THE WINNER GAVE IT ALL GIVEN YOUR ALL - NOW WHAT ? HOME ISBN 0 9577 426 7 3 CHAPTER 24 Written/published 21/5-24/5/09
"Daring ideas are like chessmen moved forward.
They may be beaten, but they may start a winning game." (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe).
(Quote from W. Mansfield's Maverick Spirit)
24. Destination Blackwood
The phone-call came out of the blue. I answered: "Yes, this is Dieter Fischer speaking".
A friendly female voice at the other end apologized for taking so long. She phoned from the South Australian Courts Administration: "The documents you requested are ready for you to view."
For a moment I had forgotten all about the matter; and understandably so. I had had a letter from the same place advising me that my application to view the transcripts of the trial of alleged paedophile/magistrate Peter Liddy had been rejected by a Supreme Court Judge. No review of his decision was possible.
Not taking no for an answer, backed by free legal advise, I wrote another letter to Justice Nyland"
This Friday afternoon (1/5/09) phone call, opened the door I had knocked on and gave me fresh energy to pursue this matter. The very next business day, Monday 4/5, I went into Adelaide to view the pages I had requested. Before writing about the deception I may have come across, let me report what happened only three hours ago:
At the present time (May 2009) the local Member of Parliament, Mr. Iain Evans has taken on the case, with great passion, to see justice done. He is regularly and strongly speaking in Parliament on the case, asking questions, and calling for a Royal Commission into the matter.
In a press release headed: "The Government can't run and hide" on April 27, 09 Mr. Evans, points out that in 8 months, since Mr. Easling's Lawyers have written to the Attorney General, requesting a Royal Commission, the Government has been silent in the matter.
Mr. Evans summarizes the main injustices, which were possible breaches of laws and should be investigated as a matter of priority:
As I suspect had happened in the Liddy case, the media had by virtue of publicizing the arrest, judged both men guilty right from the start. Once a man's name is front page news, under the charge of paedophilia, what chance does such a man have to ever clear his name? But justice is coming - friends, with vengeance!
I searched for the above press release online, but could not find it; not even a reference to it. Why would the media report their own wrong doing? Whose job is to watch the media? Self-regulation? What's the next joke?
Mr. Evans asks the question, quite rightly so, has there been an offence committed, by leaking the imminent arrest of Mr. Easling to the media.
I ask, could there be any stronger, non-verbal, way of saying: "Look, they got another paedophile", than rolling up with a TV camera-crew, filming the arrest?
The Government has been silent for eight months. From reading the Hansard, I understand pressure has been put on Mr. Evans, to back away from the case! Corruption in all it's gory!
People of South Australia - the injustices that have occurred, and are happening as I write, must be dealt with. Corruption and bullying only get worse, if good men don't speak up and do nothing.
Ask any German, who witnessed the corruption in their country around 1936 - if you pledged you allegiance, with a raised right hand, shouting 'Heil Hitler' and keeping your mind and your mouth shut, you could go a long way. The newspapers painted a rather different picture of Utopia.
- - - - - - -
My main search at the courts on Victoria Square Adelaide, on 4.5.09, was to establish, if the Advertiser journalist had reported correctly, what had taken place on 14.5.01 (Ah, exactly 10* years and 1 week from today). During my earlier study of the transcripts I recalled that the alleged bribe money ($ 5000) to one of Peter Liddy's victims, was paid in two sums, not in one envelope, as reported in the Advertiser on 15.5.01.
*(Correction - please read: 8 years and 1 week)
In my files I have an entry of the Liddy transcripts, where the alleged victim was asked, after receiving the first amount of money: "Are you sure of the purpose of the $ 3000 paid to you by Mr. Liddy?" The one-envelope story did not add up.
As soon as the Administration Officers passed me a bundle of fresh, white (DIN A4) papers (the Liddy file of 14/5/01, pages 1133 - 1240) I sensed something was wrong. I asked: "Are these the original pages of the transcript?"
The officer at first said that they were. I said, showing him small circles on the clean white sheets: "This looks like the imprints of the holes to file the pages. He was not so sure then, if the documents were really the original transcripts. Of course, he was only doing his job as court administration clerk.
Before reading one word of the 108 pages I asked myself: "If I am not reading from the original court transcripts, of which (I was told) only one copy exists, how can I prove my point?
