O'Connor QC, Chairman of the Anti-Corruption Commission and a close personal friend of Denis Glennon. Julie Bishop, who will later become a Federal MP. Michael Chaney, Wesfarmers boss. Top number-cruncher Peter Middleton and Neil Fearis. 'The Secure Community Foundation,' Fearis admits, 'was unashamedly pitched at the big end of town. This was no rattling of tins on street corners.' But it cauterised opinion as nothing else to date had done.
Denis Glennon's company, Environmental Solutions International, chipped in $50,000; law firm Blake Dawson Waldron, where Ciara worked, another $100,000. Big names in the Perth business community provided the rest. 'We went straight to those people with power, connections and money,' Fearis says. 'It was a corporate fundraiser, targeting captains of industry and all those who sport Armani suits in St George's Terrace. Our plea was simple. "Get on the phone to 20 of your wealthy mates and send us a cheque." But despite that, total strangers also walked in off the street, offering money to help. It was very humbling.'
It was also urgent. Behind the phone calls was the raw desperation that if they hurry and bolster police resources they might, just might, get to Ciara, alive. And every day, Fearis wades through the flowers and cards from well-wishers left in the foyer of his law firm. Ciara Glennon's disappearance has galvanised the city, linking the rich with the poor.
Police media liaison has the task of convincing the media that the foundation has not been set up to supplement a lack of police funds. The structure of the foundation is clear. From the start, police fund any required outlays and the money is then reimbursed. The structure is designed for transparency, to sidestep any possible allegation from the public that the powerful private figures on the board have any undue or improper influence on the police investigation. But for all their intentions, the transparency does not work.
Within a few weeks the initial fundraiser has secured $600,000 – money that pours out as quickly as it pours in. Not one of the eight proposals put before the SCF committee was rejected. An upmarket media campaign, including commercials with the theme, 'You may have a suspicion. Act on it now,' appeals for information from the public. Ten thousand responses flow in. Perth's Forensic Laboratory, the Path-Centre, which handles DNA profiling, was equipped with a quarter of a million dollars worth of genetic analysing equipment. Now used at Sir Charles Gairdner Hospital, the state government – the taxpayer – also put in a substantial amount toward the machine. This would become a bone of contention in scientific circles: a decade on, the centre has still not used the equipment for the Macro investigation.
The SCF and Macro officers also looked overseas for innovative, sophisticated means to investigate the case. The use of lie detectors – not admissible in any Australian court – was one avenue. The foundation would fund several trips to Perth for international experts, including polygraph operator, Ron Homer – twice – and criminal psychiatrists. The tactics used didn't always appear credible. The average punter on the street looked at the international maestros waving their credentials at Perth airport and the whiz-bang technology and asked: all well and good, but where are the results?
Within weeks, the foundation funds a haunting re-enactment of Ciara's last movements as she breezes around the Conti-nental catching up with friends before moving outside. Her friends, including Neil Fearis, agree to play their own roles in the re-enactment. An eerie silence hangs over the actors in between takes, but some revellers at the pub, fuelled by booze and bad manners, start heckling. They stop abruptly when a furious and distraught Fearis warns them to shut up.
Critics of the foundation start baying early. Civil libertarian and defence lawyer Terry O'Gorman slams the use of private money as
Denis Glennon's company, Environmental Solutions International, chipped in $50,000; law firm Blake Dawson Waldron, where Ciara worked, another $100,000. Big names in the Perth business community provided the rest. 'We went straight to those people with power, connections and money,' Fearis says. 'It was a corporate fundraiser, targeting captains of industry and all those who sport Armani suits in St George's Terrace. Our plea was simple. "Get on the phone to 20 of your wealthy mates and send us a cheque." But despite that, total strangers also walked in off the street, offering money to help. It was very humbling.'
It was also urgent. Behind the phone calls was the raw desperation that if they hurry and bolster police resources they might, just might, get to Ciara, alive. And every day, Fearis wades through the flowers and cards from well-wishers left in the foyer of his law firm. Ciara Glennon's disappearance has galvanised the city, linking the rich with the poor.
Police media liaison has the task of convincing the media that the foundation has not been set up to supplement a lack of police funds. The structure of the foundation is clear. From the start, police fund any required outlays and the money is then reimbursed. The structure is designed for transparency, to sidestep any possible allegation from the public that the powerful private figures on the board have any undue or improper influence on the police investigation. But for all their intentions, the transparency does not work.
Within a few weeks the initial fundraiser has secured $600,000 – money that pours out as quickly as it pours in. Not one of the eight proposals put before the SCF committee was rejected. An upmarket media campaign, including commercials with the theme, 'You may have a suspicion. Act on it now,' appeals for information from the public. Ten thousand responses flow in. Perth's Forensic Laboratory, the Path-Centre, which handles DNA profiling, was equipped with a quarter of a million dollars worth of genetic analysing equipment. Now used at Sir Charles Gairdner Hospital, the state government – the taxpayer – also put in a substantial amount toward the machine. This would become a bone of contention in scientific circles: a decade on, the centre has still not used the equipment for the Macro investigation.
The SCF and Macro officers also looked overseas for innovative, sophisticated means to investigate the case. The use of lie detectors – not admissible in any Australian court – was one avenue. The foundation would fund several trips to Perth for international experts, including polygraph operator, Ron Homer – twice – and criminal psychiatrists. The tactics used didn't always appear credible. The average punter on the street looked at the international maestros waving their credentials at Perth airport and the whiz-bang technology and asked: all well and good, but where are the results?
Within weeks, the foundation funds a haunting re-enactment of Ciara's last movements as she breezes around the Conti-nental catching up with friends before moving outside. Her friends, including Neil Fearis, agree to play their own roles in the re-enactment. An eerie silence hangs over the actors in between takes, but some revellers at the pub, fuelled by booze and bad manners, start heckling. They stop abruptly when a furious and distraught Fearis warns them to shut up.
Critics of the foundation start baying early. Civil libertarian and defence lawyer Terry O'Gorman slams the use of private money as
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