Recall: Malicious Intent

One of the worst experiences in my life has been with the media. Reporters and I just don’t get along. They have the power to manipulate what little evidence they have and use it to blow up someone’s life. I love Ben, and it is for him I took up that case in the first place. I need the extra money, so I can afford to battle against my ex-husband for the custody of my three year old son. It must have been a month ago when this mess started. Dan Brody put me up in court for case. I didn’t realise at the time how much stress it had put me under, but I remember kicking back with Kate at lunch later on. We were discussing work. Kate went on about her overload and how all the staff is underpaid, but I knew she had other things on her mind. Finishing off our food she finally spoke her mind. There was a coronial inquest on a suicide. Victim was Clare Matthews, she was found in the Gap all dolled up and six weeks pregnant. She was about to take her final vows so it was very unusual. She also went missing for a couple of weeks before her death; this was uncharacteristic for her. I remembered from my convent days that to a catholic, suicide were a mortal sin. A mortal sin couldn’t be forgiven by god without repentance. I was taught that suicide and murder were a mortal sin. That meant that the sinner is condemned to hell. So I knew there was something unusual about this case. If this woman was religious and commited suicide while she was six weeks pregnant, she murdered that foetus along with herself. So mental illness or at least an irrational frame of mind became more probable. Well when I visited Peter Latham at the state forensic institute before one of my tutorial lectures, we checked out the histology reports. It was interesting to find them overwhelmed with work as well. After looking at the slides we established abnormal lung tissue. There were pale streaky patches with hour-glassed shaped fibers that were similar to asbestos but structurally different. I reported this to Kate over the phone, the next morning, before entering the office downstairs. It was convenient having the office downstairs, it meant less hassle – get up and ready to work. It suited my hours and my life. Ever since I lost custody of Ben my life revolved around my work, I needed the money. I had an appointment at ten that same morning with Mr. Deab. He wanted the true nature of his sister’s death revealed. Initially I refused his offer. Anoubs’s attitude made me uncomfortable, but his request was straightforward. He was willing to pay money, and money was what I needed. I didn’t need to like him and I felt sorry for his mother worried about what happened to her daughter so I agreed. After he left, I had the impression he hadn’t told me everything and right I was.

I wanted to get this case over and done with really quickly, so I went and spoke to senior scene of the crime officer, and old friend John Ziegler. He remembered most of the details calling it a routine OD but had a mystery caller that set off a bomb at the station but seemed to be a hoax. Fatima was found in the public toilets, slightly slouched forwards in a cubicle, doors wide open. She had all the gear- syringe, water ampoule, spoon and lighter. She even used a tampon as a filter. However she was clean and smelt like lavender, wearing pressed jeans and a see-through top. A hundred dollars were stuffed in her bra, and her nails and face were painted. She was also evidently abused previously. Later in the week I checked in with Brody. He had the pathology report, a quick scan indicated acute narcotism due to the administration of opiate either morphine or codeine. The traces in her bile indicated that she wasn’t a regular. Brody then advised me to check out the GP she worked with – Dr Jennifer Wallace. It was about this time when I met Vaughan Hunter. I had no idea it would have been him playing the game. I was washed over by his persuasive and manipulative ways. I went and saw Dr Jennifer but nothing new came up, except that Fatima was heavily abused by her father. To lead further with fatima I went and talked to Jeff Sales at the mortuary, Western Sydney centre for forensic medicine. We were going through slides, but I was accused of interfering with closed cases by Alf Carney. And hour later, Jeff called me up and said that he did find something unusual in the lungs. Hour-glassed shaped fibers. I got home and checked out the photos he had attached. They matched Clare’s. That weekend I went to the expert-witness conference since Martin robbed me of a weekend with Ben. I spent time with Vaughan. He gave me all the clues I needed but I swallowed them for their intellectual worth.

The next day, set off a collision of past emotions. Dad told me that people in Melbourne re opened Miriam’s case. I had been the cause of her disappearance and I knew the entire family knew. Mother always loved her more, she blamed me for it. Putting aside my past and went to talk to Kate. She had a new case on her hands involving Debbie Finch. Her post mortem matched both Clare’s and Fatima’s. Debbie Finch was found with a single shot to her head, in her home with her crippled father who was also shot dead. The unusual bit was they both were covered in jam. Debbie had no pubic hair and had a strain of herpes simplex two virus similar to Fatima. She also had lung fibers matching those found in Clare’s and Fatima’s.

This new evidence that linked the cases was discussed the next day with all officers involved. They didn’t believe and to be honest they weren’t even interested. I was scoffed at when I pointed out the similarity between the victims’ pubic regions. However they wouldn’t have any of it. The next day, after tutorial Zara led me to another victim with similar fibers. Her name was Alison Blakehurst. After interviewing her husband I found she also went missing a couple of weeks before her death and she had herpes. These made a firm link between the cases, but still frustrating. It was a puzzle where A was the same and B and A was also similar to C, so therefore B was equal to C, but there wasn’t a firm link. I went and talked to Vaughan later about cults. I came to think that these women had joined the same cult. A far fetched idea but plausible.

Before I took Ben out to the agricultural show, Kate came around and informed me that they did a DNA tests on the sperm in Debbie’s throat. It wasn’t her fathers, making it obvious that someone else was there. Then Hunter arrived with information on cults, he then joined Ben and I on our trip. To think that I let Ben near him makes me sick, but he was very cunning. AT the hospital, I met Briony. She was a surviving victim that was similar to all the other suicides. I talked to her and found out she admired her killer. It made no sense at the time. She later commited suicide, because Kate double crossed me and got to her breaking my code of confidentiality and pushed her too hard.

Then things got bad to worse. The media flared up again, pouring into my past and attacking my tragic childhood. I still remember the headlines; Murder most foul, expert in private and practice. Kicking back into work I found that Lucinda Taits had similar fibers on her lungs, leading me to the knowledge of Sound studios. Confirming with my good friend Mike, I found that stereo testing studios had halls padded with pseudo asbestos type material, shaped much like those found in the victims. It was then when Kate went missing, and hunter agreed to go visit a nearby test centre. What happened next became hazy. I got into a car accident and hunter helped me into his house. I then found out he had Carcinoma and he was dying painfully. In his room I pieced together several clues and recognised him as the obsessed killer. What happened next was a fight for my life. But I had played into his hands. He wanted me to shoot, and I did. I fell for his trick with the voice recording of Ben. I found Kate in the back just as the police arrived. I the n retreated home. Martin called up and asked if we could all have dinner together. I was overjoyed. I may not have enough money yet to claim Ben. But every moment spent with him was precious. Life was precious, or that’s what Vaughan had taught me.