Underbelly 5 Page 16

  They expected their demands to be met with no publicity and when it became a major investigation, they killed the girl and buried the body to escape detection.

  But there were undeniable similarities to cases connected with Mr Cruel. Many of the key investigators remain convinced it was the one offender.

  Karmein’s sisters gave descriptions of the man, which were similar to those other victims had given. They said he was aged in his early 30s and was between 168 and 175 centimetres. And, despite the disguise, the girls believed he was a white Australian.

  IF Mr Cruel was responsible for the murder of Karmein Chan, then what happened? Experienced police say that serial sexual offenders rarely stop until they are caught or die. They say the offenders become more confident and more dangerous. Mr Cruel’s crimes fitted that pattern.

  He began by attacking a girl in her own home, then progressed to an abduction that lasted less than a day, then to holding a girl for more than two days, and then, finally, to murder.

  Why then, did he stop? Was he shocked at his own violence? Did he seek professional help, and is he on medication? Is there a psychologist, doctor, priest or counsellor who shares his secret?

  Police have checked jail records and monitored overseas crime reports, but nothing has helped lead them to Mr Cruel. Some police think the only logical explanation is that he is dead. More than ten years after the murder, there is no shortage of theories – but no new leads.

  PHYLLIS and John Chan’s marriage could not survive the loss of their eldest daughter. Their finances also collapsed and Mrs Chan was only just able to save her restaurant with the help of her Hong Kong-based brother.

  In January, 1995, she was severely bashed in an unrelated robbery attempt. Many of the regulars drifted away. But some stuck with Phyllis and became loyal friends. They included former Chief Commissioner, Kel Glare, and (the late) Assistant Commissioner, Frank Green.

  Green and his wife, Norma, would sometimes go to the 100-seat restaurant and find themselves the only diners.

  Over the years, Phyllis Chan has fought her way back and the customers have returned. She reverted to her maiden name, Phyllis Lam. She became a devout Christian, attending weekly bible studies classes. She became fiercely protective of her two surviving daughters, wanting them to have full and happy lives.

  She didn’t want them only to be known as Karmein’s sisters. Kelvin Glare says of her: ‘Phyllis is a remarkable woman. She has taken knocks that would have flattened any other person and she just refuses to give up.

  ‘She is a person who has lost her daughter, her marriage, has suffered financial troubles and has been severely assaulted, but has been able to come back. She continues to show amazing strength of character.’

  Frank Green died on Christmas Day 2000. At his funeral at the Police Academy, a small Asian woman was overcome by grief. It was Phyllis Lam.

  Later she opened her restaurant for the wake. She was there at the front of house – urging people to eat, drink and enjoy. Just like the old days.

  THE FBI PROFILE

  He is in steady employment, a good neighbor, polite, quiet, somewhat introverted, but may be involved in certain community-minded projects.

  He would typically live in a single-family residence, one with a garage or carport.

  If he lives with someone, he would be absent during critical times.

  If he is involved in a sexual relationship, the partner would be aware of sexual dysfunction on the part of the offender.

  Those who work with the offender would notice a change in his behavior after the incidents. He would have trouble coping, would be likely to miss work and would appear rigid and distant to workmates.

  Some may notice that soon after the offences the offender appears stressed and changes his use of alcohol, either drinking more or abstinence. He may show a short-term interest in religion.

  In the offender’s mind there is no intent to harm the children.

  The offender appears normal and above suspicion to those around him.

  He will attempt to alter his behavior on the basis of newspaper reports on police profiles of the offender.

  CHAPTER 11

  A boy named Siu

  ‘I was not involved. Why would I be that silly?’

  BY anybody’s standards it was a lavish wedding. More than 650 guests in a five-star Melbourne hotel with the best wine and food and even a bottle of cognac on each table. The well-wishers included members of the judiciary, senior police, high profile media identities and a host of Melbourne business figures.

  The groom beamed. His young wife, Linda, a former casino croupier, looked stunning. A Melbourne County Court judge, an old friend of the groom, delivered a warm and humorous speech.

  Though he had been married twice, Jimmy Siu’s small chest puffed with pride as he wandered from table to table, in the manner of a man comfortable in any company. Linda changed outfits several times during the reception – a Chinese custom to indicate wealth. It was 26 April, 1992.

  Siu might not be a household name in Melbourne and his picture might not regularly appear in social pages, but in certain circles, he is a figure of influence and intrigue with a reputation as a successful restaurateur in Melbourne’s Chinatown. He is a man who built a business empire, after arriving from Hong Kong almost 40 years ago as an electronics student. His first job was moving and cleaning empty beer barrels at a brewery. ‘I was too weak to move the full ones,’ he often joked later.

  Five days after he arrived in Australia, he went to Melbourne University to enrol and became lost. A law lecturer took pity on the young man who couldn’t speak English and gave him a meal. They became life-long friends. The law lecturer became the judge who spoke at the Siu wedding.

  Jimmy Siu might have come a long way from the days when he was a repairman, but he is still known as a man who can fix anything. He rose to be the public face of the lucrative Shark Fin chain, with a turnover once estimated at $10 million, and was spokesman for the Chinese Restaurateurs’ Association.

