Sophie’s funeral service was beautiful, tragic and surreal; a wrecking ball of emotion smashing everything in its way. Afterwards I felt a hundred years old, exhausted and dazed from the intensity of the experience and from seeing my own misery mirrored on hundreds of other faces. I’ll never forget watching my mother hug my sister’s coffin as it was being loaded into the hearse. My mother couldn’t bear to let her go and she had to be gently prised away so the hearse could leave while hundreds of mourners looked on. It’s the saddest thing I ever saw.
I sang a song at the funeral. I wanted to write one especially for Sophie, but I only had days until the funeral and no instruments to write on and probably wasn’t up to it under the circumstances anyway. I chose a song by David Gray, mainly because it’s simple enough to play and one I thought I had a chance to get through without messing it up, but also because the tone and lyrics seemed appropriate. I did rewrite some of the lyrics and kind of made it through the performance. There were a few pauses between chord changes, partly because I can’t play the piano very well, and partly because I felt like every chord was sucking the life out of me. My leg was shaking so badly I could hardly keep it on the damper pedal, and my voice kept cracking, not in a cool, rock-’n’-roll way, but in a strangled way that comes from forcing your body to do something it very much doesn’t want to do — like singing while your heart is breaking. After the funeral my brother and I sat with some of Sophie’s friends outside the crematorium, looking out to sea. It was a bright, sunny day.
Sophie had completed her degree — a Bachelor of Commerce with first-class honours — only months before she was killed and before she got the chance to graduate. The university had already received a lot of unwanted attention because a member of their staff had murdered a student. No one had ever collected a degree in someone else’s place in the 140-year history of the university. Normal procedure would have been for Sophie to graduate in absentia; her name and qualification would be read out at the ceremony but no one would go up to collect her degree document and be capped by the chancellor of the university. In this case the university allowed me to collect Sophie’s degree as a gesture of goodwill; perhaps because I am an alumnus of the university it made them a little less uncomfortable about breaking with tradition. So I flew over from Australia and when the day came it was very odd to be standing in line with all the eager young graduands, feeling sad that Sophie couldn’t be there and somehow out of place by not being excited like they were. I walked onto the stage as I had done to collect my own degree years earlier and was a little disconcerted to receive a standing ovation. I wasn’t sure whether it was for me or Sophie and maybe the audience weren’t either, so I stood there a moment out of courtesy then left the stage with very mixed emotions — intense pride for Sophie and abject sadness that she couldn’t receive the honour she so richly deserved.
Sophie — The Friend
Brenda Tustin is the department of economics secretary at the University of Otago and personal assistant to the head of department. She knew Sophie well and in the last year of Sophie’s life saw her almost every day in a professional capacity. But Brenda was more than a colleague. Her middle daughter Lindsay and Sophie were close friends who had known each other from intermediate school days. I always regarded Lindsay as the sort of friend everyone should have and Brenda regarded Sophie as her fourth daughter. So Brenda has a somewhat unique perspective and when she talks of Sophie she does so with deep affection. I know that what she says is from the heart because even now, three years on, Brenda’s eyes well up when she recalls the Sophie we all loved and admired. This is what Brenda had to say:
I always felt Sophie and Lindsay were very good friends, which was important to Lindsay especially as we had come from South Africa where we left family behind. One thing about Sophie that stood out was her lack of ‘cattiness’. Lindsay regularly came home from school in tears because of what someone in her circle of friends might have said or done. But Lindsay was never brought to tears by anything Sophie said or didn’t say — never. They shared many interests like ice skating, a love for movies (especially Star Wars), and attended each other’s birthday parties, that kind of normal activity close friends share.
