Authors: Kathryn Fox
Fatal Impact
About
F
atal Impact
When a girl’s dead body is found in a toybox, forensic physician and pathologist Anya Crichton joins the police hunt in her home state of Tasmania for the child’s missing mother and sister.
Staying with her increasingly erratic mother, Dr Jocelyn Reynolds, Anya fears the long shadow of her sister Miriam’s disappearance has finally driven her mother past the brink of sanity. But Anya soon discovers that Jocelyn is keeping a deadly secret.
When tests conclude a virulent strain of food poisoning was responsible for the child’s death, the outbreak begins to spread. Anya pairs up with Internal Affairs detective Oliver Parke to unravel the sinister connections between the fatal epidemic, a covered-up study, the shady deals of a multinational corporation and the alleged murder of a local scientist. Anya has strayed into a high-stakes game so dangerous the players will kill to keep it quiet. With time running short, Anya must uncover the truth before she is silenced – permanently.
Contents
To Duncan, for giving me the courage to fly.
1
T
he technician anchored the small pack to her waist band and clipped the microphone to her jacket lapel.
‘Please welcome to the stage the internationally renowned forensic pathologist and one of the world’s foremost experts in forensic medicine, Tasmania’s own Dr Anya Crichton.’
Lecture notes in one hand, Anya wiped her spare hand on her trouser leg as she climbed the steps to the stage amidst loud applause. A quick glance confirmed the auditorium was filled to capacity.
‘Thank you,’ she began. ‘I’m sorry to be here. In fact, I’m sorry that any of us has to be here to discuss violence against women and children.’
The audience was silent. Anya had their attention.
She brought up the first slide with a handheld remote: a clean skull projected onto the giant screen.
‘Some of you will find this talk disturbing, but I don’t do victims any favours if I censor the effects of the violence. If there are any family members present or victims of violent crime, I’d ask you to consider leaving this session. I have chosen to show specific images to discuss. Despite being unidentifiable, they may cause distress.’
She paused. An elderly couple rose, shuffled to the aisle and exited the auditorium.
Anya wondered if her own father, an advocate for victims of homicide, had been delayed or chosen to sit this session out. He normally texted or emailed as soon as he arrived. She cleared her throat and presented the next slide: a side view of the same skull. ‘The skull is a series of bones joined together by what we call sutures. Here, a section made of up of right temporal and frontal bones is depressed.’ She used the laser pointer to demonstrate. ‘This was a fatal injury caused by a blow with a blunt object.’
The next slide showed a bruised and swollen face, a digital black band obscured the eyes. The only hint at the victim’s sex was the long blood-matted hair to the side of the head.
Anya suspected that few in the room knew about this case. ‘This was a twenty-five-year-old woman with two children. She was pregnant with her third child, but the uterus was ruptured during this latest beating. This woman endured at least twice-weekly beatings.’ Anya moved to a drawing of the human body and with each click, revealed a new red mark, indicating a fracture or significant injury. Broken wrists, elbow, tibia, jaw, ruptured spleen, torn liver, fractured eye socket.
There were audible gasps throughout the theatre.
‘This woman was found at the base of the Gap in Sydney. Her husband told friends and family she had left him and her children for another man. Her body wasn’t found for three days.’ She paused. ‘Cause of death was multiple trauma, but there were multiple bone fractures at various stages of healing. The woman suffered regular beatings and disclosed to her mother, who lived overseas, that she wanted to leave her violent husband. When friends and the local doctor asked about the injuries, she repeatedly denied her husband’s involvement. It’s typical in these cases that victims remain silent, for fear of escalation of the violence, or even being killed.’
She let the words hang. The room remained silent. ‘Police found traces of her blood in the family home and the husband was charged. He used the previous beatings as a defence because if he had wanted her dead, he could have killed her any time. He maintained that she had left him.’
She drew in a breath. ‘Tragically, he later boasted about killing her to a friend, but had already been tried and acquitted by then. By remaining silent about the pattern of behaviour, which would have alarmed anyone and highlighted how much risk she was in, this woman helped her husband get away. With her own murder.’
