Footsteps on the Tracks

Updated

'In my heart I want to say I hope my brother had nothing to do with Mark's death.'

In pre-dawn darkness, a boy is cowering in the shadows of scrappy gum trees near a lonely stretch of railway track just south of Tamworth. Something is happening on the tracks that he's struggling to see through the dark and a mist of drizzly rain.

Another boy, a teenager, is moving on the tracks, his feet crunching on the slick, black ballast. The frightened boy watches with wide eyes as the older boy stops and crouches over something. It appears to be a body. The body is still.

The teenager is doing something to the body. The boy can see the teenager is focusing his attention on the head. Whatever he's doing, he's being gentle, comforting even.

The teenager stands up. He walks back to the cluster of trees where the boy is standing. They leave the scene together and are quickly enveloped by the darkness.

The body on the tracks is that of local teenager Mark Haines. Late Friday night, January 15, 1988, Mark had been out partying with his mates, flashing his trademark smile. Within hours he would be dead, and that mysterious teenager would be bending over him. By dawn his body had been run over by a 300-tonne freight train.

The story of those two boys is a vital piece of a puzzle that has consumed me since 2013 when I went to Tamworth in north-eastern New South Wales to meet Mark's family. They had appealed to the public for any information that could help solve the mystery of the 17-year-old Gomeroi boy's suspicious death.

Spoiler alert: This article contains information from upcoming episodes of the Unravel True Crime podcast. You can follow Allan Clarke’s ongoing investigation into the death of Mark Haines on the ABC Listen app, on Apple Podcasts, Unravel True Crime, or find it via your favourite podcasting app.

For 30 years, rumour and speculation have surrounded the case. The initial police position was that Mark lay on the tracks deliberately and was responsible for his own death. The family has always disputed that version of events, believing Mark died violently and his body was placed on the tracks in an attempt to make his death look like a suicide.

Mark's uncles, Jack, Craig and Don "Duck" Craigie, have never stopped trying to find out how their beloved nephew died.

In September 1989, nearly two years after those two boys walked away from the tracks together, the coronial inquest returned an open finding on Mark's death. But the family has never been satisfied with that outcome or the police investigation. They claim police ignored their concerns about inconsistencies in the evidence.

"My entire family and I have maintained from the outset [that] our boy has met with foul play," says Duck.

The uncles' persistence has come at a price. Throughout the years, their inquiries have led to outbreaks of violence and vendettas in Tamworth, a sprawling town of about 60,000 people.

When I returned to Tamworth this year to further investigate the case, fresh leads emerged. They revealed striking and tragic new insights — never before heard publicly — into what happened to Mark Haines during those last hours of his life on that muggy night.

As darkness fell on the evening of January 15, 1988, black clouds rumbled over Coledale, the Indigenous heart of Tamworth dubbed "Vegemite Village". Street lights flickered on, illuminating rows of housing commission homes.

Mark Haines was at his Aunty Barb's place, a nondescript brick house across the road from the railway track that divides Tamworth along racial lines. Mark, his cousin Leah Craigie and her boyfriend were discussing their plans for the night. Leah was itching to go to the old Workman's Club, but Mark wanted to head out partying with his mates.

About 9pm they walked the half hour into town. They were tight. Leah was only a year older than Mark and they were more like siblings than cousins. "God, we used to have some good laughs," Leah recalls as we talk in her small flat on the coast in Taree.

A street-smart straight-shooter, Leah says she and Mark would often get her horse Flash and ride around the town at night. "Instead of putting the saddle on in the dark I'd say, 'Oh, we'll just go bareback. Come on, cuz. Let's go'."

When they reached the Workman's Club, Leah's boyfriend gave under-age Mark his birth certificate so Mark could get into a local nightclub. Mark left to meet his mates. "That's the last I seen him," Leah says, choking back tears. "I said I'll try and get over [to] town later cuz … Never happened."

In town, boys in their chunky high tops and girls with crimped hair and glittery pale blue eyeshadow huddled in groups sipping goon and gossiping about who was going to get with who. Mark and his friend Terry Souter were sitting near a throng of kids at Tamworth's town hall about 10pm.

