Abandoned: The Sad Death of Dianne Brimble

By Geesche Jacobsen

Drugs, sex, and a pack of unscrupulous men circling, circling—it was always going to get ugly but none foresaw the tragic death of a young woman. On September 24, 2002, Queensland mother Dianne Brimble was found dead in a cabin on the cruise ship Pacific Sky, less than 24 hours into what was to be the holiday of a lifetime. The cabin belonged to four men from Adelaide who were part of a group of eight colorful characters, whom the media would later describe as the most hated men in Australia. Within hours of her death it emerged that she had been showered and dressed before medical help was called. Soon there were rumors of drug use and group sex, which grew into allegations of rape and murder. P+O personnel failed to secure the cabin, allowing the men back in to collect their belongings thus making the truth even more difficult to determine. A police investigation, a high-profile inquest, a grieving family, and a criminal trial probed what went on in those few crucial early morning hours ending in her death. This extraordinary case, which captivated Australia, highlights the lines between criminal and moral responsibility and how easily things can get out of hand when care is abandoned.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allen Unwin
• Release date: Oct 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9781742691473

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Geesche Jacobsen has been a journalist for more than 13 years and has reported on court cases and crime since 2004. She reported on the inquest into Dianne Brimble’s death and on Mark Wilhelm’s trial for the Sydney Morning Herald. She is currently that paper’s Crime Editor.

Geesche has also contributed a chapter to Through Other Eyes, a book on the Fred Hollows Foundation, and has put together an ABC radio documentary about the Theresienstadt concentration camp.

Geesche was born in Germany, studied at Oxford, completed a PhD in politics and used to work in banking.

The Sad Death of Dianne Brimble

ABANDONED

GEESCHE JACOBSEN

First published in 2010

Copyright © Geesche Jacobsen 2010

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

Allen & Unwin

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Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available

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ISBN 978 1 74175 454 4

Cover photos: Above: Dianne Brimble

Below: Eight men boarding. Back row, left to right: Mark Wilhelm,

Matthew Slade, Dragan Losic, Petar Pantic. Front row left to right:

Ryan Kuchel, Letterio Silvestri, Luigi Vitale, Charlie Kambouris

Typeset in 11.5/16 pt Bembo by Post Pre-press Group

Printed and bound in Australia by Griffin Press

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To the memory of those who died alone.

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Dramatis Personae

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Author’s Note

Many thanks to my publisher, and my family, friends and colleagues who have encouraged and supported me in this endeavour and have tolerated me spending much time and energy on this project.

Thanks also to those who shared their views and knowledge of this case, but wished to remain anonymous.

This book is based on the recollections of dozens of people. Sometimes their memory of events, or of their sequence, differed. The passage of time, intoxication, failings of memory or self-interest can account for this.

I have chosen the version I believe most credible, likely or which was supported by other evidence.

But there are still some questions, which might remain unanswered forever.

If you know something which may shed some light, please feel free to drop me a line by email to [e-mail].

I hope you will enjoy reading this book and forming a view about what happened on board the Pacific Sky and afterwards, and about what led to the sad death of Dianne Brimble.

Dramatis Personae

1.

Dianne Brimble introduced herself. He had caught her eye earlier—you could not fail to notice Dragan Losic. Even among his group of travelling companions, the 41-year-old stood out— broad-shouldered, with a distinctive goatee, and standing 6 feet 4 inches tall. They met at the bar when Dragan was buying two drinks while she was chatting to Gamu Chard, the son of friends she was travelling with. She was 5 feet 6, with an olive complexion; her thick, wavy black hair was tied in a ponytail and when she smiled her face lit up and her white, perfect teeth shone in the dim light of the disco.

It was 1.51 a.m. ‘How is your holiday going?’ Dragan asked, perhaps somewhat prematurely. After all, the Pacific Sky had sailed from Sydney less than nine hours ago and they both expected their South Pacific adventure to last another nine days.

‘Fine,’ she said, and they chatted for a few minutes. She lived on the outskirts of Brisbane, and was travelling in a party of eleven with her young daughter Tahlia and other family and friends. She was enjoying the night, dancing, meeting people and having a few drinks.

He had come from Adelaide with seven other men, and Dianne had noticed some of them earlier that afternoon when she had first seen Dragan. They were bursting with muscles and probably worked out regularly; they were guys who looked after themselves, physically. And they were boisterous and already partying loudly.

That first night at the Starlight Disco was singles’ night. The music was pumping, but the nightclub was now starting to clear from its busiest time, which had been about an hour earlier. Perhaps a quarter of the ship’s 1600 passengers had then mingled in the disco—both indoors and on the outdoors dance floor, where they could dance under the mild September sky.

‘Nice to meet youse,’ Dragan said, after they had chatted for a while. He then returned with the drinks to Petar Pantic, the friend he thought of as a younger brother.

A little later Letterio Silvestri was standing at a high, round table on the left side of the disco facing the bar, talking to another of the eight Adelaide men and drinking Southern Comfort and Coke. Leo, as he preferred to be called, had watched Dianne being flirty with other passengers in the disco all night. He was ‘trying to get lucky’ that night, perhaps even trying to beat his travelling companions and be the first to score. But, despite that, he hoped Dianne would not approach him, because she was simply not his type.

Leo was a little taller than her and of a lean build, with thinning dark brown hair; but Dianne, since she had had Tahlia, was no longer the slim woman she used to be. And Leo liked his women petite.

Dianne did not sense his assessment of her and crossed the dance floor from the DJ’s box and walked towards Leo. With a spring in her step, she smiled and waved. ‘Hello, how are you?’ she asked.

Leo brushed her off. He said something like, ‘Please leave us alone,’ concealing his less charitable thoughts. His mouth and jaw were twitching as he spoke and he had trouble sitting still. She took the hint and moved on to meet other people.

Soon after Dianne walked away from him, Leo retired to his cabin: D182, the cabin he shared with three of the eight Adelaide men, which was on Dolphin Deck, the lowest of the ship’s accommodation decks, just above the waterline and five storeys below the disco where the crowd was thinning. Here Leo took out his contact lenses, swallowed three sleeping pills and went to bed.

Earlier, a security guard, Olsen Va’afusuaga, had tried to calm Leo down, believing something was affecting him. Mr Va’afusuaga—who was generally known as Mr V, because no-one could remember his name—told Leo that his jumping up and down made him look ‘like a monkey’. Pretending to give him a clip over the ear, he advised Leo that running around madly was no way to score. Mr V enjoyed his banter with Leo, but he thought the small, twitchy Adelaide man was the loser of the night.

That evening Mr V was assigned to work in the Starlight Disco, where it was his job to prevent trouble. He had noticed the eight muscular men from Adelaide when he started work and had decided to keep an eye on them. They stood out from the crowd, not just because of their size—they were louder than other groups and some of them were also more exuberant. They were confident and seemed like the kind of men who might cause trouble.

Mr V made a point of talking to some of them throughout the night, to make sure they were aware of his presence. He was a rather small man, who established his authority not by his stature but by getting to know the larger groups. His boss did not like him socialising with the passengers when he should be working, but he had found that a friendly chat with potential troublemakers usually helped keep things calm.

Another of the security guards, Peter Hawthorne, sat in the disco near the DJ’s box most of the night. From there he could observe the activity on the disco’s outside deck through a window, as well as the dimly lit area indoors. Sometimes he moved to patrol the outdoor area.

At about 2.30 a.m., when perhaps 30 passengers were left dancing and partying, he opened the door to the deck and walked outside. At that moment a pair of hands grabbed him around his waist and swayed him from side to side. He turned around and met Dianne, who was looking for someone to dance with. He smiled and nodded, acknowledging another happy passenger.

A little later, Dianne and Gamu were sitting near some of the eight Adelaide men—watching and talking to some of them. To Gamu they looked like bodybuilders. Leo wore a silver necklace and singlet. Dragan sported a bracelet on his right arm and an earring in his left ear. Dianne found them attractive. They watched and talked about whether the men might be gay. Gamu, who is hard of hearing, might have spoken too loudly; the men he was talking about overheard him, but laughed off the comment. To Dianne though, it was a bonus. She told Gamu she liked gay men and considered them a security blanket, because they were unlikely to harm her.

It was Dianne’s first cruise, but Stephen Hart had been on many. He was, however, not there to enjoy himself, he was working on board as a magician. This time he was contracted to perform two children’s magic shows. The rest of his time was leisure; although, as one of the entertainers, he was still considered the face of P&O and expected to behave appropriately.

Earlier in the evening he had attended the Welcome Aboard show, in which all the entertainers on the cruise participated so as to show their skills. After it finished, at about 10.30 p.m., he caught up with some fellow entertainers he had met on previous trips, and then headed to the Starlight. Across the room he made eye contact with Dianne. He was attracted to her. She smiled at him and Hart walked over to her and started talking.

He was a short man, his hair thinning and his face twisted slightly as if he had suffered an injury in childhood. He appeared shy and somewhat socially inept—not a born performer. It was hard to imagine him holding the attention of the crowd during a show; perhaps, when he slipped on his magician’s outfit, he became a different man and his features helped him pull funny faces. They talked for a while before he asked Dianne for a dance.

Gamu, who had been Dianne’s drinking and dancing buddy for the night, was now left sitting on his own as she enjoyed somebody else’s company. After some time he decided to retire for the night.

On the way, he went past the casino, only to find it already closed.

It was about 3 a.m. when he came back to the cabin he shared with his family. His mother Nancy was still awake; she had been unable to go to sleep until her eldest son had returned.

‘Where’s Dianne?’ she asked.

‘Oh, she’s still upstairs,’ Gamu replied.

He had another cigarette, a shower, and went to sleep.

Upstairs in the Starlight, Hart had taken a break from dancing to drink some of his beer, which he could barely find in the dark disco. It was only when he felt something with a crumbly texture in his throat as he swallowed that he noticed someone had dropped a cigarette into his drink. It made him feel sick, as if he would have to throw up, and he left the disco straight away to go back to his cabin.

Dianne remained in the disco and continued to party.

It was about 3.30 a.m., half an hour before the official closing time for the disco. Mr V decided he would stay until the Starlight was cleared and locked up—he had radioed the other security guards to say he would watch the Adelaide group until they left.

He joined the men for another chat, mainly talking to Dragan and his close friend Petar, known as Pete, whose blond hair and bright smile gave him a bit of a surfie look. The men were interested in his work as a security guard—they had both worked as nightclub bouncers in Adelaide and wondered how he had landed his job on the ship. While talking to him, they boasted about their physical training and their expertise in martial arts.

Dianne walked up to the group of about eight to ten people and asked Dragan if she could join them. ‘No worries,’ he said.

Dianne, a keen dancer, asked Dragan to dance with her; but, still deep in conversation with Mr V, he declined. Pete also said no— ‘Do you mind, this is a private conversation,’ he said, suggesting brusquely that Dianne should leave. She laughed it off and stayed in the men’s company.

Moments later another of the Adelaide Eight, Ryan Kuchel, joined the group. Ryan was less muscular than most of his companions and his round, soft-featured face and dimpled cheeks made him appear younger than his 35 years. Dianne approached him, first asking for the time, then for a dance. But Ryan, who had been drinking all night, was too tired.

Dianne tried to change his mind, hoping that if she dragged him onto the dance floor he would relent. But this only made Ryan conclude Dianne was a little over the top. ‘No, look, I’ve really got to go to bed,’ he said, as he made his way to cabin D182, which he shared with Leo and two others. Dianne, apparently unperturbed by the knock-back, stayed with the group.

Apart from this group, only five or six couples remained in the disco. Many passengers had left their homes around Australia at the break of dawn the previous morning to travel to Sydney and board the Pacific Sky. Many did not stay up late, exhausted from the early start, the excitement, the fresh sea air, and a little too much celebrating.

Sometimes the disco would run for an extra hour, if there were plenty of patrons. But tonight was not the night for that. At 3.45 a.m., it was time to call last orders.

Dianne bought another drink. Minutes later Pete spent $54 at the bar, possibly buying a round of drinks for those who remained in his group. On the Pacific Sky $4.50 bought you a single nip of bourbon, rum or whisky. Pete paid $45 and $9 in two separate transactions processed by the bar at the same time, as if he had suddenly realised he had forgotten someone for a round of doubles.

As well as Dragan and Pete, their travelling companion Mark Wilhelm was also at the Starlight. At some stage towards the end of the night, Dragan suggested Mark might like to take Dianne for a dance. Mark—a short, stocky, but muscular man with mousy hair, thin lips, a Germanic look and a pinkish complexion—obliged, but danced with Dianne for just one song.

Dianne’s drink probably stayed, briefly unobserved, on a table. She had been drinking steadily—rum or bourbon and Coke were her usual choice. That afternoon she had added $200 credit to her stored value card, used to pay for purchases on the ship, and already she had spent about a third of that.

After their dance, Dianne and Mark rejoined the group. Dianne kept dancing on the spot, while chatting to some of the other passengers. Meanwhile Dragan had sat down, arms crossed, legs stretched out onto a cushioned chair in front of him. Pete stood behind him.

Mr V continued to engage with the group. He found both Mark and Pete alert and still sharp, and thought their conversation was witty and interesting. They were moving quickly and looking around, as though they were ready for more action. Within earshot of Mr V, and for the benefit of others in the group, both men boasted they had ‘chicks all over Adelaide’.

By now Dianne was the only female in the group. She was not talking much but laughing a lot. To the security guard, with years of experience dealing with people under the influence of alcohol, she seemed happy, but not too drunk.

Everyone appeared relaxed. Then one of the men asked Dianne for a massage. She said no—and all of a sudden a torrent of swear words was hurled at her. Mr V intervened, ready to prevent trouble. ‘We don’t speak to ladies like that around here,’ he said. The offender apologised and Dianne, seemingly unaffected, stayed in the men’s company.

Sitting at Dragan’s left, she reached out and touched his leg, somewhere below the knee. Mr V considered it playful touching, not a sexual advance. But Pete took offence. ‘Can you please stop touching my mate’s leg?’ he asked. She chuckled, apparently not worried by Pete’s comment.

But Dragan became embarrassed. ‘Come on, could you please cut that out?’ Pete said. She smiled, and took her hand off Dragan’s leg, but stayed with the men.

Dianne was friendly, happy and bubbly, Dragan thought. A bit flirtatious, perhaps. She was about his age, having turned 42 the previous April. Pete, at only 25, thought she was making a fool of herself. She was giggly, seemed a little drunk and forward. Embarrassing behaviour for an elderly lady.

Mr V sensed Dianne seemed eager to be with the men. She shifted her attention away from Dragan and Pete, and again spoke to Mark who was sitting nearby. The talk around the table turned to what lay ahead on the cruise: the stops, the sights, the activities. Tomorrow, it would be a pyjama party theme night.

They were now the last group in the disco. At about 4.20 a.m. they finished their drinks and it was time to leave. Someone asked where they could go now. The Pizzeria, on the deck below, was the only venue still open. Mr V watched Dragan, Pete and Mark walk out through the front door. Dianne went with them.

Minutes later another security guard walked past Dianne in a corridor on the deck below. She seemed very intoxicated and was staggering and he watched as she and Mark walked away from the Pizzeria towards the stairs and lifts at the rear of the ship, which would take them down to their cabins on the Dolphin Deck.

