In mid-1998, Percy began moves to have his case reviewed by the Supreme Court of Victoria, seeking to be freed under recent laws relating to people serving indefinite "governor's pleasure" sentences. Of 46 people under such rulings, he was the only one held in prison and had become the longest-serving prisoner in Victoria.
Police had long been totally opposed to Percy's release, They began seeking statements from people who had been involved with Percy and Bega police were asked to contact Spiller. "It brought back all the memories and he went into stupefaction again," says his Melbourne lawyer, Michael Clark.
The police were so concerned they put him in contact with Read, who found him in utter distress: "In fact, he was almost out of control. He was utterly petrified of Percy. He'd had a wretched life."
Read would telephone him at the Robbie Burns, where he had a regular seat at the end of the bar. In long night-time conversations, he says, Spiller poured out his heart. "Derek Percy had absolutely ruined his life. He took a young innocent and turned him into a runaway ? and it was Percy that he was running from."
Wyndham, with a floating population of less than 100, seemed a good place to run to. It was a mix of long-termers, logging workers and alternative lifestylers ? or as one local puts it, tree-cutters, tree-changers, drop-outs and dole-bludgers. "It's a different sort of place," advises a policeman a few jurisdictions away. "Real Deliverance country. It's out in the scrub and the banjos are playing."
They laughed at his hoarding and his constant tinkering in his yard full of car parts, old washing machines, bike and boat hulls and his never fulfilled plan to open a laundromat. And celebrated his skill and ? perhaps uncharacteristic ? fearlessness on his GSX1000 Suzuki. "He was a manic rider," recalls Bryan Hunter. "He'd scream past here standing on the seat, arms spread wide. He came off a few times, scraped off a bit of bark, but never really hurt himself.
"It's hard to say exactly what twisted Stick's whistle. He was a normal bloke in many ways, just a larrikin motorcycle rider who liked a beer and smoked a few cones too many."
In 2000, Read helped Spiller apply for compensation for his decades of emotional trauma. He was awarded $5000, but appealed to VCAT and received the maximum $50,000. It was more money than he'd ever had, but it couldn't buy him peace of mind.
Detective Sergeant Mark Winterflood from Bega police had helped track Spiller down for his 1998 statement. Every so often after that Spiller would ring to talk about Percy. Winterflood knew he was an alcoholic and that he grew and smoked a lot of dope. (after the bank sold Spiller's house, the new owners pulled out the ceiling and a bunch of rat nests fell out. They were all made of marijuana.)
But he had a strange fondness for him. He was harmless, considerate and for the most part honest, he says. "He was an unusual sort of bloke. But he lived on the fringe ? and he didn't pick his friends very well."
Which turned into a problem when he became addicted to morphine. "He mixed with this circle of substance abusing people. Anywhere he could get morphine, through shonky scripts or other friends who could scam it, he'd grab it. People took advantage of him."
One of these people was Andrew Paul Kraaymaat, a 38-year-old who'd spent most of his adult life in and out of jail for a string of violent offences. He wasn't long out of prison when he came to Wyndham in 2000. He scared a lot of people, but was soon spending a lot of time at Spiller's.
In August 2000, after a night of drinking, Kraaymaat and a mate, Brian Peebles, "borrowed" Spiller's Nissan Patrol, purchased with his compensation payout, and rolled and wrecked it. Two nights later, the pair went on another drinking binge at Candelo, about 25 kilometres north, with another mate, Lee "Mick" Petrie. When it was over, Petrie was dead, with a filleting knife sticking out of his chest.
"The murder was three drunks in a room," says Winterflood. "Their alcohol readings were all around the 2.5 level ? Kraaymaat described himself as virtually paralytic. One of them winds up dead and the other two can't really remember what happened. But they're able to shove a plastic bag over his head, drive him to a lookout on Myrtle Mountain, pull him out of the back of a car and dump him there."
They were arrested after Kraaymaat had a rare attack of conscience. He phoned his mother and said he'd committed "a cardinal sin ? I've killed a bloke". Reverting to type, he added: "He was a mongrel bastard and he deserved to die."
Kraaymaat was sentenced to a minimum of 15 years for murder. Peebles, who turned Crown witness, was convicted of being a witness after the fact. But while he was locked up awaiting bail, some of his "friends" broke into his house.
"They've stolen his tools, his washing machine, anything of value," says Winterflood. "And one of the people he blames is poor old Spiller."
Peebles arranged for an associate to threaten Spiller. He rang and said he'd shoot him in the knee if he didn't name the thieves. Spiller immediately phoned the police. "The uniformed cop races around and while he's there, this bloke rings again and says, 'Me and my pistol are 15 kilometres away'. It wasn't real bright, but it caused him a lot more stress. No one was really out to kill him. But the fear played on his mind constantly."
In the years since Spiller disappeared, Winterflood has arranged searches, pumped out a flooded mineshaft at Devil's Hole, scouted the lookouts where he had his cannabis crops, conducted all the relevant death checks and checked immigration. This year he sent a brief to the NSW coroner.
"There's nothing. He's never accessed any funds. The bank chipped away at his savings and when that ran out they foreclosed and took the house."
He suspects there are two possibilities. One is that he suffered an overdose at someone's home and they panicked and hid the body. "What doesn't fit with that scenario is that Wyndham is such a small place where everyone knows everything and sooner or later the word would have got out.
"The other theory is that he's gone to a place of his choosing, a nice lookout or whatever, and done it there. Suicide."
Spiller had already made two unsuccessful attempts to kill himself. In the last, he pulled a plastic bag over his head and injected an overdose. His psychologist booked him into Bega hospital but after a few days he walked out. Not long after, he was gone.
But Read, who knows too well the lasting damage done by trauma, says the suicide scenario doesn't sit right. "This was a bloke who talked night after night of killing himself, but it never happened. If I was honest with my emotions and my intuition, I'd have to say I don't believe he killed himself. Something else happened to him."
Despite his fears, there was a bravery about Spiller, says Cox. "He was a very clever boy. Look what he did way back then. If it wasn't for Stick, that bloke could still be killing people."
Adds Andy Morris: "In a sense, Shane was a Derek Percy murder victim as well. To me, he was a very brave man. I like to picture him lying in a hammock with a banana daiquiri, that'd be heaven to Stick. But wherever he is, I just hope he's happy at last." He didn't deserve what happened to him but he does deserve to be remembered.
If anyone has any information about Shane please call Crimestoppers on 1800 333 000.
Reply With Quote
