Chapter 15

Dirty Ds and the Sex Vampire

Recently, yet another cop corruption scandal linked to Lewis Moran was splashed across the pages of the popular press. It never ends. Rupert Murdoch’s ever righteous Melbourne tabloid, the Herald Sun, reported on 17 February 2010, that the Office of Police Integrity (OPI) was about to probe a serving suburban detective sergeant over his ownership of a house that was used to grow marijuana. And of course, there were also questions about ‘his links to murdered gangland patriarch Lewis Moran’. The report said the OPI had an interest in the fact the detective owned at least six houses. It also stated the detective’s bank records revealed he had eight transactions, each of more than $10,000, late in 2001 – at a time he was seen and noted by undercover police as having secret meetings with Lewis.

According to the paperwork my defence lawyers collected from the police during their failed attempt to convict me on serious drug charges in 2002, there was conspicuous mention of a ‘detective looking’ person from Moonee Ponds police station being driven about by Lewis Moran late in 2001. It was all there in a document labelled ‘protected’, an information report from the Victoria Police Crime Department’s Detective Sergeant Marty Allison, on 5 October 2001, as part of Operation Kayak. Detective Allison stated the Crime Surveillance Unit had observed Lewis visit Moonee Ponds police station on 3 October, two days before his report, to sign the bail book. It continued: ‘And then a male person who looked like a detective got into Moran’s car and they went around to the vicinity of the Moonee Valley Taberat [sic] and had a discussion. After about 15 mins, Moran returned to the vicinity of the Moonee Ponds police station and this detective looking male person got out of the car and went back into the police station.’

The Allison report continues with a description of Allison fitting a recording device to SCS4/199 – Secret Confidential Source 4/199, aka 199 – on the same day 199 was about to meet Lewis Moran to discuss problems with pseudoephedrine extraction. Highlights of the recorded meeting were then detailed, with Moran telling 199 that he should have the ‘product’ in a few weeks, but the yield was not going to be as much as he had previously stated because of problems with the breakdown of Logicin pills. Not to let that stand in the way of enterprise, Lewis was also taped offering 199 even more ecstasy tablets and more cocaine. After the meeting, a surveillance team again tracked Moran, noting he went to the Moonee Valley Tabaret and met Paul Sequenzia.

For my money, the suspected dope grower cop who was now of interest to the OPI is more than likely the same ‘detective looking’ person spotted before 199 was wired up in the above report. In any case, each of these detective types was observed and documented at secret meetings with Lewis in late 2001 and you really have to wonder why it has taken more than eight years for police to act on one, or two, of their own that had such obvious prominence. Sometimes I’m a cynic. It makes me suspect there is an unwritten police policy to not pursue any dodgy members beyond polite enquiry until they have cleared their first million.

The 17 February report followed another in the Herald Sun the day before, on the same detective, stating he was being investigated by the OPI for allegedly ‘green-lighting’, or giving the go ahead, and assisting, an armed raid on $4 million worth of cigarettes. Not a bad little earner this job, even if there was more than half a football team of corrupt police to split the booty with, as seemed to be the case.

The robbery was at a Melbourne freight yard in January 1995, where two of the security guards – who were threatened at gunpoint by bandits in balaclavas – were also off-duty police. According to chief police reporter Mark Buttler, who broke the story on 16 February 2010, Victoria Police anti-corruption investigators had long suspected police involvement in the heist and interviewed ten officers. But sadly, there was no reported outcome for these corruption investigators; it was obviously without any real consequence until the OPI decided to review the file.

Buttler was, however, able to report that concern about the officer’s off-duty relationships had reached ‘top levels’, most satisfying for the police hierarchy I’m sure, in lieu of any convictions. But in particular, the report focussed on the suspect cop’s relationship with ‘the patriarch of one of Melbourne’s most prominent crime families’, which of course was a very thinly veiled reference to Lewis. The same paper’s follow-up report the next day had no such subtlety as to his identity. It highlighted the detective sergeant’s close relations with ‘underworld heavy’ Lewis Moran. It even ran a short transcript of a telephone call Lewis took from his cop buddy, bugged by police investigators, which went as follows:

A secretly recorded phone call revealed the detective sergeant rang underworld heavy Lewis Moran on 13 November 2001.

Det-Sgt: ‘I hear you’ve been chasing me.’

Moran: ‘Not chasing you, but looking for you.’

