Hellbent: Ces Waters & Me

by Margaret Wentworth

  Christine was the main witness. The most sensational allegation she made was that soon after she left me, I’d told her I paid $1,000 as a deposit to have Allen castrated and his right hand cut off. Apparently I told her that the recipients of the money were shown where she lived and told ‘not to do anything for the time being until I contacted them again’. I said things in my jilted anger, but never that. Her accusations of my Datsun passing at night outside her house and the like were, well, news to me.

  On another occasion, Christine heard three loud bangs and said she observed me in a beanie sitting in the front passenger seat of a car parked outside Allen’s property. It came out in court Dean, Guy and Troy caused that aggravation. They were driving back from a telethon in Newcastle and slowed near Allen’s front gate, firing a cap gun in the air several times. The boys drove off when Allen and Christine came out. Sharon and Kelly were in the car as witnesses. This is one of many incidents where Chris Murphy and Pat Costello were able to demonstrate what an unreliable witness Christine was.

  Christine claimed to know of three firearms on my property, a .22 rifle, a double-barrelled shotgun and a handgun. I had had a rifle some time before but no longer possessed it. At one stage Dean had a shotgun but had sold it quite a while before the murder took place. At no stage had I owned a handgun since coming to Australia, though I’d borrowed one occasionally. It was these trouble-making exaggerations by Christine that Murphy sliced through and exposed, thanks to his sharp intellect.

  Chris Murphy was brilliantly theatrical, playing up certain points to the amusement of the court. Christine stood in the witness box and described the incident where I followed her big Ford in my small Datsun. When Christine alleged I chased her, Chris toyed with the concept of my little car chasing her powerful one. He was just trying to throw a spanner in the works. By the time he finished with her, Christine was stuttering. I wish I’d had Chris defending me on some of the trials back in the UK.

  Christine was also very evasive in her answers. Chris rounded off his questioning by saying, ‘And I’ll tell you one thing, Ms Hicks,’ then he glanced at the magistrate, ‘you are one cool lady.’ He looked back at the magistrate and wisely nodded. The magistrate bent his head and wrote something.

  Chris Murphy tore into Christine’s allegations of her being forced by me into prostitution and having to endure acts of rape and violence in her marriage. He pointed out one of the most damning things about Christine’s evidence was that she’d been with me for 20 years and she didn’t have to be. At any stage she could have seen a doctor and obtained some documentation of sexual or physical abuse. ‘This monstrous Ces’ must have done something right for Christine to stay married for so long, said Murphy. When Pat Costello was questioning Christine, he said, ‘Nobody is saying Ces Waters is an angel and I’d be the first to admit he isn’t, but you’re a damned liar and a very convincing one.’ Chris Murphy told the court, ‘Ms Christine Hicks is a chronic liar and incapable of telling the truth!’

  My daughter Tracey and husband, Marc Erbsleben, were potential prosecution witnesses at the committal. Tracey had earlier made statements that both Dean and I had a violent streak. However, she wasn’t called to give evidence. Marc was Summoned to the stand because he had alleged Dean felt animosity towards Allen, Marc told the court that several months before the shooting, Dean had asked him to arrange for someone to bash Allen. This was ridiculous: the national heavyweight champion needed no-one to do his dirty work. If he did want his name to stay clean, he knew enough shady characters in the boxing game to do it without involving family members. It was worthless evidence.

  Kelly’s brother was called to give evidence regarding the meeting he had with Dean two days before the murder, when he alleged Dean had shown him a shotgun. Chris Murphy revealed flaws in his evidence and put a stronger case—Dean had showed Kelly’s brother the gun 12 months before the murder.

  The pre-trial committal proceedings ran out of time to review all the evidence and reach a conclusion. Our solicitors applied to the NSW Director of Public Prosecutions to have the case against Dean and I dismissed, but this was not accepted. The committal proceedings were adjourned until October 1989. Chris Murphy indicated to me this would blow-out his original costs but we still stood a good chance of winning and being able to sue the police for damages.

  The pre-trial committal proceedings were concluded in a week in mid October.