By about 11pm, Mark was in the club partying with a number of mates including Greg Jones* (not his real name), Mitchell Wilder, Natalie Blanch and Mark's girlfriend, Tanya White, a popular and pretty blonde girl with a Princess Diana haircut. In 1988 regional Australia, Mark and Tanya made an unusual couple — he a black boy from the wrong side of the tracks, she a white girl from the town's middle-class suburbia. But Mark got on with everyone.

About 2am, Mark and Tanya left the nightclub with Mitchell and Natalie. The group walked to the edge of the CBD and split; Mark and Tanya headed towards South Tamworth. They turned into a cluster of quiet suburban streets in South Tamworth and kept walking until they hit Wilburtree Street. Tanya lived with her family one street back from Wilburtree. The only sounds were the cacophony of cicadas and the hum of air-conditioning units.

In November 1988, Tanya would tell the coronial inquest into Mark's death that about 3:30am, she'd said goodbye to Mark on the corner of Wilburtree and Edward streets and watched him jog up the street in the direction of his place. She told the inquest the street was quiet when she left Mark.

Two witnesses who lived in the area gave evidence at the inquest that about 10 minutes after Mark and Tanya parted, they heard a fast moving car arrive, stop and then speed off again. One witness, Julie Munro, gave evidence that she was heading home in a cab from her night out just after 3am when she saw a white Torana speeding on the wrong side of Wilburtree Street. In the cab's headlights, she saw two males in the front seat and a few in the back seat. "They all looked to be young fellows to me," she said. Later, at her home around 3:40, she says she heard a car stop on the street and saw its headlights through her window.

Another witness, Marie Jacobs*, who lived near the intersection of Wilburtree and Edward streets, told the inquest she was woken suddenly by a loud bang about 3:20am. She said she could hear two voices distinctly and one of them, a male voice, was distraught. "He was at the end of his tether and he was just saying 'eff off' and 'leave me alone, leave me alone'. I thought someone was hurting him," Marie said. The voices trailed off into the night and Marie went back to bed. Minutes later, the roar of a vibrating engine smashed the silence. A car "went flying" up the street, past her house and then careened around the corner into Wilburtree Street. Its brakes screeched and it stopped. It was about 3.40am.

As dawn broke about 6:00am on Saturday, January 16, Glenn Byrant sped on his motorbike along wet roads towards a scene he was dreading about seven kilometres outside Tamworth. Glenn was the assistant station master at West Tamworth.

A few minutes earlier, just as he was about to finish his overnight shift, he'd taken a call from a freight train driver.

The train had left Tamworth and was picking up speed when the driver spotted what looked like a pile of rags on the track ahead. Then, to his horror, the driver realised it was a body. He yanked the emergency brakes but it was too late, the train had passed over the body. The driver would later report that earlier that morning when the train was heading into Tamworth, it had hit a large white box on the tracks. But by the time the train was heading out again and had hit Mark's body, the box was gone.

Glenn arrived at the scene before the police. He parked his motorbike, climbed a fence and walked across muddy ground to where Mark's body lay on the track.

Glenn was in his 30s at the time and would go on to have a distinguished career in the railways. When he retired, he was a senior manager in Railcorp's safety division based in Sydney. Through the course of his career, he attended many train fatalities but he still vividly recalls what he saw that day in 1988. Three strange things struck him about the scene. First, there was a folded white towel propped under Mark's head. Second, despite the rain and the muddy ground, Mark's shoes were perfectly clean. And third, there was almost no blood, despite the fact it was clear Mark had sustained massive head injuries and had several deep cuts.

Glenn thought that Mark's head injury — on the hairline "like a crushed eggshell" — was not consistent with having been struck by a train, and the lack of blood on the tracks suggested he had sustained the cuts after his heart had stopped pumping.

Glenn's thoughts kept returning to the towel under Mark's head.

"Very strange that a person would be on the track with a towel under his head. [It] had to be placed there by someone or something," Glenn says. "There was no way the train contributed to his death."

"I felt that he was put there by someone whilst he was dead, to try and make it look like he had committed suicide."

On the morning Mark was found dead in 1988, several members of his family, including his uncle Jack Craigie and a number of cousins, were visiting Australia's Wonderland in Eastern Creek in Sydney's western suburbs. The kids hadn't even had their first ride of the day when the family's name was broadcast across the amusement park. "We were shocked," Jack says. "How come our names was getting called out?"

They headed to the park's office where two policemen were waiting for them. "They said, 'there's been an accident, Mark's been found on the railway track'."

