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[tab=30][tab=30]I was terrified something may happen to her. I don’t think I was paranoid more likely concerned.
From an early stage I climbed my own personal mountain to discover anything is possible if you stuck with it. To follow my childhood dream was a long journey, yet there was so much more to learn. It was one step at a time. I had to learn to crawl before I walked. When I looked upwards for the first time, I saw how far I had to climb to work toward and reach the top of where I wanted to be in my life. It was a scary moment. Each day there was something new to learn particularly when I didn’t know what was around the corner.
Each step taken on the ladder of success was tougher than the one before but with each step strengthened my inner ability and desire to know what I wanted to be a competent investigator.
I can’t explain why this event took place when it did but it happened like this: Snow who rented the fuel depot from us came over to speak with me about wanting to buy our property. How did he know I wanted to sell it? I didn’t tell anyone. He’d sold his home in Stanthorpe and paid me the amount he obtained for the sale of his home. We sold it for $16,000.00 making a profit of $10,000.00 in one year. I was ecstatic, exhilarated, all at one time our debt was cleared and we had money in the bank.
Six weeks later I attended an Investigator’s Course at the Police College began the first infant steps as a trainee detective to work in Brisbane. It was a dream fulfilled to reach this first milestone. The move from Stanthorpe to Brisbane, we didn’t plan but I knew for me to be a competent investigator I needed to work in Brisbane to gain experience. In those times for a police officer to achieve the designation of a detective they needed to train in Brisbane with other detectives in different squads.
Selby House in Petrie Terrace; Brisbane housed the Criminal Investigation Branch...

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[tab=30] The local doctor and I were called to a home late at night where the parents of the eight-month-old child visited friends. After feeding the baby she left the baby asleep in a bassinette. When they were about to leave the baby was lifeless. This was my first investigation of a ‘cot death’. I felt so sorry for the parents of this child and was helpless to do anything to help them.
One of the minor things I noticed when the doctor performed the post-mortem operation was one of the infant’s lungs had a slight amount of fluid in it. The doctor commented how unusual this was. Another small thing I noticed was the bassinette in which the baby was asleep was lined with rayon. I didn’t think any more about it.
On a Sunday morning, some months later, I was on duty and called to a home. A seven-day old infant was found in his bassinette dead. The infant was the stronger of a twin. The mother fed and placed each one in their bassinette to sleep. She noticed after some time one of the infants wasn’t breathing. The lining of the bassinette was rayon.
Again, at the post-mortem, the same doctor who did the post-mortem on this infant had performed the post-mortem on the other infant and again the only conclusion each of us came to was an amount of fluid in one lung of the infant. The only other similarity was each bassinette was lined with rayon. Both the doctor and my conclusion were the rayon became hot in the bassinette thus producing sufficient heat for a small infant to suffocate. Specimens were taken to the Health Department for forensic examination and returned with negative results.
After Kaylene was born and bought home from hospital I wouldn’t allow Olga to use a bassinette. Kaylene slept on my right arm and if she moved, I knew immediately. This went on until I was satisfied, she could safely sleep in a cot...

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[tab=30][tab=30]‘Do you know how to work it?’ He wanted to know.
‘Yes, I can make it sing if you like.’ I told him. Each day after I completed my duty as a police officer I went to the workshop and John had sufficient work for me to keep me busy. The extra work saved our bacon and we lived well on two wages. At one time he wanted me to resign from the police and work full time for him but I declined.
Over the next couple of years, I successfully completed my initial training as a general duty police officer; and now it was an opportunity to put the training into place. Like, the many times I arrested people for ‘being drunk in a public place’. There was no harder arrest than to arrest a drunken person, particularly a woman when they vomited over you; called you all of the names under the sun and fight; you needed to be Mike Tyson to defend yourself.
This was a time in my career when I investigated fatal road accidents. The New England Highway bypassed the town of Stanthorpe and became a raceway. I’m unsure whether the distance from Brisbane to Stanthorpe was too far without a break but there were many fatal road accidents to prove drivers were either careless or tired.
In the first year of my service at Stanthorpe twenty-seven people died on the highway. There had to be an answer to negate these deaths. The only way police could combat the carnage was to constantly patrol the highway for the drivers to see the police vehicle. Sighting the police car became a deterrent.
My police work never suffered while I worked for John but what concerned me were two baby deaths I investigated. One baby was eight months old and the other seven days old. It’s now known as SIDS – Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. In those times it was known as ‘Cot Deaths’.
Not only was it my duty to investigate the deaths of these infants but at the time Olga was pregnant with our first child Kaylene. I dreaded the thought of anything happening to either...

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[tab=30][tab=30] One day I heard on the grapevine a small property for sale at Applethorpe north of Stanthorpe. I drove to the property and saw a man painting a cottage on the property. After I parked the car and introduced myself, I asked about the property, whether it was for sale. It was for sale. The purchase price $6,000.00. It was a fortune. How was I going to borrow the amount of money?
The Queensland Police Credit Union had been operating a couple of years and the maximum loan they loaned to serving police officers was $3,000.00. I completed an application for two loans to purchase the property.
In a couple of weeks, I drove Olga to the property and parked outside, ‘what do you think of this place?’ I asked her.
‘It’s wonderful.’ She said with a look of doubt on her face.
‘We own it.’ Bubbled from my mouth and I told her about the two loans. We hugged each other and almost cried with delight. She was excited, her dream was to own her own property and apart from owning the caravan it was her dream come true.
We purchased sufficient furniture until we could afford more. Our budget for the fortnight, after expenses, gave us $20.00 a fortnight to live on, in those days $20.00 went a lot further than it did today, but we needed more income.
Next door to the property was a fuel depot. A man named Snow came to see me shortly after we moved into the house. ‘How much rent do you want?’ He said.
I didn’t know what he was talking about or at the time of purchase the fuel depot was part of the property. We agreed he fuelled the oil heater in return for payment for rent. It’s cold in Stanthorpe in winter.
Across the road was an engineering business owned by John. After I spoke to him about work, he said, ‘Do you know what this thing is?’
‘Yes, it’s a lathe, why?’ I remarked...

