Not Your Ordinary Housewife: How the man I loved led me into a world I had never imagined (24 page)

I was also told I’d be charged with theft of some overdue library books: two children’s titles and four sex-therapy tomes borrowed for my 0055 research. I was informed that I had committed offences under Section 11 of the Films Classification Act and Section 166 of the Police Offences Act. I was even to be charged with the cultivation of a narcotic plant, the same as Paul. Apparently, the law didn’t distinguish whose plants they were: if they were on our premises and I knew about them, which plainly I did, then I could be charged. Paul, however, was also to be charged with an offence relating to the Telecom employee recording.

Eventually, we were released on our own recognisance to appear at a suburban magistrates’ court in several months’ time. Mario kindly collected us from the station and we called Lloyd on his home number. He was attending an Old Boys dinner at Melbourne Grammar, but he promised to organise legal representation for us at the Children’s Court.

My heart bled for our beautiful little girl. We had no idea where the police had taken her—they wouldn’t tell us her whereabouts. I desperately wanted to call her, to hear her little voice and tell her that we still loved her, but we just couldn’t be with her right now. I understood, of course, that the police believed they were protecting her—but was it really necessary to remove her so brutally? We wondered how she would cope and what damage this would do. Never had we experienced a more agonising weekend.

There was some press coverage of our bust: being sex-related, it was juicy. We’d heard that Graham Kennedy’s
News Show
featured it and even the ABC’s nightly news program
PM
ran a segment on it.

I called Dory and told her of our plight. Being an avid ABC listener, she’d heard
PM
and, although our names weren’t mentioned, she’d suspected instantly it was us.

‘I knew it was you as soon as I heard the phrase “Warrandyte couple”,’ she said, pronouncing the ‘w’ as a ‘v’. ‘What a thing to be involved with. Nikki-le, Nikki-le, how could you?’

‘Listen,’ I pleaded, ‘we could really do with some support right now.’

‘How could you do this to me?’

Dory agreed with me that Shoshanna should be our greatest concern. I told her we didn’t even know who she was staying with, and we couldn’t contact her to reassure her we still loved her and that everything would be okay.

Dory was smug as she told me that obviously they thought Shoshanna was at risk. She also said she didn’t want anything to do with it. ‘What would Egon say?’ she added, reminding me that, in all their 70-plus years, they’d never broken the law. ‘I’m so ashamed of you.’

‘Well, believe it or not, I’m ashamed too.’ I had never been more ashamed of anything in my entire life.

‘I told you Paul was bad for you,’ she said, convinced that this whole ‘porn business’ was his idea. I insisted she couldn’t blame it
all
on Paul. Yes, of course it was his idea, but I’d gone along with it. I couldn’t abrogate my responsibility—I’d been a willing, if reluctant, participant.

‘Well, I blame him,’ said Dory.

‘Please, I need you to come to the Children’s Court so we can try and get Shoshanna back.’ I begged her to offer to have Shoshanna live with her while we sorted ourselves out. The sad fact was that we had no other family.

‘I can’t take her—I’m too old,’ she snapped.

I didn’t understand: she professed to love Shoshanna, and she knew how much her granddaughter loved her. ‘Perhaps you could hire a nanny part-time? Please . . .’

‘No—I can’t afford it.’

‘Then just come to court so they can see we’re not total trash,’ I entreated. ‘If we don’t come up with some alternative, the police will put Shoshanna in a foster home. Please! It would look good to have you there, and we need moral support.’

But she refused. ‘It’s bad for my health.’

‘I’m begging you—please, go . . . for Shoshanna’s sake.’

‘No, I won’t be there.’

And she wasn’t. Nothing had prepared me for Dory’s reaction. I thought she would give her usual ‘I told you so’ lecture, but that ultimately she would stand by me. I was really struggling to understand why she refused to show even a modicum of support for us.

Paul naturally capitalised on Dory’s failings. ‘I knew she hated you. I always thought she was a bitch. Now do you believe me?’

I said I was reserving judgement. Although I was very hurt, I honestly hadn’t thought she’d behave like this.

‘It’s because you’re adopted,’ he said. He theorised that, because she hadn’t borne me, she could detach from me when I did something she disapproved of. Possibly he was right; but I still wasn’t totally convinced. I hadn’t realised how intensely embarrassed she would be. All her friends listened to ABC Radio—they’d all have heard and would be gossiping about her.

Lloyd explained that we needed to find Shoshanna a suitable home where she could stay until we could convince the authorities we were fit parents. In desperation, I rang the mother of Molly, a girl who occasionally babysat Shoshanna. I didn’t even know her mother’s name and it was a big ask, but she generously offered to take Shoshanna if the court was agreeable.

I was angry at Dory—on the Monday morning she didn’t even ring to wish us luck. I couldn’t understand why she had deserted us in our hour of need. I had meantime phoned several of her friends, who were most sympathetic and promised to talk to her on my behalf.

Paul announced that he’d called Saskia. ‘She’s very concerned and said she’s booking a flight from Amsterdam.’ She could only stay a few days, but it was better than nothing.

I was amazed. ‘That’s great,’ I said. For once, I would be truly grateful to see her.

Our neighbours—Nora’s parents—kindly accompanied us to the Children’s Court that morning. Thankfully, Shoshanna had been staying with the director of her creche, who was at least someone she knew. It was the court’s decision that she was to live with Molly’s family for some months. We would have the right to visit her regularly, but ultimately we would have to convince the court we were out of the porn business and were proper parents.

