A Criminal Act of Poverty

Maggie Magill opened the door, gave a very weak smile, and invited them in, "Make sure you wipe your feet won't you," She called out to them all. They did, one by one as they went inside.

Standing in their front room, the DCI looked at the entire Magill family. The girls with their mother were all seated on a worn-out couch. While the three boys were standing, arms crossed, glaring at the police women in their front lounge.

DCI Huntington spoke to them all in his quiet, soft tone, "First of all, thank you to everyone for being here." Then speaking directly to the still battered-looking young girl, "Christine, how are you feeling, I hear from the good doctor you got quite a beating the other night?"

She came across as shy and bashful, she murmured she was feeling much better.

He smiled, gently nodded his head, and said, "That's good." Then changing his stance he looked about the room, "We would like to speak to you all individually as we want your help in solving this. The woman mainly. So if you don't mind, the boys can enjoy a smoke out in the backyard, while I have a talk with Maggie and Christine in the kitchen,"

"Oh, Maggie can you fetch me the bloodied clothes Christine was wearing the other night and if your lads could hand over all their switchblade razors also,"

Maggie Magill hadn't moved a muscle since she sat down, she kept her arms folded and looked straight back at the DCI. "We did our washing yesterday Mr. Huntington, there are no bloodied clothes and all the boys use those new safety razors these days," She told him in a defiant tone. No one moved. They all sat there or stood their ground, not a smirk, not a smile, no expression at all.

Hunter looked up and nodded to Jones. Who went to the front door and waved. The DCI kept his gaze on both Maggie and Christine. "He told everyone in a slightly raised voice, "We will be conducting a search of the premises please do not hinder us."

The front gate squeaked once more and footsteps could be heard down the side of the house. The three boys unfolded their arms and went to make a move towards the front door, but their mother put her hand up and told them to behave. "There is nothing to find, so let them look. You three should give them a hand and make certain none of our prize belongings goes missing," She then looked at Hunter and walked past him and into the kitchen, Christine followed her. Two WPCs went with them while WPC Olive Welsh looked down at Shelia Magill, wet her lips and held her stare.

"Jones, take statements from these three first then the blokes. Keep them separated," The Sergeant nodded. "Use the lounge for the interviews then they can go into their bedrooms, accompanied by a WPC."

The detective Sergeant asked them all to wait outside but told Shelia to stay. WPB Olive Welsh tapped her on the elbow and pointed to a spot on the couch.

Jones opened his soft leather document file and took out the cover sheet. Making certain that Shelia could see it was named, MURDER FILE - Christine Magill.

He smiled at the girl while the WPC stood over her. He moved the armchair so he was opposite the person seated on the couch.

He got comfortable crossed his legs and asked her "What time did Christine get home that night?

Shelia looked a little uneasy but thought about it before answering. "I didn't notice, we were all in bed and it was dark so well after 8 I would think," She replied.

"Can you not remember the time when you first saw your sister in a frightful state I would have thought, I mean she had been knocked around, you could see that right?" He asked again.

"Well yeah, but I didn't go looking for a clock would I, that would be plain daft, wouldn't it" She told him.

Jones kept making notes, then looked up and asked, "What was she wearing?"

"Eeerrr," She rolled her eyes upwards and closed her lips tightly, "She had on her light brown pleated dress, buttoned down the front and her woolen overcoat," Shelia answered.

"Thank you, Shelia, that's very helpful," he told her. The sarcasm was lost on the uneducated girl. "Did you see any blood on her?"

Shelia hesitated, not knowing how best to respond. She took her time as if remembering how to answer the question. "Well of course we did, we all saw the blood on her face, she had bloodied lips and bruises Mr. Jones,"

"No blood on her clothes Shelia?" He asked.

"Well, there might have been but I can't honestly say I remember seeing any," Came the reply.

Once again the senior Sergeant smiled as he made his notes. He then looked up and started talking quietly to her. "It must have been quite a shock for everyone, I understand why it is hard to remember. If you want to add anything just inform the WPC here and she'll come and get me. One last question Shelia, "What did you think had happened to her?"

"Mr. Jones, I know what has happened to her,"

"But on that night, before you got your stories straight, what were your first thoughts?" He asked his face empty of any emotion.