She paused and then showed another slide: of a small skeleton found burnt in bushland behind a town. ‘I did the post-mortems on all of these cases. We sometimes get a history, and this is what I received for this boy. In this child’s seven years, he was like a ghost. Neighbours barely saw him, and he didn’t attend school or socialise with others. He lived with various relatives and at one stage was forcibly removed from his mother, but she regained custody. Community service workers’ calls often go unanswered or the families refuse to open the door to them. Even if friends reported seeing bruises on the face and neck, he most likely would have been failed by the system.’ She hit the next slide. ‘There was a litany of old healed and healing fractures. I found teeth in what was left of the stomach, dislodged from the mouth by a blow. Exact cause of death was impossible to establish due to the fact the body had been severely burnt, and that also made homicide difficult to prove.’
Studying the slide, Anya couldn’t help make comparisons to her eight-year-old son, Ben, who was full of life, hope and love. Things this poor child had been deprived of.
She turned to face the audience. ‘One of these cases attracted nationwide media attention and affected changes to law. But which one?’ She paused. The audience muttered quietly amongst themselves.
Anya took a sip of water from a glass on the lectern.
‘The first case,’ she clicked forward to another slide of
the skull, ‘was that of an eighteen-year-old law student.
Four friends went out for a night in the city. Only three came home. This was considered a random act of violence. He had his life ahead of him. According to witnesses, there was no provocation. The young man was out with his girlfriend, celebrating turning eighteen and being legally able to drink. All it took was one blow with an iron bar to kill him.’ She showed a photo of a handsome young face that had filled the newspapers. ‘The offender was drunk and admitted to looking for a fight. He was evicted from a couple of venues earlier in the night for being intoxicated. He claimed he didn’t remember hitting the student, or why he chose to target him.
‘This case outraged the country and every talkback radio show. It should be a basic right to go into the city and come back alive. Laws about late-night opening and responsible alcohol service were changed within weeks, with bipartisan support.’
She could see some of the audience lean forward. ‘There is no doubt we should all be safe to walk around our cities at night. But what about the right to sleep safely in our own beds? To be safe at home without being murdered by a person who is supposed to love us? To grow up without being tortured?
‘For those who were wondering, The woman at the Gap had migrated from India to marry her husband, in the hope of a better life. The little boy was born in a remote community to an Indigenous mother and died in a small town in the house of a stepfather and uncle. His death barely rated a mention in the press.’
Anya noticed a middle-aged woman on crutches heading down the central aisle towards a standing microphone set up for questions. Two security guards quickly descended and blocked her path. Words were exchanged and the woman began shouting as the guards moved back. The house lights came up.
The emcee quickly moved to Anya’s side and explained, ‘There’s a protest group outside. Looks like one of them somehow managed to slip through security.’
The disabled woman didn’t appear to be much of a threat, but Anya appreciated the security concerns. The front-row seats were occupied by prominent state and federal politicians, community leaders and the odd sports star. She wondered who the protesters were targeting. The woman in the aisle continued to call out until she was escorted out the doors.
The emcee switched on his hand mike as the woman’s muffled voice receded. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, apologies for that interruption. May I take this opportunity to remind you to wear your conference lanyard for all sessions. For security reasons, no one will be allowed in without their access pass. Once again, I apologise for the interruption.’ He turned to Anya. ‘Back to you, doctor.’
The crowd applauded, and Anya continued. ‘In no way is this conference intended to diminish the impact of the violence many men experience. Clearly, we are not silent about some forms of violence – on our streets, for example. As a pathologist, I’ve seen far too many murder victims, both men and women. But it wasn’t until I became a forensic physician – and documented injuries on surviving victims as well – that the true scope of violence against women and children became apparent to me. I liken it to unfinished murder.’
A man in jeans and a loose shirt approached the central microphone, holding up a lanyard in one hand to declare his right to be present. Anya opted to accept the question at this stage in the talk.
‘I respect your opinion, doctor, but there are also women who abuse their partners and their children. Men are more likely to die from violence than women, if the facts are told. Why aren’t you and everyone else here standing up for those men as well? The media coverage of street violence has been too long coming, and now you criticise it!’
Anya suspected he had experienced violence or abuse himself.
