24
The inquiry opens
THE INQUIRY COMMENCED IN EARNEST on 5 June 1986. It began with an opening address by Chester Porter that was to last all day and well into the next. He referred to the Chamberlains’ convictions and the nature of the charges against them, which, he said, ‘drew considerable comment, not merely because the nature of the case was sensational, but because the sudden translation of a mother who had lost her child to a dingo into a murderess without a motive obviously raised considerable concern amongst interested people studying the case’. He explained that the evidence appeared to fall into three categories: first, the evidence of people who were there at the camping area on the night in question; second, the accounts of the Chamberlains; and, third, the scientific evidence. He then proceeded to explain his role and to outline the results of enquiries that he had instigated:
I am here to assist Your Honour in inquiring into both aspects of the case, guilt or innocence. We have investigated so far as we could, and we have gone through the very thorough police work done in making obvious and necessary inquiries in Mount Isa with regard to the birth of the child and those who knew them and so forth. No possible motive has turned up for Mrs Chamberlain to kill her baby ... The position therefore as at the time she went to Ayers Rock was that she was an apparently loving mother, happy with her child, and no motive to kill it ... Both of the Chamberlains were persons of excellent character. Michael Chamberlain, I think as everyone knows, was then a pastor of the Seventh Day Adventist Church. I think this should be said, although it must be obvious to most people, that there is absolutely nothing in the doctrine of the Seventh Day Adventist Church which would in any way suggest the killing of young children. The doctrines of that church are very similar to the evangelical doctrines of many Protestant churches, and they involve a belief in life after death. The doctrines involve various matters that might give comfort to people who lose a relative, and that may become relevant.
He referred to the unusual boldness of the dingoes at Uluru, and the spate of attacks by them on children. He foreshadowed calling a number of experts to give evidence about dingo behaviour, and explained that there was no real dispute amongst them that a dingo could quite possibly have taken a baby, but there was a great deal of controversy as to how it might have gone about it. He said that he had been amazed at the disagreement as to how pure-bred dingoes were supposed to behave, and added that the experts had all qualified their views by saying that a hybrid might behave ‘quite differently again’. No one really knew whether the dingoes present around the time that Azaria disappeared had been hybrids or pure-bred dingoes.
Porter referred to a number of people who had seen Lindy with the baby, and concluded that ‘the evidence of the witnesses who saw [her] that day with her baby certainly is inconsistent with any intention then in her mind of killing the child. Rather they give the impression of an affectionate mother.’
He continued to go through the evidence, pointing out the various problems that would have to be resolved. Morling interrupted his account to inquire whether there was any evidence that Lindy had been left alone with the other children to Michael’s knowledge after the baby had been taken. He explained that ‘it might be thought unlikely that Mr Chamberlain would leave his wife alone with the surviving children if he had been told that she had murdered the youngest’. Porter said that he would deal with that question as the evidence unfolded.
Morling interrupted again a little later to inquire whether there was any evidence as to whether Lindy had received medical or psychiatric care upon her return to Mount Isa. The implication was obvious. It was difficult enough to imagine a man accepting the news that his wife had just murdered his baby and deciding to help her cover up the killing, all without ‘giving the game away’ by his emotional reactions. It was even more difficult to imagine him then trusting her alone with the other children without making any attempt to ensure that she at least received adequate psychiatric treatment.
Porter outlined the nature of the scientific disputes and then referred to the Crown’s contention that inconsistencies in Lindy’s statements indicated that she had lied. He pointed out that there were ‘two extreme positions and there is no intermediate ground. Either this lady when she gave all these statements was a murderess, or she was a mother who had suffered frightfully and was being accused of murder ... If one assumes the latter, to test it — if she was in fact innocent and she was accused of murder — one might expect that some of what she might say would be distorted; memory would be distorted in the emotional turmoil caused by the whole concern.’
