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Overview
Williams began serving his sentence in a high-security unit at Victoria's Barwon Prison. In October 2008 he was given access to a personal computer. Confined to a tiny cell for most of the day, and having limited contact with the outside world, the computer was a godsend. As soon as he received it, Carl began a daily correspondence with his friends and family, covering his life in jail, his thoughts and hopes for the future, and his views and opinions on everyone from barristers and judges to fellow criminals and deadly rivals. Just a year and a half later, Williams was bashed to death by a trusted friend and fellow prisoner.
Using his letters, Life Sentence paints a vivid picture of Carl's last 18 months. His writing is surprising, often manipulative, frequently self-serving, and always a fascinating and revealing insight into the mind of one of Australia's most notorious criminals.
"For years, others have spoken for Carl. In these letters, Carl tells his own story for the first time. It's like meeting the man behind the myth." —Adam Shand
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781760871864 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Allen & Unwin |
| Publication date: | 08/05/2019 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 384 |
| File size: | 7 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Dancing in the rain
For thirteen extraordinary years, the big story in Melbourne gangland was The Rise & Rise of Carl Williams.
Carl's twenty-first birthday, on 13 October 1991, was typical of the Williams madhouse. His mother, Barbara, was caught in flagrante with a minor criminal. Carl had a huge punch-up with his brother, Shane, who would be dead within a few years from an overdose. The birthday boy himself was working as a drug courier for local drug dealer Richard 'Kiwi Joe' Moran. Later, when Carl served a term in jail after a deal fell over (his conviction was later overturned), he temporarily parked his customer base with Mark Moran (no relation to Kiwi Joe) on the understanding that he would get a commission on those sales on his release from custody.
When he left jail, Carl believed Mark owed him $1 million.
Mark Moran's failure to pay that debt was like the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand in Sarajevo in June 1914 — a seemingly minor event that triggered a major cataclysm. Carl's 1999 birthday saw him being shot in the stomach by Jason Moran, and so began a vendetta that lasted for another decade. By the end of the so-called Gangland War at least 36 people had been killed.
* * *
On 9 June 2004 Carl Williams was riding high. Among the road kill were his three sworn enemies — the half-brothers, Mark and Jason Moran, and their father, Lewis Moran, were all now dead. Sure, Carl was out on bail on three serious offences at this time, but he could afford the best defence lawyers money could buy and they seemed to be running rings around the hapless Purana Taskforce, which Victoria Police had established to bring an end to the public slaughter. Nothing really for Carl to fear. And if he did, he could usually quell the feeling with cocaine, which he was habitually taking in his last years on the outside.
At 7.30 a.m. the police arrived at Carl's mum's place. Barb hadn't seen her son yet that morning, but she was planning to spoil him with his favourite breakfast: eggs, baked beans and chips. She hoped the smell might waft into his bedroom and rouse him. Instead, the police hauled him from his bed.
Carl was arrested and subsequently charged with ordering the murder of Michael Marshall, a hotdog stand owner and ecstasy runner who had been killed by two of Carl's hired hands. Unfortunately for them, their van had been bugged and the police had in their possession some pretty incriminating tapes of discussions between the killers and their paymaster, Carl. Not to mention audio of the killing as it took place.
Carl spent his time awaiting trial in the Melaleuca and Acacia units of HM Prison Barwon, which is situated just outside the town of Lara, near Geelong. At first, he was blithely confident of a good result, freedom even. In a note he sent to journalist Adam Shand in July 2004, he wrote cheerily:
Hello Adam
Well it was good to hear from you as it always is. As for me, I'm back here at HOTEL ACACIA, just taking a break for a while, everything's good no problems.
But Carl was on 23-hour lockdown in a cell that measured 4 by 3 metres and the Hotel Acacia knew very well how to play with the minds of its guests. As a small example, prisoners were allowed access to both newspapers and TV, but experience had shown that this only increased their sense of isolation. 'It's Hannibal Lecter stuff, mate,' was crime lord Mick Gatto's considered verdict after his release. 'A jail inside a jail.'