Mark's sister, Lorna, then 16, was living in Penrith with their parents, Ron and Josie. The police knocked on the door. "Mum started crying and I started crying," Lorna recalls. "I couldn't believe he was gone, couldn't believe it. Not Mark. Why Mark?" Soon everyone was piling into cars to start the five-hour drive back to Tamworth.



Other family members came from different parts of New South Wales. Duck was in Moree. When he heard the news he almost collapsed. "This hot cold sweat just swept over me," he says.



The next day, Duck went to see his nephew's body at the morgue at the back of Tamworth Hospital. "I just remember walking through a couple of big swinging doors and, well, I can see this person laying out with a sheet over him," he says. At first, it didn't look like Mark, the kid he thought of as his own son. "Whether that was from the injuries, or because the blood was drained from his body … I had to take a closer look. I just said, 'Oh, Mark'. It just broke me."

At the same time the family was gathering, shocked and in mourning, Tamworth was gearing up for its annual country music festival. The town became a giant stage for hundreds of musicians and the campground bloated with thousands of tents and tourists. In 1988 though, the celebrations continued even after the festival finished. It was the year of the nation's bicentenary to commemorate 200 years since British colonisation.

But even if Mark had still been alive, the family would not have been celebrating the bicentenary. When British settlers — hungry for agricultural land in the 1830s — violently dispossessed the Gomeroi, it led to simmering racial tension and Indigenous trauma that still exists today. For most of that time, police treated the Gomeroi with indifference, or worse. Only months before Mark's death, in October 1987, the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody had begun its forensic investigation into widespread institutionalised racism in parts of the NSW Police Force, including the Oxley Local Area Command based at Tamworth.

"Back in them days, the police wasn't so user friendly," Duck says. "They didn't like their time and resources wasted on Aborigines, especially young Aboriginal men. Occupation of our land for 200 years and our boy laying there in the morgue for two weeks. We felt like no-one was interested.

"They was all interested in partying. They weren't interested in a dead black boy.

"They just wanted to say, 'Well, you know, if a black boy is out there in a stolen motor vehicle in the vicinity, one and one makes two'."

There was a stolen motor vehicle near the scene of Mark's death — it's a piece of evidence which rang warning bells for the family about what might have happened in those last few hours of Mark's life. Glenn Bryant had noticed it on his way back into Tamworth. A white Torana was wedged in long grass beside Warral Road about a kilometre and a half from where Mark's body lay. "I did notice the windscreen was out of it," Glenn says.

The car would form the cornerstone of the initial police theory. Police statements taken from witnesses that night refer to a car full of teenagers hooning around Tamworth. "More or less, they just told us that Mark stole the car [and] just went joyriding by himself and he crashed it," Jack Craigie says. The police speculated that after Mark crashed the car in the early hours of Saturday morning, January 16, he abandoned it and walked a kilometre and a half down the train line in the dark before deciding to lie down on the tracks with a folded towel under his head.

Everyone who knew Mark scoffed at the police theory — for one obvious reason. "There is not a chance that he could drive a manual car," Mark's best friend, Jason Wann, says. "I mean, not even under instruction." The white Torana had a manual gearbox.

Jason describes trying to teach Mark to drive a few weeks before his death. "The car kangaroo-hopped; I mean he stalled it," Jason laughs. "He was so uncoordinated [that] I was basically rolling on the floor pissing myself laughing."

Police didn't fingerprint the Torana. They told the coronial inquest they believed the moisture from the rain would have prevented any prints being lifted. The car sat beside the road for over a week before police returned it to its owner. It was soon in a wrecking yard.

The Oxley Local Area Command, which oversees the Tamworth area, declined to be interviewed for this story. But according to Duck and Jack, the police didn't even bother to open the boot. So they did it themselves. "I jimmied it open," Duck says. "And it looked like, to me and my brothers, that there was stains on the mat and the tyre. And they were dark stains." Jack took the mat to the police and asked them to test it to see if the stains were human blood, maybe even Mark's blood. "It's probably animal blood," Jack remembers a police officer saying. The brothers are still wondering why they had to be the ones to collect this potential evidence.

As the months wore on, the family mourned the loss of their bright beautiful boy. Mark's uncles felt adrift, frustrated and alone in their search for answers. Then in July 1988, six months after Mark's death, Duck and Jack got some new information.

