All the bags of evidence would be taken to the Russell Street police
auditorium and stored, waiting for examination. Wayne Ashley knew that while
Russell Street would be closed to traffic indefinitely, the other city streets
would need to be cleared as quickly as possible to allow traffic through.
Inspector Bruce Knight from the SOG offered his team for whatever tasks
needed their expertise. Members were called in from rest days and it was all
hands on deck. Crime elsewhere didn't take a holiday because Russell Street
exploded and in the middle of the bomb drama, Knight had to send an SOG crew to
an armed hold-up in Donvale while the rest of the squad were used in the bomb
aftermath.
It was vital to collect as much debris as was recoverable so that the
investigators could piece together what had occurred. The evidence could also
contain clues to link the bomb with its makers. A wheel from the bomb car was
found in the carpark behind the Russell Street building meaning that it must
have been blown right over the roof and over the building behind headquarters
into the carpark. A live detonator was found in the women's gym on the fourth
floor of the police headquarters.
Police combed the surrounding streets for clues until late into the evening.
The pressure was on, not only to find the bombers, but also on a practical
level, to re-open the surrounding city streets to traffic. The search for
evidence would start again at first light the following day, Good Friday.
That evening, television news reported that terrorism had hit Melbourne as
'bomb after bomb' exploded in Russell Street. Journalists also reported that
police were checking lists of people who were to appear in the Melbourne
Magistrates Court that day.
After being told that Carl had been injured in the blast, Bev
Donadio asked if it was serious. No, she was told, probably just a broken leg.
She immediately rang the Royal Melbourne Hospital and was told that her son was
having tests. The nurse promised to ring back as soon as she heard anything.
When she called back, she told Bev that the injuries to her son were more
serious than a broken leg and that the family had better get to the hospital as
soon as possible. It was then that Bev panicked.
Victoria Police had sent a Traffic Operations Group car and driver to the
Donadio's Ballarat home. As soon as the younger two Donadio children had been
collected from school, the family screeched, lights and sirens, all the way to
Melbourne.
For the injured young police officer, drugs were taking the edge off his pain
and he was not really aware of what was going on. His parents got the full story
when they arrived at the hospital. The gash in his leg was caused by a flying
piece of shrapnel that had cut him through to the bone. It was a miracle, the
doctors said, that his femur hadn't been broken. Nonetheless, the shrapnel had
completely sliced through his muscle. It would not be an easy fix because the
gap was too wide and too swollen to be stitched up. The injury would need a skin
graft.
X-rays had revealed shrapnel had punctured one of his lungs and sliced one of
his kidneys almost in half. Miraculously the shrapnel had pushed through his
ribcage without breaking any bones. Surgeons told the anxious family that they
would have to operate to assess the full damage.
Carl Donadio's saving grace was that he was young and super-fit from playing
sports three nights a week and keeping up a full training schedule. He was in
the best physical condition he could be to survive what had happened to him.
As his police colleagues finished a day's evidence gathering and desperately
tried to think about who could have done this terrible thing, surgeons operated
on the 19-year-old police officer, inflating his punctured lung, and sewing his
kidney back together again. They stitched up a gash behind one of his knees and
removed a painful piece of shrapnel from his right ankle. It had lodged there
after penetrating the leather of his boot. His other boot was blown off in the
blast. It would later be found on the roof of the Russell Street police
headquarters.
No sooner were the fires extinguished, than a Taskforce was set
up to find those responsible. Heading it was veteran investigator, Detective
Inspector Daryl Clarke, who put quickly put together a team of a dozen
detectives to help him.
One of the first things for the Taskforce was to speak to the owner of the
bomb car. A numberplate, AVQ 508, was found near the bomb car, and it matched
the engine number. Even though the car thieves had drilled down the chassis
number, they had left the stolen car with its original numberplates.
The car's owner, who had reported it stolen two days before the bombing, was
understandably upset that his car had been used for such a horrendous deed. He
told detectives that he had left two tracksuit tops, a red-handled screw driver,
a Stanley screwdriver set, a two rope, and a PVC chamois in the car when it was
stolen. None of these items had been recovered at the bomb scene.
The chequered blanket found in the car wasn't his.
At first light, the search continued for evidence at the bomb
site and surrounding Melbourne streets. Members of the SOG abseiled down the
façade of the Russell Street police headquarters and neighbouring city buildings
in the hunt for evidence lodged on window ledges and roofs.
Crime scene examiner Wayne Ashley, who had been put at the disposal of the
newly-formed Russell Taskforce, spent much of his time in the police auditorium
cataloguing and organising the bags of evidence into areas. He sectioned off a
part of the auditorium to house material gathered from the safe zone - the
immediate bomb area that was under the control of the bomb experts Bob Barnes
and Peter Kiernan. All evidence from the safe zone was collected either by them
or under their direct supervision. Even though the crime scene examiners were
trained in post-blast analysis, their practical experience was limited to pipe
bombs and exploding letter boxes. Barnes and Kiernan could call upon a wider
expertise and the resources of the Department of Defence Materials Research
Laboratories.
As each bag of debris was brought into the auditorium, it was given a letter
denoting the street or building where it had been located. Ashley devised a grid
map so that at a glance, investigators could see where each piece of evidence
had come from. Some of the items came via the Fingerprint Bureau, including the
dented registration plate, AVQ 508, from the bomb car.
Even in the relative order of the auditorium, Wayne Ashley got occasional
stark reminders of the attack on the Victoria Police. On Saturday 29 March, a
detective working the case handed him two plastic bags each containing a small
jar. In each of the jars was a jagged piece of metal. One jar was labelled
Hos. 27/3/86 Donadio, Carl, specimen removed, L kidney
, and the other was
labelled
Hos. 27/3/86 Donadio, Carl, R leg, near knee
. Inside the jar
were the pieces of shrapnel that had been surgically removed from Carl Donadio
after the bombing.
