Chapter 6

At What Price?

Carefully, Christine scattered the ashes of the family dog, Cane, on Ebony’s grave. Over the years, she had watched him pine endlessly for her daughter. At first, he had waited at the gate, just as he had waited for her to return from the school bus before she died. Then, after nine long months, he had dug a big hole in the dirt under the house, directly beneath Ebony’s bedroom. He had lost more and more weight. Recently, he’d been unable to get up from his mattress in the garage. She had made the hard decision to put him down. Originally, he had been Tasman’s dog, but the German Shepherd had been attached to Ebony. That’s why she had him cremated and took his ashes to her.

Tending some flowers on her daughter’s grave, Christine reflected on the past years in Bargo. After Garforth had exhausted the appeal process, people around them had gradually returned to their lives. Close family members still found it difficult to get out of bed some days, only managing to live from day to day. Then, in September 1995, their lives had been rocked again. Garforth had lodged a claim with the Victims Compensation Tribunal for $50 000 for each of the assaults he had suffered in jail the year after he had killed Ebony. The first attack had occurred in 1992 shortly after he was charged with murder. Alone in a locked holding yard at Long Bay Remand Centre, Garforth was set upon by a large group of prisoners who had broken the lock on his door. In October 1993, he was again bashed by a group of inmates.

Christine and Peter were mortified. They hadn’t claimed compensation for their daughter’s death. The maximum the entire family was able to claim was $50 000. They had approached the New South Wales Government for help. The premier, Bob Carr, and the Attorney-General had stepped in, announcing amendments to the Victims Compensation Act so that convicted prisoners, such as Garforth, would be unable to claim compensation. The legislation was to be retrospective, encompassing Garforth’s claim. Only fine defaulters and prisoners in remand, as they had not yet been convicted, could still receive compensation.

The public outcry about killers receiving compensation was understandable. Yet, at the time, there was also considerable debate about the human rights of prisoners. The New South Wales Council for Civil Liberties stated that it would challenge the proposed legislation before the United Nations Human Rights Committee as it believed individual human rights were being eroded for the sake of popular support. It could be argued that there was some truth to this. The thought of murderers such as Andrew Garforth or former hotelier Andrew Kalajzich (who had a claim pending after being stabbed while serving time at Lithgow Jail for organising his wife’s murder) receiving any form of compensation, no matter how great their pain, seemed entirely reprehensible. On the other hand, not all convicted prisoners committed such heinous crimes, yet all, with the exception of fine defaulters, were to be covered by the legislation.

Questions needed to be asked about restrictions placed on certain prisoners, such as those convicted of theft. If all people were to be considered equal by the law, regardless of status, then should a fine defaulter who was bashed in jail be no more eligible for compensation than a thief? And did prisoners forfeit their right to justice along with their right to freedom when they entered jail? Each of these questions had to be weighed against the alternative of murderers claiming financial restitution for assaults suffered in jail in amounts equal, and above, those available to the families of their victims. Each family’s costs, for the funeral, time in court and days off work through grief, far outweigh the prisoner’s before degree of suffering is even considered.

In 1998, a more balanced approach was found and stronger restitution orders legislation was passed through the New South Wales Parliament. Under the amendments to the Victims Compensation Act 1996 (NSW), the power of the Director of the Victims Compensation Tribunal to recover monies from convicted offenders was increased. Assets could be more readily seized and contributed towards their victims’ compensation. After a victim was awarded compensation, the Victims Compensation Tribunal could undertake restitution action against the prisoner convicted of the offence that led to the injury for which that victim was compensated. The victim was not required to take part in the proceedings.

Restitution can be sought in other jurisdictions in Australia, although the legislation differs from state to state. For example, in South Australia, the Attorney-General can recoup compensation awarded to victims from the offender. In Queensland, restitution can be sought from an offender within three years of that person’s trial under section 40 of the Criminal Offence Victims Act 1995 (Qld). And, in Victoria, under section 86 of the Sentencing Act 1991 (Vic), a court can make an order following the application of a victim for compensation for his or her loss.

Garforth could apply for recompense for his assaults, but anything that he was awarded would immediately be passed back to the Victims Compensation Fund to cover what was paid to the Simpsons. He withdrew his claim.

During the next few years, Christine realised, there were two significant milestones in their lives. The first was Peter’s and her final acceptance of compensation, and the second was the disintegration of their marriage.