Two anonymous teenagers gave police statements about Mark's case based on something they had heard at a party. The teenagers mentioned two names: one was Eddie Davis, a rising Aboriginal boxing star who had a reputation around town as a fearsome fighter. Their statements say they'd heard that Eddie was a standover man for heavies in the drug trade, Mark had been planning to steal some marijuana plants from a nearby plantation, and it was a warning gone wrong or too far. And to cover it up, Mark was put on the train tracks.



Word soon spread that Eddie's name had been dropped. The new information gave the uncles a focus for their grief and frustration with the police inactivity and led to a series of altercations. One day, Duck and some mates offered Eddie a ride and, once he was in the car, had a go at him about what they'd heard. It got heated and Eddie flung the car door open and bolted.

Police set up a mediation meeting between Duck, Jack and Eddie Davis but, in a small police office, tempers flared and the men nearly came to blows. The meeting was cancelled.

Another day, outside the Town Talk hotel, things got ugly between Duck and a relative of Eddie's, and Duck ended up in hospital with a wired jaw.

Thirty years later, Eddie's and Duck's memories of the events differ. Eddie remains adamant he has never been a standover merchant, and had nothing to do with Mark's death or the Tamworth drug scene. "I was absolutely mortified at being blamed for his death, for anyone's death," Eddie says. "It sickens me to me stomach to think that anyone could think that I would do that to anyone much less another brother." He says he didn't know Mark and never even clapped eyes on him.

"People associate boxers with violence, so they think that somehow makes you a standover merchant," Eddie says. "I think if you have a look at most boxers, they're extremely soft-hearted."

Eddie's alleged connection with Mark seems nothing more than teenage chatter. No evidence has ever emerged to link him to the case and one of the people who originally gave that statement to police has since said they now think it was just a spurious rumour.

"The police, I think they thought it was just a tragic accident where he got intoxicated and lay down on the tracks," Eddie says. "Had they investigated more thoroughly, I think a lot of grief could have been saved for the family. I know for certain a lot of grief could have been saved for me."



"I think I have to forgive Mark's family," Eddie says. "Even if I didn't at the time understand their grief, they've suffered for a long time. I want them to be at peace."

Mark's file collected dust in the police filing cabinet for 25 years. Then in 2013, new leads emerged after I first reported Mark's story for NITV and Buzzfeed. People who had never spoken up before with information on Mark's case either contacted me or the police.



One of those was Fay Souter. In my previous reporting on this case, Fay did not want to be identified. But now she wants to speak openly about what happened.

Fay's eldest son was Terry Souter, a friend who was with Mark on the night of January 15, 1988.

"He couldn't do anything, he couldn't even kill a rat," Fay says. "But I think he was involved."

Six months after Mark's death, Terry was getting on with life. On July 11, 1988, his team won the indoor cricket final and everyone was at the pub celebrating. "[He] said he was going home to make us dinner," Fay recalls. Her son left the pub in his cricket whites, went home, and took his own life.

"He just looked like he was asleep. It was just left to me to bury him".



Sitting on her couch in her small Tamworth home, Fay lifts the lid off a small box and rummages inside. She pulls out a small note. The note is from Terry. "This is his suicide note. We found this when we came home," Fay says, her voice soft and sad. "I love you all but I can't handle live [sic]. Love Terry."

Fay believes Terry witnessed what happened to Mark that night. "I think Terry was with all these people and he was the driver of the car that manoeuvred everybody to and from and the dumping of Mark Haines's body."



She believes this to be the case because she knows the boy who cowered among the gum trees in the early hours of that Saturday morning in January 1988 — the boy who watched a teenager do something to Mark's body on the railway tracks. That boy is Fay's youngest son, Mick Souter. At some point after Terry's suicide, Mick told his mother about that horrible night.

I tried for years to speak with Mick about what happened. In April, he finally agrees to talk to me. Our meeting is the first time he's spoken on the public record about what he saw during the early hours of that January morning in 1988 — a scene that has haunted him for decades.

I wait for Mick in Tamworth's Bicentennial Park. A man with a long beard wearing a beaten Akubra approaches me. A three-legged cattle dog hobbles beside him. "G'day, I'm Mick," he says. Our conversation is brief, but chilling. Mick was 14 years old and fast asleep in the early hours of Saturday, January 16, when his big brother, Terry, then 18, woke him. Mick is so traumatised now that he can't remember exactly how he got there, but it's clear in his mind that they ended up at the spot on the train tracks where Mark's body was.