Winneke also made a short address:
We venture to suggest to Your Honour that their trial was unique in this regard in the history of Australian criminal law in that it fuelled rumour, speculation and innuendo. Very little of that was favourable to the Chamberlains. Rumour, as Your Honour will be told, had them as religious fanatics, sorcerers, callous and cunning liars, and notwithstanding the well-motivated intentions of the first coroner in seeking to quell those rumours by announcing his findings on national television, Your Honour will be invited to conclude that the probabilities are that it had the opposite effect. It was within the currency of public knowledge before this trial that Azaria, the name Azaria, was a synonym for ‘sacrifice in the wilderness’, that Azaria was a brain-damaged child, that Azaria had indeed been killed well before 8.00 on the night of 17 August, that the Chamberlains were weird religious fanatics with predilections towards sorcery, that they kept a family Bible in their home opened at a page heavily underlined in red where a biblical character had driven a stake through his child’s head, and many more rumours had circulated about the Chamberlains at the time when they came to trial in Darwin. Your Honour, our law prides itself on being able to bring people to trial in circumstances of fairness and before a jury free from preconceptions, but we will be submitting that the equipment the law has to ensure a fair trial did not operate in the case of the Chamberlains and that it was impossible, no matter how much care had been taken, to be satisfied that this trial took place in a climate free from preconception.
As if to confirm the validity of this comment, a member of the public approached Porter with a ‘Darwin’s answer’ T-shirt she had bought in the Darwin Mall that morning. Morling described them as being ‘in the worst possible taste’, and publicly asked those responsible to stop selling them. His comments were ignored, and the sales continued.
A fresh spate of rumours broke out concerning the death of David Brett. It was suggested that he had the word ‘Azaria’ tattooed on his buttocks, that he had fled to ‘Ayers Rock’ to escape from a group of Seventh Day Adventists, and even that he had told his mother that they wanted him to be a sacrifice in the wilderness so that, through his death, Lindy might be released. It was all nonsense. Porter ignored them and began the slow process of leading evidence from the first group of witnesses: the Aboriginal trackers, the rangers, the police, and the other people who had been in the camping area on the night in question.
Greg Lowe now revealed that he had seen Lindy Chamberlain come back out of the tent and put her arm around Aidan’s shoulder. He had watched her go to the car and open the boot, carrying no baby. This was a surprising statement, as he had said nothing about this for almost three years. He was rigorously cross-examined by Ian Barker, but insisted that he was certain of his recollection, and said that he had not realised its significance until more than a year after the event. Until then, he had understood that Lindy was being accused of having killed her baby several hours earlier. When he did realise its significance, he had kept quiet about it because he had been afraid that the jury might think that he had made it up and that this might weaken the force of his other evidence. Worse, he feared that the suspicion it might create could also taint the credibility of his wife’s evidence of having heard the baby cry, which had been absolutely crucial — it meant that Lindy could not have been guilty. Greg had gone to the Legal Aid office in Tasmania to discuss the situation and obtain advice but, since he had expected Sally’s evidence to exonerate Lindy, he had ultimately concluded that the evidence he could give of this brief observation wasn’t worth the risk of jeopardising her credibility.
The commission sat in Darwin throughout most of June and August, hearing the evidence of more than seventy witnesses. It was striking that those who had been present on the night in question had entertained no doubt about the authenticity of the Chamberlains’ explanation. The rangers had been convinced; it was the sort of attack they had feared might happen, and the tracks seemed conclusive. Despite his evidence of some inconsistency in the two accounts she had given him, Frank Morris had accepted Lindy’s explanation at face value, and Inspector Gilroy had also accepted the truth of the Chamberlains’ explanation.
A lot of time was consumed in trying to identify all of the vicious rumours that had circulated concerning the Chamberlains, and laboriously proving that they were all false.
