As the evening wore on with breaks to attend the washing machine — it was an old fashioned twin tub job — and to fry up some bacon and eggs and make some salads and so forth, we finally settled on what we thought would be the most plausible scenario. Dirk staggers off after Hansie had maybe hit him and stumbles or falls down the bank and into the pool, where he splashes about trying to sober himself up. Then he climbs the bank alongside the rock but no sooner has he got to the path than he trips and falls four feet onto the rock. His two hundred seventy pounds jolt it loose, and he continues his journey backwards, landing in the riverbed and banging his head on a stone and maybe hurting himself in other places. He turns over and starts to crawl out, but the rock gets him. We were satisfied with that. It wasn’t true, but it was an explanation that would satisfy the majority that, however strange it seemed, the “accident” was possible. Now all we had to do was wait and see what the coroner made of it all.
The inquest took place in the courthouse on the Tuesday afternoon following the accident. The magistrate who sat in as coroner did a very professional job, considering he was only a jumped up J.P. He had been well briefed by Piet van Vliet, George’s partner (who had no doubt been briefed by George), and carried out the procedure to everyone’s satisfaction. He began with George and me, who explained the finding of the body, including Rina’s phone call in the morning.
Rina was next, and he gave her quite a rough time on the subject of her not noticing her husband’s absence earlier. This brought out the embarrassing fact that they occupied separate bedrooms and that it was not a happy marriage and that her husband treated her badly because, she thought, she had failed to give him a child. She also told the coroner that she had looked into her husband’s bedroom as soon as she had risen and the bed appeared to have been slept in, so she had assumed he was somewhere on the farm. Her maid, one Sabina Ambraal, told her, however, that because of all the preparations for the bridge party she hadn’t found time to make the bed on the Saturday morning.
Then it was Hansie’s turn as the last person to see Dirk alive. Hansie admitted that he and his brother hadn’t been on very good terms. Hansie resented being always treated like a small boy, being patronized and told what to do. And on that night of all nights, when they should have forgotten their differences, they had both drunk too much, and the tensions between them had increased. At the end of the evening Dirk was very drunk, and he, Hansie, who wasn’t quite so bad, decided he had better walk his brother home because neither of them was in a fit state to drive. They argued all the way, and by the time they got to the new bridge, a real slanging match had developed. At the coroner’s insistence Hansie admitted that it was because Dirk was accusing him of having an affair with his wife, which was quite untrue and damaging to his own marriage. Dirk had aimed a blow at him, which he managed to avoid, but he was frightened because his brother was eight inches taller than he and twice his weight. He stooped and picked up a stone to defend himself, an act that infuriated Dirk, who bent to get a stone for himself. This brought his head down, and Hansie had hit him on the back of the head. Not hard enough to knock him out but enough to send him reeling across the bridge, and Hansie had, frankly, fled. A few minutes later he heard Dirk splashing about in the shallow pool and had thought, good, no harm done and the cold water will sober him up. He was very contrite and wanted to take the blame for the accident. I shouldn’t have left him to make his own way home. I could at least have stayed nearby in case he got himself into difficulties. The coroner told him not to blame himself.
Lisa made a brief appearance to confirm that her husband and brother-in-law had gone off together about one A.M. She had gone straight to bed. She was disgusted with the men’s drunken behavior, and when her husband had returned at about half past one and told her what had happened, she had merely remarked that she wished that they had both fallen off the bridge.
The police evidence consisted of the sergeant’s description of how he had been called to the scene and how he had helped to remove a large boulder that was lying on the body and how, after a brief examination by Dr. Masson, he had delivered the body to the hospital. He produced his photographs of the site and the body for the coroner’s scrutiny. He further stated that there were no signs of a struggle but pointed out that an exceptionally heavy storm had struck somewhere about two A.M., causing the river to rise and obliterate any footprints that might have existed. He told how he had later returned to the farms and questioned Mrs. Rina Theron and Mr. and Mrs. Johannes Theron as to their whereabouts on the fatal night. He had also questioned the farm staffs without learning anything that pointed to anything other than an accident. The coroner thanked him and complimented him on his thoroughness. And I suppose, apart from not spotting the wet clothes and the loose fence post, there wasn’t much else he could have done.
Dr. Masson stated that he had carried out an autopsy and that in his opinion death had resulted from the horrendous injuries that occurred when the victim had been crushed under a very big boulder. Questioned about the possibility of death’s having occurred before the man had been crushed, he said that he thought that unlikely. There had been a blow to the back of the head that he considered not serious enough to have caused concussion and certainly not death. Death had not been caused by drowning, by heart attack, or by stroke. Blood alcohol level had been extremely high, and he went on to speculate that Dirk had probably stumbled from the track and fallen heavily onto the boulder and from there onto the dry bed or into very shallow water, almost certainly injuring himself severely. Then, before he could crawl away, the rock, loosened by his fall, had rolled on him.
The coroner was quick to point out that this was pure speculation and could not be considered as evidence. For myself, I was delighted that Frank Masson had come up with the same scenario that we had invented. I suspected that George had had something to do with it, but he swore blind that he hadn’t. I felt that the doctor’s (misinformed) speculation would set at rest the minds of the many who probably could not bring themselves to believe that such an accident could happen.
The coroner then inquired if anybody in the court had anything to add that would help him with his verdict, but there were no takers. Oom Wynand knew when to hold his peace. The coroner then spoke at some length about the events leading up to the tragedy and expressed his sympathy to the family of the deceased. He said he could find no evidence to suggest foul play and brought in a verdict of death by misadventure resulting from overconsumption of strong drink. And that was that and it was only four thirty.
I felt pleased for my friends but uncomfortable in myself. The sergeant had done all he could — the only mistake he had made was not to return to the farms before I removed what incriminating evidence there was. I suppose deep down I had hoped for detectives and forensic experts and all the things you read about, but Vermeulen couldn’t possibly have called in the C.I.D. from Cape Town on the evidence he had. No, if there had been a miscarriage of justice, it rested squarely on my shoulders. I couldn’t believe any of them would do anything bad under normal circumstances, but how can anyone know how another will act under stress? I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that one of them or all of them had killed Dirk, maybe unintentionally, and that they had rolled the rock to hide the evidence. I felt sure the fencepost had been used to lever the rock loose and all the rain had done was wash away the marks.