Free Before I Sleep by Ray Whitrod Page A

written examination which I passed at the end of the second year.
    Apart from a superficial check of crime scenes by fingerprint experts, there was no forensic backup available and the development of criminal intelligence units was many years away. A few unsophisticated criminals were identified and convicted on fingerprint evidence alone, but a burglar doesn’t have to be very bright to know about wearing gloves. The most serious violent crimes were usually committed within domestic relationships, and astute interrogation routinely resolved these. The cleverest criminals, especially those of the white-collar variety, were probably never caught — if, indeed, their offences were ever reported or discovered. I noted that the most potent weapon in the fight against crime was the detective’s capacity to bluff a suspect by acting as if he knew a great deal more than he revealed. This skill was most successful when applied to offenders who actively wanted to confess. A surprising number were first timers. On one occasion, when I was twenty-two, I was alone on night duty when I was called out to a stabbing case. A woman had had a row with her husband because he had arrived home late for a meal. While they were eating the spoiled food, she picked up a carving knife and plunged it into her husband’s chest, killing him. When I arrived at the scene the woman was sobbing, saying she really didn’t mean to kill the man. Because it was a homicide and I was young, I followed the routine and sent the police driver to pick up my sergeant, but there was really no need: the distraught woman was keen to tell us everything that had happened.
    The more astute members of the CIB were extremely good at bluffing. When interviewing suspects who were not first timers, and therefore presumably literate in criminal jargon, the detectives often adopted a heavy, semi-jocular conversational style. I watched this style practised very effectively on many occasions over the years. It has many advantages. For one thing, if the interrogator goes too far with his insinuations, or more direct accusations, and wishes to retreat, he claims: “I was only joking. You weren’t stupid enough to think I was serious?” This was also often the mode of conversation amongst the CIB staff themselves, and it also appeared in discussions with bookmakers and other racecourse cronies.
    The detective’s ability to bluff was aided by a symbiotic relationship with the print media. In Adelaide at this time there were three newspapers — a morning and evening paper and the aforementioned independent weekly, Truth, which specialised in sensational stories. Each of these papers had full-time journalists (“crime reporters”) who were employed to obtained “scoops” from detectives. The price of these scoops was good publicity for the detectives. There was a positive, practical side to these stories — they weren’t entirely motivated by a desire for personal aggrandisement. These frequent mentions helped build up an image of the officers as astute interrogators who could quickly detect a falsehood and could outsmart suspects with cleverly devised questions. Believing this, many offenders abandoned hope before the interrogation had even begun.
    There was another technique which some detectives used to good effect. One member of a two-man team would become enraged and threaten violence without actually administering any. The second detective then posed as a more sympathetic officer who advised the suspect to confess. I understand variations of this tactic are occasionally employed today. With suspects who were not of working-class origin — and especially if they came from one of the professions — the interrogators were sometimes ill at ease, although those suspected of sexual, especially homosexual, offences did not seem to cause any such awkwardness, regardless of their social standing.
    I had many good