Surely, I would find this a fraud extra-ordinaire, if the part of the transcript I was interested in, was not* re-written to hide the truth? Then again, did I not speak of corruption in high places - ten years ago?
I spent a total of 2 1/2 hours sitting on the desk, near the court's public counter. Much of what I read in the transcript I knew already. When I came to a street name - Candy Road, Reynella - I was reminded, that I travelled this road only the day before, by sheer fluke.
Why would I have written, years ago, the following specific details, after spending hours researching the Liddy transcripts, if they were not fact?
How could I be mistaken, writing these details (from page No. 1211, which covered May 14, 01) had I not read them in the transcript? Just writing this I am convinced that I am not mistaken*. The original transcript for that day included that money was paid on two separate occasions, which the newspaper should have correctly reported.
Either I am in error or what was offered to me to read on May 4th, or the documents I was given to read were photocopies that had been altered. This would be nothing short of fraud to pervert the course of justice!
Mr. Liddy appeared in court a few times in 2009. Since August 2008 fresh, alleged child-abuse charges (going back to 1969 !) had been laid against him. When I was in court at the end of February 09, the matter was dealt with in a few minutes - nothing moved, since no psycho-analytical report had been produced.
During the following hearing on April 27th, Peter Liddy dismissed his lawyer. On May 11th 09 Peter again went to court. Unfortunately, I was in Melbourne at the time (the story next chapter).
From what I learned since, a lawyer by the name of Blair McDonough had represented Peter. The previous one was called Chris McDonough. This had me confused. I emailed a lawyer in Gippsland (Victoria) by that name (Blair McDonough) but he was not it. (If it was the same lawyer, whose middle initial is B, how could he then have dismissed him on April 27?)
More confusing however, or should I say, it would fit the picture of Peter's innocence, is the fact that Peter Liddy will not have to face the fresh charges. I ask, why not? Perhaps, if found innocent on the second round, the verdict of the first round would be questioned?
Here is how the ABC Broadcaster's website reported the 11/5/09 court appearance:
Whatever happened to this?
Just what does it mean: Unfit for trial? Or is it that if one is deemed unfit for a trial, one is unfit to lodge an appeal for a previous conviction? And what is, and where is, that fresh evidence?
I know from regular contact with Mr. Liddy's mother, Peter Liddy is not sick. He is not drugged, as one journalist, without any supporting evidence, once tried to tell me.
Unfit for trial - Ha! Of course, it would be an ordeal for any innocent man to go through a trial, where criminals make up sex-abuse, which allegedly happened 40 years ago!
But, I suspect that perhaps those who stuffed up in the Easling case, those who were instrumental in putting Peter into jail, are less sure of their facts now, than they were before the Easling fiasco?
A closed hearing - Ha! Why suddenly secrecy? So a supporter can't attend the closed hearing, and tell the truth about it in his blog?
In a way I wish, the new case would proceed. If it were proven that the 1969-83 charges were false, perhaps the incredible claims about the 1984-87 alleged abuse would be cast into doubt, and re-opened under cross examination?
Truth has a habit of surfacing, again and again, even when the weight of lies wants to suppress it!
How I wished a Member of Parliament would stand up for Peter, as Iain Evans does for Tom Easling. At least Tom is a free man. Peter has another 17 years to sit in his small, grey prison cell.
How many Peter and Toms are there in South Australia, in Australia, in the world?
- - - - - - -
Left: Car sticker in church car park - Bling it on!
Friends, among the many stories I could be telling, let me take you away for a day. On May third (3/5, which fits well into Chapter 24, if 1 sees it that way) I spent the day driving, cycling and walking in Adelaide's South.
It was a Sunday. I had been visiting various churches, since leaving the small church in Salisbury, East, where I had played the trumpet on many Sundays since July 06.
Therefore, my prayer had been on Sundays: "Where do you want me to go to church today, Lord? That morning it came to me, since I had written rather negatively about the Uniting Church in a chapter just prior (Ch. 22) I should attend a service at a Uniting Church. There is a small church around the corner, five minutes walk away. It is a Uniting Church.
Not entirely happy with my choice, I googled all listings of Uniting Churches in Adelaide. Interesting, I thought, as I saw Aberfoyle Park listed as No.1 and Alford (Postcode 5555) as No. 7.
