Very soon after visiting Tracey, our friend Don referred us to a book, I and B Sarason’s Abnormal Psychology, which, among other things, listed the characteristics of a psychopath.
1 Superficial charm and good natural intelligence
2 Poise, rationality, absence of neurotic anxiety
3 Lack of a sense of personal responsibility
4 Untruthfulness, insincerity, callousness, manipulativeness
5 Antisocial behaviour without regret or shame
6 Poor judgement and failure to learn from experience
7 Inability to establish lasting close relationships with others
8 Lack of insight into personal motivations
The book went on to point out that it is the degree of these characteristics that determines the psychopath, as it is not unusual for normal people to have some of these traits. Psychopaths are part of a broader category of people with antisocial personality disorders, but they are unique in that they demonstrate this behaviour more as a reflection of their personality rather than behaviour learned from their peers or environment. Both environmental and genetic factors may contribute to psychopathic behaviour. For example, parental rejection, harsh discipline, an alcoholic father, and association with a group of delinquent children can all be influencing factors. Also, there is arguable evidence from twin and adoption studies that hereditary may play a role.
When you consider the behaviour of Ces’s father and the violent environment Ces was raised in, it is not surprising he scored unusually high on the characteristics listed above. The psychopath’s problem is that they store up a lot of anger and emotional hurt inside them. All that is needed to unleash a violent response is a touch on the trigger.
Dr Robert Finlay-Jones, a consulting psychiatrist who visits inmates of Long Bay jail in Sydney, and who has had considerable experience with psychopaths, lists typical signs of children or adolescents with ‘conduct disorder’, the forerunner of psychopathic adults: bullies others, starts fights, uses a weapon, tortures others, cruel to animals, robs others, forces sex on others, lights fires, destroys property, breaks into houses, lies habitually, steals, roams streets at night, runs away from home, and truants. These young people are often the victim of a father figure who uses physical punishment for discipline, often in an inconsistent and erratic way, rather than moral reasoning. The child grows up not clearly discerning between right and wrong, good and bad. They think, ‘I’ve done wrong because I’ve got caught. If I don’t get caught, then it’s all right.’
Regardless of how loving and caring a mother may be, the father figure has the greater influence in this dimension of a boy’s psyche. Ces was aware his father’s attitudes towards women: violent, promiscuous and disdainful—shoot a good woman ‘before she turns bad’—was imprinted in his psyche, part of his adult repertoire. In a self-justifying tape he made for Tracey late in life, he excepted only Peggy from the ‘bad eggs’ of women he’d known. The big contra indication of Ces’s psychopathic personality disorder was his love of animals. Other mutual acquaintances have independently suggested selfish motives: he simply liked bossing animals and people alike around, enjoyed the domination and power, and dogs obey without question, put up with deprivation and discomfort, like few other animals. In the six years he was on our land there always more than one enfeebled cancerous or arthritic geriatric in constant misery, coughing and wheezing through the bush.
Was it possible, John asked Dr Finlay-Jones, Ces avoided putting dogs down because it suited him to avoid grief? The psychiatrist concurred it was.
What struck me most was how psychopaths have no conscience and feel no remorse about their actions. I remembered how I tried to get Ces to talk about feelings and his reluctance to do so at first. I realised then, that in my concern, I made Ces out to be a far more normal and sympathetic person than he was. I had created an illusion that had become the person I had trusted and admired. But the bubble had burst.
I wrote Ces a letter, straight from my heart, packed with emotion. Fighting back the tears. It ended:
Ces, our relationship cannot stay the same. I am not so ‘green’ anymore and am totally opposed to your criminal behaviour involving Dean, Damon, Allen and Christine. It is time you began a new life somewhere else. Please vacate our land as soon as possible; I believe a four month notice from now is sufficient. I know this won’t be easy for you but John and I want our place back to ourselves.
Ces, please feel free to write to me to express your feelings about what I have written above. Despite everything, I still do care for you. Please do not visit us until after your court case in November; even then, I expect a level of honesty from you that will be very difficult but ultimately rewarding.