  His excellent command of English, and his energy, saw him take on the unofficial role as a troubleshooter for many in the Chinese community. He got things done, knew which bureaucrat to approach and, apparently, how to sort out most problems.

  He was used as a court interpreter and developed contacts in the Immigration Department, the Victoria and Federal police. He was also a registered financial broker. But while Siu was relaxed dealing with Melbourne’s largely European decision makers, he did not forget his roots in the Asian community.

  For decades, Siu had been of interest to the gaming squad. He was known to have interests in a Chinese casino. He would book the most expensive hotel suites in Melbourne to host invitation, high-roller card games where millions would change hands.

  He agreed to stop the games after police received a legal opinion they were illegal. Siu was on the international VIP gambling list and was welcomed at Jupiter’s in Queensland and several big casinos in Las Vegas.

  In 1990 the gaming squad started a protracted campaign to cripple Chinatown’s illegal casino industry. There were four known clubs and police began to raid them fortnightly. Each club contained about six tables and each table was owned by a syndicate. If the syndicate lost, they would lose the table.

  It had been a lucrative industry for decades. But with the new police blitz and new suburban clubs, the casinos were verging of collapse by late 1992. According to court evidence, it was then that ‘The Fixer’ – Jimmy Siu – was called in. Siu and his friends blamed one gaming squad policeman for their problems, and they were determined to remove the threat. Siu offered big money to police to allow his favored gambling den to stay open. He also wanted Sergeant Ivan McKinney transferred from the squad.

  When the first bribe offers were put on the table, the gaming squad began a nine-month operation, code named ‘Grasshopper’, to trap big-money players behind the corruption.

  Over three decades in Australia, Siu had learned that whe
n you want action, you go to the boss. On this occasion, the boss was McKinney’s direct superior, Senior Sergeant Jeff Maher, who pretended to be a corrupt policeman. According to the evidence, Siu’s plan was simple. Maher would be paid $2000 a week, to keep open the club Siu was representing and a bonus of $1000 for closing the opposition.

  Siu even suggested that Maher raid Siu’s favored club regularly to avoid any suspicion. ‘Every two months, three months you have to close the joint,’ he said.

  Never short of an idea, and always prepared to advise someone on his side, Siu told Maher how to launder the bribery money, suggesting he set up a false, off-shore loan.

  Eventually, Siu and two other men were arrested and charged with attempted bribery after police gathered around $23,000 during the operation. Siu pleaded guilty. Several business friends and a judge, provided character evidence court. In 1994 he was sentenced to six months jail, but ended up serving one month.

  ‘What I did was silly. I made a mistake. I regret what I did and I have learned my lesson,’ he said. A policeman who has known Siu for years said it was out of character for him to make a bribe offer. ‘It was a real tragedy. He made the best suckling pig you’ve ever tasted.’

  Those who know him say a stint inside didn’t change Jimmy Siu, who was the same charming, networking businessman, the sort who always seemed to have a smile and a handshake for anyone from vague associates to close friends.

  ‘His network is amazing. He seems to know people from every walk of life,’ one detective said.

  Siu continued to gamble, being prepared to risk $100,000 on one bet. He was alleged to have lost – and then won back – at least one of his restaurants. He has always been a respected guest in Australian and international casinos.

  Despite his conviction for corruption, Siu was always welcomed as a guest at Crown Casino and was a regular in the Mahogany Room, reserved for high rollers.

  Siu’s relationship with the Crown Casino raised the eyebrows of more than one police officer. He could not get a job as the doorman to the Mahogany Room, as he could not pass probity, yet he owned three restaurants in the complex.

  He remains a close friend of one of the senior executives of Crown, although he says he has moderated his gambling habits. ‘I used to be a big punter, but now I am a small fish.’ He said business was good and he now had an interest in nine Melbourne restaurants.

  He said he was not employed by the casino, but would refer people to Crown. ‘If tourists dine at one of my restaurants and they like a flutter, then I steer them to the casino and they may send some of their customers to my city restaurant.

  ‘I get on very well with senior management there. I have a fair bit of contact with the casino people. They scratch my back and I scratch theirs.’ But if Siu wanted to keep away from any further courtroom dramas after his bribery case, that hope was lost on 12 January, 1998, when bandits burst in to his Shark Fin headquarters in Bourke Street. Brandishing a replica handgun, they bound and gagged two female staff members and escaped with $50,000.

  Police later arrested three men, including a Melbourne soccer star called Con Boutsianis, over the robbery. But like most cases involving Siu, nothing is ever quite what it seems.

  The defence argued that the armed robbery was a front for an insurance fraud engineered by Siu. The charming restaurateur gave evidence saying he had no ‘direct’ knowledge of the robbery.

  When asked about his bribery conviction, Siu said he regretted what he had done, but had not considered bribery a serious crime as it had been ‘part of life’ in China and gambling had been part of the Chinese culture for 3000 years.

  In March, 1999, Magistrate Barbara Cotterell said Siu’s statement that he was not aware of the armed robbery plot was ‘not credible’.