At long last we were allowed to see Shoshanna later that day at Russell Street Police Headquarters—a venue clearly not set up for small children. Beforehand, I agonised over how to tell her what had happened, in a way she’d understand. I decided that all I could really do was to tell her repeatedly how much we loved her, saying that everything would be okay . . . soon.

I was overcome with joy as I was reunited with my child, albeit briefly. My heart was broken, and my grief unimaginable. I could not fathom what this precious little four-year-old made of all that was going on around her. As far as I could tell, she was taking it all in her stride. Her naturally cheerful disposition was unchanged but I suspected there would be emotional scars from the trauma.

Perhaps I was misguided, but everything I’d done was ultimately for her—our activities had provided her with material comfort. She was my only blood relative and I was broken without her. She was the bedrock of my existence; my guilt and shame were unbearable.

We convened a meeting with Lloyd and our various legal specialists. With the Children’s Court proceedings behind us, we now had to focus on the criminal charges. He had received the record of interview and charge sheet. I could not bear to look at it.

Lloyd told us that most of the charges against us related to keeping obscene articles for gain, and making and possessing objectionable films for sale. ‘All up, they’ve seized 97 videos, and all of them are now officially rated X.’ We all knew we’d never done anything that would be refused classification.

‘It’s basically just a lot of what they call “non-violent erotica”,’ said Paul.

Lloyd continued. ‘There are also a couple of charges relating to “wilful and obscene exposure in a public place”.’

‘Oh, that’ll be the photos of us sucking and fucking in the Safeway car park,’ said Paul ruefully.

I cringed, hating to be reminded. ‘How dumb was that,’ I mumbled.

At least there were no theft charges relating to the library books. It was a small thing but I breathed a sigh of relief, believing I might one day want to work in a library.

Lloyd looked up from his legal pad. ‘Paul, you’ve got a charge for bugging that Telecom manager—“intercepting a communication”.’ Obviously any chance of winning a Trade Practices case against Telecom was now dashed. But as well, Lloyd said, there were several charges that were worrisome: while all those relating to the videos and photos were summary in nature, there were a couple of indictable offences.

I hazarded a guess. ‘You mean, like on American cop shows: misdemeanours and felonies?’

Lloyd nodded. We had been charged with ‘living off the earnings of prostitution’. They seemed to be saying that our Watch & Wanks constituted prostitution: Paul was living off my earnings and I was living off his—even though we were getting the one fee.

Lloyd gave us his considered legal opinion that, while it was plainly not in the spirit of the legislation, which was designed to stop pimps exploiting hookers, it could very well just stick if we let them run it. He thought that perhaps we could plea bargain it away by pleading guilty to some of the lesser charges. Or we could mount a defence, and it would be an interesting test case; but he didn’t know what our chances of fighting it successfully were.

‘
No
,’ I said emphatically. ‘I don’t want to be an interesting test case.’ Paul agreed.

Paul and I were on a steep learning curve. Throughout our ordeal, we became very close. I didn’t know how we’d survive financially, but Lloyd assured us that the fines would be manageable.

Now I was nervous about being in the house alone. All the metropolitan papers in which our story appeared had given our address as Kangaroo Ground Road. Our local paper had even run its ‘Pornography Raid’ article on the front page. All articles had detailed the charges and made reference to the hundreds of photos and videos that were seized. Thankfully, only our ages—not our names—were published and none of the major dailies picked up the story.

Saskia arrived in a haze of jet lag. She had flown via a holiday in Hawaii, explaining that it maximised her frequent flyer points. Accompanying us to one of our many Children’s Court appearances, she looked impressive in her tailored suit and coiffed hair. She naturally blamed me for Shoshanna’s plight; but, while I never enjoyed her company, Paul gained new energy from her presence.

I was still having trouble defending Dory’s position: one of her closest friends not only paid bills for me, but was a tower of strength, supporting me through my adversity.

Although shattered by Shoshanna’s removal, I could understand it from the perspective of the police. Part of me was even thankful that my weak attempts to rein in Paul were now being supported by the full force of the law. We had become complacent in our activities, losing sight of just how far we’d strayed from the norm, and they obviously felt it was in Shoshanna’s best interests to be removed. Our biggest mistake had been running the business from home. Yet, while our lifestyle was unconventional, we never wavered in our love and devotion to her; we also never physically or emotionally neglected her. It hurt deeply to bear this stigma.

While Shoshanna’s foster family was nice and we were seeing her weekly, we desperately wanted our child back. At several visits, a forensic psychologist was present, reporting to the court that she was obviously not an abused child: our interactions were totally loving. I wondered how she was coping without us.

Lloyd and our legal team labelled removing Shoshanna an outrageous over-reaction by authorities. He surmised that the police probably thought we were involved in some kind of pornography ring, possibly involving children. That, he said, was the only explanation for their heavy-handed approach. He therefore devised a plan: we would go to the Supreme Court, armed with the psychologist’s report, and tell the judge that it was not in the best interests of the child to be separated from us.

The date was set and we hired a QC, who spoke at length of our distress at the ‘Kafkaesque’ circumstances under which Shoshanna was removed. The outcome was favourable: the silk got our child back, although we would still be subject to random police and social worker visits. We were overjoyed at the results, although we still had not gone to court over our criminal charges.