"I thought some bastard had bashed her and had his way with her, she was in a hell of a state, Mr. Jones,"

Thanks Shelia. Now while I talk to your other sisters you will wait in your bedroom please, WPC Welsh will stay with you for now."

The WPC had a grin on her face and followed her into a bedroom. There were three beds in there. The WPC didn't close the door, the room was at the far end of the house, and out of sight of anyone except those in the bedroom. She wet her lips once more. Shelia was unsure what to do. Part of her was seeing the older woman in a uniform and the warm sensations in her knickers told her how she was feeling. She was getting the signals sent to her, but doing something here, with so many people around, she thought better of it. She smiled at the WPC in return as she folded her arms and pushed them firmly into her chest as she clenched her thighs.

Olive Welsh loved teasing the young woman, wondering how far she could push her. She thought how wonderful it would be to have this young vixen at home so her cockless boy toy could see how a woman could make her explode with delight.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity she said to her "I have it on good authority that you and Christine like to visit the toms house in Elmgrove Road, Shelia?"

"So what if we do, that's no business of yours now is it?" Shelia replied.

Welsh, smiled some more, taunting the girl. "I have a friend who goes there,"

Shelia blushed.

Shelia was confused but the pennies were starting to drop. She hung her head and whispered, "Oh, really. Do you go there?"

"NO! I don't," The tone in her voice had changed from soft, to firm, to harsh. All in a matter of seconds. Shelia stood up confronting the older woman, she stood facing her, inches apart. Her eyes exploring the WPCs she now wet her lips

Olive stepped closer and whispered to her. "Don't forget who you belong to girl. I know all about you." And with those words, she grabbed hold of her breasts and pinched her nipples hard through the thin cotton dress. Shelia winced with the sudden electric shock shooting through her body, her core becoming even more aroused. Olive laughed and suddenly kissed her quickly. Leaving Shelia stunned.

The seeds were being sown.

Jones had interviewed one of the remaining sisters, and they were heard coming down the hallway into the sleeping area of the house. WPC Olive Welsh straightened her attire looked out of the door and pointed to the room next to them. Smiling as if nothing had happened whatsoever.

The DCI went into the kitchen and from his vantage spot watched the small group of women outside, standing around the police cars, idly chatting. He looked for Quigley but didn't see her. There were no other police on the street. Paddy O'Reilly wasn't needed it seems.

Maggie and Christine were seated at the kitchen table waiting for the DCI to start his questioning. He sat opposite them while WPC Peters and Hoffmann stood behind the two seated women.

The DCI Richard Huntington started his questioning of Christine Magill, it went on all day, with small breaks for several cups of tea and toilet needs.

The same questions were asked, over and over, all in different ways. The questions were basic and simple.

Hunter: "Christine what were you wearing that night?

Christine: "My brown dress, an overcoat,"

Hunter: "No cardigan or a scarf something to keep you warm?"

Christine: "No Mr. Huntington, I need a new coat. That one is old and worn out. Mum threw it out with the garbage it was that old,"

The DCI smiled and then asked Maggie, "Can you get what clothes she was wearing, please Mrs. Magill?" And without waiting for an answer he continued.

Hunter: "What do you use to protect yourself when you are working?"

Christine: "I don't know what you mean Mr. Huntington,"

Hunter: "Christine don't muck me about, what do you use to protect yourself when you are working? Would you like me to spell it out?

Christine: "My name, Mr. Huntington." She said it looking him straight in the eye. There was a hard steel-like tone to her voice, something Hunter hadn't heard before.

In that instance, he caught sight of the real Christine Magill. The questioning continued. The same questions were repeated over and over. Tears were shed as she withdrew back into the timid little girl persona she wanted the world to see.

It was at 3.15 pm that Sergeant Jones came in and whispered in the DCI's ear. While looking at Christine Magill. Hunter nodded, stood up and in a pleasant tone asked them to excuse him for a moment. He went out the back door and approached a small group of the searching officers, "What have you found lads?" He asked them.

