(Please note - certain events in chapters 20 & 21 have taken place before those of chapter 19)


20. Is this the prophet that came?


A pattern emerged in my peculiar everyday lifestyle. A typical chain of events started like this – My eyes or ears took in a piece of information, a few written words or a picture, a sign or a tune on the radio plus many others. An inner prompting would trigger a thought, e.g. attend that meeting, visit this event, check out his data, send this person an email etc. 


Such chain-reaction-thinking lead me to experience an interesting Sunday morning in a beachside suburb in Adelaide’s south.  A photo in the Real Estate section of the Advertiser took my attention the day before. It showed the Brighton Jetty, approx. 15 kilometres south west of the City of Adelaide. The picture was taken through the large window of a luxury home for sale. Only a few weeks earlier I had written to the media, questioning facts I had read on a webpage. It involved the Brighton Jetty and Peter Liddy, the man claiming to be a Christian and serving a long prison sentence innocently.  


Since I had lost contact with Mr. Liddy some years earlier, all I could do for him was to pray for him and that God’s will be done. If an innocent man was indeed sent to prison, I prayed sincerely that God would reveal it and bring justice. How often had I reminded God that in HIS Word he keeps telling me that HE loves justice? Praying with passion and conviction, quoting God’s own words back to HIM, I thought was showing that I truly believed in his word. 


Weeks before, I believe, God led me to discover an article from the Liddy case on the internet. My attention was drawn to the “victim impact statement” by one of the boys molested by the convicted paedophile magistrate.


The ABC ran the story on their 6 o’clock PM program on 31/08/01 and published the transcript on their website. Here is the part that made my mind ask questions:



"And several in court sobbed quietly as he read his statement, which included a recounting of this incidence when he was 13, several years after he’d last seen Liddy.


 “W”: I was fishing at the Brighton jetty early one morning in the summer  holidays. I was at the end of the jetty looking towards the road way when I saw a white van pull up to the life surfing club. I wasn’t thinking anything of it until I saw who got out from within the van.


The defendant came rushing out of the van to the footpath where there were two young boys obviously very excited to see him, shooting him with water pistols, jumping on him etcetera. They’d obviously been waiting there for him to pick them up.


I was devastated that this man was still having contact with children. I went numb and I couldn’t breathe. I remember being frozen to the spot for I don’t know how long. And then something clicked inside me and I dropped my fishing rod and started to run down the jetty, waving my arms and yelling.


I don’t know what I was screaming out but I know all I wanted was to be able to stop him from taking those boys away. I hadn’t even reached  the end of the jetty when his van drove away. I stopped running and stood there crying".



At the time a law had been pushed through parliament to force Mr. Liddy to attend the victim impact statements as they were read out in court.


When I think of the crime of paedophilia my mind conjures images much more disturbing then above incident. I don’t have to go into detail what I would picture, except to say that Mr. Liddy received a very long prison sentence, because he allegedly penetrated the boys sexually. Why did “W.” not describe the pain suffered or the damage done by the actual crime perpetrated? (Perhaps he did and it was not mentioned on the website?).


There were five areas of concern within this account. I expressed them in a letter I wrote to an ABC TV News last year. I delivered it personally to their Collinswood Headquarters.


1. What victim W. recalled in his read statement holds in my opinion no tragic material to sob about. It occurred several (how many?) years after last seeing Liddy. If it was 4 years earlier, the boy would have only been 9 years old. I think 4 years are long enough for a wound to heal - at least somewhat.


2. How long is the Brighton jetty? From the end of the jetty, while fishing, W. could identify who got out from within the white van. Did W. not also notice the boys waiting earlier?


3. Not only did he identify the man, but also that the boys were shooting him with water pistols. Has anybody ever tried to measure the length of the jetty and then check if it’s possible to differentiate a toy pistol from a water pistol or just a pretend pistol? Mr. Liddy must have been laying on the concrete footpath for the boys to jump on him, no mention of grass.


