Kidnapped

by Mark Tedeschi

  * * *

  Vizzard treated the Thornes in the witness box with considerable respect and consideration for their loss. The only area in which he challenged them was their identification of his client as the man who had come to their home on 14 June. On the same day, Dr Cameron Cramp, the microbiologist, gave evidence of his analysis of the hairs found on the rug. At the end of that day, the Coroner found that there was a sufficient case against Stephen Leslie Bradley to commit him for trial to the Central Criminal Court – the venue for all murder trials since the 1860s.

  Following the Inquest, on Christmas Eve 1960, while Fred Vizzard was holding the Bradley brief, he was appointed a Queen’s Counsel. He was now to be known as Fred Vizzard QC. Some hypothesised that his appointment was to create the impression that the State was providing the accused with a defence barrister of the utmost calibre, so that in the event of his conviction, nobody could claim that he had been denied a fair trial.

  * * *

  Magda Bradley and the three children found a suitably modest place to stay in London. There was a considerable amount of publicity in the English papers about the case in Sydney, and she followed the reports of the Inquest with great interest and much trepidation. She found the task of being a single parent arduous and she feared for their financial future. Although she and Stephen exchanged letters, his were short and full of expressions of love and concern, but they did little to alleviate Magda’s fears for their family’s future. Although she had told the newspaper journalists when she first arrived that she had sufficient money at her disposal, that was a blatant lie, and she was forced to work to keep the wolf from the door. Luckily, she found an excellent school for deaf children, where Ross was able to board during the week.

  As she whiled away the weeks and months in London, Magda wrote a manuscript about her life with Stephen, in which she expressed the great love they shared and her longing to be reunited with him. She wrote:

  You really do not know Stephen Bradley as I do. Steve is not a criminal and he can’t be a murderer. No one will ever make me believe it. His nature is so soft and gentle and there is no trace of any cruelty in him. He has never been violent with me or anyone else, and I have never even seen him losing his temper. Of course, he has his own little faults and weaknesses as we all have, but no worse than anyone else. I remember and appreciate the happiness that only he was able to give me since my childhood. For so many years the war, with all its horrors, used to come back to me in my dreams. In these nightmares I used to see time and time again 40 of us sealed up in a railway carriage without water for days. I used to breathe again the heavy air and hear the screams of 1944 when we were taken to Auschwitz. But since I have known Steve I have learnt to laugh again and enjoy life as it is lived by others who were never in a concentration camp.7

  She also wrote of what he had told her of his life as a child:

  Gradually he told me many things about his life and it didn’t take me long to realise that he had had a very unhappy and lonely childhood, sadly lacking in love and affection. Whenever he had a little bit of happiness, something always happened to him and he was lonelier than ever. He always wanted someone who would love him and care for him, and he was prepared to give himself and devote all his life to that person. I think our union was a lucky one, as we both wanted the same things out of a relationship – understanding and affection – and we both found what we were looking for in each other. Of course, I can really only speak for myself, but I feel that I made Steve happy too.8

  Finally, she wrote of the devastation that his arrest and charging had had on her:

  Here I am in London, in the middle of my dream town, but with my tired eyes and soul I am far from being able to enjoy it. I have thought about coming to London for years. I always wanted to see all those beautiful things I had read so much about. I wanted to see snow fall again, and the spring in the English countryside. I wanted to show my children and see with them the remarkable old buildings – the history – England – and I had also hoped so much that London might bring me a chance to be recognised as a songwriter. But my dreams have turned out to be a terrible nightmare. My songs have been lying in a drawer for long months. I have lost my energy to enjoy, see or try for what I wanted in the first place. My dreams have finished in the fog. I’m not myself any more – my unwritten songs slowly dying in my heart, my soul wrapped around with sadness and frustration. Since I have known that my husband’s trial will be on March 20 I spend my days in agony and I can only pray to the good God to help us and help the jury to see the truth. I try hard these difficult days to control my feelings while I am at home with the children. I don’t want them to realise that these coming days will be a landmark for our whole future. I try to pretend so as not to worry them too much, but I have to admit that I am not as brave as some people think. I feel exhausted and sick with worry. Only with Steve’s help and encouraging letters am I able to hold on to myself. My poor husband who is brave enough to try and help me from the gaol with his letters and even with poems that he has written for me. He is really suffering for himself and worrying about me and the children all the time, yet he still gives me all the help and encouragement not to crack under the terrible strain. He reminds me that God always helped us in the past when we most needed it, and I know how right he is. The good Lord only knows all the answers, and only He knows why we have to suffer so much.9

  On 5 December 1960 – the day that the Coronial Inquest began in Sydney – Magda Bradley was visited at her London home by Chief Inspector Amos Gibson, a detective from Scotland Yard, and Superintendent Ron Walden, who was the head of the CIB in Sydney. Naturally, when she saw them at her door, she suspected the worst – that they were there to arrest her and take her back to Australia – and she feared for what would happen to their children. She allowed the visitors to come into the lounge room, where they all sat down and Superintendent Walden politely suggested that she make them all a cup of tea. While she made tea in the kitchen, she furiously thought about the impossibility of making suitable arrangements for the children if the police were going to take her away immediately. Surely, if the police arrested her now they had an obligation to make appropriate provisions for the care of the children. Then, suddenly, it occurred to her that those arrangements might involve Paul, Helen and Ross being placed in a government orphanage in which they would be treated abominably and emotionally neglected, and where they would desperately miss their mother. She began to weep at the thought of her children being deprived of their mother after the dreadful experience they had already suffered, seeing their father arrested on the ship in Colombo.