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[tab=30]At least now she was at peace. She didn’t need to suffer any longer. Since I became a police officer officer, I’d investigated death but it’s different when it happens to you. I felt guttered.
Next door to the police station worked telephonists at the post office. No radios in police cars in those times. We relied on the telephone system and particularly the telephonist to keep check on any telephone calls to the police station. We regularly checked with the exchange if police were needed.
On the Saturday morning, a week after my mother died, I was introduced to one of the telephonists, Olga Taylor. The moment I met her I knew this person had been sent to me from heaven. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. Her face was like a movie star, her hair smooth and curled on the nape of her neck. I needed to get to know her.
I don’t know what love at first sight meant but for me it was love at first sight. How was it I met this beautiful, wonderful person only a week after the death of my mother? Was it fate or did my mother from high above see the both of us together? I wondered. Within ten months we married at Cunnamulla.
It was a wonderful wedding. Most of my family attended except Mam. She claimed at her age she hadn’t seen Cunnamulla since she left in the 1930’s and thought it was too far west to travel.
In those times when a police officer married written approval to marry was required from the Commissioner of Police. Because Olga’s family was local, I was transferred to Stanthorpe.
Olga and I commenced our married life at Stanthorpe we lived in our caravan at the local caravan park at the show grounds.
Whilst it was easy for us with little housework; plenty of leisure time and trips away on our days off, we needed a home of our own...

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[tab=30]‘No, I’m afraid not. Do we know one another?’ He said.
‘When I was eight years old you drove me home in a police car at Roma where I lived.’ I told him feeling my voice almost clog up with emotion on seeing this policeman again.
[tab=30]‘Yeah, I remember your old man didn’t look so happy.’ He was now relaxed and remembered me. I was so glad he remembered.
‘He got over it. I can’t believe it’s you. I’m happy to see you again.’ I shook his hand with such force it almost came away from his arm.
[tab=30][tab=30]‘You joined up.’ He said.
‘Yeah, I always wanted to be a policeman.’ I was more relaxed and pleased to see him. I couldn’t believe my luck at meeting him again after so many years.
‘It’s good to see you did. You could have done far worse.’ I never forgot when he drove me home. We said our farewells. I never saw him again.
I was about to celebrate my 23rd birthday. Aunty Mickey telephoned to come to Brisbane urgently, my mother was critically ill in the Royal Brisbane Hospital. I left immediately.
At 1.30am the next morning I was driving on the outskirts of Toowoomba when in my mind I knew Mum had gone. It was a message to stop and not to hurry. I stopped the car and parked on the side of the road. Mum was gone, I felt it, don’t ask me how I knew she was gone, I didn’t receive a message from her or anything and I just knew she died. I had a sleep and drove on. It was the strangest feeling. Was it a telepathic message? One of don’t hurry it’s too late.
When I walked into the ward of the hospital and saw the empty bed, I knew Mum died. The Sister of the ward told me she died at 1.30am. I know it may sound queer but I can’t explain the feeling. I knew it was the final moment.
It was one of the lowest moments in my life to lose my mother. She was forty-five years old...

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[tab=30][tab=30]By this time, I saw he was drunk and he’d driven a car and in my mind was sufficient evidence to arrest him but a message echoed I needed to test him.
[tab=30]‘Stay here while I go to the police car.’ I commanded.
I went to prepare the alcohol test. It was a simple test. A glass vial was sealed at both ends; after breaking off one end of the vial a plastic bag was pushed on and a mouthpiece fixed on the other end. The person blew into the devise, the breath passed through a yellow dye and if it changed colour to green it was an indication the person had more than the required amount of alcohol to drive a vehicle. I broke off one end of the vial and fastened it to the plastic bag, then placed a mouthpiece over the other end.
‘Blow into this, and don’t stop until you fill the bag.’ I told him. He blew into the mouthpiece and the bag didn’t inflate. ‘Blow harder.’
‘I am.’ He spluttered. He blew harder until his face reddened. I’d forgotten to break off the other end of the vial. I broke it and he blew and the yellow dye changed to green, a dark green. Now what do I do? This was my first lesson; I was about to learn. I needed to know what to do and know how to do it competently if I was ever to become a detective.
The driver fought the case in court. He was found guilty by the Magistrate and convicted for drink driving and to this day I don’t know how he was convicted of the offence. I needed to grow up suddenly and change my ways and to take my duties seriously. It was a harsh lesson to learn.
One afternoon I was on patrol and returned to the police station. A police officer, not from the station, was standing at the front counter. My jaw dropped. I looked at him in awe and knew he was the same person who I met when I was eight years old at Roma. He’d driven me home. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. He was the same person.
‘How’re you going? Do you remember me?’ I asked excited in seeing him again...