4. After years to still be devastated from just seeing a man pick up two kids, going numb, being ‘frozen on the spot for I don’t know how long’ sounds like an overreaction after several years since being molested. And if there is a great fear of the evil man, one would think that running away, or just keeping quiet, even hiding, until later and telling an adult, would be a more appropriate reaction. The distance between W. and the van must have been reasonable, depending how fast and how long W. ran, yelled and waved his arms.


5. What display of compassion by a 13 year old! All he wanted was to stop this man from taking these boys away. He had not reached the end of the jetty, when the van drove away. So there must have been more distance.


Why would a paedophile arrange 2 boys to mess with at one time? In another place I read that Mr. Liddy obtained permission from parents to take the children for activities. Wouldn’t that draw attention to himself and his activities, if he was up to no good? Did none of the boys ever even hint to a parent, sibling and teacher anything at all to arouse suspicion?


In 1973-74 and the early to mid 80’s I was active in a youth program of our church. Many times did I pick up children in a van, yes it was white too. We had fun. Did we jump on each other? I can’t remember, but if we did there is nothing wrong, if done in fun and games. Romping with very small children apparently develops motor skills. Touching genitals, of course, is a no no.


I know that there was never reason to ask the questions I do, because above story is not part of the evidence. A prepared statement, read out in court, is not the same as telling the story. It is easier to let others read your version, if one wanted others to believe it, than to tell it personally.


Another question begs for an answer: Why was a statement by Mr. Liddy’s main accuser (as per Mr. Liddy he was a heroin addict and habitual criminal) never taken into account in his trial? Unless it is a lie, Mr. Liddy claims that in a Queensland court this man stated that he was never abused as a child.


Last question, did someone ever check records to see if that man and all the others were members of the Nippers at the Brighton Surf-Life-Saving Club at the time? One would hope so.


Recently your News reported a Kapunda couple confessing to having lied about boxes being loaded into a car. They claimed to have been tricked to do it. It all smells of a conspiracy. All of us want justice. The truth shall set you free.


PS. Perhaps I ought to start my own Life Saving Club.   



A sixth point in victim W’s account came to me as I was preparing this chapter. At the end of the Brighton Jetty is neither grass nor the Surf Life Saving Club, as reported by W. There is a hotel on one corner and a Restaurant at the other. The Surf Life Saving Club is one block to the south. It would have been impossible for W. to clearly see events as described, had they taken place there. How did such basic geographic data get mixed up?


A remote possibility is that the ABC transcript, reporting victim W’s impact statement is incorrect. A further possibility is that the Surf Lifesaving Club had been there at the time and moved since. (A phone call I made, just now, confirmed that this is not the case).   


If I understand the legal system correctly, a victim impact statement has no bearing on sentencing. Nobody would have had reason to question victim W’s statement in court. But that vital information, Liddy’s main accuser’s statement, that he had never been abused as a child, was not permitted in court, I find hard to accept, if such document exists and is proved to be authentic.


Has justice been done in this matter? If it was proven that a witness or accuser is not telling the truth when not under oath, why not question the truthfulness of other statements, made under oath?


Lawyers don’t have an easy task, defending people accused of crimes. Justice must always be the legal system’s main aim. Do we operate a legal system in Australia, which is simply an industry, serving its own selfish, greedy purposes? Do we dare call our legal system – justice system?  


Truth is crying out to be heard. God’s truth will prevail – let no man be deceived. Whatever we sow that we shall also reap; lawyers and judges included. Judges who judge wrongly willfully are an abomination in God’s eyes.


We need a legal profession that is genuinely interested in assisting victims in their fight for justice and truth. Instead, many see it as their calling to search the law for loopholes, to get the (rich and) guilty off the hook. A society, where getting justice is directly linked to the amount of cash at one's disposal, is corrupt.



The Brighton property I noticed featured in the newspaper was listed in the 1.3  to 1.4 million dollar price bracket. I chose the Sunday of the open inspection to check out the double-storey luxury property and to measure the length of the Brighton jetty myself. Isobel had no interest in coming for the outing after church. Just as well, because I was to be led to another place. My wife wouldn’t have understood why.