There was no doubt that Sophie was intellectually very bright and did all she could to achieve her goals. I well remember that at her school the standard of teaching was very high. There was, however, one exception where a maths teacher on a short-term contract wasn’t up to the mark. Both Lindsay and Sophie became frustrated at the basic level of what he was teaching. The school wasn’t in a position where they could do anything immediately so Sophie and Lindsay decided to teach themselves. They got through the syllabus without the teacher’s help, so that showed a maturity and drive to succeed. Lindsay has a competitive nature and one day in her seventh-form year came home and danced around the kitchen and said, ‘Guess what? I beat Sophie in an exam!’ She was so pleased because to beat Sophie was the ultimate. Sophie was the benchmark, the level others wanted to aspire to.
It was in the economics department at the university that I remember Sophie the best. Honours students have their own room to share and virtually become part of the department for the year. It was so nice seeing Sophie every working day. She was confident and friendly and unafraid to speak to you as an adult. She was always polite and immaculately turned out with such attention to detail. Where many students turn up to class dishevelled or with wet hair from leaping out of the shower and rushing late to class, Sophie was never like that. Her hair was always curled beautifully and never out of place.
In Sophie’s second year we were looking for a student as class representative for one of the papers as no one had volunteered for the vacant position. I approached Sophie and she agreed to do it. She remained in that role for three years as well as being the class rep for the honours group. That was quite a responsibility along with doing all the requisite papers each semester including dissertations and other obligations. I could always rely on Sophie to reply to my emails. Reliable and professional in her approach, she was appropriately courteous. Where many students send emails to staff in text format or with a greeting like ‘Hey’, Sophie wasn’t like that. Her emails were always formal but friendly.
Sophie also took upon herself the responsibility for keeping the honours group room tidy. It’s often a real mess, but Sophie cleared it of student clutter and kept it neat. It was there that her love of photography came to the fore. She was always taking candid shots of classmates and staff and their photos would suddenly appear on large boards complete with witty comments. It was so nice going into that room and seeing what else Sophie had done. But that was Sophie — full of fun and full of life, always smiling and laughing. She exuded a zest for life that was lovely, a bubbly young woman who was truly vivacious.
It was terribly difficult to hear Mrs Ablett-Kerr and Clayton Weatherston talk about Sophie as they did during the trial. The person they were describing was not the Sophie I knew. Sophie did have some boyfriends and I know the defence concentrated on that as if it were some aberration. However, this was perfectly normal behaviour around the university and no one seemed to make an issue of the fact Clayton had a lot of girlfriends. To me Sophie was a person of integrity: morally upright, honest, affectionate and caring. A really decent human being.
Around mid-2007 Sophie came to me to ask a favour. She had applied for a job with Treasury and had a security clearance that had to be filled in by a referee. I was in the photocopying room opposite my office when she approached me. I had no hesitation in saying it would be my pleasure. Clayton was behind me picking up some documents when he looked up and said, ‘No. Don’t do anything for her, don’t do her any favours, Brenda.’ I was quite taken aback because from the tone of his voice and body language, he meant it. I turned to him and said, ‘I love this girl and will do anything for her.’ I hugged Sophie and said to Clayton, ‘She’s one of my girls.’ I didn’t know at that stage the two had been in a relationship that
was off and on. This must have been one of the off times. Sophie seemed embarrassed at my hugging her in front of him.
The security document was several pages of questions such as, how does the applicant respond when facing different scenarios? Was she into drugs? Has she criminal tendencies or unpaid fines? I also had to qualify my answers and give reasons why I believed what I was saying was correct. I guess it was as much a character reference as it was a security clearance. I filled in the form with confidence because I knew Sophie as a person of integrity. For her to even contemplate doing some of the things they were asking was so against the grain of the girl I knew. Sophie was so honest, doing those things would be a complete contradiction to who she was. I saw her nearly every day and trusted her implicitly.