Det-Sgt: ‘I’m in Moonee Ponds, but I can go anywhere.’

The pair arranged to meet that day in Moonee Ponds.

The officer received eight separate payments, each of more than $10,000, into his bank account about that time.

Lewis had so many of these cops on the take it was impossible to keep track of them all. And that was the way he liked it. Almost six years after he was killed, Lewis could still generate headlines worthy of a test cricketer with a sex text addiction. There will be further intriguing corrupt cop links to Lewis revealed over the years to come yet, I have no doubt, but try as they might, they won’t expose half of them.

There will still be those in power who are considered above scrutiny. Who are they? The mind boggles at the potential candidates. Pause for a moment to ponder the fact the same killers of Lewis and myself – Noel Faure, Evangelos ‘Ange’ Goussis and a man I have to call Mr X owing to yet another suppression order – were later also said to be protected by a string of allegedly corrupt cops. The tainted thread that would eventually be turned into a web by the OPI went all the way up to former and at the time Assistant Commissioner Noel Ashby and former police union secretary Sergeant Paul Mullett. Those two police officers were later cleared of any wrong doing. But the fact remains they and several colleagues beneath their ranks had all allegedly – to some degree, according to the OPI – interfered with the investigation into the June 2003 slaying of Melbourne ‘sex vampire’ Shane Chartres-Abbott.

Even with the figureheads officially cleared, the sex vampire case had still shown how high and messy police manipulation can get. From my point of view, it deserves serious analysis because if nothing else it shows just how closely involved with the police the assassins of Lewis and, if they were lucky, me were. Just nine months before they gunned us down, the same killing crew was allegedly able to enlist a string of officers to get away with murder. Even if it was only a temporary escape from justice, it allowed them time enough to kill Lewis. And to tear my life apart. It’s my guess the connections between the killers and cops may not have ever been made if not for the sensational nature of the case, ensuring a high level of exposure and scrutiny. Before being shot in the neck himself, Chartres-Abbott had unleashed a sickening and bloody assault on a fellow sex worker and partner in a room at the Saville Hotel, South Yarra, in August 2002.

While he claimed he had not committed the assault and rape, there was a stack of solid evidence piled against the self-proclaimed 200-year-old vampire. He was really 172 years younger but obviously more than a little delusional. And he deserved a bullet in my opinion. The victim, a Thai girl, was found battered and bloody with about 5cm of her tongue removed, believed to have been bitten off. Savagely beaten by the psychotic vampire, she was found by hotel staff, naked and unconscious in a pool of blood in a shower. Chartres-Abbott picked the wrong target though, because he was soon dead himself, allegedly arranged by a close friend of the girl.

A police corruption probe called Operation Briars investigated claims by one of the alleged killers that he spoke to an ex-cop associate, David ‘Docket’ Waters, to get a better address for Chartres-Abbott. He claimed Docket then contacted a friend in the force, Detective Sergeant Peter ‘Stash’ Lalor, who allegedly also helped the killer fake an alibi for the vampire killing. Then later on the day of the hit, the killer had a sudden attack of conscience over outstanding driving offence arrest warrants and surrendered himself to Detective Sergant Lalor at Prahran police station. Further investigations saw Sergeant Paul Mullett, then the police union secretary, accused of tipping off Detective Sergeant Lalor that his phone was bugged. It was claimed the then Sergeant Mullett had phoned union secretary Inspector Brian Rix, telling him to warn Lalor to be careful about what he said to people.

Inspector Rix and Detective Sergeant Lalor met outside the Police Association and Lalor later allegedly warned his ex-cop mate Waters to keep his head down. But a charge against Sergeant Mullett of attempting to pervert the course of justice was not pursued. And two charges of perjury, arising from evidence he gave to the Office of Police Integrity hearings, were dropped. Former Assistant Commissioner Noel Ashby faced a perjury trial for allegedly lying to the OPI, which alleged Mr Ashby had leaked to Sergeant Mullett that Detective Sergeant Lalor was a target in the murder investigation. However, the charges against Mr Ashby were also dropped. An administrative error, a technical glitch of sorts by the OPI was given as the all too insufficient reason for the abject failure of yet another law enforcement body.

