The cameras even picked up the jockey-sized Veniamin kissing the much larger Gatto with the traditional mafia-style peck on the cheek as a respectful welcome.
Detectives later employed a lip reader to discover what the suspects said. According to the lip reader, Gatto chatted to Williams — who remains the main suspect for organising Kinniburgh’s murder.
Gatto said, ‘It’s not my war. You walk away from this and mind your own business. If someone comes up to you for that sort of shit, if someone comes up to me with the same sort of shit I’ll do the same thing. I’ll be careful with you. You be careful with me. I believe you. You believe me. Now we’re even.’
And walk away they did. But no-one was even.
Williams thought about Gatto’s words. Could this be the end? He sought advice from his lieutenant who said: ‘Ask Benji. He knows him (Gatto) better than me.’ Veniamin was insistent: ‘Kill him.’ There would be no truce.
Gatto’s sharp instincts would told him that it was not a matter of if, only when, there would be an attempt on his life.
The nature of his phone calls to Veniamin changed. The prosecution argued that telephone intercepts showed ‘a growing menace in Gatto’s voice’ that Veniamin failed to pick up. Gatto later argued his phone conversations were never threatening. ‘I just wanted to know what he was doing, what he was up to, and you know, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, you know. It was that sort of thing.’
On 29 December Gatto saw two men drive near his house. The passenger, he said, was a dead ringer for Veniamin. And more disturbingly, the passenger ducked when Gatto looked in his direction. The next day he rang Benji and was relieved when he found he was in Port Douglas rather than Doncaster. So were a group from Purana sent to monitor Williams and Benji. Sometimes investigating major crime figures has its fringe benefits, including tropical fruits and beers at the Court House Hotel.
Police telephone intercepts showed that Gatto and Veniamin spoke regularly, often referring to each other as ‘buddy’ and ‘champ’. An example was a call from Veniamin to Gatto on Friday 19 March — the last day Benji’s phones were tapped.
Veniamin: What’s doin’, buddy?
Gatto says he hasn’t heard from him in a month and Veniamin replies: You know, I swear to you, mate, every bloke I’ve rung off this phone has been raided.
Veniamin tells Gatto: Mate, I’m still there, mate.
Gatto: Well, mate, that’s assuring. I fuckin’ hope you’re here a long time, buddy. As Gatto probably was not overly concerned with Veniamin’s long-term health it is likely the comment was laced with irony and possibly even menace.
Veniamin, always a literal type, either ignores or is unaware of the subtext: I’ve been meaning to drop into that … that joint when you’re there.
Gatto: Mate, I’m there every day, buddy. Every day we’re there.
Veniamin: I promise you, mate, I swear to you, I’m gonna come. I want to come.
Gatto: Mate, any time you want to, buddy, you know where we are.
Veniamin, who has only days earlier been released from hospital after an attack of pancreatitis, says: I’ve just been a bit stressed, I’ve been in and out of hospital the last two weeks, you know.
Gatto: I heard, mate, I heard. He adds: Mate, stay quiet, buddy.
Veniamin: Oh mate, I am, mate.
Gatto: Stay quiet.
Veniamin: But I’m still there, mate.
Gatto: Yeah.
Veniamin: Don’t forget.
Gatto: I know that. I know. All right.
Veniamin: All right, buddy.
Gatto: Take care of yourself, mate, keep in touch.
Veniamin: I’ll drop in there.
Gatto: You’re welcome any time, mate.
Veniamin: Thanks very much, buddy.
Gatto: Take care, Andrew.
Veniamin: See you, buddy. Bye, mate.
Gatto: See you, mate, thanks.
Police would ask later whether the ‘Stay quiet, buddy’ comment was well-meaning advice or a veiled threat. Certainly it is unlikely that Veniamin would have considered that when he said ‘I’m still there, mate’ that four days later he wouldn’t be.