Sophie was perpetually in a hurry and seemed to vibrate on the spot, almost like she was idling — ready to take off in a second. You could sometimes see her curls bounce a little. That was Sophie — always busy and ready to get on to the next thing. The last time I saw her was two days before she died. I was shopping in Dunedin’s Meridian Mall and saw her talking to Lindsay. I approached and whatever it was they were talking about, they quickly clammed up. Sophie was as usual ‘idling’ and was obviously getting things done before her big move to Wellington. Typically she was buying small farewell gifts for friends and little tokens of appeasement to put things right with a couple of others. It wasn’t until later in the evening I learned what it was Lindsay and Sophie had been discussing that they didn’t want me to hear. It was the issue of Clayton’s assaults on her. Lindsay said to me, ‘I don’t like Clayton any more. He hit Sophie.’ I was shocked. I worked with Clayton and thought I knew him. To me Clayton was a funky, cute guy who was quite obsessed with his appearance. He was fine to talk to, cooperative and friendly. I had no inkling he would turn as violent as he did.
The day Sophie died was just awful. Lindsay was to meet her at Hell Pizza in North Dunedin and from there they were going to St Clair beach for a final get-together. Personally I had thought, how many more times do these girls have to meet to say goodbye, but I guess that was indicative of their true friendship. Jess and Lindsay waited and waited for Sophie to turn up. When a friend phoned them to say Sophie had been murdered, pandemonium broke out. Lindsay rang home absolutely hysterical. My husband picked up the phone and from the tone of his voice I just knew. The local radio station had been carrying news bulletins of a young Ravensbourne woman having been murdered and I said to my husband, ‘It’s Sophie, isn’t it?’ He said: ‘Yes, Clayton’s killed her.’ It was as if someone had hit me. Why had he done such an evil thing? How could he do that? What gave him the right to think he could take a life?
So what do I remember of Sophie? Doing an honours degree is a bit like being in a pressure cooker and if there was any part of Sophie’s character that I hadn’t seen before it would surely come out. As the full-on year comes to a close, if the wheels are going to come off, now is the time. Many students start to get quite wobbly. They look frazzled and sleep-deprived. But I never saw that in Sophie. She looked calm and self-assured. I couldn’t even tell she was going through the crisis with Clayton Weatherston and what he was doing to her.
I was honoured to have known Sophie. I didn’t refer to her as my fourth daughter lightly. It was lovely to see her every day and I was immensely proud of her. Sophie was simply a wonderful girl.
Sophie had a wide circle of friends, but two in particular stand out. Lindsay Tustin, Brenda’s daughter, first met Sophie in Year 7 and they remained friends throughout their secondary schooling and university years. Having a talent for mathematics, it is no surprise that Lindsay has gone on to teach that subject at one of Dunedin’s top girls’ colleges. On the other hand Erin van de Water only met Sophie a year before she died. Interestingly Lindsay and Erin never met until the depositions hearing. Both girls were traumatised at the loss of Sophie in such a horrific way and have since gained comfort from each other. I’m extremely grateful these two young women have chosen to contribute their thoughts to this book. I know what an impact Sophie’s death has had on them and recounting memories of their late friend was very emotional. I’m sure Sophie would be proud to hear what Lindsay and Erin had to say, for her close friendships meant so much to her. Lindsay remembers Sophie with a lot of affection:
I started, along with Sophie, at St Hilda’s Collegiate in Year 7 and I don’t specifically recall if there was a time Sophie and I became friends. It just happened. With Sophie you were always friends even if it wasn’t a close everyday kind of friendship. She was just there. I do recall that she had an intense rivalry with someone in our class in Year 7, though. For some reason they just could not get along with each other then. This was quite unusual because Sophie wasn’t normally like that, but the intensity between the pair was quite obvious. Their squabbles became rather passionate. Perhaps it was something to do with neither wanting to back down, but in the end they became really good friends, so much so that this same girl sang at Sophie’s memorial service held at the blossom tree in the university grounds. I don’t think Sophie could have enemies; she was too nice and would rather be a friend. If she did get off side with anyone, she would always try to mend the rift.
In our fifth form year we were in the same maths and science classes and we grew quite close. That was possibly because we were of similar intelligence and found competing against each other stimulating, but also fun. We were forever challenging each other to complete some task first. We had a science teacher who was new to the school and very passionate about his subject. He was also Dutch and spoke with an amusing accent. The lessons we had with him were so much fun and Sophie and I really enjoyed working together.