In 1997, a year after Garforth’s application for compensation, the Victims Compensation Tribunal entered their lives for a second time. Christine smiled as she recalled the man who had telephoned and told her that the time had elapsed within which her family could apply for compensation. Although technically the Simpsons had exceeded the two years within which to apply, he had carefully explained, if they filled out the appropriate forms and underwent an assessment (to determine the degree to which their lives had been affected by Ebony’s murder) they may still be eligible for up to $50 000. The mother of three remembered how ropeable she had been.

‘First,’ she had admonished the man who called, ‘I don’t want your money. Secondly, don’t ask me to come to Sydney and sit on the other side of a desk and be asked if the murder of my child has had an effect on our lives. If you want an assessment, I’ll give you the best assessment you have ever had.’ Christine had taken a deep breath and then continued:

 

Get in your car and drive out here to my place and I’ll show you every bedroom in the house she lived in, the family unit she had and the farm she lived on. Then we’ll go out onto the country road and I’ll shove you into the boot of the car and drive you down to the dam. When we get there I’ll tell you what happened to her, not what you read in the papers, what actually happened to her. Then we’ll go to her school and her cemetery and you’d better bring your own lunch because I won’t make you any. We will sit and talk for hours and then I’ll untie your hands and feet and you can go home to Sydney.

 

She recalled that there had been no sound at the other end of the phone when she had finished. ‘Is anybody there?’ she had asked. Nothing. It hadn’t been long afterwards that arrangements had been made for the full $50 000 to be transferred into the Simpsons’ bank account.

Christine finished tending the flowers and stood to look at her daughter’s grave. It was a simple white cross, surrounded by a white picket fence. Eventually, the whole family had agreed, they would have a gravestone carved. It was to be one of the last things Peter and Christine did together, although they would be living apart at the time. In 1997, their marriage of 27 years ended in divorce. The reasons for their split were personal and it is one area, in two now very public lives, where their silence must be respected.

Peter sold the farm after his and Christine’s separation and eventually moved to the coast. In two trunks, he shipped all of Ebony’s things to his ex-wife, who at that time was living in Bowral. But that hadn’t been as hard as the day he packed them. Christine had been at work. There had been some discussion previously about packing up Ebony’s bedroom and making it into an office, but nobody had been able to do it. That day, when he got up, Peter had decided that considering he was off work he would spare everyone the heartache and complete the task. Originally, he had intended just to grab her clothes and toys and throw them into the trunks, closing the lids when he was finished. However, as he picked up each item of clothing, memories had come flooding back.

Peter always liked Ebony in red. She had favoured pink. She had been pretty in whatever she wore. He had picked up her netball uniform and smelt it. Tears had rolled down his cheeks as he recollected her practising with her teammates. No one would need to iron her uniform on Saturday mornings again. Ebony had loved sport. He had looked about him at the merit certificates, ribbons and trophies that decorated her walls. On her pretty white dresser was a musical jewellery box. He smiled. The room had been full of treasures. He had carefully folded the uniform into a trunk and reached for a t-shirt and another set of memories.

The moment Peter had seen Christine’s face, he knew he had done the wrong thing. She had been devastated. During the first few years after losing Ebony, he had worried that he might lose her too, that she would suicide. He tried to protect her. Now, with hindsight, he and Christine should have packed everything away together.

The two trunks still travel everywhere with Christine. On a bad day she opens them and remembers. It was on one of those days, after opening one of the trunks, that she came across Ebony’s diary. Unsure if she should read it, she decided to take a brief glimpse. Inside she found a half-written love letter to Daryl Braithwaite. Her little girl had wanted to join the fan club and had professed her love for him. She had been growing up.

 

Today, Christine and her partner, Gunther Diex, live outside Canberra and run an art gallery café. The two met in Bowral when Gunther asked for permission to do a portrait depicting Christine amid the events that unfolded around Ebony’s murder. The painting, which now hangs in their gallery, was displayed for a period in the New South Wales Parliament. Gunther regularly exhibits his work in Europe. Some of the paintings portray Ebony. He calls his style ‘heart art’, as it features series of heart shapes. Neither Christine nor he is involved with HVSG, but both tirelessly address victims’ issues and have dedicated a section of their gallery to Ebony’s memory.

Peter lives on the South Coast of New South Wales and is still actively involved with HVSG. He is seriously considering facing Ebony’s killer, Andrew Garforth, through the Restorative Justice Unit at the New South Wales Corrective Services Department. If both parties agree, the meeting will take place at a venue of Peter’s choice. The encounter will allow him to express to his daughter’s killer the degree of pain and suffering Garforth has caused him and his family.

Zac has a family of his own and Tasman has made a life for himself on the other side of the world.