And Giving Voice to Judith and Susan Mackay
Dear Carolynn
As with every August 26, I take this opportunity to make sure as many people as possible give thought to two beautiful little girls, Judith (7) and Susan (5), who were taken 55 years ago today. Even though I never met them, their siblings or their mum and dad, they to me are my little soul sisters. Naturally, I can’t speak from inside the Mackay family, or those who are closely associated, therefore this is my personal journey from the outside looking in as to how their murders changed how I view life.
“If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a village to abuse a child.”
Mitchell Garabedian: Spotlight
This blog contains some very upsetting content and may be triggering.
It was a typical morning at home on Sunday 30 August, 1970. The winter westerly winds blow around this time of the year, but nothing, not even those bitterly cold winds could ever have stopped me from getting out of bed so as to not waste a single moment of a non-school day. I was nine years-old, so I was up early, went to the front yard and picked up the newspaper that had been delivered during the early hours before sitting at the kitchen table to eat my breakfast.
There was something unique about the experience of sliding the rubber band from the rolled up and delivered Sunday newspaper. A woody and ink type odour escaped as one would bend the newspaper back and around into its original flat shape, all while trying to avoid getting newsprint on the hands, which I hated. The Sunday paper was always thick; not just the newspaper itself but a lift-out TV guide, weekend magazine and inserts added to the weightiness of every Sunday publication. However, on this day there was an extra weight in this particular edition; an in-depth story that weighed heavily in the hearts of all Australian’s. The murders of Judith and Susan Mackay.
Two days earlier, Friday 28 August, 1970, and after being missing for two days, the bodies of Judith and Susan were found in the dry bed of Antill Creek, south west of Townsville in northern Queensland, Australia. The in-depth story was written by a reporter for the Sunday Truth (later Sunday Sun) who, on the 26th hurriedly packed his bags to fly from Brisbane to Townsville to cover the search for the missing girls. It was also this man’s 35th birthday. That reporter is my late father, Brian.
At the age of nine, it’s fair to admit that I wasn’t fully attuned to the horrors that human beings can inflict upon children. The moment I saw on the front page the photograph (above), I found my eyes meticulously scanning the entire pic from left to right and top to bottom.
Every emotion I didn’t know I possessed flooded through my system when I looked at little Susan’s left wrist. My then nine month old sister had chubby little wrists like her. Suddenly, I no longer saw the six o’clock TV news stories about ‘The Mackay Sisters’, I saw Judith and Susan Mackay, and my heart broke.
I can’t bring myself to explain further, nor do I think I need to paint a picture in words what these little girls went through–you can read it on this page to better understand, but it is not enjoyable reading. The EVIL That Is Arthur Stanley Brown. (Following his arrest almost thirty years later, the alleged was neither found guilty nor not guilty due to a hung jury before his dementia prevented a retrial).
One moment I was reading a sad newspaper story written by my father about an horrendous evil that took him away from home for a few days, to the next moment feeling like these little girls were my sisters. Two beautiful angelic lives taken in such brutal ways. That split second changed everything for me.
The Flow On
I recall a Levi’s jeans ad that was on TV at that time in 1970, and it was aired regularly. A young man wearing, Levi’s jeans, on his own in an old country pub bar and shooting pool. Throughout the 30 second ad, before striking each pool ball, he would look up at a mirror and see a young woman looking back at him–a ghostly figure of his recent past love?
I’m unsure if I misinterpreted the real meaning of the ad because it’s a weird way to sell jeans, but every time it came on, I thought of Judith and Susan and it made me feel incredibly sad. The ad was so haunting, and TV then was still only black and white which added to the hauntingly dark context.
Looking back, I wonder if what happened to Judith and Susan, plus the grief left behind for their loving parents and siblings, and this simple jeans ad penetrated my young mind; without fully understanding the impact, I saw for the first time life as it is–beautiful, fun, evil, and fragile.
For a lengthy period of time after Judith and Susan were taken, the koala photo sat in the paper feeder of a very old Imperial typewriter my great-grandfather left to my dad. It wasn’t a practical typewriter for the times, so it was a decoration for one of a better word in the lounge room.
I never asked dad how much this story he worked on affected him, but I think the photo resting there for a lengthy period of time tells me more than he might have been able to say. I certainly couldn’t walk past that pic without thinking about them–not that Judith and Susan were ever too far from my thoughts, and still to this day never far from my thoughts.
In one way, this Sunday morning, 30 September, 1970 made me grow up and realise that life can end in an instant, that crossing paths with another can be wonderful, indifferent or lead to a brutal and selfish ending–or be all three at once. In another way, this very same Sunday morning possibly left me with an attitude that life should be enjoyed, therefore, stay a little less grown up.
So I finish where I started, Carolynn–as always on this day, August 26, I take this opportunity to make sure as many people as possible give thought to two beautiful little girls who left us 55 years ago today. And with an edge of discomfort in doing so, at the same time I wish my late father a happy 90th.
Please spare a special thought today for Judith, Susan and all children who are murdered. Also, spare a thought for those who survived the brutality only to succumb in the long run. Please spare a thought too for those who continue to survive. Put into your phone the appropriate emergency number to your area and NEVER be afraid to use it in case. Remember that abuse is not only about strangers, it also goes on inside the four walls of a home. It’s up to all of us to be vigilant at all times.
RIP Judith, Susan and Carolynn, and all the other angels who are with you.
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