I almost posted it, the letter hovering at the slit of the postbox. Then I thought, I’ll wait a couple more days. Review it clinically, objectively. When I did this, my emotional outpourings embarrassed me. I tore it up.
I looked at the book gathering dust on the shelf. Thank goodness it hadn’t been published. I wondered if I should throw it in the fire. Certainly, it would never hit the bookshops while Ces was alive, orchestrating things: Insisting on his innocence. Lying through his teeth. Psychopath.
34 Trouble At Bumble
He who seeks revenge should first dig two graves.
Chinese proverb
I tried to warn another unsuspecting woman, Margaret Barnett. I’d already seen her black eye. I cared for Margaret, a warm and generous person, and didn’t want to see her hurt. I tried to broach the subject with her but when she started talking about the terrible conspiracy against Ces, I realised she would be difficult to convince, would tell Ces about my ‘bad mouthing’. I decided to remain quiet until Ces was put behind bars. It would be safer for both of us.
John’s reaction was to get Ces off our land as quickly as possible. All our friends were urging this. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. Ces had nowhere else to go and would resist. We also couldn’t reveal we’d spoken to Tracey and Marc.
Ces’s next visit began as usual, complaining about his selfish children. John was not in the mood for pussy-footing around and being a polite listener. He floored Ces with a remark that O’Toole, the detective, had visited us and we had permitted an interview. ‘What on earth made you decide to do that?’ asked Ces in an incredulous voice. John explained it was better if we co-operated with the police; we had nothing to hide. John told Ces some of the things the detective had said, including O’Toole not believing Ces had been to Dartmoor. The Not-at-Dartmoor thing clearly riled Ces, his cheeks coloured and his lips clenched. I shuddered when John added ‘And the detective said that if you say, “It’s a nice day,” we’d better look at the sky outside because it’s bound to be the opposite.’ Ces went redder in the face and had trouble maintaining control. John finished with a knockout punch, padded a bit to soften the impact: ‘We’ve also heard from a friend of ours who knows the boys, and he told us some of the things that they’ve been saying against you, things which would explain why they left and stayed away.’ Ces looked at us. We were traitors. ‘You would believe them, after all I’ve told you about their lies and deceptions?’ Ces stomped away.
Psychopaths have long memories. A very angry Ces Waters rang us at Chatswood a month later. I was the unlucky resident who picked up the phone. My heart sank when I heard his angry voice on the other end. ‘Stay calm, stay calm,’ I kept lecturing myself, knowing Ces would quieten down if I kept my cool. Ces was angry because John, troublemaker, was going around the mountain telling local people that ‘Trust-me’ Ces was a liar. I explained John hadn’t been speaking to anyone on the mountain about him. (This wasn’t entirely true, because we had tried to tell my father and aunt. My dad was so much under Ces’s influence, he didn’t want to listen.)
Ces made the first of a series of threats, disguised in a short rave about my aunt first doubting him and then learning to trust him. He then said he was nice to people who treated him well, but he was the worst e
nemy to people who had done wrong to him and that these people had ‘better leave the country’. He had no problem giving people a hard time, even hardened criminals. The threat came through loud and clear.
Ces accused us of disloyalty as we appeared to be listening to and believing what other people were saying about him. I explained to Ces we listened because we wanted to understand why the children left home. Up until that point Ces always complained that he didn’t know either. To my surprise, he told me angrily that everyone knew why the boys left him: they couldn’t stand the ‘harsh discipline’ on the farm.
When Ces said this I suddenly realised it was a matter of semantics and context. His understanding of ‘harsh discipline’ came about through his experiences with his dad, police, warders and army sergeants who used the term when applying physical violence and psychological humiliations, trying to bring this difficult rebel into line.
Having cooled off a bit, Ces said he’d approached Dartmoor Prison authorities several times to get confirmation of his imprisonment there, but they’d never replied. He suspected this was because the authorities feared he could sue them for ‘breaking his arms’ and other alleged assaults. Ces had never mentioned before he’d had arms broken in Dartmoor. Ces’s pride, care and attention for his body ruled out oversight; he was plainly lying.
