Mirrors of Death Read online

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Mark Lee Bennett was born and raised in suburban Melbourne. A tradesman by nature, he worked for over ten years as a butcher in Broadmeadows and Ballarat before discovering his lineage as the son of notorious career criminal Ray Chuck Bennett. Since then he has dedicated himself to researching his family and the history of the Melbourne underworld.

  First published in Australia 2015

  This edition published 2015

  Copyright © Mark Bennett 2015

  The right of Mark Bennett to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The information in this book is based on the author’s personal experiences and opinions. The publisher specifically disclaims responsibility for any adverse consequences which may result from use of the information contained herein.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Bennett Mark

  The Great Bookie Robbery Part 3: Mirrors of Death

  ISBN: 9781925281668

  eBook distributed by

  Port Campbell Press

  www.portcampbellpress.com.au

  eBook Conversion by Warren Broom

  I dedicate this book to every family that has lost loved ones, and also to the many friends and family members that I have lost.

  Chapter 1

  Broadmeadows

  I was born as Mark Lee Fowler in 1971 at the Sacred Heart Hospital in Melbourne, Victoria. My mother’s name was June and my father’s name was Braydan. I grew up on Buckley Street, Essendon before the family moved to a new house on Graham Street, Broadmeadows.

  As only a young boy, I can only remember occasional things from growing up. During the holiday periods, the family went camping at different sites around Victoria — usually Blackwood, but sometimes along the Murray River or in Rosebud as well. The camp sites had been used by family and friends for decades. We also visited Ballarat on numerous occasions, as I had an older brother living there and playing football for Redan Football Club. We would travel up to Ballarat to watch him play on weekends.

  On one weekend in 1979, the family and I were in Ballarat, at one of the local football clubs. I had been playing in one of the drains near the bike track at the back of the football field with a mate, Brett, who had come to Ballarat to watch my older brother play. While the match was on, I had slipped and fallen in the drain, and my head had gone under the slimy, dirty water. Three weeks later, I developed a major infection in my ears and nose from the dirty water. I was rushed to hospital and admitted for surgery; I had tubes inserted into my ears to drain and clear the infection.

  On most occasions, we would get away as a family for Christmas or long weekends for holidays, to Blackwood or other sites. After I had the operation on my nose and ears, I wasn’t allowed to get water in my ears as this would destroy the tubes, and create the need for another operation. This made it very hard as friends and family used to swim a lot in the local waterholes at Blackwood or up the Murray River.

  Our families enjoyed the holidays and taking the time to swim and enjoy themselves, as there was a lot going on at the time. In 1976, Ray Chuck Bennett had masterminded the biggest armed holdup in Victoria’s history to date. It was about three years since Ray Chuck (who I would later learn was my biological father), Norman Lee (my uncle) and the rest of their crew had pulled off the robbery and were continuing to avoid the police and the media. They also had to dodge the Toe Cutters, a Sydney-based gang that used to extort the proceeds from underworld gangs that did armed holdups. Ray Chuck also had to contend with the Kane brothers and corrupt police officers. Family and friends kept very close to the crew, and had continued to meet up with Norman, Ray Chuck and the rest of the crew at various camp sites around Victoria. No one had been charged with the robbery — Norman Lee had been acquitted of charges — but the investigation continued.

  I was only young at the time of the bookie robbery, about five years of age. That one robbery affected my family, and the families of the rest of the crew, for decades. In the 118 calico bags stolen from the bookmakers, jam-packed with untraceable notes, there were also documents. The information was incriminating for a wide variety of officials connected to the Victoria Club, and made a lot of people nervous.

  At the same time there was a death in the family. Raymond Patrick Chuck Bennett was on a minor gun charge while he was being escorted from Pentridge Prison to the City Courts on Russell Street on the 12th of November, 1979. When Ray Chuck entered the courthouse, he was shot three times outside Courtroom 10.

  At the time, Ray Chuck was in remand for two charges: the minor gun charge, and an armed robbery on the Bond weaving mill in Yarraville, stealing $70,000 dollars. He was escorted into the courtroom by two police officers that flanked Ray Chuck as he approached the courtroom. They released the handcuffs and walked off, leaving Ray Chuck. Ray’s son Des — my half-brother — was sitting outside the courtroom with the rest of the family, and attests that he heard the policemen threaten Ray Chuck before the gunman shot Ray and ran out the courts unhindered, despite the presence of so many police officers.

  Ray Chuck collapsed out front of Courtroom 11. He was rushed to St Vincent’s Hospital, and later died after 68 minutes on the operating table.

  Around two weeks after Ray Chuck was shot in the City Court, I was admitted to Sacred Heart Hospital, still feeling the effects from the fall in the drains at Ballarat, for the ear and nose operation. I was only eight years old, and had no idea that Ray Chuck was my biological father. I was told later in life — 31 years of age — that I was Ray Chuck’s son, and I had a DNA test to prove this.

