POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS

Copyright Robin Bowles 2011

Published by Robin Bowles at Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or be transmitted by any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

ISBN 978-0-9871738-2-9

Unless otherwise stated, photographs in this book are from the author’s collection or from private collections and used with permission.

August 16 1998: 00:35 am

Blue lights swung in rhythmic circles, eerily highlighting irregular factory rooftops and darkened advertising signs; stony ground on a vacant lot; a weirdly empty four-lane road and six police cars skewed at odd angles along the kerb. Each blue rotation passed with similar languid disregard over an inert body on the road, jack-knifed into a V-shape. A flapping blue and white ribbon gaily cordoned off the body, leaving it isolated, alone, dead.

Scruffily dressed men, a dozen or more, moved in uncoordinated directions, looking for anything, calling to each other, some using strong torches to illuminate dark spaces, others standing in small clumps, shaking their heads, talking quietly or swearing at the situation and the murdering bastards that had killed their mate. Blue writing on the white ribbon read 'DO NOT CROSS'. Although everyone wanted to support their fallen brother, perhaps put something under his smashed skull to make him more comfortable, to cover him for decency and against the chill of the night, he lay alone-a crime scene, awaiting investigation.

The air crackled with radio static. Sitreps being relayed to Intergraph; a call for an ambulance; a request for the Canine Squad; a query about the air wing and a chopper to light the scene-dismayed cries for help and support disguised as impassive reports and directions. Roadblocks were initiated and the ill-concealed urgency in the voice of the Intergraph operator indicated a sergeant was on his way to help him co-ordinate the deployment of resources. A voice from another approaching unit called out for directions, 'I haven't got a Melways with me.'

From the man at the scene-'We're in Warrigal and Cochranes with a member down, shot to the head …and we're missing another member. We're trying to find out what's going on.'

***

Detective Sergeant Gary Silk was the dead cop on the roadway. At 0042 his partner, Detective Senior Constable Rodney Miller was loaded into an ambulance, having been found mortally wounded. He died in hospital at 0439 on Sunday 17 August, despite frantic efforts to save him. Before he died he gasped out as much as he knew. 'Two. One on foot. Dark Hyundai. Get them. I'm fucked. Get them.'

The news of Miller's death, relayed on Intergraph, cemented the resolve of every member of Victoria Police to find the killers of Silk and Miller. But none of those listening that night could have possibly known the impact the murders of their fellow members would have on their own lives-that it would be four long years until they achieved justice-and for some, even longer, as their lives would never be the same again.

November 2003

'You're never really prepared for it,' said the trim dark-haired young man who sat opposite me in a St Kilda Road café. 'You train for it, do the drills, learn the skills, but when it actually confronts you, you're gutted. That night when I got to the scene, I felt overwhelmed with shock and grief. I just fixated on the body lying there. I knew Silky was dead, but I really wanted to put something under his head. It seemed so callous, just leaving him on the road, lying in his own blood like that.' Five years on, his dark brown eyes glistened.

We had arranged to meet because I wanted a copy of his newly published book, One Down, One Missing. I'd seen a TV interview with the young Italian-born cop, smart in his dark suit and snappy tie, telling viewers that he'd written a book about his involvement in the hunt for the killers, Bandali Debs and Jason Roberts, who had since been convicted and put away for a very long time.

I'd thought that if the book was indeed a true record of the investigation, he was either brave or foolhardy, spilling his guts about the inside workings of Vicpol. Being a true crime writer, I was keen to read it. The way the cops go about things is always of interest to me. I was frustrated in my efforts to find the book. Every bookshop had it 'on order'. I thought it must have sold very successfully. Being impatient to read it, I rang now Acting Sergeant Joe D'Alo at his Fraud Squad office, in St Kilda Road.

I told him of my quest and asked if I could buy a book from him. Most writers have a few copies of their books. He seemed a bit hesitant.

'I've only got one copy at home, because it's actually been recalled,' he said softly. 'There's a bit of rewriting that had to be done.'

