The Supreme Court of Victoria is a classic, imposing Victorian Building constructed along the lines of the Supreme Court in Dublin, Ireland. It was built in the 1800s when Queen Victoria was still on the throne of England. With Victoria at the end of the great gold rush, and colonial confidence high, imposing buildings for posterity was the order of the day. The court was constructed to preserve the sanctity and solemnity of the law and was designed with another objective: to scare the living daylights out of those appearing therein. The effect persists to this day!
The design of each court room is deliberately intimidating. After my name was called I walked onto the floor of the court, which is the lowest point. Immediately to my left, only a couple of metres away, was the dock – sitting higher than the floor where the lawyers sit but not as high as the jury and witness boxes. His Honour the learned trial judge sits at the highest point in the room. Walking this close to Dupas was intimidating and frankly unnecessary; I could have been brought in via the side door. Seeing Dupas sitting there wearing his usual Sphinx-like visage was unsettling. There he was, fatter, with the same blank, denying face, the blinds down in his cold, calculating eyes, just as I had seen them many times while banged up with him.
I gathered myself as best I could, paused and bowed to His Honour, who smiled at me and bowed in return. I wonder what he thought of this little effort by young Andrew. After all, I had appeared before him numerous times over the years and here I was now, a convicted criminal and pivotal Crown witness. Some day maybe I will find out what he made of me.
Sitting in the witness box I didn’t look at the accused, who is sitting at the back of the court. I could see Dupas out of the corner of my eye, but not once did I look at him. Also, I didn’t look much at defence counsel or the prosecutor who was conducting evidence in chief. I looked across the court from my high perch in the witness box, past the trial judge, straight at the jury, because they are the only people in the court who matter. They were the ones who I wanted to believe my evidence. From the point of view of convicting or acquitting the accused, it is the jury – not the judge, not the defence counsel, not the prosecution – that counts.
The prosecutor was Colin Hillman SC to whom I had been opposed many times over the years. Colin is a most experienced and competent prosecutor, even if we had not seen eye to eye on many occasions. It felt odd to me, and no doubt to Colin, that we were both pushing in the same direction for once – and not only that, we were polite to each other!
His Honour, Mr Justice Philip Cummins – known in the legal profession as “Fabulous Phil”, or “Fabbo” for short – is, as I have said, one of the most experienced trial judges sitting in the state of Victoria. What his honour does not know about criminal trials is not worth knowing. Fabbo is a no-nonsense judge who does not waste time and is blunt if he thinks counsel are doing just that. His trials are run fairly, straight down the line, but (as I’ve said) heaven help you if you are convicted and Fabbo sentences you; you will invariably cop a big whack. This is another aspect of the profession I have pondered over the years: why do some judges, who were once predominately defence advocates pleading for leniency, often turn out to be the heaviest hitters in sentencing once they are appointed to the bench? I have also seen former Crown prosecutors who become positively benevolent in their sentencing after years of prosecuting.
The defence team of David Drake and Mark Regan had the most unenviable task. As defence counsel you do not have to believe, or for that matter like, your client but you are duty bound to follow your client’s lawful instructions, even if you think those instructions are nonsense. You cannot make things up. Both were briefed by Legal Aid, who invariably end up acting for blokes like Dupas. Drake or Baldrick as he is known in legal circles had a cunning plan to discredit me; however I never did work out precisely what that plan was, apart from calling me a liar.
As I made the long walk from court door to my lofty perch in the witness box I was careful to keep my eyes straight ahead and under no circumstances make eye contact with either Dupas or the Halvagis family. I was indeed following the advice that I had given hundreds of clients. Take the oath and look directly across the court, directly at the jury, each in turn. Watch the jury’s body language and try to make sure they listen to your answers; after all, it is the answers and not the questions that form the evidence. It is the jury alone who will decide the fate of the accused; the judge merely passes sentence after conviction.
As I said earlier, during the Basha inquiry I had forgotten all about my discussion with Keith Moor, the reporter from the Herald Sun, but immediately, under cross-examination, I acknowledged having had that conversation and the fact that I had forgotten it. Baldrick, instead of then just saying that I had made the whole thing up and I was lying, went through each and every sentence in that article, putting to me that each one was a lie. My answer each time: “No, I forgot.” One thing he didn’t do was look at my Can Say Statement and compare it with the article in the Herald Sun; if he had, he would have seen that they were factually identical – there was not one inconsistency.
Baldrick made the fundamental and fatal error for any counsel in a jury trial of turning his back on the jury. This was his usual method of cross-examination: to turn his back to the jury, lean on the lectern and sneer at the witness. In my book he failed the most fundamental lesson: always play to the jury! The jury may as well not have been in the court. The only time Baldrick looked at the jury throughout the entire trial, I have been informed, was during his closing address. By then it was too late: he had lost the jury. I was watching the jury. As he laboured the same question over and over and over again throughout what was quite a lengthy newspaper article, the members of the jury were starting to roll their eyes, they were yawning, they were fidgeting, they were bored and their body language indicated that they weren’t interested in any of this questioning. But Baldrick didn’t twig because his back was turned to the jury.