  In his closing submission, the prosecutor, Mr Paul Lynch, said the Crown’s contention was that a jury could reach a verdict of guilty against both Dean and me at a trial. In Dean’s support, Chris Murphy rounded off by saying: ‘the evidence is of a quiet simple sort of fellow who doesn’t give any vent whatsoever to the type of passion that might activate some people to commit the type of crime we have here.’

  Magistrate Pierce agreed with Murphy and said there was cause to doubt the credibility of some of the prosecution witnesses. He said that Marc Erbsleben said some extraordinary things but didn’t remember other things very well. For example, Marc indicated at one point in cross-examination with Chris Murphy that he grabbed Dean by the penis. Later on, he couldn’t remember it. The magistrate told the court that anybody who grabs the heavyweight champion by the penis is not likely to forget the incident. Magistrate Pierce rounded off by saying about me: ‘There is evidence he didn’t like the man and made some threats. There is no evidence he aided, abetted, inspired a murder or anything else. There is no point in relying on motive to say he did it.’ He said Dean ‘appeared to be a mild-mannered Clark Kent—at least outside of the boxing ring.’ The magistrate concluded by saying there was insufficient evidence to put before a jury. He then uttered two magic words, ‘Case dismissed!’

  I sat there motionless while my family and friends burst into tears, hugged and slapped backs. Guy put his arms around Sharon and held her close. Kelly wept as she waited outside the courtroom with Rebekka. She laughed and cried when Dean came outside and embraced her. When I joined them I reached down towards Rebekka’s carrycot to hug my granddaughter, Kelly quickly grabbed Rebekka away.

  I put my black-and-gold beanie on and drove to Sydney airport, where Troy was flying out to Italy for his biggest challenge. His brothers and I would join him later, but the news of the acquittal was, he said, the best present he’d ever had. We could all—Dean and I especially—get on with our lives.

  I drove home to an empty house and took a sea of wagging tails for a long walk. The place had become a bit neglected, but still beautiful to me. Not everyone thought so. A N Maiden of Time wrote `Home of the Brave’ and described sagging gates, rutted tracks, an abandoned bus, a telephone box waist-high in weeds, `no discernable pattern of sheds and yards’, a battered caravan, graffiti, the front verandah with two punch bags supported by doric columns in a ‘final insane touch’ and everywhere dogs or the smell of them. But he did admit our boxing ring commanded ‘a magnificent view south-east, down the smokey green blue folds of the Moonie Moonie valley’.

  I sat overlooking that view, feeling a strange emptiness. I’d taken my sons to eight amateur and eight professional championships. Their bedrooms were cluttered with trophies and everywhere they went they were recognised and admired. Yet my heart could no longer celebrate these achievements because we were no longer a family. My sons were hostile to me and their backs were turned. My words fell on deaf ears. They were listening to other people now.

  32 Reduced Circumstances

  Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate.

  Germaine Greer

  A friend who’d read the newspaper phoned to tell me of Allen Hall’s murder. I’d worked on the book three years and felt sick to the core. `Why did you have to do this, Ces?’ I muttered to myself, ‘Can’t you see this will interfere with your master plan for success?’ I had no doubt Ces must have been involved but, as I read later in the newspapers, he certainly wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger. I was su
rprised when Dean was arrested, not being aware he had any personal grudge against Allen.

  The following weekend, we invited Ces to Bumble to tell us his version of events. We were not expecting him to be truthful. He knew that almost everything he told me ended up in the book. Besides, we didn’t expect such a cunning man, steeped in criminal knowledge of tactics, to place himself in legal jeopardy just to satisfy our curiosity. This was new for us all.

  Ces arrived, extremely uptight, his eyes radiating energy. There was an air of instability about his restless behaviour. John and I tried to appear calm and casual, though we were not at ease with Ces or the situation. I had never seen Ces so tense but it didn’t seem based in fear. It was excitement. He relished the thrill of his predicament: the chase was on and he was a confident fox.

  As usual I made Ces a cup of strong tea with three sugars and we sat on the verandah. Ces was munching a biscuit when John suddenly asked him: ‘Well, did you kill him?’