  After the operation, while I was recovering, I had woken up to find that in the bed next to me was my football coach, Allan. He was the under nines coach at Broadmeadows Football Club. He’d had the same operation as me. I spoke to Allan and also his son at the hospital; I played football with Allan’s son at the Broady Bandits, and we both attended Campmeadows Primary School.

  After spending around two weeks in hospital, I was discharged. However, while in hospital the doctor had put too much anaesthetic in my system, so once I was released I had to use a wheelchair. The doctors had overdosed me; a simple error, but it left me incapacitated for four weeks.

  After getting back to Graham Street, Broadmeadows, I couldn’t walk or talk or eat. I had no feeling in my legs and hands. My parents had to feed and shower me. My parents were going to sue the hospital for damages, but decided they wanted to wait for the right time. After a month or so I was stable enough to go back to playing football in the under nines at the Broadmeadows Football Club. The coach, Allan, was also back on his feet after his operation.

  I had knocked around with Allan’s son and many boys from the football club and Campmeadows Primary School, alongside many friends from the local area of Broadmeadows and Jacana. It was around four months since being discharged from hospital, and around the same amount of time since Raymond Patrick Chuck Bennett was shot dead. The police claimed that the shooting of Ray Chuck was most likely a revenge killing for Lesley Kane’s recent disappearance. From the family’s perspective, it still didn’t add up that the shooting happened right opposite the biggest police station in Australia at the time, and with many police officers there on the day of the shooting.

  Not long into 1980 with the football season starting, the under nines at Broadmeadows started a promising season and eventually made it
into the Grand Final. We were lucky because the Grand Final was held at the Broady Football club, so we had the advantage in a home game against Coolaroo. The Broady Bandits were known to many clubs around Victoria; Doggy was Captain and I was Vice Captain.

  The Broady Bandits lost the final. As we were walking back to the Broady huddle, I said to Doggy, ‘Watch this’. I walked over to the Coolaroo huddle and belted their Captain, Steve, knocking him into the dirt. A fight broke out with the Coolaroo Football Club. Both sides were fighting: the supporters, spectators, coaches, trainers. It was on. I had started one of the biggest melees in Victorian Football history at the time. The whole field was covered with people, and the fight had escalated out of control.

  During the all-in melee, the Coolaroo Football Club officials, coaches and trainers had pinpointed me on the field. The men on the coaching team were much older than me and on the day there would have been hundreds of people scattered all over the ground; the older men attacked me, punching me numerous times, kicking me and ripping my jersey off.

  Some of the other Broadmeadows players noticed that I was being attacked by several older men at once and attacked the coach and runners. Roo, one of the Broadmeadows senior players, had come over to protect me; in the melee Roo was put into a coma. Two other teammates, Billy and Spaz, had picked me up off the ground and carried me into the Broadmeadows clubrooms.

  Around four weeks later, there was controversy over the melee. The league had had enough with the Broadmeadows Football Club, and contacted the president of the club. This wasn’t the first problem they’d had with the club. A meeting was held at the league tribunal. The league made a major decision against the Broadmeadows Football Club, based on previous years of fighting across nearly every age division; the under nines Grand Final and the melee had pushed them over the edge. The Broady Bandits were banned from the league for life. The club tried to appeal the decision, but the League’s decision was firm. It was certainly over for the Broadmeadows football club.

  At this point in 1981, I was still attending Campmeadows Primary School. My family had moved from Buckley Street, Essendon to Graham Street, Broadmeadows — which actually put me much closer to school. I had a lot of mates at Campmeadows, and from the local area of Broadmeadows, Jacana and Glenroy.

  Broadmeadows is in the outer suburbs of Melbourne, and at the time was known to some as the Bronx of Victoria. It was one of the toughest areas to grow up in during the 1970s and 1980s. Most nights after school we would all meet up at each other’s houses, either playing cricket or football in the streets or at the oval on some nights.

  We always stayed in our own hunting grounds. We would use the front lawns of our houses. We’d grab pairs of boxing gloves, and nominate two of us for a bout. There were always around twelve of us sitting on the front fence waiting for our turn to get into it; sometimes we would put our pocket money up, and the last one standing would get to keep the pot. People would walk past or drive past, stopping and laughing at the ten year olds belting each other stupid. We would have black eyes and fat lips; the teachers at school and some of the parents would have heart attacks. Some of us would get home at night fresh from the bouts, and our parents used to say that it was a good way to learn and toughen up. We did this for a few years, and the parents grew used to it. We loved it, giving each other black eyes and fat lips. It did us good as we grew up hard in the Bronx.

  After Broadmeadows Football Club was barred from the league, most of the players moved on and played with football clubs such as Jacana, Glenroy, Oak Park and Westmeadows. I moved on to play football with Glenroy Football Club. I was now around eleven years of age and playing in the under 12s.

  After school one day, I met back up with my Campmeadows mates at JB’s house on Graham Street. JB lived a few houses up the road from me; we were virtually next door neighbours, and classed each other as family. We had the boxing gloves, like always, and we were boxing with each other on the front lawn. During one of the bouts, one of the neighbours from over the road came out of his house. He lived in the house on the corner of Graham Street and Walsh Street, Broadmeadows, and always used to say hello to us; he was always doing the garden or working on his car in the driveway.

  This time, however, he was standing on his step with a shotgun in his hands. He yelled out someone’s name, and we had looked around as he put the shotgun underneath his chin and pulled the trigger, blowing his head off. He collapsed on the step, lying halfway down the front porch, clearly dead.

  The police and ambulance arrived and the cops blocked off the streets. All of us were on the front lawn, watching the police and the paramedics at the scene; the adults and kids that were around at the time of the shooting were questioned. The rumours were that he shot himself over his ex-wife.

  Around a week or so later, there was speculation that the man was close to Lesley and Brian Kane, notorious criminals and standover men. Lesley Kane was machine-gunned to death in his house in Wantirna in 1978 by the crew headed by Ray Chuck Bennett, Laurence Prendergast and Norman. The police had charged the crew with the crime, but the charges had failed to stick.

  At this point I was around eleven years of age. Many friends and family had said to me over the years, as I was growing up, that I had the world at my feet and in later life it would come together for me and my family. My mother always said to write a book when I was ready to share this story. I didn’t know at the time about the outbreak within the Melbourne underworld over the Great Bookie Robbery, or the bloodthirsty rivalry between Ray Chuck’s crew and the Kane brother’s crew.

  Chapter 2

  The Voices

  I was now around twelve years of age and into everything, branching out into knocking over houses, car theft, selling dope alongside my mates and so on. I lived life pretty full on from a young age; I spent time with a few of the older boys from around Broadmeadows, Glenroy, Jacana and Westmeadows. I was running amok and developing into a young man, while associating with mates that started to smoke and sell dope. I was always getting into fights with boys from other schools.

  One of our favourite hunting grounds was Olsen Place, a set of shops situated on Widford Street in Broadmeadows. The Olsen Place shops were a stone’s throw from Campmeadows Primary School and around the corner from most of my mates’ houses. We started to play hard during this period in 1982. Olsen Place was one of our meeting places; we would hang out there for hours, selling dope and stolen gear to friends, parents or people we knew that we could trust. Some of the boys would knock off cars and go for a joyride around Victoria, using the stolen cars for burglaries.

  Most of the boys that went to Olsen Place were friends or guys I played football with. We would stay at the shops until late most nights. There wouldn’t be many boys and girls that would rock up to Olsen Place Shops if we didn’t know them — there would be twenty to thirtyof us there in a big group. We’d be there early, break up for dinner then meet up again at the same spot.

  One of the boys, Brett, lived on Graham Street not far from my house; I went to school with him at Campmeadows, and we played football and cricket together. He was one of the boys that boxed with us in our backyard bouts. He was also hearing voices.

  One night all the boys went home for dinner, as we usually did. We met back up at the Olsen Place shops on this particular night, but Brett had mentioned beforehand he was feeling sick and didn’t turn up; none of the boys thought anything of it. He would be either at the shops after dark or at Sutto’s house smoking dope.

  The next day, the boys and I were at school. The principal said to all of the students at assembly that Brett had died. At this point none of us knew how Brett had died; we were only young, not knowing how this could happen to a mate. It was devastating to hear that someone at such a young age could die.

  The day after, some of Brett’s mates and I were told by his family how Brett had died. He had gotten home from the shops to have dinner with his family. After dinner, Brett had gone out to the back of his house
, and hanged himself in the garage. Brett was twelve years of age.

  All the boys attended his funeral, alongside family and friends. The school held a minute’s silence for Brett. He was a wild boy growing up in the ‘Bronx’ of Broadmeadows. Brett used to get underneath the school to collect spiders and chase the grade six girls around, throwing the spiders at them or putting them in some of the girls’ lunchboxes. Brett loved spiders, and loved life.

  After completing grade six at Campmeadows Primary School, all the boys went to different secondary schools. I went to Glenroy Technical School with some of my mates from Campmeadows, while other mates went to Glenroy High School, or Broadmeadows Secondary College. We would still meet up at the Olsen Place shops and knock around with each other after school — that is, if we weren’t wagging school to begin with. We had grown into a big group; after school we formed a gang and hung around the Olsen Place shops in the Bronx of Broadmeadows.

  I was told later, in 1999, that there had been undercover police officers at Campmeadows Primary School, acting as school teachers. The whole thing had started with the Great Bookie Robbery of 1976 and the shooting of Ray Chuck Bennett in 1979; as a result the police were monitoring my entire family, including myself.

  I was now twelve years of age and attending Glenroy Technical School in Melbourne. There were also undercover police officers teaching me at Glenroy Technical School. The underworld in Melbourne was strong, and not only were the underworld gangs out of control, but also corrupt officials. I was caught in the middle, and barely knew it.

  About six months or so after Brett had killed himself, we had another big night at the Olsen Place shops — our hunting grounds. The older boys would be selling drugs and getting into fights with other gangs from other areas that would try to make a claim on our stomping ground. The older boys were also into hot gear, stealing what they could grab and selling it on. My crew would gate crash parties and hit nightclubs around Melbourne.