In a similar vein, I believe many of the finer details behind the hiring of the three hit men who struck me and Lewis Moran at the Brunswick Club may never see the light of day. Not just the mechanics of the hit itself, who did it and how it went down, but who arranged things beforehand. Most people would have read how the scumbag Mr X, bottom feeder Noel Faure, then 50, and Evangelos Goussis, 37, had fronted the Melbourne Magistrates Court in 2005, each charged with Lewis Moran’s murder and the attempted murder of me. It was Noel of course, who had shot me, as presented by the prosecution to the court. But the Crown’s claims that Goussis shot Lewis and that Mr X had been the driver were just wrong.

It is still clear in my mind that Mr X was the shooter who took out Lewis. As I argued many times with the Purana detectives, when I had recovered from the shooting, I know it was Mr X. When he first came in to the Brunswick Club and dashed up to Lewis to poke that shotty in his balls, Mr X turned and looked straight at me. He had a balaclava on his head, but it only covered his face down to the upper lip. Mr X smiled at me and it was a smile I’d seen a thousand times before. We had shared many an escapade in the past and I could clearly see the features of his mouth and chin, with his face less than a hand span from mine. When Lewis made a mad dash to escape, it was Mr X who followed in hot pursuit to pump him full of lead on the pool room floor.

When Mr X, Noel Faure and Goussis appeared at the city court in 2005, they were transported from Barwon Prison for their big day. I took special note that the one who would later appear the first to roll and become a police informer, Mr X himself, was reported to have announced in court that the charges were a ‘giant police conspiracy’. Nothing too special about that, you might think. Mr X was a career criminal who was well acquainted with the hospitality of Her Majesty. He had the kind of pedigree you would expect to instinctively bark at police.

Mr X had well-established form in his own right by then. To my mind he now stands out across the criminal landscape as one of the ugliest and most untrustworthy bastards you could ever hope not to meet. The bastard had turned on us. His smile is one I can never forget – chiselled into my brain from a few special occasions where he had joined Lewis, his boys and I to celebrate various misadventures. Or even the plans that were in some way monumentally fucked up yet successful in spite of the fact. We would laugh with great gusto at the pitiful lives of those we saw as lesser souls. That included anyone who had not savoured the sweet nectar of the adrenalin rush that courses through your blood after nefarious activity. Especially low in the pecking order were those mug punters who would sometimes require a bit of a tickle to remind them of certain financial obligations.

But something niggled me about the conspiracy claim by Mr X. I thought: Why would he bother? Why would a career scumbag such as Mr X bother with such a predictable and easily dismissed line like police conspiracy?

Much as I am loath to agree with anything Mr X has to say, it could well be he was on the money. Not so, of course, on his follow-up comment in court that day, where he claimed all the accused were innocent. By early 2006, word was out that Mr X had turned informer and cut a deal with police to testify against Carl Williams, Tony Mokbel, Goussis and his own brother. Then on 3 May 2006, Mr X was sentenced to life with a minimum of 19 years in jail in the Supreme Court – for both the Lewis Moran hit, as an accomplice, and the murder of gunman Lewis Caine six weeks later – after he pleaded guilty and agreed to give prosecution evidence over the murder of Lewis Moran.

Justice Bernard Teague said the then fugitive Mokbel was one of two men – the other person who could not then be mentioned being Carl Williams – who agreed to pay $150,000 for the execution of Lewis Moran. Mr X had claimed the assassin trio was paid $140,000 several days after the shooting, stiffing them out of $10,000. But what intrigued me most with the report on Mr X’s sentence was a comment from Justice Teague that Mr X had also promised to help police in their investigation of another case. Although that case was not revealed, there can be little doubt it would have involved the slaying of the sex vampire and corrupt police connections. Even as this book nears publication, authorities have yet to reach any satisfactory conclusion, and I among many will not hold my breath on a result.

Near the end of March 2007, Magistrate Jane Patrick released a photograph of Noel Faure shooting at me in the Brunswick Club Hotel at 6.30pm on 31 March 2004, a still captured from the hotel’s closed-circuit television system (see the picture section). The photo shows me momentarily slumped against the bar, just right of centre, while the hand and pistol of Noel, at the time only identified as ‘a gunman’, can be seen in the bottom left-hand corner, as he aims a pistol at me. Magistrate Patrick allowed publication of the photo after she committed Goussis to stand trial on a charge of murdering Lewis Moran.