It took me only ½ hour to drive to Brighton after the church service had finished at 10.15am. It had been years since I inspected a property for sale. Just inside the door on a table lay a book to enter your details. I wrote my name and phone number, but commented to not bother contacting me. Why then was I looking at the place? No one asked me that. It would have been a valid question for which I would have had no real answer. 


The view out to St. Vincent Gulf, with the Brighton jetty just to the south, was beautiful. The length of the structure was hard to judge. It looked like a long distance between the roadway and the concrete phone-tower at the far end. Strolling through the expensive house I noticed many ornaments with a maritime theme – e.g. a large book on Port Adelaide and pictures of Port Adelaide hanging on the wall of an upstairs bedroom


How easy was it for me to read Port Adelaide as part Adelaide? The thought of just walking away from it all was constantly on my mind. As in this classic example, I was regularly reminded that perhaps, I had gone too far in poking my head into matters that were beyond me.  


An old-style diving suit, together with mask, snorkel and belt, etc. hung on a display wall. My mind struggled with the subtle message – submerge, just quietly disappear. My creative mind was constantly fabricating this kind of coded communication; possibly a leftover from my mental state five years earlier. What if it was a warning by some well meaning, unseen friends?


As time went by I felt less and less inclined to part Adelaide or walk away from the mission that had commenced on Anzac Day 1999 with Psalm 94, V 16:


Who will rise up for me against the evil doers? Who will stand up for me against the workers of iniquity?          

It was a pleasant, short stroll along the Esplanade and out to the end of the jetty. I could easily have forgotten my main reason for being there; to check out the length of the Brighton jetty. I took large steps, while at the same time trying to walk as casual as the rest of the few Sunday morning tourists, who enjoyed Adelaide’s bright Brighton sunshine. 


I counted around 200 steps which equates to approx. the same distance in meters. From the phone-tower at the end of the jetty I looked back at the roadway. To distinguish the face of a person was difficult. One definitely could not tell, if children were playing with water pistols or fooling around with another toy. How could W. be specific, reporting water pistols? 


The Brighton jetty had been destroyed by a storm around the mid 1990’s, before the events surrounding the Liddy case. I asked a shopkeeper nearby, if the old jetty was longer or shorter than its replacement. He was not sure. When I questioned others, I received conflicting answers.


The well patronized cafés and shops along Jetty Road looked inviting. I strolled along the pavement, window shopping, while at the same time looking for the Historical Museum. The phonebook had listed it’s address as Jetty Road. It would be just the place to find out about the length of the old jetty, compared to the new one.


The time was approaching 11.45 am and I still had not found the Museum. (Since then I telephoned the Holdfast Bay Council. The old jetty was 206 meters long, the new one 209 meters). From a distance I spotted a sign at the top end of Jetty Road, just before the railway line. Thinking, this must be the Museum, I walked the extra distance to check it out.


The building turned out to be a Baptist Church. On the notice board outside I read “Sunday Morning 10 am”. It did not make sense that the service was still in progress. Services at our local Baptist Church only last one hour and a quarter. My curiosity took over, I had to investigate.


I quietly walked through the foyer. A mother looking after some children eyed me in a probing manner, asking what I wanted. I knew I had not come into this building by chance. Ignoring her I went through the glass door and entered the medium sized auditorium. I sat in a seat, next to a young man in the last row, blending quietly into the congregation of approx. 120. 


The duration of the service may have been extended, because of the special speaker, a missionary from Indonesia. He spoke very fast and was being interpreted by a young woman. To this preacher a two hour service may actually be a short one. No sooner had I sat down when I heard him quote a scripture, which teased me: “Now we know that this is the prophet that came into the world.” 


The words cut deep into my spirit. I remembered that I had called myself a prophet on my website. All along I believed that God wanted me to come to Brighton that morning. (I had even mentioned this fact during a conversation with a fellow parishioner before leaving). But was I meant to wander into the tail end of this 2-hour-long church service? Was this a confirmation that once again I had arrived at the right place?