Apart from this line of questioning Baldrick had nothing else to put to me, except to suggest that I had been using drugs while I made these statements to the police, because they were, in his view, so fanciful. There was one problem with that contention. After I was charged on the 13 September 1999 I ceased using and had been subject to repeated random drug testing by my general practitioner for the two years that I was on bail. I was then subject to random drug testing while I was in jail. Since my release from jail on 11 September 2006 I had been on parole, and while on parole I was also subject to random drug testing. I don’t know how many times I have been drug tested, but it is many, and needless to say I have not returned one positive sample. All of this was on the record as a clear rebuttal of Baldrick’s contention.
I was adamant with the Crown prosecutor that, on reexamination (which follows cross-examination), I wanted an opportunity to answer the question as to whether I was on drugs as Baldrick had asserted.
When the Crown prosecutor did start to re-examine me Baldrick jumped up and down, objecting to the question, saying it was irrelevant whether I had been taking drugs. The trial judge reminded him that he had opened that particular can of worms, so he could wear the answers given in re-examination. I was then able to explain to the jury how long it was since I had used drugs and that the suggestion that I had been using was nothing more than a deliberate slur.
As I said earlier, the police had not made public the fact that Mersina Halvagis had been kneeling when she was attacked from behind. When I described that posture to the police there was only one way I could have known of it, and that was from the killer personally. As it transpired, forensic evidence disclosed that Mersina had been stabbed a couple of times in the shoulder region of the upper body and the majority of stab wounds were concentrated in the breast area.
Baldrick put it to me that I must be lying about Mersina Halvagis kneeling because the stab wounds were in the chest area. I said any statement by me about chest wounds would be speculation. He then barked at me to answer the question. I c
an clearly remember saying “If you want me to speculate I can easily tell you what’s happened.” I then went on to say that, from what Dupas had re-enacted to me, the deceased was kneeling, she was small, she was attacked with great force from behind, the first couple of blows struck her in the neck or upper shoulder area, the sheer force of these blows had made her fall her backwards and she was then stabbed repeatedly in the chest. This was exactly what Baldrick did not want to hear and he tried desperately to stop me. I was looking at the jury. Their eyes were out on stalks. The trial judge refused to stop me, on the basis that Baldrick had asked the question and had pursued an answer and he was now stuck with the contents of that answer.
Clearly the most telling piece of evidence, in the eyes of the jury, was the incident in Dupas’s cell that I have already outlined. I was asked in evidence in chief by Colin Hillman SC, the Crown prosecutor, to re-enact the pantomime for the jury. I left the witness box and went down to the body of the court and re-enacted the incident where Dupas had acted out for me the stabbing of Mersina. I was watching the jury the entire time I was carrying out this pantomime. I had their complete attention – they were enthralled. One woman, who was sitting in the front row of the jury, was particularly shocked by this – I could tell by the look on her face.
I then went on to talk about finding the knife in the garden and watching Dupas weighing it up in his hand and repeating “Mersina, Mersina”. The same juror was clearly horrified at that.
My cross-examination had lasted nearly three days and had been long and boring, and that was obviously the impact it had had on the jury.
Dupas’s defence had boiled down to one thing: an allegation repeated ad nauseam that I lied at the Basha, that I was a gold digger, a publicity hound and a general bullshit artist. Not one shred of evidence to rebut any aspect of my sworn testimony was led by the defence, and accordingly there was not a conflicting point of view the jury could consider.
As the accused Dupas was not required to say anything in his defence. However, if the accused doesn’t, then that fact can be highlighted in the Crown’s final address to the jury. In other words, it is quite acceptable for the judge to observe that the accused has chosen not to give evidence in his own defence. Of course, Dupas would not go anywhere near the witness box because he would risk bringing himself undone by lying. The defence called no witnesses whatsoever.
After a three-and-a-half-week trial the jury retired to consider its verdict. A few days later I received a phone call from Paul Scarlett to say “The matter is over: Dupas has been convicted.” I didn’t realise how much impact this trial had had on me until I had heard those words: “He has been convicted.” I put the phone down and burst into tears. I had not been sleeping well. I had been having, and continued to have, a recurring nightmare. In it Dupas escapes from prison and he comes looking for me. He is never front and centre in the dream, he is always somewhere in the crowd and I just catch glimpses of his face, but he is always there, that silent, ever-present malevolence.
I withstood a huge barrage of attacks from the media but it motivated me more to do what I consider to be the right thing. People warned me that the media would sensationalise the trial and it was hard – especially with teenage kids and trying to rebuild my life. It was hard to keep my head in a good space. But my parents set an example of honesty that was ingrained in me.
While I was in the witness box my manager, Victor Susman, was present in the body of the court, watching. Halfway through the cross-examination, Mersina’s brother approached him and told him that the family was deeply grateful for my bravery, for the fact that I had been gutsy enough to come forward and tell the truth. It was when Victor told me this that I confirmed in my own mind that I was definitely doing the right thing, because these people needed finalisation.