On 23 March, Gatto rang Veniamin’s mobile phone and asked him to come to the restaurant. It was about 2pm. What detectives can establish is that Veniamin was in the Melbourne Magistrates’ Court that morning and that when he received the phone call he was in the borrowed silver Mercedes that was bugged by police. A few minutes later he called someone else and said he was about to ‘catch up with someone … the big bloke’. He double-parked the car and walked into the restaurant and sat with Gatto and others at a raised table. Both were in their trademark attire — Gatto was wearing a suit, Veniamin a T-shirt and track pants.
Later he and Gatto walked to the back of the restaurant and entered a dead end corridor for a private chat. One side of the corridor running to the fridge was stacked with cartons of tinned tomatoes. The width was just wide enough for the shoulders of the former heavyweight. Gatto had handed his mobile phone to his friend Ron Bongetti and Veniamin left the keys to his car on the table.
Next moment five shots were fired and Gatto walked out leaving Veniamin dead on the floor. Three shots hit Veniamin at point blank range. One smashed the main artery in his neck, the second severed his spinal cord and the third entered his head near the right ear. There were powder burns on Gatto’s suit showing the two men were next to each other when the shots were fired, the gun virtually pressed against the victim. Gatto later had short-term hearing problems from the shots and thought he may have been nicked on the left ear by one of the bullets.
Police were called and a remarkably calm Gatto explained to them that it was self-defence — that Veniamin had drawn a gun and in the struggle the smaller man was shot. ‘He pulled a gun out … he pulled out a gun and he tried to shoot me and he finished second best,’ he told police at the scene. Gatto was taken back to the homicide squad offices in St Kilda Road, given a legal caution and told he could have access to a solicitor. He didn’t need to be told he needed legal representation. He had phoned a solicitor from the restaurant — and he didn’t need to check the Yellow Pages for the number.
He was swabbed for gunshot residue and later for DNA. Around 11pm a short formal interview began. Mr Gatto said: ‘I’ve had some legal advice and I just wish to say that I’ve done nothing wrong and I’ve acted in complete self-defence, and I’d like to make no further comment at this stage.’
Purana investigator Boris Buick asked: ‘Is that the extent of the statement that you wish to make?’ Gatto said: ‘That’s it.’ Police were faced with a dilemma. They had one very brief version of events — Gatto’s self-defence argument.
The case for murder was weak and relied exclusively on circumstantial evidence. But what if police had freed Gatto and allowed the matter to go to inquest at the Coroner’s Court? There would have been allegations that because Veniamin was out of control and because police lacked the evidence to charge him with the seven murders he was suspected of, they had ‘greenlighted’ Gatto to kill him. It would have been hard to explain how the warrant to bug Veniamin’s telephones lapsed just four days before he was killed. Besides, there were issues worth exploring in front of a Supreme Court jury.
Why did Gatto, a self-described industrial mediator, have a body bag in the boot of his Mercedes outside the restaurant? If Veniamin planned to murder Gatto, why would he do it in a restaurant filled with Gatto’s friends, almost guaranteeing retribution? Why kill a man in a place frequented by police and often under surveillance? Veniamin was unaware his phone was no longer bugged and would have believed police had recorded that last conversation with Gatto before he arrived. If it was a planned hit he had virtually no chance of fabricating an alibi. Why did he leave his keys on the table, meaning he would have to return to confront the rest of Gatto’s team before he could escape? Veniamin had stopped carrying guns because police had repeatedly raided him in the previous year. He
had been in court and unarmed that morning. When and where did he get the .38 before his meeting with Gatto? Why did he choose a tiny corridor for the confrontation where the much bigger and stronger Gatto could so easily overpower him?
There were many theories, including one that Gatto, using the lessons learned in the ring, chose the precise moment to counterattack. One where there were no witnesses to dispute his version of events. There was a feeling that Gatto was too proud to sneak in the dark to ambush an enemy or pay others to do his dirty work.
Another theory was that such a public killing was a statement to others that if the war was to continue, he would come after them. Or did Veniamin, increasingly erratic and more drug-dependent, just lose it, as he had before? Did he react in a way he would not live to regret? Was it, as Gatto has always maintained, a clear-cut case of self-defence?