'Oh, damn! I don't want to read a sanitised version,' I told him. 'Could I borrow your copy?' After a bit of persuasion, during which I said I'd lend him a copy of one of my books in return, we agreed to meet in a café a little way from his office.

'Not right outside,' I suggested. 'I'm known to the police! And I wouldn't want you to be in trouble for "fraternising" with me, so I'll bring my book in a plain brown wrapper, because I'm a bit persona non grata in some areas of your building.'

'So am I,' he said quietly.

So here we were, swapping brown paper bags and chatting. He seemed like a nice young man. Rather like a swarthier, youthful Tom Hanks. Very direct gaze, very earnest, a bit bewildered by the flurry generated by his book.

'Why did you write it?' I asked.

'We had no time for grief counselling, or dealing with what civilians call post-traumatic shock. Once we became part of Lorimer (the police name for the Silk-Miller investigation team), we were full-on from the very next day, 12 to 16 hour days, day after day, no weekends, little leave at all for nearly four years, totally immersed in catching the killers. It was like a mission. No let up, no quarter given or asked.

'A few months after I'd been moved to the Lorimer Taskforce, my wife walked out after 16 years, leaving me with a 5-year-old and a 7-year-old. I was torn between my kids and the job. But every time I even contemplated leaving I remembered Gary Silk's brother, Ian, saying at the funeral, "I want to make a plea to the members of the police force. Please pursue this matter with dedication, thoroughness and professionalism, so that these criminals - these bastards - are detected, convicted and imprisoned." If it hadn't been for my parents, I would have had to pull out. But by then, I had so much knowledge about the investigation, it would have left a big hole in the team, so I moved in with mum and dad and they looked after the kids while I was at work.'

Which sounded like most of the time.

'I was finding the stress of the events and the memories of that night overwhelming me at times,' he confided. 'So I saw a doctor and he advised me to write it all down. To help in coping. Just pour it out on paper. So, at every spare opportunity, I did. This became a way to deal with the difficult and frustrating phases of the inquiry. After it was all over, the passion to write this book grew to be the strongest thing I've ever felt in my life.' Probably the most foolhardy as well, I thought, but with good intentions. And we all know about the road paved with good intentions.

We both walked away with our plain brown parcels. His book was one of the best true stories I've ever read. And a fantastic PR instrument for Victoria Police, describing the Lorimer Taskforce's unswerving dedication, their endless frustrations and their great personal sacrifices made in the pursuit of justice for Silk and Miller. It also provided a detailed insider's perspective to a highly sensitive operation.

Boy, is he going to cop it for being so honest, I couldn't help thinking.

15 September 2005

Just over 6 years after the police murders, in September 2005, the Director of the recently established Office of Police Integrity, headed up by career public servant George Brouwer, presented a report to the Victorian Parliament. The investigation it summarised was undertaken on his 'own motion powers', which means he initiated it himself, not at the request of anyone else. The investigation had extended over several months, involving a number of officers, many resources and a bucket of money.

His terms of reference were:

* The circumstances surrounding the publication of the book [One Down, One Missing]

* The actions of Victoria Police in obtaining a copy of the manuscript, in evaluating its contents and subsequent attempts to prevent or delay publication

* Assessment of the Vicpol informer and information management policies and practices of the time to determine the extent to which the Lorimer TaskForce and D'Alo had complied with these practices

* Finally, assessment of subsequently implemented changes to the Vicpol informer and information management policies to determine the likelihood of a similar occurrence in the future.

His results were damning, particularly to Joe D'Alo, who considered the report was at best a character assassination and that outside parliament, probably defamatory. The police got off fairly lightly, but recommendations were made to increase sanctions for breaches of Section 127A of the Police Regulations Act, which at that time read:

'Any member of the police force who publishes or communicates, except to some person to whom he is authorized to publish or communicate it, any fact or document which comes to his knowledge or into his possession by virtue of his office and which it is his duty not to disclose shall be guilty of an offence against this Act and liable to a fine of not more than 20 penalty units'-i.e. a maximum of $2000.