‘I’m not criticising, just contrasting cases that invoke public outrage. You’re right. What’s reported is merely the tip of the iceberg. Every boy who witnesses or experiences violence is five times more likely to abuse his partner and children,’ she held up one hand, fingers spread. ‘Every girl who witnesses or experiences violence as a child is five times more likely to be abused by her partner. Is it any wonder we’re seeing increased episodes of violence generation by generation, among both men and women? Stopping violence in the home is a major societal issue. I honestly believe that by preventing violence against women and children, all men benefit.’ She clicked forward to a new slide, but the man wasn’t finished.
‘After we separated, my ex-wife falsely accused me of stalking her and abusing our children,’ his voice was now raised. ‘I was home alone and couldn’t prove it. The kids were too young to be credible witnesses. Then she got an apprehended violence order taken out so I couldn’t see my kids.’ He jabbed a finger in her direction. ‘How can we protect ourselves when society’s first reaction is to punish men? You didn’t even bother to mention the high rate of male suicide.’
A few people in the audience clapped loudly. Anya felt for the man but did not want to allow the discussion to veer away from the main focus of the conference.
‘I’m sorry about your personal situation, but there are moves to help men – to vindicate those who are falsely accused, and to prevent violent offenders from doing more harm.
‘I’m currently involved in a trial program that puts GPS monitors on men who have apprehended violence orders taken out against them. Up until now, it is the women and children who have had to move, hide, change their behaviour, completely abandon their routines and support networks.
We all know that AVOs don’t stop bullets, knives or fists. Based on their history of abuse, personality, and a number of other factors, men are rated in terms of the risk of violence they pose.
Those deemed at highest risk of committing further violence are fitted with a GPS monitor in addition to receiving counselling. If they go anywhere stipulated under the AVO, police can immediately intervene before anyone is hurt. In your case, this would have confirmed you were not a threat to your former wife and had been nowhere near the children when she claimed. The point, however, is that men are now being compelled to modify their behaviour and learn what is acceptable and what isn’t.’
‘Guilty until proven innocent,’ the questioner responded.
‘It may appear that way, but it is saving lives. And the futures of men who may have been imprisoned otherwise. It may not be perfect, but it’s better than the situation we have now. Ninety women murdered by spouses in the past two years and how many more living with the constant fear of being murdered? Even one is far too many.’
The audience erupted in applause.
‘Now, let’s go over some of the physical things to look for in abuse victims,’ Anya continued. ‘Injuries on the dead look vastly different from on the living. Scars and wounds are enhanced when blood is no longer pumping. It’s the wounds and injuries on children at most risk we need to become more adept at recognising.’
Myriad cases flashed through Anya’s mind as she presented some slides, the identities of the children masked with black blocks across their eyes. Some members of the audience audibly repositioned in their seats, while others gasped. The men in the front row sat with arms folded, legs extended.
The slides were shocking. Cigarette burns, belt-buckle bruises, fractured jaws, faces so swollen their features were unrecognisable.
Then Anya showed some slides of minor bruising and asked the audience if the examples were normal or abnormal. At the end of the session, Anya collected her USB and descended
the stairs.
‘Excuse me, doctor.’
A young man dressed in a grey suit and black tie greeted her. ‘Fantastic talk. Absolutely riveting,’ he said and shook Anya’s hand. ‘Ryan Chapman, I work for Minister Moss. He’s asked for a quiet word outside. And perhaps a photo op.’
The emcee came over and collected Anya’s microphone, then addressed the audience. ‘Our next session will begin in five minutes, so if you can please resume your seats.’ Anya excused herself from the group and moved outside to the foyer, where she greeted the minister. She noticed the protesters outside the glass auditorium foyer, chanting and carrying placards about ‘Frankenfoods’.
‘Christian Moss. Welcome back to Hobart, Doctor,’ the minister effused. ‘Apologies for the rabble-rousing. They’re demanding we end progress and make the state a national park.’
Anya had assumed the protesters were objecting to some aspect of the conference. She often received a barrage of insulting emails after presenting. The most frequent of late was that she was a man-hater and was jealous because she was too disgusting to rape. Trolls often flooded her inbox, and she had learnt over time to ignore the anonymous bile, but report particularly threatening messages to police. Luckily, the threats were rare.
‘Have to say that was really compelling. As Minister for Community Services and Policing, I hear a lot of speeches, and that was extraordinary. I think your GPS program may go down very well here,’ said the minister, with an oily smile.