Certainly, those close to Veniamin had trouble with the self-defence theory. The day after his funeral, Lewis Moran, an old-school criminal and friend of Gatto, was shot dead in the Brunswick Club in what was a direct payback.
IT would take more than a year for the trial to begin and it was a very different Mick Gatto who arrived in court from solitary confinement. Unable to eat in restaurants, he had embarked on a fitness campaign, shadow boxing for hours in his cell. He had lost 30 kilos and was back to his old fighting weight.
The Supreme Court can diminish a man. Men with reputations as tough guys can seem intimidated in the dock. They must look up to the judge, bow when he enters and wonder about the twelve strangers who will decide their fate. They are led in and out by prison guards and those who are aggressive soon learn to at least behave passively.
But Mick Gatto was not diminished. Well dressed, he seemed at home in the combative environment and far from intimidated. He was moving on the balls of his feet. During breaks, when the jury was not present, he would wander to the back of the court to talk to friends and family who attended. It was almost like a royal walk as he chatted to his subjects.
He would talk to reporters and compliment them if he thought their coverage was a fair representation of the evidence so far, evidence that would decide his future. Mick Gatto was 49. If found guilty of a gangland murder he would be looking at about sixteen years minimum prison sentence. If that happened, he would be 65 when released and yesterday’s man.
Robert Richter QC is used to representing big names, from John Elliott to Steve Vizard to Geoff Clark. Those who can afford the best often turn to the wily silk. Regardless if the alleged offences are indiscretions in the boardroom or gangland killings, Richter’s advice tends to be the same: In court he is the boss and the client is just there for the ride. He believes that patients don’t tell surgeons how to operate and clients shouldn’t try to run complex criminal trials. When it comes to murder, he is of the view that in nearly every case the accused is better off letting the defence lawyers do the talking. Sit up straight and look attentive, engage the jury without intimidating them, don’t look bored and don’t look angry. And, most importantly, shut up.
Richter’s strategy, as with most defence lawyers, is based on counter punching. The prosecution must prove a case beyond reasonable doubt but the defence must only find a weak link in the argument. But that strategy can collapse when defendants get in the witness box. They are wild cards. No matter how well briefed, they can lose a case with one wrong answer. A man charged with murder can lose his temper during rigorous cross-examination and juries can take more notice of reactions than actual words. Much better to leave it to the experts.
In scores of murder trials Richter has allowed maybe only two clients to take the walk from the criminal dock at the back of the court to the box twelve paces away. One of the two was Mick Gatto.
‘He somewhat insisted,’ the barrister later remarked. Gatto likes to get his own way. The risk was that as Gatto tried to explain to the jury how he shot Veniamin in that tight corridor he might also shoot himself in the foot. But at least there were no eyewitnesses to contradict his version of events. The only other person present had lost interest in proceedings fourteen months earlier.
At first, the defence team gently took Gatto through his story about how he called Veniamin at 2.01 pm on 23 March, and how the little hit man arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later. According to Gatto, he was having lunch at his unofficial Carlton office, La Porcella, and intended to visit his sick cousin at the Royal Melbourne Hospital in the afternoon:
Well, when he first come in I was actually shocked that he arrived so quick because it only took him like eight or ten minutes to get there. I actually yelled out to him, ‘Hello stranger’, or something like that. Anyway, he come and sat next to me and there was just general talk about him being in court that day. He was at the court case there in the Melbourne Magistrates’ Court and he was just going through all that.
He said that despite his concerns about the erratic killer he didn’t check Veniamin to see if he had a concealed weapon, no doubt believing he was safe in such a public venue. The two sat with others at a table on the higher level of the two-tiered, large restaurant.