The only discordant note had been struck by the impressions that De Luca, Gilroy and, later, Buzzard had formed of Michael’s lack of emotion. But, whilst Gilroy had thought it odd, he apparently attached little significance to it, and later reported that there appeared to be little doubt that the baby had been taken by a dingo. In fact, it was a strange criticism to make. There had never been any suggestion that Michael had been involved in the actual murder; the case against him was that Lindy had later told him what she had done, and that he had then agreed to help her conceal the crime she had already committed. It was difficult to see how any apparent lack of emotion could have been explained on that basis. There was ample evidence that he had been distraught when the baby disappeared, and one could scarcely imagine that he had subsequently regained his composure because his wife had smiled reassuringly and said, ‘Don’t worry, dear. A dingo didn’t take the baby. I just cut her throat and stuffed the corpse in the camera bag.’
In any event, there was an abundance of evidence from people such as the Lowes, the Wests, the Whittakers, Bobbie Downs, and John McCombe, who had noted the Chamberlains’ distress during the course of the evening. The gist of their evidence was that Michael was clearly upset, but had been ‘trying to put on a brave face’. McCombe said that Michael was obviously doing his best in ‘a vain attempt to conceal his grief’, but that later in the evening he ‘broke down and sobbed’.
No less than six people gave evidence that there was no sign of blood on Mrs Chamberlain’s hands or clothing.
The Ptijantjatjara people have no need to leave notes when they call and find a friend not home. The footprints in the sand will tell the friend not only who called, but the approxi-mate time of the visit. Some of their better trackers are among the finest in the world. Yet there are difficulties in interviewing them that might not be apparent to a stranger. They are an extremely courteous people, so that a series of forceful and leading questions may produce smiling assent when the witness has intended to do no more than placate a ‘white fella’ who seemed to be getting upset. For this reason, the Supreme Court of the Northern Territory has laid down a series of guidelines for police to follow when interrogating Aboriginal people. They include such innovations as the need to have both an interpreter and a trusted friend present, and the need to avoid questions framed in any manner likely to suggest that a certain answer is desired or expected. Failure to comply with the ‘Anunga rules’, as they have become known, will usually mean that the court rejects evidence of the conversation.
It was, perhaps, these kinds of linguistic and conceptual difficulties which had led to reports of Nipper Winmatti having made statements at variance with the evidence he was later to give. The commission took great care to ensure that Nipper and other Aboriginal witnesses were able to give evidence in their own words, free from any unintended pressure. Interpreters were available to assist them, and Jon Tippett was on hand to object to any questions which might have proved confusing, and to assist with any necessary clarification.
In June 1986, Nipper gave evidence that ‘the dingo came from the north and he went around the tent to the front entrance, and from there he backtracked around the tent’. When asked, ‘How far from that canvas floor outside the tent did you see the tracks that were in front of it?’ he replied, ‘Tracks walk in’, and added, ‘I seen the tracks with my own eyes. They had gone in and come out.’ When later asked whether he was able to say what it was that the dingo was carrying, he replied, ‘It was the baby the dingo was carrying and as he was trying to climb up the rise of the sandhill it was really hard for him to climb up.’ He had seen marks at the top of the hill where the dingo had put the baby down, and said, ‘The marks looked like there was hip bones like gone deeper into the ground and the heel of the foot.’
Nipper had given evidence at the first inquest of his observations that a dingo had taken the baby, and had consistently maintained that position in discussions with Derek Roff and other locals whom he trusted. His evidence received substantial corroboration from Nui Minyintiri and Barbara Tjikadu, as well as the white men Derek Roff, Murray Haby, Michael Gilroy, and John Lincoln.
There was also significant evidence given concerning the timing of the Chamberlains’ emotional reactions. Those who arrived at the tent found the blankets disarrayed and spilling from the baby’s bassinet towards the entrance, and the centre pole of the tent askew. Some also saw blood on various items. Yet the Lowes were adamant that when Lindy returned from the tent with Aidan, both had been composed and apparently relaxed. Lindy had even had the presence of mind to pick up the conversation with Sally at the point where she had left off. Then, from the moment she went back to the tent and her distraught cry rang out, she seemed devastated, and Aidan became an inconsolably distressed little boy.
Barker’s suggestion that the ‘dingo story’ had ‘almost nothing to support it’ was sounding increasingly hollow.