  This typical direct approach from John made me want to climb under the table. But Ces was not phased, he had expected no less. He took centre stage and went on to describe how, when he was back in England, he’d done quite a few favours for criminals, such as helping them escape from jail. I knew about this from our sessions on the book. Some months ago he’d decided that Allen had to be killed, and had written to these old Kray brother associates, asking for their help. Two had come over, murdered Allen on his instructions and returned. We quietly listened, thinking, Oh yeah, sounds plausible, but why are you telling us this?

  All of a sudden, Ces’s face reddened and his voice went deep and menacing: ‘You tell anyone this, I’d hate to see your children go without their mother.’ I nearly fell off my chair with surprise. John was very taken aback but controlled his response. Once the words sank into my mind, I relaxed and dismissed them as Ces embellishing his story with a bit of theatrical spice. I didn’t believe Ces had told us the truth a moment ago. He was far too cunning. We assured him that his secret was safe with us.

  Ces had no remorse about Allen’s death. Allen deserved to die, a danger to children and society. The conversation switched to other, safer subjects, such as his new relationship with Margaret Barnett. Ces relaxed and became quite jovial.

  Later that afternoon, when Ces and I were alone, he revealed his anger that Christine hadn’t been killed as well. His overseas contacts had gone home and couldn’t finish the job properly. The colour drained from my face. Ces had never expressed such venom towards Christine before. I simply couldn’t see any rational sense in what he was saying. I spoke to Ces at great length about the situation, hoping he would realise how little would be gained from Christine’s death. He appeared to acquiesce and calm down about the whole thing. This made me feel I had made some progress.

  However, the next time he popped around for a chat, he was still openly expressing his tremendous hatred for Christine and his anger that she was still alive. Wasn’t Allen’s death enough?

  Goodness me, talk about being thrown in the deep end. Of course I knew I had an obligation to go straight to the police and report everything Ces had said. But I didn’t want to betray Ces and the confidences we’d shared. For years we’d talked together and trusted each other, shared a great deal of laughter and caring. Would I destroy our friendship based on what could have been a fabrication to protect us from the truth? After all, Ces couldn’t have committed the murder himself and there was no hard evidence incriminating him, otherwise he’d be behind bars. And that threat about Dean and Jinka going without their mother? Surely Ces didn’t mean it. He’d always enjoyed our friendship, always treated me with respect. If I exposed him and became his enemy, he was certainly capable of injuring me and my family if he wanted to -would that really happen? Perish the thought. Yes: let’s play it safe and pretend that conversation never took place.

  And what about Christine? If I reported to the police she was in danger, would this information leak back to Ces? And what would it achieve? Christine had already gone into hiding after the murder. For heavens sake, I said to myself, stop worrying about it and get some sleep. Everything will be OK. It’s 3 am and all is well.

  We create our own realities, that’s for sure. I’d gone along with the illusion that Ces was reformed, a good guy with a bad past. Now, that perception was being challenged by Ces confessing he had just organised the murder of a man and had wanted to kill a woman as well. This is not the way good guys talk. Therefore Ces was not reformed. It was at this stage that any sensible person would have realised they should review their reality and reconstruct it to make it fit the latest facts. Even Lloyd Hart, John’s film lawyer, told John we both should `cut off all connection with Ces forthwith’. I was loath to do this because I didn’t want to believe it. Ces was my friend and I felt intensely loyal to him.

  I recorded the 60 Minutes segment where Ces denied writing threatening letters, and was later arrested on the conspiracy-to-murder charge. I knew nothing about these letters at the time; they were inserted in the book after it all became public. I was relieved when someone else paid Ces’s bail of $80,000. Ces received a lot of publicity during the ensuing court case. In the end both he and Dean walked free. Vitally, Christine’s somewhat bizarre testimony was discredited.

  One aspect of her testimony I found disturbing was her claim that Ces forced her into prostitution in order to support their expensive activities. I remembered how Ces had encouraged me to sell my body. He helped manage a brothel as a teenager and had close associations with prostitutes, who he held in high regard. A few of his girlfriends and wives were connected with that scene. Of course, that was in the UK when he was a rogue, but it seemed logical he would also try to get Christine on the game.