They had tipped over a 44-gallon drum, the lid had been cut off and it was now used as an incinerator. Using a broom handle the DCI was shown part of a woollen coat and dress, still not completely burnt, and the stiffness of the material suggested it was coated with something when it was put in the burner. The senior constable was holding a folded rag in his palm. He unwrapped it and showed the DCI a small piece of flesh that looked suspiciously like a severed section of someone's nose.

"Sir it was found in the pocket of the coat, just as well it wasn't all burnt," The senior constable told him.

"No razor?" He asked.

"No Sir, we've looked everywhere, turned the old tool shed inside out, and put everything back in its place. The house we have been through like a dose of Epsom's salts Sir, found nothing." The senior constable continued.

They were standing at the back of the yard, looking towards the house, he saw Maggie Magill standing in the doorway watching him. She had a long black thin cigarette in her stained fingers. He wondered out loud, to those around him. "I wonder what she's thinking."

The DCI stared around the backyard, a clothesline, a couple of fruit trees, and a veggie patch. A tool shed and a couple of old electric push bikes.

"What would you do with it, senior?" Hunter asked absentmindedly, all the while looking at Maggie standing, smoking in the doorway. Mind games he thought.

"Dump it on the way home, and if she was real smart, throw it into someone's garbage can,"

Then turning his look back to the house, he said to them, "No, she is keeping an eye on us, it's here somewhere, I can feel it in my water," Hunter looked inside the incinerator and looked up as he saw Maggie grinning at him.

"What's in the old tool shed, senior?" He asked all the while looking at Maggie who was still standing there watching him.

"Not a lot, some old dirty garden tools, some hurricane lamps, some wooden stakes, watering cans, just your basic veggie patch things Sir"

He watched the old woman watching him, as he ventured towards the shed, he took out an old garden spade and walked towards her with it over his shoulder. As he approached the veggie patch Christine joined her mum at the door. They both watched him as he started to walk past the veggie patch, Christine started to quiver visibly, and her mum put her arm around her. Hunter stopped right next to the veggie patch, he put the spade in the ground and watched as Christine appeared to start crying.

"Senior, dig up the garden patch, if it isn't in there call it quits for the day."

Turning around and looking for Jones he asked him, "What's the crowd like out the front?"

"Large but quiet Sir," He reported.

"Let's go for a walk out there, shall we? I want to judge it for myself."

They walked down the side of the house and found the desk Sergeant by the front gate. They stopped there with him and told him the bad news. "I am about to arrest the girl for it. They have been sodding around all day. I am going to get everyone out of the house before I bring her and her mother out." He told the desk Sergeant.

As they were talking the senior constable came around with a grin as wide as the Sydney Harbour Bridge. "Found it Sir," he told him as he unwrapped it and showed the DCI the weapon.

"Well done senior constable. Come on Jones and bring your cuffs."

Then turning back to Paddy O'Reilly he said, "I suspect when we bring young Christine out this lot won't be too pleased." Hunter stated the obvious, "We'll put her in the back of my car."

Getting the three senior offices together he told them of his plan. "I am going to chuck them all out of the house while we charge the girl, there is likely to be hysterics I suspect. Tell your boys to be ready Paddy. Once they are all out of the house we won't be too far behind them,"

The mob in the street had grown to around 60-odd people, odd being the operative word. He could see the sissy bois and the toms, they all stood at the back trying to conjure up some work. He saw Quigley, talking to some mothers, their toddlers on their hips, balancing them. The machines were down near the front, it was getting harder to tell the difference these days, there were a lot of working men in the crowd now, their 14-hour shift ended an hour ago he thought. And even though it was cold and miserable, the wind was constantly bringing rain shower after rain shower, regular as clockwork, it was set by a clock. The feeling of trouble wasn't too far away from bubbling over.

The DCI and his Sergeant went in through the front door and told the family they were to leave. That the DCI had private business with their mother. Each of the girls was in a separate room with a WPC. The boys were lounging around in their front room.

The eldest boy Harold, stood up and declared, "You can't toss us out of our own place mate,"

"5 minutes Harry, is all I need, I am asking nicely,"

"Sod off you fucker," he told the DCI. It was then that Huntington lost his patience, for the first time in a long, long, while. He smiled at the lad, walked over to him and without warning punched him in the belly. Grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and threw him through the front door screen. He stumbled down the two front steps and fell flat on his face.