  Composing herself as best she could, she brought the tea to the two men, and sat down to hear what they had to say. She was enormously relieved when Superintendent Walden told her that they were there to try to convince her to return to Sydney as a witness in her husband’s trial. Their tone was respectful, apologetic and imploring, as they explained that they wished to take a written statement from her now in anticipation of her return to Sydney to give evidence. Magda suddenly realised that it was she who had the upper hand in this negotiation. She confidently told the two police officers that she would think about their request and get back to them. They left her home in a deferential manner, after providing her with Chief Inspector Gibson’s business card and a request to call him at her earliest convenience.

  Magda Bradley took her time to get back to the two police officers. Eventually she agreed to go to Scotland Yard to be interviewed by Superintendent Walden. The resulting statement was completely supportive of her husband and did not mention any of her suspicions about him. Over the weeks and months since they had been separated in Colombo, believing that she had an overwhelming duty to be loyal to Stephen and to support him under any circumstances, she forced herself to believe that the accusations against him were groundless. She knew that he would be totally alone while incarcerated and awaiting trial in Sydney, and that they would both be subjected to vile and vituperati
ve articles in the newspapers. She, at least, had her freedom and the children, as well as one or two new friends in London. Stephen only had her – 10,000 miles away. Magda wrote a letter to the Public Solicitor, Mr Hawkins, and offered to return to Australia to support Stephen.

  * * *

  Magda Bradley’s police statement was sent by airmail to Police Commissioner Delaney, who immediately forwarded it to the Public Solicitor, Mr Hawkins. The statement was not of any use to the prosecution, but it was of great value to the defence. Mr Hawkins arranged for the English Legal Aid Office to obtain a second statement from Magda with further supportive material. Magda let Mr Hawkins know how impoverished she was, and how inconceivable it was for her to afford a return airfare to Australia. She also made it clear that if she returned to Sydney, all three children would have to accompany her. As a result, Mr Hawkins made an application to the Attorney-General, Mr Reg Downing,10 for payment by the government of airfares for Magda and the three children, stressing how crucial it was to the defence case to have her available at the trial. The application was considered at length, and finally granted, but only eight days before the trial. This meant that Magda and the children had to hurriedly make arrangements to fly to Sydney in time for the beginning of the trial on Monday, 20 March 1961.

  The children were incredibly excited at the thought of an international flight, but they were also well aware that the reason for the journey was because Stephen was in trouble and Magda needed to be near him. They had witnessed numerous instances of Magda becoming annoyed or distressed when reporters had asked her questions, and they feared that once back home this would only be exacerbated.

  Just before leaving London, Magda agreed to be interviewed by a journalist working for the Sydney Daily Mirror newspaper. The paper described her situation in these words:

  In her London flat yesterday, Mrs Bradley told the Daily Mirror that she wanted to fly to Sydney as soon as possible to comfort her husband … ‘I feel my husband needs my comfort.’ It is understood that she is worried over any possible custody action involving the children … ‘London seems very lonely. I feel very dispirited’ she said. She smoked continuously and frequently swept her fingers through her blonde shoulder length hair. As she talked, the children played in front of the television set in the small lounge. Mrs Bradley invited the Daily Mirror representative into the hallway of the flat on the top storey of a high terrace house in south-west London. She was wearing a pink and white-spotted woollen dressing gown, flowered silk pyjamas and mule sandals. Her fingernails and toenails were painted pink. She broke off the interview to attend to her youngest child, who is a boarder at the School for Deaf Children during the week, but comes home at weekends. Mrs Bradley said she was living on savings, but she hoped to get money from the articles she had written about her two marriages and from music compositions, including one she had composed before leaving Australia.11

  It was not until 8.45 on the morning of Sunday, 19 March 1961 – the day before the trial was due to begin – that Magda and her three children arrived in Sydney. A squad of twenty police officers was on hand at the airport to control the crowds. At the Customs Office a copy of the banned book Lolita12 was confiscated from Magda’s luggage. On exiting the customs area, she spoke briefly to reporters and paused for photographs. She was then driven to the Gresham Hotel, an upmarket establishment in the city, where the two younger children were picked up by friends who would look after them during Stephen’s trial. Paul was to stay with his father.