  The charges against all three men was dismissed. Cotterell said, at a subsequent costs application: ‘I dismissed the charges against each of the defendants on the basis that each defendant, for his own particular reason, believed that the actions they performed or organised were carried out with the consent, or at the request, of Mr Jimmy Siu.

  ‘The lengthy cross-examination of Mr Siu revealed a web of intrigue, unsustainable denials and allegations, and inexplicable actions, all held together by lies.’

  Despite the dismissal the matter was not over. The Director of Public Prosecutions presented Con Boutsianis and James Andretti for trial. Andretti was later bashed outside a Prahran nightclub and found unfit to stand trial because of his injuries.

  Boutsianis was to plead guilty to one count of theft but, significantly, not to armed robbery. He maintained he was told it was an insurance scam, organised by Siu.

  The star striker avoided jail and was allowed to continue his soccer career. County Court judge, Leslie Ross, fined Boutsianis $20,000, but did not record a conviction against him.

  When asked about his alleged involvement in the robbery, Siu remains, as always, charming and credible. ‘I was not involved. Why would I be that silly? If I was supposed to have set it up with the other three I would have made $12,500.’

  He says he has documents to prove that, over two months at the time of the robbery, he won $20,000 at Crown Casino. ‘Why would a man of my status do that for two days’ takings?’ Despite his criminal conviction, Siu, a dapper man in his late 50s, has more than a recreational interest in the Crown complex. He said he owned the Noodle Bar, Cantonese and Japanese restaurants at the food court in the casino.

  Siu is well-known in the gaming industry, but says he is no longer a big gambler. ‘Those days are gone.’

  He regularly goes to the casino for marketing reasons. ‘It is important to keep up the image that you are successful and doing very well and not dead and buried.’

  He likes to be seen in the Mahogany room and on the main floor. ‘Sixty-five percent of our customers to the Shark Fin group are Asians and they want to see that you are successful.’

  He is no longer prepared to put $30,000 down on a table in one bet. ‘These days $100 is enough. Sometimes now I feel intimidated with some of the big punters.’

  At the time of the robbery there were rumors that Siu was in financial trouble, but later he was seen driving a new Mercedes and seemingly on top of the world. Ever the optimist, Siu confided, ‘Business is thriving.’

  CHAPTER 12

  Who killed George Brown?

  ‘Nothing will ever be opened up. It’s too big. I think you’re better off letting sleeping dogs lie.’

  IT’S not easy to break a man’s arms and legs. It must have taken two men – big, powerful men – to do what they did to George Brown before they killed him.

  It was impossible to tell, afterwards, in which order the killers broke his bones. Impossible to tell how long it took, or why they did it that way. Were they trying to get information from him, or sending a warning to others? Or, most barbaric of all, were they inflicting pain for its own sake?

  This much is known. Whoever killed George Brown systematically tortured him first. They twisted his left arm until it was wrenched from its socket and the bone snapped. His right arm was shattered above the elbow. ‘Like a green stick,’ recalls a policeman, whose thoughts still often turn to the far-off night he was called to a nightmare.

  They used a blunt instrument – probably an iron bar – to do the rest. Both legs were broken above the knee. Death, when it came, was from two savage blows that fractured the skull.

  They put Brown’s broken body in his old green Ford, and drove into the country for almost an hour, followed by a getaway car.

  There, on a deserted freeway, late at night, they rolled the Ford down a gentle slope about 50 metres off the bitumen.

  They doused it and the body in the front seat with what police call ‘an accelerant’, probably petrol, and set fire to it. Then they drove away – and vanished.

  This was not a gangland slaying in Chicago or a drug war in Miami. George Brown was not some Mafia hitman being repaid in kind. He was an Australian horseman.
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  It happened on an autumn evening in Sydney, in the hours before midnight on 2 April, 1984. In the years since, no one has been charged with the murder. And in the racing world Brown belonged to, where he was liked and is still mourned, the betting is that no one ever will be.

  But few talk about who killed him, or why the case remains unsolved. They’re too frightened.

  THE long road that led a bush boy, who loved horses, to the big city and violent death, starts in the outback. George Charles Brown was born at the bush hospital, in the tiny Queensland town of Miles, on 6 December, 1945, the last of his parents’ four children.

  His father, Alan Brown, had fought on the front line in the Middle East, then New Guinea. During the war, his wife, Margaret, and three older children, had lived in Brisbane.

  Alan Brown was a bushman, and when he was discharged he used a war-service loan to buy a property called Warramoo, 3500 hectares of lonely country, 20 kilometres from Miles.

  The baby was eleven years younger than the youngest daughter, Jean. Next was Alan junior, known as ‘Manny’, then Lesley, the oldest.

  When George was 15 months old, his mother died. Jean, then 13, became mother, teacher and playmate to the infant with the fair curls and blue eyes. She taught him his first words and, later, to read and write.

  She didn’t have to teach him to ride. Like his big brother, one of the best horsemen in the district, George loved horses. He sat on a pony before he could talk, rode all over the property behind his sister’s saddle at three, and struck out on his own soon after.

  There was no telephone, no radio, no television, and no school for Jean and George. Their father and brother often rode off for up to a fortnight, droving cattle, leaving the two home alone.