  Certainly, it was hard to imagine a part-time job in a garden nursery could provide enough income to feed the large family and hundreds of animals, pay for vet bills, overseas boxing trips and horseracing costs. Ces always denied forcing her into this role.

  In our documentary Rebels with a Cause we had innocently maintained the myth she worked at the nursery. Ces led us to, or away from, key facts. As a result, the content of our film contained fabrications. Ces told us in confidence that he lied to us because he had to protect the image of the family as his sons were at a crucial stage of public appraisal.

  Christine certainly tried her hardest to undermine Ces’s good image. a murderer, pimp and wife-basher for a start. The press had a field day. When Ces received this less-than-welcome publicity, the book was at the end of the research stage but only about half of it had been properly written up. I’d endured and enjoyed two years of combining motherhood and full-time work. After an exhausting year at the busy ophthalmic surgery, I returned to pharmaceutical product managing. These jobs dominated my daylight hours weekdays so Ces’s story gathered dust.

  Understandably enough, Ces was still irritated the book was progressing so slowly and began to pressure me to finish it to take advantage of his notoriety and all the publicity he was receiving. I could see some wisdom in this and felt guilty—was I trying to gain from Allen Hall’s death? I calmed my conscience by explaining to myself that the book was not about the murder but about Ces’s life, which was interesting enough without this recent mayhem.

  I was unhappy in my job, so decided to quit and concentrate on finishing the book which had grown larger than I had anticipated. John and I had sufficient funds from corporate film work to keep us going for a while. One had won a gold medal in the New York Film and Television Festival. We were hopeful we were on a roll and would get enough future filmwork to involve us full time as productive filmmakers.

  Ces joined Troy, Ian Batty and Ray Wheatley at the Grand Hotel Billia, Turin, at the foot of the Alps. Media attention was intense. The 24-year-old Australian was hyped up, a 10-year-old dream of an IBF junior middleweight crown within his grasp, No. 1 in the world. The 31-year-old Italian-47 wins in 50 fights—and Troy-14 wins in 15—sparred verbally and neither shook hands at the weigh-in
.

  Gianfranco’s long arms and hit-and-run style out-manoeuvred Troy. Ces knew Gianfranco was ahead on points. At the end of Round 11, Ces reminded Troy he had beaten a man who’d beaten Rossi, and Troy needed a dramatic punch in this round … ‘Why don’t you go back to the dressing room!’ Troy snapped. Nothing like it had happened before. Ces begged: ‘Hit him with a left hook; he can’t handle it.’ In Round 12 a left hook lifted Rossi off his feet and halfway across the ring, to Ces’s delight. The tiger, he thought, would close in for the kill. But Troy didn’t. Gianfranco raised his arms in triumph before a hometown crowd, taunting Troy, `I have proven to you I am the stronger.’ Afterwards, Gianafranco said Troy would soon be world champion.

  Troy’s $75,000 didn’t help the depression that overcame him back home. He felt he’d let people down—Troy had a fan club, fame and status, none of which helped. He was out of tune with his father. He toyed with moving to the UK to box; he didn’t want to stay at home. And so he too packed his bags. He stayed with a friend, Peter Wills, and his religious family, took a short complete break from boxing.

  Ces foresaw a further weakening of the killer instinct, already apparent in Italy, if Troy was ‘surrounded by soft kind people’. Dean seldom showed up for training and Ces felt his career was almost over. Guy showed up intermittently but without the old conviction. Only Troy stuck to schedule. All left as quickly as they could afterwards. Ces, dreams crumbling, lonely and frustrated, wasn’t helped by how the fracturing of his family made news. Guy and Troy both told the press they were happier and performing better since they left home. Without his sons’ labour the farm ran down. Debts from promoting the boys became crippling without their financial contributions. Even stocking his larder became a struggle. Ces clearly had to sell the farm—solicitors’ fees, mortgages undischarged, loans unpaid and above all, paying out Christine’s share, left him no choice. He was 62, facing bankruptcy and stalling, hoping for the $30,000 miracle that’d save him. Whatever comfort his animals gave him, they added to the burden too. One unequivocal comfort remained: Margaret’s calls and visits. She regularly brought food, cleaned, cooked, laundered and fed the animals. She even sold jewellery to help him.