I was right on time for the beginning of the service at 10.45 AM (Had I chosen to attend the church around the corner, guaranteed, I would have arrived late).
My weird wired brain cells, in conjunction with my hawk-eye, noticed a street name. Just before my destination I had read Meg Ct as gem backwards. But this is not why I'm writing it here.
The weird link came right at the beginning of the church service. The young man, who got up to lead the singing introduced himself as Ryan. I had written a tale (a fan tale) which led me to Meg Ryan (Book 4, Chapter 32).
On the far right facing the platform I saw a familiar face. Crowned by a bald head, the male middle-aged man looked a split image of David Koch (note cook = Koch in German), who is the well-known host of Channel Seven's Sunrise TV Show.
Later in the service, a few youth gave a report about their awesome, heaps cool, experiences at their recent Easter Camp. The first guy to tell his story was Jeremy, the Cook. He had a few late registrations to deal with and received extra help from above to miraculously feed 220 hungry campers!
Sign - Sunnymeade Drive
Uniting Church - Catholic Church
Soon after church, driving toward the coast, I was interrupted by the garage sale sign, which led me to the Paxton Zebra car, shown above. Not long after I took the photo of the Candy Road sign, next to the cemetery, shown above.
It was now early afternoon on this lovely autumn Sunday. Too nice, too early to go home. I decided to drive a few kilometres to the seaside, park the Suzuki and cycle to Noarlunga to knock on a door. Much happened along the way.
Driving west on Sheriff's Road I suddenly spotted the name Acre Ave. Funny name, I thought - race, care* ...
...the letters I saw were C ARE.
Normally, I would be amused by such letters, nothing else. But that afternoon I recalled something else, which made me turn the car around and follow Acre Ave.
A green sign on the Acre Ave turnoff indicated 'Wakefield House'. This sounded like a community building, where I could park my car and continue to the beach on my bicycle. It was. But the car park was occupied. A function was taking place.
A mature-aged gentleman, dressed in a suit, told me that a meeting by the Christadelphian Church was under way. He indicated that the gates to the car park may be closed later in the afternoon. So I parked the Suzuki on Acre Ave instead (note the name).
The quickest way south was via Route A 15. The four-lane divided road runs along the now closed Lonsdale Oil Refinery. It is called Dyson Road. (From Candy to Dyson - are those names in honour of somebody!
In the emergency lane I saw an envelope on the roadway. It looked like a letter, which had never been opened. I stopped, cycled back and had a look. It was. Here is a scan:
Letter to Donna ... Acre Ave, Morphett Vale SA 5162
I had a lot to think about as I cycled through O'Sullivan's Beach. For the first time I discovered the cute little boat harbour, just over the hill from the football ground. Back over the hill, I spent two or three minutes watching two ladies teams kicking a round ball. Just then one team scored.
My path took me back up Galloway Road, past the bus stop, where a girl had claimed she had been abducted from one Sunday morning. Later it turned out, she had made up the story. (Book 4, Chapter 1).
Next I cycled through the intersection David and Davis Streets, past the house with the million Dollar view, called Seaspray and up the hill, where the J-shaped house stands, which Peter Liddy once owned.
As I raced down the hill and through busy Port Noarlunga I saw people out, enjoying the sunshine, eating their lunch outdoors or on the beach. It was tempting to stop and relax, but I was on a mission.
I continued to an address, where I wanted to talk to a person. I had found the surname and address in the phonebook. I guessed it may be a relative of Jonathan, the person who first told stories to police about my friend in jail.
The street address of the person now was, possibly, 10 ... Ave. Not knowing who I was to meet I knocked on the door of the small, brick and tile house. It looked like older people lived there, an aunt or uncle of Jonathan, perhaps? But there was no answer at the door. I tried a few times, because I thought I had heard footsteps after my first knock.
Looking around the small front garden, while waiting I noticed a few garden gnomes had fallen over. I put them back on their feet. While doing so I saw a piece of square blue, blank paper. Curious, I turned it over. In blue ink it had $ 20 written on it. Next I saw a whole bundle of blue play money:
Play money $ 20, 50, 100.
More 1 2 5 - fast forward to the next chapter (God willing). The date is May 12th, 09!
My Suzuki and I were travelling back from Melbourne to Adelaide. It was already my third Melbourne trip in 09, so I decided to travel home via Castlemaine, staying for one night. This route led me to Maryborough and, quite inexplicably, to St. Arnaud. Let me explain.
