31 May 1988: State Savings Bank of Victoria, East Keilor
Take: $21,688
The day after raiding Ken Kim’s Sports Store
I have a legit vehicle parked near the primary school. That’ll be what I drive off in, all mellow and smooth after dumping the getaway car – a Torana I stole for the job.
This is a solo operation: I love ’em. It’s a big ask but it’s also a blast flying alone, taking all the responsibility, all the risk, and getting all the earn – and I don’t have to worry about bodgy crew members.
But it’s full-on when no one’s watching your back. Get distracted or just look in one direction instead of the other and you can miss a security guard, a copper, a bank worker pushing a button, a civilian slipping out a door: next thing ya know, someone’s putting a bullet through ya.
To have a chance of doing it clean and getting clear I got two minutes tops – maybe less.
What a challenge; what a rush.
Everything’s ready: overcoat on; in the mode; parked outside; engine idling; grab the pump-action; grab the bags; balaclava ready; deep breath to fill the chest and fuel my fire; good to go; up and out and in the side door of the bank.
‘This is a hold up!’
They freak the way civilians do, get all goosey and confused and indecisive, so I make it easy to know what’s happening by cranking the shotgun – God, I love that sound – and point it at the tellers. ‘I’m not fuckin’ joking!’ The handful of customers don’t look like trouble and just fucking quiver as I work my way down the row of three tellers, throwing each a shopping bag or two. ‘Hurry up! Just the big ones! Just the big ones! Move it – fuck!’
One of the tellers – a sheila about my age – is just gawking at where I missed trying to toss her a bag. ‘Stop mucking around!’ She starts filling the other bag, though, feeding it from her cash drawer. ‘Just the big ones!’
When I hit the end of the row I cover the crowd, control the floor, give the last teller a moment to stuff her bag, then collect it and move back along, collecting the rest of the proceeds.
Out and away to the car swap. Now I ease my foot off the juice and take it easy – on the outside at least, ’cos inside I’m all fingers-in-the-socket; all shocked and charged and coursing with power. I’m on fire.
I’m nineteen and I just made a bit over twenty G’s in about 90 seconds.
*
This crime is unsolved until Chris contacts police in 2015 and volunteers his responsibility. He is subsequently charged and in 2016 pleads guilty in Melbourne Magistrates Court.