I had no idea; it all could have been co-incidental.  Yet, by now the concept of anything happening for no reason, didn’t exist any longer in my realm of operation. I sat thorough the last fifteen minutes of the service, amazed at what I had heard. The name of the church was ”Lighthouse Baptist Church”. Chatting to the young man sitting next to me at the end, I found out his name was Sam; he studied at University.


(The name Samuel means “heard by God”. An Old Testament woman, named Hannah, had prayed for years for a child. When God heard her prayers, she called the child Samuel).


On leaving I did not talk to anyone else. I was too overwhelmed by the experience, which continued in its extra-ordinary mystic. I strolled back towards the beach and noticed the registration plate of a car, parked outside a café. The letters spelled the name of a Subaru Car dealer, the number was one. I remembered seeing an advertisement weeks earlier by that firm. At the time I had thought to myself - I must check this place out one day. Certain street names had triggered my brain. Was this the time to do it?


Driving north towards Glenelg I spotted the car dealership and on impulse turned right. This was the day to check it out. The street off to the left was Dyson Street. I turned into this small street. At this point my mind was almost on auto-pilot, much like I had experienced in the US, earlier in April 2003. On top of a parked vehicle I noticed a bottle of Fanta soft drink. Somebody had left it there; it was nearly full.


I had no intention of drinking it. I took a photograph of the soft drink bottle with the street sign (Dyson St.) showing prominently in the background. What was the reason for all that? I didn’t know, except it was not co-incidence that I ended up here. I could see the similarity between the name Mandy (one of the earliest experiences I had in deciphering names – More in number, Chapter 26) and the name Dyson. Only God knows why HE was leading me to Dyson St. and why I took a photograph of a Fanta bottle that was sitting on the roof of a car. I had my theories.






The name of the street is Dyson St. Anyone for a drink?



I was home for the regular Sunday lunch with my family. I knew by the little green Datsun 120 Y parked outside our house that Isobel’s mother had already arrived: “How was it at Brighton?” somebody asked. “Nice and sunny,” I replied. I had learned to stay on a safe subject to keep the peace. 


The next morning I emailed the ‘group of five’ about the strange events:


Dear friends

It may sound like an oxymoron, but I had another spiritual, accidental discovery this morning. (My last one that I emailed to you was exactly a month ago).

I was looking for the scripture, which says - "Now we know that you are a prophet sent from God". Yesterday I heard this scripture quoted at the end of a church service, but couldn't remember the exact reference. While searching this morning I came across John Chapter 7 and started reading. Verse 1 speaks of the Lord's fear of being killed. Verse 10 says the Lord travelled to the feast in secret. It rang a bell, because I also had gone away in secret in early April.

Then I realized that today's date is the 17th. Not only that, but when I went to the USA in secret, without any prior knowledge where God was leading me, I ended up, under miraculous circumstances, at a Baptist Church at No. 701 Sunkist Ave. Anaheim, California.

After visiting the church service yesterday, I believe God was leading me to a particular street. The name is Dyson St. at Glenelg East (Gregory's Map 215, C 7). There I saw a Fanta bottle placed on the roof of a car and took a photo.

Lately, I have been receiving messages that my life indeed is in danger and perhaps I ought to go and hide somewhere. But I have to consider my wife and family. Whoever tries to give these messages (e.g. placing a book strategically about Port Adelaide = Part Adelaide or a scuba diving suit) may mean well, but I am waiting to receive clear direction from God plus the means to travel, if this is his plan.

There must be dozens, if not hundreds more, patients visiting health professionals today saying, they are Jesus Christ. Psychiatrists will get paid much money, trying to convince them that they are not. How many are there trying to convince someone that they appear to be like Jesus Christ, but don't have any idea who they really are? It would take a courageous person to do so openly.

Kind regards




What were people really thinking about my strange emails? Nobody answered any of them. This seemed to confirm to my family that I was really ill; because nobody took me seriously. But I knew I wasn’t, different yes, but not ill. Was I just plain crazy? In my mind I was normal. But what is normal?


Are prophets normal people?


Chapter 21