The hotel had on its guest list a Who's Who of the Gangland War. Apart from Gatto — a sworn enemy of Carl, who always referred to him as 'The Don' — there was Evangelos 'Ange' Goussis, who had killed Lewis Moran among others, and Carl's cousin Michael Thorneycroft, one of three accused of planning to kill Mario Condello (acting head of the Carlton Crew while Mick Gatto was serving time) and the first to crack under police pressure, testifying to the cops that Carl had confided to him he'd killed seven of his rivals. Flushed with this success, Purana Taskforce collaborated with jail authorities to make life as difficult as possible for these gangland inmates. This included carefully vetting placements inside Barwon, limiting visits and even human contact. They were fed disinformation about what their mates were saying about them, and what their wives and girlfriends were doing on the outside. At the same time, they were offered a way out by informing on their former associates, including Carl. It would prove the most successful tactic in achieving convictions from the Gangland War — probably the only one that actually worked.
The modus operandi of the Purana Taskforce, in collaboration with Corrections Victoria, was to move already-turned informers out of the mainstream prison population and into the various management units, such as Acacia. This was done by removing informers who may have initially been placed in Barwon's mainstream population by way of subterfuge.
The process would begin with a code aqua siren sounding, signifying a return of all inmates to their cells, then the Special Emergency Security Group would conduct a search of a tier of the particular unit that housed the informer. A rumour would be planted that contraband had been located in his cell and the inmate would be moved to a management unit. This operation would provide suitable cover for the informer to be moved into the unit targeted by the taskforce without arousing questions from other prisoners.
Sometimes official paperwork such as a police statement signed by the inmate, was received surreptitiously in the prison, revealing an inmate to be an informer. In the prison, this is called a professional bail, referring to 'bailing out' meaning — in prison terms — running away and escaping.
Under immense pressure, some of Carl's closest mates were bailing on him in order to lighten their sentences. Even Carl himself was beginning to ponder the wisdom of cooperation.
In July 2006 he was sentenced to 25 years' jail after a jury found him guilty of the murder of Michael Marshall. The following May he pleaded guilty to the murder of Jason and Lewis Moran, to the murder of drug trafficker Mark Mallia and to conspiracy to murder Mario Condello.
On 7 May 2007 Carl faced Justice Betty King and was sentenced to life imprisonment with a minimum of 35 years, commencing immediately. With almost three years already served, it was effectively a 38-year sentence.
Carl later wrote a letter to the media, claiming he was not guilty of the murder of Lewis Moran, but had only cut a deal to keep his father, George, and his wife, Roberta, out of jail. He said Justice King had prevented him from using his barrister of choice, Peter Faris, QC, by scheduling his trial when Faris was unavailable.
Addressing King, he said: 'I knew that you were placed here for a purpose, and that purpose is to convict anyone who comes before [you] in this so-called Gangland stuff despite what the evidence is. [How] can you come from the County Court with not very much experience and be given the biggest, highest profile case this state has seen in a long time?
'Last but certainly not least, you might have taken my freedom, but one thing I can assure you, you haven't and you will never be able to break me. I can look in the mirror and I'm proud of the person who I see, my family can always hold their head up high as I stood up for what I believed in, and I never sold my soul to the devil and I never will. Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.' At this stage, Carl's customary bravado was in evidence, but over time he would come to understand that life inside Barwon was hardly like life at all, at least as he had known it.
* * *
After the trial, Carl returned to Hotel Acacia and watched events continue to unfold.
Tony Mokbel had been Carl's partner in drug manufacture since the nineties. In 2002 'Fat Tony', as the media mob unkindly called him, had almost been beaten to death by bikies from Perth's Coffin Cheaters at a meeting Mick Gatto had convened at La Porcella restaurant in Carlton.
The Kuwaiti-born Mokbel was accused of paying Ange Goussis and another man $150,000 to kill Lewis Moran; having got wind that he would be charged with this crime, he skipped bail in March 2006 but was recaptured in Greece in June 2007.
Mokbel felt vulnerable in the Greek prison where he was placed but was taken under the wing of one of Australia's most respected underworld figures, Dimitrios Samsonidis, who in 2006 had been jailed for life in Greece over a $4 billion plot to manufacture ice and speed in Melbourne. Samsonidis had been arrested while trying to smuggle a tonne of ephedrine into Australia.
After unsuccessfully appealing against his extradition in the Greek courts, Mokbel finally arrived back in Melbourne on 17 May 2008 and checked into the Hotel Acacia.
Meanwhile the wife of his brother Milad, mother-of-three Renate Mokbel, was sentenced to two years' jail in 2006 for failing to provide the $1 million surety she had pledged for Fat Tony's bail. Described by those who knew her as an ordinary suburban housewife, Renate was allowed to take her two-year-old into the Dame Phyllis Frost women's prison.
In October 2008 Carl was residing in the Melaleuca Unit of Barwon Prison and had just been provided with a personal computer. This was a special privilege afforded very few inmates. Typically, a request would be granted only if the inmate was involved in preparing legal briefs or some other vital paperwork. And Carl was not doing that. In fact, he used the computer almost exclusively to write personal correspondence and to play games.
What emerges from his letters is a picture of Carl's circle of friends and associates. At one time, he had been a normal kid growing up in Broadmeadows, a working-class suburb in Melbourne's north. His friends had been the kids from the local area, schools and sports clubs. The Williams' family home had been full of these kids every weekend, and only a handful had ever got into trouble. But as Carl's criminal career blossomed, he began to drop these old mates. Some were afraid to be near him. A few stayed loyal, but Carl was living a different life in the underworld. He learnt that friendship was impermanent and alliances could shift swiftly and dramatically. After he was shot in 1999 by Jason Moran, Carl's personality began to change. The happy-go-lucky disposition of his youth gave way to a more serious and calculating one. He began to consume more of his own product and paranoia started to affect his personality. He wasn't alone. During this period, the gangland mindset didn't allow for any uncertainty: it was a case of where there was any doubt, there was no doubt. Killing someone whose loyalties were questioned was easier than taking a risk on trusting them. Discerning friends from phonies through a haze of drugs became a daily challenge in this twisted subculture.
After his incarceration, Carl withdrew even more into this criminal fraternity and the scope of his correspondence reflects this. Inmates understand the importance of letters —'kites' as they call them — from inside jail, even if they know that every word is scrutinised. Hearing someone else's news — even from another jail — is a welcome relief from the crushing monotony of their lives. Even if Carl hadn't been close to his pen pals on the outside, a feeling of unity was created if they could maintain a steady correspondence. But there were restrictions on what he could write about. Barwon's postmaster Charlene would collect the written letters and read through them for key words and phrases. If she found anything relating to violence, crime or war they would not be sent. Likewise, if they contained any sexually explicit material or images, they would be marked return to sender. Any attempt to send coded messages in letters between inmates in the jail could result in the correspondents being moved to a management unit or losing their privileges. For prisoners like Carl the only exception to this control was when inmates left management units for placements in the mainstream jail. Those inmates could often manage to carry mail hidden in their papers for delivery to select recipients. Otherwise, Barwon had a vice-like grip on body and mind. If an inmate agreed to become an informer, that grip could be relaxed. All they had to do was tell a few tales and a vista of opportunity could open up: sentence reductions, special placements with friends, lifting of restrictions on correspondence, even secret furloughs out of prison.
And so began Carl's written account of the last eighteen months of his life. He began to compose an avalanche of letters on his new toy — to his fellow inmates, to his out mates, to his family and to the occasional female fan. Naturally Tony Mokbel needed his advice on lawyers; Renate's husband, Milad Mokbel, needed cheering up. But his first letter was to his Tasmanian mate, Wayne Howlett.