Once Dupas had been convicted and been sentenced to a third life term without parole, the new hot topic was the reward offered by the state government, a substantial one million dollars. Everybody seemed interested in whether I should get the reward given that I had been in jail and that was the only way I had obtained the incriminating evidence. Well, like it or not, the people who are going to have evidence that a reward might flush out aren’t usually little old ladies who work on a volunteer basis in the local opportunity shop. Most of the witnesses who claim rewards are crooks who have criminal records and have been in jail. Why? Because they are the people who talk to other criminals and to whom other criminals often make voluntary admissions that return to bite them some time in the future. I would never have received the admissions from Dupas if, for instance, I had visited him on a professional basis in jail, or by being his lawyer for any other matter. He is that type of person who would never have made those admissions to anyone else. The very fact that it had taken some months of me working in the garden with him, and the coincidence of timing that I was with him in jail at the time of the Margaret Maher and Mersina Halvagis investigations that he let his guard down sufficiently to make the admissions to me, was significant.
Time and time again over the years the coppers have had Dupas in custody and questioned him, and every time he has behaved in exactly the manner I described to them. They didn’t describe it to me; I told them. And it was only after I had made my formal statement that the police told me that over the years Dupas’s behaviour has been totally consistent. That is, he sits in a police station being interviewed, he gets to a stage where you think he is going to make admissions, he starts sweating and becomes nervous, anxious and shaky, then clasps his hands together. Then, when he is really anxious, he puts his hands between his legs and crushes his knees together and then starts rocking backwards and forwards. Every other time he has displayed those behaviours he has pulled himself up short and that has been the end of the discussion. The blinds come down and he blocks the matter out of his mind and he will not talk about it any more. The only difference, with me, was that he took the process one step further and blurted out the admissions that led to his conviction. It was only after he had blurted out the admissions that the blinds came down. Not much of a change, but a change of immense significance as far as the police, the Halvagis family and the Victorian public were concerned.
As I said earlier, being in the witness box was easily the most disturbing thing I have ever done; and frankly, if I knew then what I know now, I wonder whether I would have come forward to give the evidence when requested. However, now that it’s done and Dupas is convicted, I am pleased that I have come through the ordeal and this poor family now has some closure.
Mr and Mrs Halvagis visit their daughter’s grave daily. These people have been devastated by what happened to them and I, as a parent, can understand that to lose a child would be the most horrible thing that could happen to you. But to lose such a beautiful child in such tragic circumstances is something you would never recover from. I am told by people who have been to the Halvagis family home that Mersina’s bedroom has not been touched since the day she was murdered. It is almost a shrine to her. These are good people who came to a new country to provide their kids with something they would never have had if they had stayed in Greece – and this is what they get. I am glad I did what I did.
Chapter 13
What Else? Solved and
Unsolved Atrocities
Science is always simple and always profound, it is only the half truths that are dangerous.
– GEORGE BERNARD SHAW, THE DOCTOR’S DILEMMA
Peter Dupas was the prime suspect in six murders. He has now been convicted of three of those and he is serving three life sentences without any prospect of parole.
Nicole Amanda Patterson
Dupas was suspected, and eventually convicted, of the murder of Nicole Patterson on 19 April 1999 after her semi-naked body was found lying on the lounge-room floor of her home in the northern Melbourne suburb of Northcote. She had been stabbed twenty-seven times and both of her breasts had been removed after death.
When the Homicide Squad arr
ived at the scene they found that the killer had removed jewellery and other items from her body and worn them. The killer had also removed her shirt and had taken that and unknown bloodied items, most likely the victim’s breasts, down to her bedroom where there is further evidence that the killer has dressed up in the victim’s clothing.
There was further evidence that the killer had searched the victim’s premises before leaving, clearly with a view to finding any incriminating evidence. However, the killer missed one most important item, and that was Nicole’s diary. On the day of her death she had written “Malcolm 9.00 am” and a phone number. A call charge record on the deceased’s phone revealed that a number which belonged to Dupas, who was by then a convicted serial rapist with a propensity for violence, had called Miss Patterson fifteen times over the last week, a chilling fact indeed.
Not long after, on 22 April, Homicide Squad detectives arrested Dupas at a local hotel and searched his house. In the rubbish bin outside the house police found a pair of white runners with blood stains all over them. Also located was a small piece of newspaper that had been torn into several pieces. When pieced back together, this piece of paper revealed the handwritten note “Nicci – Northcote – 9.00 o’clock morning – Malcolm”. It is obvious now that Dupas had rung and used a false name for the purposes of making an appointment with the victim. Also, on his fridge, was a handwritten note with a mobile number: the same as the phone number written in Patterson’s diary. Dupas had obviously deviously used another mobile phone to ring Patterson and make his fatal appointment.
During their search of the premises, the police also found a copy of the Herald Sun with the front page showing Patterson’s face after her murder was discovered. The picture had been slashed with a knife. Located in the garage were numerous tools with their handles wrapped in yellow electrical tape; the tape was identical to that found on the deceased’s body.
Killing Time Page 16