Mick asked his brother what he was doing. "Just f****** wait here or I'll clout you over the ear," Terry replied, walking towards the railway tracks. But Mick was scared, and a little curious, so he followed his brother some way towards the tracks. In the years since, he has wished he'd listened to his brother and stayed put.

"I just remember seeing a boy lying on the tracks."

Over the years, Mick has hoped desperately that his brother had nothing to do with Mark's death. "He never hurt nothing. He would take a dead bird off the side of the road for God's sake," Mick says.

The crucial piece of evidence Mick reveals is that he has always believed he saw his brother Terry putting his red jacket under Mark's head as comfort that night, although police would later tell him his brother's jacket wasn't found at the scene. He now agrees it could have been a towel.

I had always believed that the folded towel found under Mark's head at the scene could hold the key to what happened to him. It could have contained DNA that may have provided some answers, but the police lost this evidence.

Mick bows his head as he thinks about his late older brother. "I think his conscience would have played on him because he did have a big heart," he says.

There are no other eyewitnesses who have ever come forward and said they saw a body on the tracks that night.



Before Mick's revelation, the only other connection I had between the scene of Mark's death and another person is a tenuous one — the stolen Torana. That was until recently, when on a trip to Tamworth in April, I called Mark's best friend, Jason Wann, and it was clear Jason wanted to get something off his chest.

Jason Wann arrived for our meeting with an old photo album under his arm and, after he'd sat down, he pulled out some faded photos. One showed Jason, Mark and Greg Jones* (not his real name) monkeying around when they were about 13.

Greg Jones* and Mark had known each other since they were young. Greg's boss owned the white Torana that was found with a shattered windscreen on Warral Road the day Mark was found dead on the tracks. About 20 minutes after the freight train ran over Mark's body, Greg's boss rang Tamworth police to report that the car had been stolen during the night from outside his girlfriend's house, just blocks from where Mark and his girlfriend Tanya had parted.

It soon became apparent something had been sitting with Jason for years that he had not revealed during our earlier conversations, or ever publicly before. He told me that one day, a decade or so ago, he had been at home in Tamworth when a woman he knew arrived at his house looking shaken. (The woman does not want to be named.) She told him one of Mark's mates had confessed to being there when he died.

"She said something along the lines [of] that Greg had gotten mildly drunk and quite upset and confessed to her that he was there on the night that Mark died, and that he had put Mark's body on the railway tracks," Jason says. She seemed to think there had been a car accident.

She also gave Jason details that only someone at the tracks that night would have known: the fact that a white box had been placed on Mark's body. (The freight train driver had given evidence he had seen a white box on the tracks that morning.) Jason trusted the woman who brought him the information; he could see no reason for her to lie. "I was so close to Mark, I was quite distressed. I just didn't know what to do or say. And we came to a decision that we would call Crimestoppers. We went inside and we called Crimestoppers."

It's more than a decade since Jason made that call. He says he did not hear from police after it. This year, he mentioned to detectives that he'd made the call. Police have since told Jason there is no record of it.

The official police line on Mark's death is that it is an ongoing investigation and they are continuing to pursue inquiries resulting from information provided by the community, and the State Crime Command's Homicide Squad is reviewing the original police investigation.

Reading the transcripts of the inquest into Mark's death, it's clear that multiple factors, including the initial sloppy police investigation, were glossed over. But perhaps the biggest oversight was something deeply significant contained in the autopsy report: it showed that Mark had suffered a subdural hematoma about one centimetre in size. It was not mentioned at the inquest.

This type of injury occurs when a head receives a sudden sharp blow, like what might occur in a one-punch incident, or when a person's skull hits a windscreen in a car accident. The force of the blow tears the blood vessels running along the surface of the brain, which then causes a build-up of blood between the brain and the dura mater, one of the brain's protective membrane layers.

Respected Sydney forensic pathologist Professor Johan Duflou has reviewed Mark's autopsy report and says a subdural hematoma like Mark sustained could take hours to develop. "You do not develop a thick subdural hematoma within seconds and die within seconds." Professor Duflou's conclusion is that, after somehow receiving the blow to his head, Mark survived for a period of time, possibly hours. That theory also explains the lack of blood on the railways tracks - Mark would have bled elsewhere.