As Ces grew calmer I plucked up the courage to tell him we needed more security for our bail surety. This upset Ces and his voice rose to a yell as my innards shriveled with distaste at being emotionally accosted but I remained outwardly calm. He acted as though the money in the trust fund was his and John was a fusspot to worry about such things. I told Ces this was an issue that needed to be resolved.
Ces reiterated that there was a lot he hadn’t told me because he could still be convicted for certain crimes. It was best that I didn’t know. But everything in the book was true. I said I no longer had faith in this as I’d heard conflicting versions of the truth. This made Ces wild: ‘The book should be published now and if certain people in my family don’t agree with it, they can go and write their own book!’
The rest of the conversation revolved around Dean. He accused Dean of being heavily into drugs and unbalanced. Ces said he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean came and blew him away, then shot every other member of the family. He painted a picture of a mentally deranged and a jealous evil young man who would suffer terribly in jail because there were other inmates who were friendly with Ces and would give Dean a hard time for trying to put his father behind bars.
It was a very revealing phone call.
Determined to get Ces off our property, we thought up a reason: a non-committal unarguable one—we simply ‘wanted our land back to ourselves’. We toyed with this for a while but it sounded too weak. How about: ‘We wanted to invest in a film and would have to sell Bumble. We’ll give you six months to find a new home.’ John mentioned this to Ces in a roundabout way but, although he clearly heard it, he ignored it as if it wasn’t to be taken seriously. Certainly, as far as Ces was concerned, he couldn’t trust either of us. His hatred focused on John. It suited him that John should be his worst enemy instead of me, as he still had hopes the book might be published and needed to maintain some sort of a civil relationship with me, he still needed to use me.
It became necessary John should become a ‘bad person’ so Ces could remain a ‘good person’ in the eyes of my father, one of his few remaining supporters. Ces was obviously nervous that we might be speaking to them about some of the things we’d heard. So he proceeded to try to discredit John in every possible way. He divulged personal things, like telling dad about John’s longstanding friendship with Barbara. This was a confidence John had shared with Ces during trusting years. As dad had always felt uncomfortable around John, Ces found it very easy to poison my dad further against him. The damage this has subsequently caused can never really be repaired. It is one of the many sad legacies Ces left.
It was with dread that we visited Bumble. I feared a nasty encounter; John had the body language of a warrior. Each time we drove down the gravel driveway towards the house, 1 wondered if we’d arrive at a pile of charred rubble. I no longer had any doubt we had a resident arsonist.
Two months later, in September, Dean appeared in Wyong Local Court. He spoke about the constant mental pressure and haranguing Ces applied to persuade him to kill Allen and Christine, because they were damaging the Waters ‘great name’. They ‘had to die’. Dean eventually relented, though he refused to kill his stepmother as well. The Sydney Morning Herald described how Ces had ordered him to dig a shallow grave for Christine in the Ourimbah State Forest about two weeks before the murder. Then it reported ‘Graves for his victims’ - plural. A grave for both Christine and Allen. I had never heard about these graves before. The thought turned my stomach.
Dean was committed to stand trial the following July in the New South Wales Supreme Court, Newcastle. His solicitor, Manny Conditsis, said his client would be defending the murder charge on the grounds of diminished responsibility and was prepared to plead guilty to manslaughter.
After Dean’s appearance, we visited dad and my aunt, hoping the recent media reports might stimulate some discussion so that we could get to the heart of the matter and openly discuss our concerns about Ces. Although my aunt was receptive to hearing another side of the story, dad was still very protective of Ces and wanted to remain in the dark. I could understand the way dad felt. I’d supported Ces for a long time. So we sat in silence sipping our tea, each one of us suppressing our strong opinions on the matter for the sake of family harmony.