Whatever made me do it, I do not know. I had not planned it that way, but despite being a considerable detour, just after the St Arnaud turn-off, an impulse made me turn back and drive via St Arnaud. It was now mid afternoon. I was still hundreds of kilometres from Adelaide.
Looking at the map, my way to Horsham would lead me through a place called Murtoa. Interesting, I thought.
Let me explain, why. On the back on my Suzuki all that was left of my old toastmaster bumper sticker were the letters toa. Murtoa minus toa = Mur.
Next came a numbers twist, one I can't explain rationally. After St Arnaud I was arguing with myself, should I or should I not take a photo of any Murtoa town sign with my toa in it?
At first I thought, how silly this game of letters and numbers had become. But then, taking a photo, even if it's nothing or silly, doesn't do any harm - there was no wife or son beside to question my sanity and mock me, as happens regularly when I see things.
On the approach to the small town in the Wimmera, I made a bargain with myself: If I can easily pull over and take a picture of my toa and Murtoa, I will.
So it was. There was a drain between the road and the place were the sign stood. But it was easily negotiable in the Suzuki. Here is a scan of the photo I took; my Suzuki on the right:
Welcome to Murtoa - Lakeside Town, population 1000.
I had too much to think about at that point to stop again, to play tourist at this pretty lakeside town. (I think the lake had dried up). Like in many places, I could have stopped and taken dozens of photos of country Victoria, displaying the glorious colours of autumn.
A few minutes west of the town came another surprise. For some strange reason, still thinking about the numbers 125 in the photo I had just taken, a friend of mine came to my mind: Oh, today is his birthday! The man, a friend from my early youth, who visited us a few times here in Australia, has the surname Jung.
Now look at the photo I took a few minutes drive out of Murtoa, on my way to Horsham:
Turn-off to Jung 2 - en route from St Arnaud to Horsham.
Picture Size: Height 186.4 (fluke - read it below).
(Back to Port Noarlunga, South Australia 3/5/09)
With my newfound wealth, $ 170 of play money in my pocket, I cycled back toward my car. This took me via Goldsmith Drive, another famous location, where another possible faked crime occurred, by a perpetrator wearing a white beanie.
This time I noticed a boy crossing the road to attend the football match under way at the Oval. He wore a red football jersey, No. 5 with the name Cook, in large letters.
At the big M (McDonald's) I ate a chicken wrap for lunch. Later I chatted with a driving instructor, who was just getting into his vehicle. His name was Rob. I was reminded that only two hours earlier I had chatted with a gentlemen, called Rob, near the cemetery in the first picture above.
Just before reaching my vehicle again, parked in Acre Ave, I spotted a registration plate B ...369. Behind it, quite conspicuously on the roadway, lay a discarded (10c refund) carton. I picked it up, more out of curiosity than my love for clean streets, or ...coins, the secret weapon to beat the financial crisis ...! (Read on).
The use-by date was interesting - 14/5. This was the date (2001) in the Liddy files, I had requested to view, which I had planned to do the very next day. Note the campaign the company ran at the time:
Golden Junk cartons - worth 10 cent each.
WIN a LEAVE PASS ...
Back in the car, I had just turned left, out of Acre Ave, to drive back home via the nearby Expressway. My mind was ready to let it all out with my pen into my diary. The day, however, around 4 pm wasn't over yet. On turning out of Acre Ave, on my right in the distance, I spotted a person wearing the distinct colours of the Surf Life Saving Association. Silly, but it made me turn around and drive east, instead of west.
Where do you want me to go, Lord, was my silent prayer. A picture flashed through my mind - the car park of the Edge Church in Reynella. I had only been there two or three times, but knew the Minister Danny G. from years earlier. I didn't know what or who to expect there, only that this was the place to go.
I parked on Old South Road in Old Reynella, a lovely, old township. I always had wanted to stop and stroll around this nice spot, rather than just cruise by, usually on the way to or from Victor Harbor. It was a lovely, sunny afternoon. Here was my chance for my desired walk, just a short stroll to the Edge Church.
Walking south on Old South Road, past the Garden Centre, and Vine Street I came to Corn St. Near the Mary Bywater Kindergarten I saw on the ground a blue piece of paper, much smaller, but the same colour, and similar shape to my play money. I picked it up. It was totally blank? Still I put it into my pocket, you never know ...
