The Russell Street Bombing

by Vikki Petraitis

  At every crime scene, one officer assumes responsibility for overseeing the operation. Sergeant John Moushall nominated Senior Constable Wayne Ashley to take charge of the scene. Ashley had six years experience as a crime scene examiner under his belt and had worked the 1983 Ash Wednesday bushfires, and therefore had ample experience with wide-spread devastation.

  At the command post, the crime scene examiners were introduced to Bob Barnes and Peter Kiernan from the Materials Research Laboratories in the Department of Defence. Barnes and Kiernan were post-blast experts and had been called in by the SOG in the immediate aftermath of the explosion. The two Department of Defence experts had done a sweep of the site and officially confirmed that the explosion was indeed caused by a bomb. As the various teams swapped notes and organised plans of action, the odour of burning rubber hung thick in the air - even two hours after the explosion.

  In consultation with the Department of Defence experts, crime scene examiner Wayne Ashley agreed that Barnes and Kiernan could work the immediate area around the bomb site, and he and his men would do everything else. Debris had spread over several city blocks and the crime scene examiners, with the assistance of the SOG, would be responsible for its systematic collection and examination.

  With debris crunching underfoot, the post-blast team moved in; they could feel the aftermath before they saw it. The streets of Melbourne looked like a war zone. The first thing that Wayne Ashley saw as he turned into Russell Street was the mangled wreck of the bomb car. Stripped of everything but its frame, it looked like a giant black spider. The second thing Ashley took in was the blackening of the entrance to the Russell Street police headquarters. Up until this moment, the concept of the attack on the police had been esoteric. Now, seeing the shattered windows of the art deco monolith and her blackened façade, the affront was palpable.

  Initially, Wayne Ashley had been a surprised that the scene had been so quickly out-sourced to the Department of Defence experts, especially since all crime scene examiners were trained in post-blast examination, but when he and his team made their way into Russell Street, the breadth of the devastation became obvious. He was glad of any assistance they could get.

  The group made their way gingerly towards the bomb car. Ashley and his colleagues could see that the force of the blast had moved the car several metres to the east leaving behind a shallow crater of sorts, measuring 15cm by 1.5m, which had formed with the impact of the explosion.

  Because the back of the car was more mangled than the front, investigators concluded that the bomb had originated in the boot of the car. The amount of live detonators and unexploded gelignite strewn around the bomb car told another story - the bomb had not exploded to its full capacity. A second explosive had been placed either on the front seats or in the centre console. Investigators theorised that it had been dislodged in the first explosion. If the bomb had exploded to its full capacity, the structure of the Russell Street building itself might have been compromised.

  Senior Constable Dennis Tipping, who had earlier extinguished the flames of the bomb, examined the immediate area for clues. He noticed a block of wood near the steps of the south entrance. Nailed to the wood were the remains of an alarm clock. It was only metres from the bomb car and remarkably still intact. The experts concurred that the block of wood looked like it had been sawn from a fence post. The clock had been nailed into place by a strip of metal fixed with 2-inch nails. There were wires attached to the block of wood and also a green and white Chux Superwipe dishcloth. It looked like the bombers had used the dishcloth to keep the wires from connecting on the drive to Russell Street.

  Chillingly, in the immediate vicinity was a plethora of wires tied together in bundles. Also scattered around, were automotive sockets and other metal tools that had been packed around the bomb to act as shrapnel in the explosion. To the gathering of experts, this meant that the people who built the bomb had intended to do maximum damage to anyone nearby. It was a deliberate attempt to main or kill, and if the attack was against the police force, it was a vicious one. But at this early stage, it was by no means certain that the attack was against the police. Early media reports speculated that the bombing could have been directed against the Melbourne Magistrates' Court across the road. Perhaps it was a disgruntled person who held a grudge against a court ruling. It could even have been a terrorist attack.

  Whatever the reason for the bomb, it was the lot of a crime scene examiner to take a clinical rather than an emotional approach. Even though police may have been targeted, and police officers had been seriously wounded in the attack, this scene had to be treated methodically. Wayne Ashley also knew they had no time to waste - a shower of rain or strong winds could interfere with potential evidence. Somewhere in this chaos may be clues that could eventually identify the perpetrators and help bring them to justice.

  The first priority for the Department of Defence team was to examine the bomb car. The car could link back to the offenders, and its history was vital. Despite the damage to the car, the make and model were still ascertainable. The car was a 1980 two-tone VB Holden Commodore with gold mag wheels, a V8 engine and a twin exhaust system. Luckily one of its numberplates was found nearby and police were immediately able to trace the car's owner - he had reported the Commodore stolen from the Brandon Park shopping centre in Mulgrave two days before the bombing.

  Incredibly, they found a red and cream chequered blanket inside the twisted wreck that had survived the blast relatively intact. The rug was removed and placed in an evidence bag.

  When Bob Barnes and Peter Kiernan were checking the car for identification marks, they noticed among the blackened remains of the engine, that the chassis number, located on the radiator support panel, had been drilled out. The drill was circular and whoever had removed the number, had drilled through the panel at the beginning of the number, removed the drill bit, then placed it on the next part of the number, and drilled through again. This had been repeated until the number had been obliterated leaving a line of joined holes that looked like a caterpillar.

  This was not the usual method car thieves used to get rid of identification numbers. If they were removed at all, they were more usually ground down with an angle grinder. When stolen cars were made to look legitimate, it was more usual for the numbers to be altered. Numbers that were removed altogether meant that the person responsible hadn't being trying to legitimise the car at all.

  While Barnes and Kiernan busied themselves with the car and the immediate bomb area, Wayne Ashley began the wider examination. The first thing to do was to grid off sections as far as the debris had flown - which in this case included parts of Victoria Parade, Exhibition Street, Little Lonsdale, to as far away as sections of Swanson Street. In the immediate bomb vicinity, the grid squares were five metres by five metres. Further away, they were ten by ten. Every grid was numbered so that evidence collected in each square could be labelled and referenced.

  All the bags of evidence would be taken to the Russell Street police auditorium and stored, waiting for examination. Wayne Ashley knew that while Russell Street would be closed to traffic indefinitely, the other city streets would need to be cleared as quickly as possible to allow traffic through.

  Inspector Bruce Knight from the SOG offered his team for whatever tasks needed their expertise. Members were called in from rest days and it was all hands on deck. Crime elsewhere didn't take a holiday because Russell Street exploded and in the middle of the bomb drama, Knight had to send an SOG crew to an armed hold-up in Donvale while the rest of the squad were used in the bomb aftermath.

  It was vital to collect as much debris as was recoverable so that the investigators could piece together what had occurred. The evidence could also contain clues to link the bomb with its makers. A wheel from the bomb car was found in the carpark behind the Russell Street building meaning that it must have been blown right over the roof and over the building behind headquarters into the carpark. A live detonator was found in the women's gym on t
he fourth floor of the police headquarters.

  Police combed the surrounding streets for clues until late into the evening. The pressure was on, not only to find the bombers, but also on a practical level, to re-open the surrounding city streets to traffic. The search for evidence would start again at first light the following day, Good Friday.

  That evening, television news reported that terrorism had hit Melbourne as 'bomb after bomb' exploded in Russell Street. Journalists also reported that police were checking lists of people who were to appear in the Melbourne Magistrates Court that day.

  After being told that Carl had been injured in the blast, Bev Donadio asked if it was serious. No, she was told, probably just a broken leg. She immediately rang the Royal Melbourne Hospital and was told that her son was having tests. The nurse promised to ring back as soon as she heard anything. When she called back, she told Bev that the injuries to her son were more serious than a broken leg and that the family had better get to the hospital as soon as possible. It was then that Bev panicked.

  Victoria Police had sent a Traffic Operations Group car and driver to the Donadio's Ballarat home. As soon as the younger two Donadio children had been collected from school, the family screeched, lights and sirens, all the way to Melbourne.

  For the injured young police officer, drugs were taking the edge off his pain and he was not really aware of what was going on. His parents got the full story when they arrived at the hospital. The gash in his leg was caused by a flying piece of shrapnel that had cut him through to the bone. It was a miracle, the doctors said, that his femur hadn't been broken. Nonetheless, the shrapnel had completely sliced through his muscle. It would not be an easy fix because the gap was too wide and too swollen to be stitched up. The injury would need a skin graft.

  X-rays had revealed shrapnel had punctured one of his lungs and sliced one of his kidneys almost in half. Miraculously the shrapnel had pushed through his ribcage without breaking any bones. Surgeons told the anxious family that they would have to operate to assess the full damage.

  Carl Donadio's saving grace was that he was young and super-fit from playing sports three nights a week and keeping up a full training schedule. He was in the best physical condition he could be to survive what had happened to him.

  As his police colleagues finished a day's evidence gathering and desperately tried to think about who could have done this terrible thing, surgeons operated on the 19-year-old police officer, inflating his punctured lung, and sewing his kidney back together again. They stitched up a gash behind one of his knees and removed a painful piece of shrapnel from his right ankle. It had lodged there after penetrating the leather of his boot. His other boot was blown off in the blast. It would later be found on the roof of the Russell Street police headquarters.

  The Bomb Taskforce

  No sooner were the fires extinguished, than a Taskforce was set up to find those responsible. Heading it was veteran investigator, Detective Inspector Daryl Clarke, who put quickly put together a team of a dozen detectives to help him.

  One of the first things for the Taskforce was to speak to the owner of the bomb car. A numberplate, AVQ 508, was found near the bomb car, and it matched the engine number. Even though the car thieves had drilled down the chassis number, they had left the stolen car with its original numberplates.

  The car's owner, who had reported it stolen two days before the bombing, was understandably upset that his car had been used for such a horrendous deed. He told detectives that he had left two tracksuit tops, a red-handled screw driver, a Stanley screwdriver set, a two rope, and a PVC chamois in the car when it was stolen. None of these items had been recovered at the bomb scene.

  The chequered blanket found in the car wasn't his.

  Saturday 29 March 1986

  At first light, the search continued for evidence at the bomb site and surrounding Melbourne streets. Members of the SOG abseiled down the façade of the Russell Street police headquarters and neighbouring city buildings in the hunt for evidence lodged on window ledges and roofs.

  Crime scene examiner Wayne Ashley, who had been put at the disposal of the newly-formed Russell Taskforce, spent much of his time in the police auditorium cataloguing and organising the bags of evidence into areas. He sectioned off a part of the auditorium to house material gathered from the safe zone - the immediate bomb area that was under the control of the bomb experts Bob Barnes and Peter Kiernan. All evidence from the safe zone was collected either by them or under their direct supervision. Even though the crime scene examiners were trained in post-blast analysis, their practical experience was limited to pipe bombs and exploding letter boxes. Barnes and Kiernan could call upon a wider expertise and the resources of the Department of Defence Materials Research Laboratories.

  As each bag of debris was brought into the auditorium, it was given a letter denoting the street or building where it had been located. Ashley devised a grid map so that at a glance, investigators could see where each piece of evidence had come from. Some of the items came via the Fingerprint Bureau, including the dented registration plate, AVQ 508, from the bomb car.

  Even in the relative order of the auditorium, Wayne Ashley got occasional stark reminders of the attack on the Victoria Police. On Saturday 29 March, a detective working the case handed him two plastic bags each containing a small jar. In each of the jars was a jagged piece of metal. One jar was labelled Hos. 27/3/86 Donadio, Carl, specimen removed, L kidney, and the other was labelled Hos. 27/3/86 Donadio, Carl, R leg, near knee. Inside the jar were the pieces of shrapnel that had been surgically removed from Carl Donadio after the bombing.

  On Easter Sunday, Ashley received a similar jar from the hospital containing another metal fragment. This one had been taken from Angela Taylor. It was in these moments that Ashley could see so clearly the difference between this case and most the others he had worked. By the time a crime scene examiner attended a crime scene, no matter how grim, they were usually cleared and contained; there was usually no danger and no personal connection. Crime scene examiners were trained to remain emotionally distanced from whatever it was that they were examining. And usually, it was easy.

  On Easter Monday, items of police clothing were sorted out from among the bags of debris. Wayne Ashley put aside two police hats - one belonging to Angela Taylor and the other to Carl Donadio. He also received, via the hospital, Angela Taylor's charred and bloodied police uniform. The right pocket of her slacks still contained the money she was going to use to buy lunch. He took a moment of respite from his clinical approach to think of his fallen comrades. But only a moment.

  The itemised and labelled clothing from the two injured cops was examined, bagged and handed on to members of the newly-formed bomb Taskforce.

  On Tuesday 1 April, materials from the safe zone were removed from the auditorium and transported to the Materials Research Laboratories. On the same day, the bomb car was finally removed from outside the Russell Street police headquarters where it had sat, covered by a tarpaulin for five days. For the crime scene examiners, walking past it day in and, day out, it was a constant reminder of the gravity of the situation. The bomb car was taken to the Stolen Motor Vehicle Squad in Port Melbourne on the back of a flat top truck.

  Over those five days, the grids had each been examined four times. During the first examination in the post-blast search, SOG members and crime scene examiners were instructed to gather, bag and label every obvious bomb component. Their extensive experience and training made recognition of such components a relatively easy task. Once completed, the second search began. This time, police were looking for any items of interest which may or may not have been connected with the bomb. Thirdly, miscellaneous items were collected, and fourthly, all other debris was bagged and labelled. Bags of twisted metal and bomb components slowly filled the auditorium. Everyone working the case had put in long hours, snatching a few hours sleep each night, ready to start at first light in the days following the explosion.

  After the sa
fe zone debris had been removed, and the bomb car taken away, the police auditorium was locked and put under police guard. The hundreds of other bags of gathered debris would need to wait their turn.

  Around the fifth day after the bombing, Carl Donadio began to regain his senses. He didn't remember much of the first four days and even now, he would be having a conversation with someone and then fade out. Even though he was still sedated, when the doctors told him that he could be in hospital for up to six months, the young man made a declaration that he would be out much sooner than that.

  Over the days, he had become aware that the explosion which injured him was in fact a bomb, deliberately set against the police. When two detectives from the Russell Taskforce came in to take his statement, he tried his best to include everything that had happened, but he hadn't seen anyone suspicious and had little to add to their investigation.

  At the end of the visit, one of the detectives said, 'Don't worry, we'll catch these pricks!' And Donadio could understand their vehemence. He would have felt the same in their position, wanting justice for the injured cops. But it was all he could do to focus on getting well; he just didn't have enough energy for revenge as well. Instead, Donadio's most immediate concern was food; he had come to loathe the bland hospital food of grey meats and boiled vegetables that all seemed to smell like cabbage. The strapping country lad refused to eat anything except the fruit and sometimes the soup. It got to the point where he could smell it coming down the corridor and it would make him feel physically sick.

  His mother, Bev, did her best to smuggle in food, but her son's dramatic weight loss soon became a concern to his surgeons. One doctor told Bev to bring him in anything as long as he would eat it.

  Fellow cops lined up to visit the wounded police officer. Even cops that Donadio had never met wanted to come and pay their respects. In the end, the hospital and the police force sent out a message that only close friends could visit. One officer who was admitted was Chief Commissioner Mick Miller. Respect for the chain of command had been drummed into recruits at the Academy and as a constable, Donadio was supposed to salute any senior officer. When the Chief come in, Donadio nervously saluted him from his hospital bed and called him Sir. To his surprise, Miller said to forget the 'sir' and call him Mick. This quickly put the young officer at ease. Donadio was grateful for the Chief's support and genuine interest in his recovery. Miller spoke to Bev and Vic Donadio, and when one of the doctors came into the ward, he also got a medical update. He told Donadio that the Force needed enthusiastic young chaps like him and to get well soon. He would return to the hospital on several occasions.