Mr Brouwer's controversial Office of Police Integrity had been given a savaging since its creation the previous year. Now the Director was dishing it out, with a lay down misere situation, from which the OPI could obtain public approval and political advantage. The sacrifice of a single police officer in a case already heard and ruled upon by the court, could be of no concern to the OPI, even though an appeal to the Supreme Court on his conviction was pending within days. Due to parliamentary privilege anything can be said about anybody in parliament.

This is the story of what happened to Acting Sergeant Guiseppe (known as Joe) D'Alo-pride and joy of loving, working-class immigrant parents; devoted father; rising police officer, who in 13 years had only taken a handful of days off sick; who had a shining pride in his job and doing his absolute best-when the system was used against him for daring to write a book about the great job done by Victoria Police in catching two vicious killers. The huge investment of time, money, resources and politics of the investigation will make you wonder, as I do, if the commitment of public money, the use of allegedly insufficient police resources, and the sacrifice of a valuable and dedicated police officer, was justified to achieve the outcome?

August 1998 to September 2005

In January 2003 the Lorimer investigation resulted in Bandali Debs (49) and Jason Roberts (22) being sentenced to die in jail and 35 years respectively. (Potentially there were still serious charges from other crimes pending, but sentencing for subsequent convictions would be fairly academic). By this time, Joe had assembled a comprehensive dossier on the four-year investigation. To assess interest in his outpourings, he approached Hardie Grant Publishing. They were very interested in such a 'rare chance to enter into this dramatic chapter in …police history.' Journalist David Astle was engaged to transform Joe's notes into a publishable manuscript. Astle was paid the entire advance ($16,000) and Joe was to eventually receive 3% of royalties. If the book sold 10,000 copies (a 'best-seller' in Australia) he stood to make about $3000.

There was some discussion during meetings with the publisher about the wisdom of Joe writing such a book while still in the job, and whether he should resign before the book was published, but on reconsideration, because he loved the job, he decided to stay. His main concern at that time was obtaining approval from his superiors to have the book published. Police Regulations (of which most police have only a hazy knowledge, as they are not even studied at the Academy) were not then a major consideration. He believed that the extensive evidence presented at the trials of Debs and Roberts put the story in the public arena. His book would present the investigation to a much wider public. There was a regulation about undertaking a 'second job', but as he only ever stood to make about $3000 over two years or longer, this could hardly be considered 'income'. . While Joe was debating his future, the serious writing began. 

When I later phoned Sandy Grant, MD of Hardie Grant Publishing, he told me that Joe was very keen to get the book out there, despite the possible risk to himself. 'He said that he'd read so many totally sanitised books and articles in the media about investigations he'd been involved in. He knew that even senior police journalists were spoon-fed by police, only publishing what the police allowed. Even "inside" stories are leaked judiciously. "Journos never cross the line," Joe told me, "because they know they'll be blackballed and lose their insider status".' I knew that was true.

In April 2003, about 6 weeks before planned publication, Joe made an appointment with recently appointed Assistant Commissioner (Crime) Simon Overland. He made a separate appointment with his former boss, Inspector Paul Sheridan, now at Forensics. He told both men about the impending publication and said that at his urging, because the convictions of the killers were of paramount importance to him, Hardie Grant had engaged criminal and defamation lawyer, Geoffrey Gibson (Blake Dawson Waldron) to review the manuscript. Gibson had said that in the event of an appeal by Debs and Roberts there were no likely sub-judice issues in his book. Joe later handed Overland a letter from Gibson to this effect. (Appeals are heard by judges, who are considered to be unswayable by any scribblings done by we mere mortals, even though juries might potentially be influenced). And in return, Joe received several emails from Overland, none of which vetoed the project at that point. Referring to those emails now, it seems apparent that Overland himself was unaware of Section 127A at the time, although once the MS was read by other, older members of Command, it became obvious. [In fact, on my own approach to ESD to obtain information for this story on Section 127A, the sergeant who dealt with my enquiry had to go away to look up the wording and ring me back.]