At the oval another football match was under way. Walking by I only saw that one team was called Tigers.
To reach the Edge Church I exited at the far end of the oval, aptly named Oval Street. The registration plate of a parked vehicle made me realize it held that day's date ... 530. Another vehicle exited the Edge Church car park, registration plate ...486.
What came next, I have no explanation for, except I was lead by the Spirit, the ONE I pray to constantly.
The Edge Church is one of those modern, large congregations, who converted a shopping centre into their church facility. The sloping car park, my guess, would hold a few hundred cars. That afternoon, I only noticed one, parked in front of the huge supermarket cum House of God. It was surprisingly quiet.
In my mind I was no sure, why this remote guide inside me brought me here. I simply prayed quietly and walked up to the only vehicle in sight (there may have been one other further up?)
For a moment I thought, perhaps I came here to pick up a five cent coin? A silly thought but, friends, I tell it as it was. Walking back in the direction of my parked Suzuki, still in the Edge Church car park, I suddenly looked on the ground and saw not only a 5 cent coin, but a 10 cent coin right beside it. That's right, 15 cent on 3.5!
The little drawing above the 15 cent on the right is to indicate what happened next. Had somebody indeed played a game and left 15 cents, I wanted to leave a clue, as to what happened to the coins.
I took out the little blue piece of paper I had found, only minutes earlier near the Kindergarten. I ripped it five times on one side, and 10 times at the other. I placed it carefully at the spot where I had found the coins. A piece of wood, placed on top, would ensure it would not blow away.
The letter I found on the A15 was still in my pocket. It had been sent from No. 352 Shepherd's Hill Road. That's where I headed for next. Perhaps there was something I had to uncover at that address. Driving through the beautiful foothills of Adelaide's suburbs took about 20 minutes or so to reach Blackwood.
Without knowing where No. 352 was I parked only a few houses away, beside the supermarket. As soon as I saw the name of the business premises - Reflections - I knew it referred to the 23 reflections I had seen and photographed on 23.1 (see Chapter 21).
It all slowly unravelled in my mind, as I strolled around the shopping precinct of Blackwood. It brought back memories of an earlier excursion in my journey. In Book 2, Chapter 34 I had travelled a considerable distance only to arrive at 'I'VE BEEN FRAMED'.
Just up the road lived, and still lives Mr. Easling, the subject matter of the first part of this chapter.
But something else I discovered, and took a photo of, while strolling around Blackwood that Sunday. The name of the Minister was shown on the sign outside the church - Rev. Ian Hunter. It was the same name, but a different man to the MP, who suggested that prayers is Parliament are a waste of time and should be abolished. Doesn't God have a peculiar sense of humour?
One final piece of news, just before returning home from Blackwood. As I turned the corner from Shepherd's Hill into Main Road, Blackwood a familiar face greeted me: Hi mate! He wasn't really my mate, but I knew the gentleman. He appears regularly on our TV screens. (Just moments before this writing, during the TV News I saw him. His initials - CC).
That evening, back in our Para Hills residence, I wrote it all down. My wife was watching the 51st Logie awards, which are like the Oscars, but for Australian television performers. It was a long night. But then, I had a lot to write about.
It happened three times. What I mean is on three occasions, as I was writing a word into my diary, they were spoken on the TV screen.
During the Logie's broadcast that Sunday evening 3/5/09 a gentleman mispronounced the word hunger. He said Hunder before correcting himself. Just then I was writing about Mr. Hunter. The second incident was the word people (this was during a brief switch to another channel).
The final oc-incident of this nature was when Rove McManus, the host for the night, introduced the winner of the Logie for Outstanding Actess - Kat Stewart. Just at that moment I had written the word cat into my diary.
The very next day, Monday, I spent some time sorting the dozens of photos I had taken over the past year or so. I went and bought a couple of albums. Here is what I bought:
96 [23X4]+4 - pockets for 4" x 6" (10x15 cm) photos.
As I reflect what is happening, my amazingly timed walks, the strange connection that come to my brain, the things I see in my everyday surroundings, I marvel at HIS greatness.
At times I feel ALL of IT is growing to the point of overwhelming my capacity to cope. In those moments I look away from my frail self and draw strength from HIS word: