MEANS OF PRODUCTION

It was 5:19 pm on 27 March 1984 when Ernie Abbott, caretaker and hotblooded unionist, was blown to smithereens after he picked up a briefcase left by a man in a suit on the ground floor of the Trades Hall in Wellington.

The bomb was sophisticated. It used a mercury switch to complete a circuit between two electrodes and set off the equivalent of several sticks of gelignite. It blew doors off their hinges and rendered facial recognition of no use in poor Ernie’s case—they had to identify him by his tattoos, matched to old photos. Thirty-five years on, the police haven’t closed his case, but they keep a watchful eye on