On Easter Sunday, Ashley received a similar jar from the hospital containing
another metal fragment. This one had been taken from Angela Taylor. It was in
these moments that Ashley could see so clearly the difference between this case
and most the others he had worked. By the time a crime scene examiner attended a
crime scene, no matter how grim, they were usually cleared and contained; there
was usually no danger and no personal connection. Crime scene examiners were
trained to remain emotionally distanced from whatever it was that they were
examining. And usually, it was easy.
On Easter Monday, items of police clothing were sorted out from among the
bags of debris. Wayne Ashley put aside two police hats - one belonging to Angela
Taylor and the other to Carl Donadio. He also received, via the hospital, Angela
Taylor's charred and bloodied police uniform. The right pocket of her slacks
still contained the money she was going to use to buy lunch. He took a moment of
respite from his clinical approach to think of his fallen comrades. But only a
moment.
The itemised and labelled clothing from the two injured cops was examined,
bagged and handed on to members of the newly-formed bomb Taskforce.
On Tuesday 1 April, materials from the safe zone were removed from the
auditorium and transported to the Materials Research Laboratories. On the same
day, the bomb car was finally removed from outside the Russell Street police
headquarters where it had sat, covered by a tarpaulin for five days. For the
crime scene examiners, walking past it day in and, day out, it was a constant
reminder of the gravity of the situation. The bomb car was taken to the Stolen
Motor Vehicle Squad in Port Melbourne on the back of a flat top truck.
Over those five days, the grids had each been examined four times. During the
first examination in the post-blast search, SOG members and crime scene
examiners were instructed to gather, bag and label every obvious bomb component.
Their extensive experience and training made recognition of such components a
relatively easy task. Once completed, the second search began. This time, police
were looking for any items of interest which may or may not have been connected
with the bomb. Thirdly, miscellaneous items were collected, and fourthly, all
other debris was bagged and labelled. Bags of twisted metal and bomb components
slowly filled the auditorium. Everyone working the case had put in long hours,
snatching a few hours sleep each night, ready to start at first light in the
days following the explosion.
After the safe zone debris had been removed, and the bomb car taken away, the
police auditorium was locked and put under police guard. The hundreds of other
bags of gathered debris would need to wait their turn.
Around the fifth day after the bombing, Carl Donadio began to
regain his senses. He didn't remember much of the first four days and even now,
he would be having a conversation with someone and then fade out. Even though he
was still sedated, when the doctors told him that he could be in hospital for up
to six months, the young man made a declaration that he would be out much sooner
than that.
Over the days, he had become aware that the explosion which injured him was
in fact a bomb, deliberately set against the police. When two detectives from
the Russell Taskforce came in to take his statement, he tried his best to
include everything that had happened, but he hadn't seen anyone suspicious and
had little to add to their investigation.
At the end of the visit, one of the detectives said, 'Don't worry, we'll
catch these pricks!' And Donadio could understand their vehemence. He would have
felt the same in their position, wanting justice for the injured cops. But it
was all he could do to focus on getting well; he just didn't have enough energy
for revenge as well. Instead, Donadio's most immediate concern was food; he had
come to loathe the bland hospital food of grey meats and boiled vegetables that
all seemed to smell like cabbage. The strapping country lad refused to eat
anything except the fruit and sometimes the soup. It got to the point where he
could smell it coming down the corridor and it would make him feel physically
sick.
His mother, Bev, did her best to smuggle in food, but her son's dramatic
weight loss soon became a concern to his surgeons. One doctor told Bev to bring
him in anything as long as he would eat it.
Fellow cops lined up to visit the wounded police officer. Even cops that
Donadio had never met wanted to come and pay their respects. In the end, the
hospital and the police force sent out a message that only close friends could
visit. One officer who was admitted was Chief Commissioner Mick Miller. Respect
for the chain of command had been drummed into recruits at the Academy and as a
constable, Donadio was supposed to salute any senior officer. When the Chief
come in, Donadio nervously saluted him from his hospital bed and called him Sir.
To his surprise, Miller said to forget the 'sir' and call him Mick. This quickly
put the young officer at ease. Donadio was grateful for the Chief's support and
genuine interest in his recovery. Miller spoke to Bev and Vic Donadio, and when
one of the doctors came into the ward, he also got a medical update. He told
Donadio that the Force needed enthusiastic young chaps like him and to get well
soon. He would return to the hospital on several occasions.
Another bright spot on Donadio's horizon were the constant visits from his
squad mates who he'd gone through the Academy with. Both Carl Donadio and Angela
Taylor had constant police guards while they were in the Royal Melbourne
Hospital in case the attack against them was personal. Donadio's squad mates
were utilised for this guard duty. Whether he needed protection or not, Donadio
enjoyed their visits. Unlike the adults around him who saw the severity of his
injuries and put on the kid gloves, his young peers ribbed him and joked around.
One of the sources of great mirth for his visitors was the fact that a police
woman had removed her shirt to tourniquet his leg at the scene.
'Mate, you are the only bloke to get her shirt off!'
Donadio laughed along with them.
While Donadio slowly recovered, the wheels of the investigation
continued to turn. The bombed Holden Commodore had been fitted with a V8 engine
which still had its original engine number. As noticed at the scene, the chassis
number had been drilled out with a series of circular drilling motions. The
holes were 8mm in diameter. Casts were made of the drilled holes to be compared
- should the investigators locate it - with the drill responsible. Both the
vehicle identification number (VIN) plate and the identification plate had been
removed from the radiator support panel leaving behind only one rivet and a
piece of alloy from each plate. It appeared that one rivet from each plate had
been removed, and then both plates had been torn away leaving the other rivet
behind.