Professor Duflou says it is unusual for the impact of a train to cause a subdural hematoma. "When you look at it from that perspective you realise, well, could that subdural hematoma have developed as a result of some other event? Could there have been a car crash?"

When I started this investigation in 2013 I couldn't ever have imagined how many dead ends I would encounter, nor could I imagine that many of the family's fears about drug connections and foul play would not be borne out by the available evidence, and that the most likely explanation for Mark's death would be, in many ways, the most prosaic.

Could this be a tragic accident, covered up by a group of scared teenagers?

A bunch of friends who had gone joyriding, it was wet, and the car crashed?

The story that makes the most sense from my investigation is that someone stole Greg's boss's white Torana and picked up Mark somewhere around Wilburtree Street after he left Tanya at 3.30am. Given that the witness Julie Munro said she saw a car hooning along the street with a bunch of blokes inside, it is likely that, after Mark hopped into the car, probably willingly, the car sped out of town, possibly following, or followed by, another car driven by Terry. And in the early hours of the morning the Torana crashed on Warral Road and Mark was thrown headfirst through the windscreen.

Even with that theory, questions remain: how did the people in the car move Mark's body a kilometre and a half to the spot on the track where he was struck by the train? What about the white box? And when Terry was leaning over to comfort someone on the tracks, was he placing a folded a white towel under Mark's head, and why?

Many of the people who could have been with Mark when he was killed have since died, but Greg Jones* is alive.

I have called Greg a number of times before this year, but in May he agreed to be interviewed.

I travel to visit Greg at his modern home and we sit on the patio, next to the family pool. He sits ramrod straight and, as I ask my first question, he clenches his jaw.

"There are some people who have told me that they think you were involved in Mark's death. Have you heard that?" I ask. "No," Greg replies. "No idea what you're talking about. I haven't heard that, but, mate, people can think what they want. I know the truth. I wasn't there. I had absolutely nothing to do with it."

I continue this line of questioning for some minutes but Greg bats away each question. He wasn't anywhere near the railway tracks that night, he says. He absolutely didn't put Mark's body on the tracks. It's an absolute lie that he had spoken to anyone about being at the scene when Mark died and was the one who dumped his body on the tracks.

I ask Greg whether he feels hurt that people are saying he's been involved. "It is mate, yeah. It's a bit disappointing."

A blue summer sky stretches above the Tamworth lawn cemetery. Smoke billows out of a coolamon vessel filled with burning gum leaves. The scent of eucalyptus fills the air as traditional Aboriginal dancers, their shirtless bodies painted in ochre, move around Mark's grave. The percussion of their clap sticks and the traditional Gomeroi song let Mark know he's on his ancestral country.

Mark's sister Lorna and younger brother, Ron, grab handfuls of smoke and pull it towards them.

They've just returned the last part of Mark's body to the earth — tissue samples that for three decades were kept in an archive in Sydney's Coroner's Court without their knowledge. "Now he can fully rest," Lorna says, her eyes glassy from crying. "All of him is now back on country."

This year they feel closer than ever to knowing the truth about what happened to Mark.

The traditional dancing and singing stops and Mark's Uncle Duck pauses to look at a plaque on the grave. It says Mark "mysteriously died". Duck still hopes that one day he'll be able to replace it with a new plaque that removes one word. That would mean, he says, that the family is truly at the end of its journey.



If this story has raised issues for you please contact Lifeline on 13 11 14

If you know something about this story, contact: unraveltruecrime@abc.net.au

*Some names have been changed in this story for legal reasons.

Credits

Reporter: Allan Clarke

Additional writer: Stephanie Wood

Researchers: Emma Lancaster and Ellen Leabeater

Senior investigative producer and additional reporting: Suzanne Smith

Digital editor and producer: Gina McKeon

Digital producer: Yale MacGillivray

Australian Story producer: Rebecca Latham

Video and photography: Greg Nelson and Yale MacGillivray

Graphics: Ben Marriott

Unravel executive producer: Ian Walker

Australian Story executive producer: Caitlin Shea

Thanks: Tim Leslie, Matt Henry, Martin Peralta, and Katie Franklin

Topics: law-crime-and-justice, aboriginal, indigenous-aboriginal-and-torres-strait-islander, crime, human, police, journalism, abc, people, rail, youth, grief, death, tamworth-2340, australia

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