He actually kicked my foot under the table, and he motioned with his head like that, that he wanted to have a chat. And I said, ‘Do you want to have a chat?’ and he said, ‘Yes, I do’. I remember pushing my chair in and walking around and giving the phone to Ron (his good friend Ron Bongetti) in case anyone rang while I was having a chat and I’m not sure whether … I thought he led the way but I’m not 100 per cent sure. And why I say that is I thought we were going to go outside, and actually he pointed into the kitchen, and I said ‘wherever you want to go’, and we walked in there.
Question: Who suggested the corridor?
Answer: He walked in. I just followed him … he turned round and he was just looking at me. I said, ‘What’s doing, mate?’ And he said, ‘I’m sick of hearing this shit.’ And I said, ‘What do you mean?’ And he said, ‘I’m still hearing that you know, you think that I’m responsible for your mate.’ And I said, ‘Well, I have to be honest with you, mate, that’s what I keep hearing, that’s what people keep saying.’
Question: How did he respond to that?
Answer: Well, there was no argument. I mean, we were just talking. Veniamin said, ‘I wouldn’t interfere with you because you’re a mate.’ I said to him, ‘Well, Dino Dibra and PK were your mates, you fucking killed them.’ He said, ‘Well, they deserved it, they were dogs’, or something like that. I said, ‘Look, Andrew, I think it’s better if you stay out of our company. You know, I really don’t believe that you can be trusted. I’d just rather you not come around near us at all.’ He just said, ‘I’m sorry to hear that’, or, ‘I’m sorry to hear’, something like that, you know, and I was looking at him in the eyes, and his face went all funny and he sort of stepped back and he said, ‘We had to kill Graham, we had to fucking kill Graham. Fuck him and fuck you.’…I didn’t see where he pulled it from, but he stepped back and he had a gun and I just lunged at him, and I grabbed his arm, grabbed his arm with my hand, and the gun went off past my head. Went past my left. Actually I thought it hit me. (Grazing his left ear) It was just the loudest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.’
Question: After the gun went off you thought you’d been hit. What happened then?
Answer: Well, I had hold of his hand with both my hands and I sort of pushed it towards him and I … with my hands I sort of … I forced … he had his hands on the trigger and I just forced his hands, squeezed his hands to force him to pull the trigger and …
Question: How many times did the gun go off?
Answer: I know how many times it’s gone off because I’ve heard it in evidence, but at the time I didn’t know.
Question: How fast was all this?
Answer: Just like a few seconds. I mean, I remember nearly falling on the ground on top of him. He sort of pulled me over off balance.
Question: At some point did you finally get control of the weapon?
Answer: I
did.
Question: After a number of shots went off what happened?
Answer: Well, I’ll just explain it. When I pushed the gun towards him and I was squeezing his hand he sort of pulled me off balance and I nearly fell over on top of him and the gun was going off. It was just bang, bang. And I mean I don’t know where it went or whatever. I’ve got to be honest, I thought I was a dead duck anyway, I thought I was gone. And like I’ve said, I remember nearly stumbling, landing on top of him. And I just pulled the gun out of his hand because he still had it in his hand. I pulled it out of the grip of his hand and I ran out of the hallway there, out of the corridor, into the restaurant.
Question: From entering that corridor to when you ran out, so from the moment you went in to the time you left that corridor, how long would you estimate that incident lasted?
Answer: A couple of minutes, a minute, it wasn’t that long, you know. I mean, it was just that brief talk and then, you know, he just … I’ve never seen anyone sort of just change so quick. He just went from one extreme to another. I couldn’t believe it.
Question: When you ran out were you holding anything?
Answer: I had the gun in my hand.
Question: Which gun is that?
Answer: The .38.
Question: It was suggested by Mr Buick (taskforce investigator) in evidence he had a working hypothesis that you fired a cover-up shot; what do you say to that?
Answer: That’s completely ridiculous.
Question: It was suggested by Mr Horgan (prosecutor) in opening that you shot Mr Veniamin a fourth time as he lay dying on the floor of the passageway. Did you shoot Andrew Veniamin while he lay dying on the floor of the passageway?
The Gangland War Page 25