A constable helped him up as he put his arms up his back with an arm around his throat. Huntington stood at the front door. And told him in a very loud voice so all could hear, "Watch your mouth Harry or you'll be in real trouble."

Jones was standing in the middle of the front room, where he had gathered everyone except the mother and her youngest daughter. He was watching the two younger boys while the WPCs were herding the girls out into the front yard. Jones started to usher the Magill boys out through the broken front door.

Maggie stood by the kitchen doorway. "Was that necessary Hunter?" She asked. As he came in.

"Maggie, I have gone out of my way to be nice today, all you have done is lie and told story after story to drag things out. Now I am left with no other course of action."

He pushed Maggie Magill to one side and approached Christine who was sitting crying at the kitchen table, "Stand up Christine Margaret Magill, I am arresting you for the murder of Edward Albert Simpson on the 12th of May last between the hours of 10 pm and midnight. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say will be taken down and may be given as evidence against you, do you understand your rights?"

She started to scream as Jones pulled her wrists behind her, he attached the old iron manacles as he tried to console her by explaining, that they had to do this until they got down to the station.

"Calm down Christine, don't make a scene girl," Jones told her. Huntington stood firm in front of Maggie Magill, his eyes firmly fixed on her, and he slowly shook his head.

They stopped at the front door and waited. The mob outside had grown restless with the noise coming from inside the house. Hunter turned to Maggie and told her to go out first with him. He then said to Jones, "Follow close behind me, keep the girl between us in case they try and snatch her." He put a hand on Maggie Magill's shoulder and pushed her out of the door but still holding onto her tightly, the young girl shuffled behind him, her head hung low sobbing audibly.

The WPCs had corralled the remaining Magill clan into a corner of their front yard, in full view of the noisy agitated mob in the street. Hoping to take their attention off Christine who was now heading towards the police car.

O'Reilly had positioned his lads, in a line across the street they locked arms as they stepped forward, forcing the rowdy mob backwards. There were only about 60 people in the streets so far but the noise they were generating would bring others quickly.

Hunter and Jones quickly moved the two women towards their car, the rear door was opened quickly and Hunter grabbed hold of the girl's clothing pulled her in front of him and forced her into the rear seat, he got in next to her. He was yelling over the noise, for Maggie to get in, she looked down at her daughter next to Hunter in the police and knew she was going to prison for a long time. She stepped away from the car and melted into the mob. That was the last time she saw her daughter.

Jones dashed around to the driver's seat, jumped in and kicked the car into life. He was edging away from the curb into the line of policemen, he checked the rear vision mirror, put the car into reverse shot backwards, swung the wheel hard and took off away from the street mob. They past two squad cars of extra policemen heading towards the disturbance.

Mary Quigley had positioned herself on the side of the mob, closest to the Magill home. Her tomboyish look about her drew some admiring glances, as she joined in with the yelling at the thin blue line. The crowd were all in chorus now chanting, "Let her go, Let her go," Mary worked her way to the front of the mob, pushing against the police officers. She was hit in the face, she wasn't certain by whom, and her lip began to bleed, it stunned her, not everyone was enamoured by so many indistinguishable people on show. Even here in the ghettos of old Adelaide town.

Quigley positioned herself next to the front yard of the Magill house, still joining in the boisterous chanting, she raised her arm in a sign of defiance, drawing attention to herself. Proudly displaying her bloodied mouth as if it was a badge of honour.

She turned her head to look at the Magill clan, she caught the eye of Shelia and smiled at her, then looked away and continued her chanting.

Now she waited.

Chapter 4. -- The Trial of Christine Magill.

Christine Margret Magill was formally charged at 7.05 p.m. on the 17th of May 2349. The full set of charges were:

1. Failure to report a crime.

2. Leaving the scene of a crime.

3. Concealing a weapon used in a crime.

4. Destroying evidence.

5. Failure to offer assistance to the investigators.

6. Assault occasioning bodily harm.

7. Murder in the first degree.

Detective Chief Inspector Richard Huntington was the arresting officer. Witnessed by Detective Sergeant David Jones.