At the same time as I was being shot, Lewis was being chased down by Mr X, who shot Lewis twice at close range. But while Mr X pleaded guilty to Lewis’s murder as the getaway driver and was sentenced as such – I believe incorrectly – Goussis copped the blame for the actual shooting of Lewis and pleaded not guilty. Once an Olympic boxing contender, Goussis was already serving a minimum of 15 years for the murder of Lewis Caine, when a jury convicted him in May 2008 for killing Lewis Moran. As news of the jury verdict broke, it was also revealed that Goussis was a suspect in the murder of sex vampire Chartres-Abbott.

On 9 February 2009, Goussis was sentenced to life imprisonment with a minimum 30 years’ non-parole period for the murder of Lewis Moran. By May 2009, Noel Faure, then 54, had pleaded guilty to the murder of Lewis and intentionally causing serious injury to me, with the charge of attempted murder being dropped. He was sentenced to life imprisonment with a non-parole period of 23 years.

When sentencing Faure, Justice Betty King said that Noel had no grievance with Lewis or myself and was supposedly the least involved of the three executioners. Well, from where I stood, as the bloke who copped that boofhead Noel’s bullet, he was far from the least involved. His actual words to me, as he levelled his pistol, were: ‘Got you now, old man.’ I have a distinct dislike for such a summary announcement being made from the bench. Much as I suspect Justice King would not be amused with the title of ‘Judge Betty’, as she was dubbed by the Herald Sun, I was quite amused that the tabloid had for once let slip its pretentious air of sincerity and shown its true values; those two simple words screamed across page one of the newspaper to portray Justice King as something akin to the US television entertainer, Judge Judy.

All that media entertainment jazz aside, I have no issue with what Justice King told Faure about the impact of the Brunswick Club incident. It was indeed seen as responsible for shattering the confidence of the numerous ordinary citizens who were nearby as the shootings happened. I totally agree. ‘This was a community club, there were numerous people there, either playing the gaming machines, or having a drink with friends,’ Justice King had said. ‘They were there to meet friends, to have a game of pool or just a coffee, they were of all ages. There were people walking past, young girls on their way to dancing classes, grandmothers pushing prams, ordinary citizens of this community going to and from work, going about their everyday business.

‘Your actions,’ Justice King told Faure, ‘and those of your co-offenders, apart from killing Lewis Moran and very severely wounding Bert Wrout, also shattered the confidence and instinctive belief in their own safety for many members of the community.’

I believe it was back at the two-day committal hearing of Goussis in March 2007 where the public was first given a glimpse of why Lewis’s real killer – Mr X – had decided it was his turn to act or be shot himself. The hearing was about 12 months after Mr X had turned informer and, owing to court orders, the media could only identify him as Witness C after he appeared via video-link in the Melbourne Magistrates Court.

Mr X said ‘bad blood’ had been generated between him and Lewis Moran when he phoned Lewis to ask ‘if he had a problem’ with him. According to Mr X, word was out that members of the Carlton Crew had put out a contract on his life, so he called Lewis to try to work out if that was the case. In short, Mr X claimed Lewis had told him to ‘fuck off’ and that was enough for him to decide to accept a contract to kill Lewis. A meeting was then held in the car park of Bridie O’Reilly’s Hotel in Brunswick, according to Mr X, between himself, Williams, Mokbel and Goussis, where the terms of the contract were discussed.

In his police statement, Mr X said Mokbel wanted Lewis dead because the Carlton Crew, of which Lewis was a member, had bashed him in late 2002. Mr X himself believed he was ‘deemed to be an enemy’ because he had earlier kept quiet the knowledge that Nik ‘the Russian’ Radev accepted a contract to kill a colourful and well-connected Carlton identity. But I believe there was a whole lot more involved at the time. Around then, in 2002, Mokbel was feeling more than a little threatened by the close links the Morans had to the yet to be publicly disgraced drug squad detective, Senior Sergeant Wayne Geoffrey Strawhorn. While under the watch of an informer for the Victoria Police Ethical Standards Department’s corruption unit for more than a year, Strawhorn was not arrested and placed in custody on remand until March 2003.

