firmly on the screen as the camera panned across the room, revealing its sinister contents. A lid was screwed off one of the barrels, revealing human remains.

  Since the discovery, surveillance officers—known as ‘dogs’—had been watching the suspects. This morning, Schramm instructed, John Bunting, Robert Wagner and Mark Haydon were to be arrested. Each was to be charged with one count of murder, because it was still unclear how many bodies had been found at Snowtown. The single charge would be enough to keep the men in custody.

  Three teams of police would execute simultaneous raids on the suspects’ homes. Two detectives in each team would be responsible for the arrest; the others would search for evidence.

  Shortly after 6 a.m. the teams rolled out of the city. The surveillance crews were ordered out as the arrest teams moved in.

  It was 6.47 a.m. when the detectives arrived at John Bunting’s house, 49 Bundarra Crescent, in the northern suburb of Craigmore. Veteran investigators Bob Stapleton and Kym Presgrave were to make the arrest and it was Stapleton who knocked on the door, a tape recorder clutched in his hand to capture every word. James Vlassakis answered the door.

  ‘Good morning. Police officers. I would like to speak to John Bunting, please.’ The detectives walked into the hallway, where Bunting appeared.

  ‘John Bunting, we are police officers. I’m Detective Stapleton, Detective Presgrave, we are from Major Crime. We are investigating the disappearance of Clinton Trezise, Barry Lane, Elizabeth Haydon, Ray Davies and Suzanne Allen. We believe that you might be able to help us with our inquiries. I’m now arresting you on suspicion of the murder at this stage of an unidentified person, body found in a drum in a disused banking premises at Snowtown yesterday, the 20th of May 1999. I am now required to advise you of your rights and to advise you that anything you say will be recorded and may be given in evidence.’

  If Bunting was shocked, he didn’t show it.

  ‘You are entitled to make a telephone call in the presence of a member of the police force to a nominated relative or friend to advise them of your whereabouts. Do you understand that?’

  There was no response.

  ‘Do you wish to make a telephone call? Can you answer yes or no, please?’

  ‘No, I don’t wish to make a call.’

  ‘Do you understand your right to make a call, can you speak up, please?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You a
re entitled to have a solicitor, relative or friend present during any interrogation or investigation while in custody. Do you understand that? Can you please answer?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You are entitled to refrain from answering any questions while in custody. Do you understand that?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘We will be leaving here in a moment and going into the Adelaide police station where we will speak with you further. At the completion of that you will be entitled to make an application for bail. Do you understand that?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Right, if you just move this way, these other officers will conduct a search of the premises. Do you want some shoes? Will you just empty your pockets, please?’

  Bunting emptied the pockets of the jeans he was wearing.

  ‘Right, do you have anything else on your person?’

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘We will just search you, just to make sure, just for safety reasons, do you understand?’

  After being taken to the toilet, a handcuffed John Bunting was led to an unmarked police car. As Detective Presgrave drove back to the city, Detective Stapleton sat in the back seat next to their prisoner.

  In the nearby suburb of Elizabeth Grove, it was Robert Wagner who answered the knock at his door. Detective Craig Patterson told him he was under arrest and informed him of his rights.

  ‘Do you wish to exercise any of those rights, Robert?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘What would you like to exercise?’

  ‘I’m not saying anything.’

  Further north, in Smithfield Plains, Mark Haydon also had little to say when Detectives Greg Stone and Steve McCoy arrested him. Like the others, he was handcuffed and taken to a waiting car.