After tea, John and I drove up towards dad’s gate where Ces kept his horses. And there he was, feeding them. My heart sank. John pulled up near Ces, who had his back to us. Ces turned, his face a scowl of disapproval. He came over, radiating tension and hostile body language.
`You know I’ve got this court case coming up. Are you prepared to testify on my behalf that back at Chatswood you witnessed an argument between me and Dean where he refused to obey me? I have to prove that Dean hated me.’
`No,’ replied John. ‘I’m not prepared to do that. I don’t want to get involved. Anyway, I don’t believe Dean did hate you.’
`Look, he was always arguing with me. I couldn’t get him to behave. He was on LSD and Allen Hall was the supplier. Damon used to buy these drugs from Allen and give them to Dean. The murder was drug-based as both Damon and Dean hated Allen.’
`Come on, Ces,’ said John cynically, ‘we all know you had something to do with it.’
Ces got more excited. ‘Sure I had, I asked two friends of the Kray brothers to come to Australia to kill Allen. When they arrived they decided not to. I’d already dug a grave for Allen in preparation. It was at that point that I gave up my plans. Then Dean and Damon went ahead and did it themselves. They deserve to go to jail for this, not me.’
Within minutes John and Ces were yelling. Dean and Jinka sat in the back seat in total silence, two small bug-eyed children caught up in an explosive atmosphere. I remained nervously quiet, aware that at any moment Ces might strike John. At one stage their faces were an inch apart. Ces was so red he looked about to explode. He was upset because he felt someone had bugged his car and caravan. He’d been supplied with reams of transcript that he had to read before the court case. What about media reports of Dean’s court appearance? He waved it away as nonsense. Really, where did Dean get such an idea from? That he had to defend the ‘great name’ of the family? You don’t just blow someone away because they break up a family and cause a bit of scandal. ‘Christine and I were growing apart anyway. It was just a matter of time.’
I was bursting to ask Ces about how he had earlier mentioned digging one grave, yet a report said ‘graves for victims’. It was hard getting a word in edgewise with John and Ces hammering each other verbally. Then they drew breath at the same time and I asked. Ces told me (in no uncertain terms) the journalist had got it wrong. There was only one. grave. For me, obviously, it was
a moment of truth. Ces quite openly admitted his premeditated involvement in a murder. Whether or not Dean pulled the trigger, there could be no doubt about Ces’s influence, his evil influence.
John—honestly, I could kill him at times like this—took this heated opportunity to tell Ces more aggressively that we wanted him off our land. ‘We just want the place back to ourselves.’ Ces contemptuously laughed this off, dismissed it with a wave of his hand. `No way, don’t be silly.’ Then he walked away. This gave us the welcomed opportunity to start the car and extract ourselves from the situation. All the yelling and shouting had taken more than an hour and we were no closer to getting Ces off our land than before. He had dug his toes and heels in as firmly as the concrete posts holding his boxing ring on our block.
Three weeks later, I arranged a second session with Dennis O’Toole. I told him everything, including the threats and Ces’s anger at Christine’s survival. I mentioned the recent conversation with Ces, his reference to the ‘one’ grave in preparation for Christine’s death. The detective told me that there was indeed only one grave. Dean had dug it twice. The first attempt failed when he struck a rocky ledge. Then Ces demanded Dean dig in a nearby area. When Dean realised it was going to be Christine’s grave, he refused to continue. Ces struck him across the head and shouted, ‘You wimp!’
I asked O’Toole about the arson and why Allen’s dogs got burned. Surely Dean would have been more careful? He explained that when Dean and Damon broke into the house, Dean shooed Christine’s dog outside before he torched the place. Ces had told him to leave both the front and back doors open to create an effective draught. Unknown to them, Christine’s dog and another one dashed back inside and hid under the couch. Dean was terribly upset about the dogs’ death and Ces furious.
In relation to Ces’s confrontation with Pickering, it was Dean, not Ces, who whacked him. Ces kicked him when he was down. Both Dean and Pickering’s evidence corroborate this.
Hellbent: Ces Waters & Me Page 38