The Pacific Sky had returned to Sydney early on Monday morning, September 23, 2002, from its previous cruise. Within a short time, all its passengers had to leave and staff had to clean the ship and prepare it for the next load of holiday-makers. Tonnes of fresh food and drink were taken on board, to provide for the nearly 2200 guests and crew.

From lunchtime a new load of travellers started arriving at Darling Harbour’s Wharf 8. It was a cloudy day with the temperature around 18 degrees, and the air was moist.

Dianne Brimble and her 12-year-old daughter Tahlia Mitchell had left their home in Margate on Brisbane’s Redcliffe Peninsula on the Friday before. They had flown to Sydney with Dianne’s sister Alma Wood and Alma’s daughter Kari-Anne, also 12. The four had then driven to Lake Macquarie, south of Newcastle, for one day and also gone sightseeing around the NSW capital. At about 10 a.m. that Monday they met their friends, the Seeto and the Chard families, at Wharf 8. After dropping off their bags at the terminal, the small party made its way to the nearby Rocks tourist district for some duty-free shopping.

By early afternoon the happy group was ready to board. Alma was a frequent traveller, but for Dianne it was a long-anticipated moment—it had taken her more than two years to save enough money. She only wished she could have saved more, so she could also have brought her two sons.

As they checked in, their photo was taken for their identity pass, which doubled as a stored-value card for the ship’s shops. Another official photographer captured most of the group as they climbed the gangway onto the ship. Dianne—who wore light blue jeans, a loose-fitting navy-blue blouse with a small pattern, and a cardigan—smiled broadly into the camera and waved.

The wharf sits a few hundred metres down the hill from Wyn-yard railway station in Sydney’s CBD. Passengers were now arriving from everywhere—on foot, by taxi, by car or by shuttle bus which stopped outside the large terminal building. They dropped off their bags, which were x-rayed before being taken on board and delivered to their cabins. Passengers had to walk through a metal detector and have their hand luggage screened before they were allowed to set foot on deck.

The terminal, with its 10-metre-high ceiling and glass windows on three sides, had the atmosphere of an airport check-in hall. The promise of the journey ahead lay right before their eyes—the Pacific Sky was visible through the windows.

This white, 11-storey high cruiseliner, with its distinctive blue and yellow stripe, offered 600 cabins, ranging from cheap four-berth cabins to the more luxurious balcony suites. However, this was not a cruise targeting the luxury market. This was cruising at the affordable end of the market—something that appealed to young, active singles and families with children. Its facilities—including bars, restaurants, shops and a nightclub—also made the ship more akin to a floating club than an upmarket retreat for wealthy widows.

The ship would take them on a nine-day journey with three stops in the South Pacific. They were to reach the first stop, Nou-mea, the capital of New Caledonia, after three nights at sea. After allowing passengers to explore Noumea, the ship would sail in the late afternoon past the Isle of Pines to Mystery Island, to the south of Vanuatu. Here, small boats would take passengers ashore, where locals ply their wares for tourists on the otherwise deserted island. Later that day the ship would sail on to Port Vila, Vanuatu’s capital. After the day ashore the Pacific Sky would take a further three days to return to Sydney, where it was expected early on 2 October.

During their journey passengers could enjoy the ship’s facilities, which also included theatres, a casino, pools, a gym and a walking track. There was a spa, games rooms, a library, and children’s facilities.

The eight men had arrived from Adelaide that morning. Their plane had left late; nevertheless Mark Wilhelm had managed to miss it and needed to catch the next flight. But by lunchtime they were all gathered outside the cruise ship terminal in Sydney.

There they posed for a photograph that was to become famous, with the terminal building and its large red figure ‘8’ behind them. Mark was in the back row, his arms folded in front of him, squinting at the camera. Next to him was Matthew Slade, and then Dragan, towering, and Pete, who had his hand on Dragan’s shoulder. At their feet squatted Ryan, looking a little more formal than the rest of them wearing a shirt and carrying a computer bag stuffed with belongings, and Leo. On the right were friends of Dragan and Pete—Luigi Vitale