As Sophie moved more into arts subjects and me into sciences our paths diverged a bit and our contact was kind of sporadic at times but we were always there for each other. In our second year at university I decided to give ice skating another go and got back in touch with Sophie because I knew she was a keen skater. She was really enthusiastic so we spent most weekends and, quite often, university holidays on the ice. Gary, Sophie’s boyfriend, had ideas of playing ice hockey so he, Sophie and I went to the rink frequently together, but when they broke up it kind of put an end to that. Their relationship ended badly, but Sophie couldn’t leave it with such hard feelings and she wanted to mend things with him, knowing that she had hurt him. But that was typical of Sophie, wanting to do what’s right and make amends with people. She would go way beyond what most people would do for their ex-boyfriends. She didn’t want to leave for Wellington on a bad note with anyone so I believe that’s why she visited Clayton with the photo album of his graduation. Sophie didn’t have to, she wanted to. That was her caring and forgiving nature.
Sophie was pretty good at ice skating but when I think about it there weren’t many things she wasn’t good at. We never had lessons and taught ourselves how to skate. Sophie was so elegant. I ended up buying my own skates and Sophie came with me to decide on what ones were best. I opted for ice hockey skates and I think that’s what Sophie would have preferred because she was always trying things that should only be done in ice hockey skates. But she persevered with the figure skates because they looked ‘pretty’.
I’ve never known anyone who was so concerned about how her bum looked in what she wore, yet Sophie was really trim. I remember at high school Sophie telling me about a time when she was with a group of friends at the beach. Someone made a disparaging remark about how big the indentation was in the sand where Sophie had been sitting. She was quite upset about that and I believe that remark led to her becoming quite self-conscious. But there is no way Sophie had a big bum — she was petite! I sometimes wonder if she took some of Weatherston’s hurtful comments about her appearance more to heart than we realised.
If there was anything her friends found mildly annoying, it was the fact Sophie didn’t even have to try hard to look good. She was naturally beautiful and immaculate in her appearance. She always took a
perfect photo. I don’t believe there’s a bad photo of her in existence.
We both liked the television programme Friends and Sophie reminded me of Monica, a central character — very eccentric with exaggerated hand movements. I don’t think Sophie would have been able to talk if she didn’t have hands.
Sophie and I didn’t hang out with the same crowd very often and in retrospect the saddest thing for me, now that Sophie is gone, is that I didn’t get a chance to get as close to her as I’d have liked. In the years before Sophie died her time was monopolised by others. We each had a few different groups of friends that only ever occasionally got together. We were also both studying towards fairly demanding qualifications, which we took very seriously. In a way, I feel robbed of a friendship that was going to be all the more special as we got older. The teenage years and activities were beginning to give way to a more adult way of looking at life and friendships. I just know that Erin and I would have become part of Sophie’s life forever. There is no doubt we would have had an enduring and meaningful friendship, but that’s been taken away from us and it cuts deeply. Sophie didn’t have friends she didn’t care about. With some friendships you know that they could be tenuous and likely to end at any time. With others it may or may not. But with Sophie there was certainty.
If I had any doubts about how I felt about my true friend, they were dispelled during the court case. It’s not like I wanted to use up my two weeks of school holidays to sit in the public gallery of a courthouse, angry and crying. But that’s the consequence of Clayton Weatherston’s actions. Even now, three years on, the pain of this awful tragedy is as deep as ever.
When I think of Sophie now, despite the intense sadness, she can still make me laugh. She was often late for ice skating because she spent hours getting ready. She even straightened her hair to go ice skating but of course that was a waste of time. The moist atmosphere at the rink was going to curl it anyway. But that was our Sophie: a lovely, loyal friend, a great companion with a beaming smile and an infectious laugh. The sort of woman who could light up a room.
Sophie’s Legacy Page 12