17 October 2008 to Wayne Howlett
Wayne Howlett was a Tasmanian powerlifter who was sentenced to two years in Risdon Prison in December 2008 for drug trafficking. He was introduced to powerlifting as a young inmate at Risdon Prison by a prison guard.
Dear Wayne,
I trust this letter finds you in the very best of both health and spirits, as it leaves me fine.
I received your letter last night, and it was good to hear from you again as it always is.
I also received the paper clipping you sent me with your letter. That Ange is big for 74 kilo – all muscle, he looks a lot heavier than that, you yourself look pretty big in that photo – big shoulders.
You asked when will my appeal most likely be heard – sometime early next year – I'm tipping about February.
Also you asked who I think is the best Barrister in Victoria – in my opinion Robert Richter is the best. Others may say Con Heliotis, those two have a reputation as being the best in this state, people say Heliotis is the best cross-examiner in the Country, he is the one who represented me (but I could have had Merlin the magician representing me, and it would've made no difference – my case was too political – they just wanted me off the streets at all costs). I also like Colin Lovitt, and Peter Farris. Farris used to represent me for years.
Well I finally got my computer – and I'm rapt with it, its got everything I need, it helps pass the time like you wouldn't believe.
Roberta came out to see me earlier this week, it was good to see her, we had a good laugh – which you need to have in these places, especially when you're housed in this environment I am, and have been for years (around the corner – ha ha).
Well buddy I don't really have much more to say, therefore I'll leave it there for now, and I hope to hear from you again soon
Keep in touch.
Best wishes & respect – __________________________
Ps) Please give my best to your brother – thanks
26 October 2008 to Danny Heaney
Danny Heaney was sentenced in 1984 to thirteen years' jail for nine armed robberies; in 2004 he was sentenced for nine years with a minimum of six years for stabbing a woman.
Dear Danny,
I trust this letter finds you in the best of health and spirits, as it leaves me fine.
I received a letter from you late last week, and it was good to hear from you again as it always is.
Cox-Plate, what I would've given to be there with you. I love that day, in my opinion that's the best day of the carnival. I had a quaddie, and I went out in the 1st leg, and I got the other 3 legs, I liked [name deleted for legal reasons], the bloke who trains it gets the best juice.
I see that Roberta is now making T-shirts, fuck you've got to hand it to her, she's a tryer. Although I would much prefer it if my name was kept out of everything all together, but let's be realistic that's not going to happen anytime soon, so in saying that if it's going to be mentioned, I'd much rather her making money off my name, then the likes of the scum who have been, with lies and untruths.
Well buddy that's all for now, and I hope to hear from you again soon.
Best wishes & respect,
Your friend always – Carl
27 October 2008 to Danny Heaney
Dear Danny,
Well hello there my true and trusted, how's life treating you all good I hope as for me I'm fine.
I just received your letter in which you wrote yesterday, and it was my pleasure to hear from you again, as it always is.
We were locked down today from 11.30, some staff training or some bullshit. So it was a lazy day for me, I just messed around on the computer, leaning more and more things about it everyday, by the time I get out I should/will be a genius.
I have a different pin on my last 4 digits of my CRN. But you're some scum would be working overtime trying to crack the code, but let's be honest with one another, if they did crack it, what would they do, worst case scenario – call someone names, and if they got Roberta she'd call them worse names (ha ha). Mate they're all full of shit, weak loud mouths, who wouldn't do anything if you killed their loved ones in front of their faces – true!
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Life Sentence"
by .
Copyright © 2019 The Estate of Carl Williams.
Excerpted by permission of Allen & Unwin.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Cast of characters,
A note on the text,
1. Dancing in the rain,
2. 'The sudden passing away of my mother',
3. A well-overdue rotation,
4. Three's company,
5. The end of the affair,
6. 'In some strange way Roberta likes to think that she's still with me',
7. 'I have the looks, personality, and the women know where I am at all times',
8. A contest of narratives,
9. Living the dream,
10. The Williams family Christmas,
11. Down memory lane, heading towards oblivion,
The end: 19 April 2010,