  As the trial was due to start the next day, Magda immediately met with Mr Vizzard for a three-hour conference in his Phillip Street chambers in the city. Immediately after that meeting, with the personal approval of the Minister of Justice for an unscheduled gaol visit on a Sunday afternoon, Magda made a poignant trip to see her husband at Long Bay, spending about an hour with him.

  * * *

  The reunion of Stephen and Magda Bradley at Long Bay Gaol was highly emotional, but also stressful and stilted. They were relieved to be finally together after four months apart, but they were only too aware of how much still lay in front of them before they could ever hope to be rejoined as a family. They also suspected that their conversation was being overheard through a hidden listening device, so they were careful not to discuss the crime with which he had been charged or the evidence that each of them would give. As they were both acutely aware that the late-afternoon visit would be restricted to an hour, they were simultaneously rushed and somewhat lost for words. They were unable to express their deep emotional connection – perhaps because of the artificial and confined environment. They both desired to bridge the gap between them, but the impending trial, the hostile surroundings and the fear of their privacy being intruded upon by unseen observers made it impossible. Without it being said, both of them instinctively sensed that their relationship was at a crossroad.

  When Magda returned to the Gresham Hotel that evening, she telephoned the two older children, who asked her about Stephen. All she could tell them was that she had visited him in a government place, where he was quite comfortable, but unfortunately unable to leave, and that he had told her how much he loved them. That night, Magda locked herself in the bathroom and quietly wept for the woeful situation of her divided family. She had read excerpts from the inquest in the English newspapers, including Stephen’s confessions to the police, and she suspected that the prosecution case against her husband was overwhelming. She knew only too well that there was no way that Stephen could have been coerced or tricked by the police into making such damaging admissions unless they were based on the truth. Rather, if anything, he would have minimised his involvement and painted himself in the best possible light. She admitted to herself that not even a threat to bring her back to Australia and charge her with a criminal offence would have induced him to admit to a contemptible crime he had not committed – he was too street-smart for that. She believed that to keep her emotional equilibrium she had to maintain the appearance of an unshakeable belief in Stephen’s innocence, no matter how much evidence the prosecution threw at him.

  * * *

  Two days after her arrival in Sydney, Magda Bradley was forced to leave the Gresham Hotel for more modest accommodation, because the New South Wales Government were paying her an allowance of only £5 per day, and so the People’s Palace – a Salvation Army hostel – became her temporary new home. Each time Magda ventured out of the People’s Palace she was confronted by vituperative barbs from people who recognised her in the street, in shops, or on the bus. This wounded her every time, and resulted in her going out as little as possible. Magda realised that, no matter what was the outcome of the trial, she would be forced at its conclusion to return with the children to London if she was to have even a semblance of normal life.

  14

  JUSTICE IN ACTION

  The Supreme Court trial of Stephen Leslie Bradley for the murder of Graeme Thorne began on Monday, 20 March 1961 in the Central Criminal Court1 at the Darlinghurst Courthouse at Taylor Square in Sydney. It was in this historic sandstone building that almost every murder trial since the 1860s had been held. Behind the courthouse was the old Darlinghurst Gaol, which since the 1920s had been converted into the East Sydney Technical College and the National Art School. Bradley faced trial only for murder, because, as has been explained, at the time there was no offence of kidnapping under the laws of New South Wales. Public interest in the trial was at an unprecedented intensity, and queues of people waiting to gain access to the public galleries in the courtroom began forming outside on Oxford Street at about 6am on the first day of the trial. A bench in the public gallery was reserved for family and close friends of the Thornes. The newspapers reported that this was the first murder trial in the State’s history in which women could be selected to serve on the jury.2 It was also noted that it was just short of eleven years since Bradley’s arrival in Australia.

  When the trial got under way, the jury selection process had to be temporarily interru
pted because of the noisy scramble of people trying to get into the courtroom to watch. Each time there was an adjournment – for morning tea or lunch – the jostling for seats and standing positions began anew. The accused arrived by truck in a secure laneway at the back of the courthouse. The dock in the Central Criminal Court is situated in the centre of the courtroom, so that during the proceedings an accused is seated facing forwards towards the judge, with the result that those in the public gallery at the back of the courtroom cannot see their face. Access to the court for the accused is through a trapdoor at the back of the dock, which conceals a steep, stone staircase coming from the underground cells and passageways beneath the courthouse. This means that the only opportunity that the public ordinarily gets to see the face of an accused is when they come into the dock and when they stand up to leave via the trapdoor and stairs. Whenever Stephen Bradley came into or left the courtroom, those in the public gallery would strain to catch a glimpse of him – particularly the women, who seemed to have a strange fascination for him. Some of them were overheard making comments about his charisma and sex appeal. Although Bradley was only 5 feet 6 inches, with a stocky build, he had an almost full head of dark hair, an olive complexion and an air of irrepressible optimism – all of which combined to make him quite handsome.