You see, scumbag Carl Williams was very close to Strawhorn’s subordinate and fellow corrupt officer on the drug squad, Paul Dale. Williams and Dale were in fact almost as tight as lifelong friends, from what I am told. Now as a youngster, Paul Dale had played Aussie rules football with distinction for his rural Victorian township of Yackandandah, fondly known to some in the big smoke as Yackandacka. But it was not until Dale reached a club in the northern suburbs of Melbourne that he made his most skilful manoeuvres. When he came to play at the Oak Park Football Club, Dale met the chubby and jocular kid always willing to take a few more risks than most – Carl Williams. I am told they got along like a house on fire. By the time Dale came to be in a position of mutual assistance for himself and Carl, the two of them well understood each other’s motives.

Early in the year 2001, Carl and Mokbel would have basked in the knowledge they still had their plants in the rank and file with Dale, and most likely others as well. That was before the massive busts of October 2002, where Lewis and I, and five others, were arrested and accused of trading in drug deals worth $10 million over four years. So, how long do you think it would have been before Dale let Carl know the full extent of the drug deals going on between Strawhorn and the Morans? Not just a single deal where Strawhorn was much later found guilty (in 2006) of trafficking two kilograms of pseudoephedrine to Mark Moran in May 2000, but the whole program?

How safe could Carl and Mokbel feel while the Morans still had Strawhorn on side and able to perform his usual range of police duties? How long after August 2001, when the Australian Federal Police and Victoria Police busted Mokbel over a shipping container of chemicals, did it take for Mokbel to figure the Morans may have had some prior knowledge of the police operation? Let’s not forget that Strawhorn was a superstar cop before he was busted, with two commendations early in his career and personally credited with uncovering literally dozens of illicit amphetamine laboratories during the late 1990s. Amazing, isn’t it?

Suspicion among police corruption investigators about the integrity of the drug squad had been particularly intense from the middle of 2001. That was several months after the squad had secured the services of supergrass, who had become an informer after he was arrested late in the year 2000 with two kilograms of cocaine and other drugs. Yet another of the many court-suppressed identities in this sorry saga, I’ll call him Gavin. So this supergrass Gavin was charged with serious drug offences, but soon released on bail after he told police he could help snare some of the state’s biggest traffickers. After a few months of undercover work for the drug squad, Gavin would later say, a corrupt detective told him he was involved in drug dealing himself, along with other police. So Gavin was wise to an opportunity here, and decided it would be a good time to turn double agent and broker a deal for less jail time with another police section, the Ethical Standards Department’s corruption investigation division.

And so it came to pass that one of supergrass’s corrupt drug squad handlers, then Detective Sergeant Malcolm Rosenes, was ordered face down into the cold grass of Caulfield Park early on a Sunday evening, on 29 July 2001. Rosenes was busted by his own – police from the Ethical Standards Department – as he waited in the shadows to buy thousands of ecstasy tablets from a drug dealer. Gavin had ratted on Rosenes about a month earlier, while the latter was on leave and none the wiser to the slick moves of the supergrass. The internal police were already onto Rosenes, and his former drug squad partner, Detective Senior Constable Stephen Paton, after their ostensibly legitimate orders of drugs through the police chemical diversion program had spiralled over previous months. No doubt tipped off, or at least sensing the approaching storm, Paton had resigned a few months before his mate Rosenes hit the dirt, so to speak.

Rosenes was only the first to go at the drug squad, though. A few days later, on 1 August 2001, Paton was also arrested and charged with trafficking and possessing a commercial quantity of drugs. The fact he had already resigned from the force did not help him much. Shit really hit the fan as the corruption threatened the integrity of several drug cases. Not least of those of course was the $20 million drug bust of Carl and George Williams almost two years before. In late November 1999, police had visited a typically humble Housing Commission house in Fir Close, Broadmeadows, to serve warrants over a credit card scam. But what they found inside was a full-scale meth lab. There was a pill press, 30,000 tablets and almost seven kilograms of amphetamines, which the police estimated to have a street value of $20 million. Both Carl and George were caught red-handed with the lot. The local police had then called in the drug squad for support, blissfully unaware that assistance would later threaten the validity of the bust. The two drug squad detectives who attended were none other than the not so esteemed Malcolm Rosenes and Stephen Paton.

The Williamses were still on bail for the pill press bust when Rosenes and Paton were themselves arrested. The scale and brazen audacity of the alleged corrupt operations must have rocked many in the police force and criminal legal system, I’m sure. While there was no suggestion the drug squad pair had interfered with the Broadmeadows bust, the Supreme Court later ruled several drug cases where the corrupt detectives played a role, including Williams’s, should be delayed until the detectives’ prosecutions were themselves completed. That gave the Williamses the time they needed to arrange several underworld murders. Instead of being in the boob, they had time enough to also organise the hit on Lewis Moran and me; and take the slaughter tally high enough to rival the Painters and Dockers war of the 1960s. Near what I hope is the end of this war, that tally has risen above that of the dockers, with a total of 39 deaths cited by Wikipedia at the start of 2012.

Rosenes and Paton, under the direction of Strawhorn, were selling huge loads of pseudoephedrine supplies directly to the Morans and others, including the Bandidos Outlaw Motorcycle Club. It continued for several years, an ongoing joke to Lewis, up to late 2001. At the same time as they were running their enterprise, another corrupt drug squad unit – also under Strawhorn – was pimping the White Lady straight into one of the main arteries of Melbourne, a prolific Asian dealer whose name has been suppressed by courts. Drug squad detectives Ian Ferguson and Glenn Sadler and their sergeant, Stephen Cox, protected the dealer’s business to the extent of selling him much of the heroin they seized in busts on other dealers. At times they were the Asian dealer’s only supplier. For almost two years from August 1999, that particular drug squad unit recycled about ten kilograms of heroin, with a wholesale value of $1.5 million, back onto the streets.

It would take many years for the full story to publicly unfold, as much of the illicit operations of the former drug squad remained under suppression orders until a key target of prosecutors, former Detective Strawhorn, had also been convicted in October 2006. That was more than three years from the time of his arrest and more than five years from the busts of Rosenes and Paton.

During this time of course another drug squad detective, Paul Dale, also emerged as an alleged bad egg and a murder suspect of a 2004 hit. He was willing to give evidence in 2003 for the dealer, my friend Tommy Ivanovic. I don’t believe any of the media have presented any of that corrupt drug squad saga, the Strawhorn years, as thoroughly as they should have. There have been the usual profiles on corrupt cops as they go down, with each of those mentioned above convicted. But the whole business deserves much better analysis, certainly more than the motives of some spoilt brat rich kid who sails the world. Is the lack of such scrutiny another measure of our popular media’s standards or just of how compliant they often are in hushing affairs sensitive to the police hierarchy?

There is also another string to the Strawhorn years, another suspect drug squad related incident that happened around the same time as Rosenes and Paton were busted. Unlike their operations though, this incident has remained relatively unexplained. And while I can add little to the schemes already canvassed, I can give you some further information on this particular incident, which has yet to be mentioned anywhere.

As is already public record, August 2001 was also when a former drug squad detective claimed he was tied to a tree during an armed heist of $27 million worth of pseudoephedrine. The key ingredient to amphetamines, the powder was snatched in what the court heard was Australia’s biggest drug hold-up. Russell Geoffrey Bassett, a security guard who left the force in 1999, was transporting seven 25 kilogram drums of pseudoephedrine when he was supposedly hijacked by armed bandits. I have heard these drums of chemicals were destined for Carl Williams. Bassett eventually fronted at Melbourne Magistrates Court in July 2003, charged with stealing and trafficking the chemicals.

A suitably outraged Bassett, then aged 43, told the court he had nothing to do with stealing the chemicals. ‘There’s no way known I’m going to run away from these charges when I’m 100 per cent innocent,’ Bassett protested in court. The Crown said Bassett had reported to police later on the day of the robbery, telling them he was hijacked by armed bandits and robbed of his cargo. Bassett claimed he was put into the rear of a van and then dumped in bushland, left tied to a tree with cables. He said the car he was driving was set alight before the armed robbers allegedly took off with the drums.

Bassett was finally ordered to stand trial on the matter on 26 July 2004 and that’s the last mention of him or the heist I’ve been able to find. Now here’s some news for the punters out there. While there seemed to be no mention of it in the court, Bassett also had an armed escort that day. I was told by a very reliable source that two of the force’s finest were riding shotgun, either officially or unofficially, for ex-detective Bassett on that day. And for whatever reason, as the underworld grapevine has it, those two had simply stopped their tail and turned off before Bassett was intercepted and had the drums stolen from him.

One was a sergeant of the Crime Surveillance Unit, who two months later, on 5 October 2001, reported on Lewis Moran driving an unidentified detective looking person a short distance from Moonee Ponds police station to the Moonee Valley Tabaret and returned. The detective looking person is never identified.

Aah, yes, the mind boggles.