Claire greeted the two taciturn guards on duty and Jill introduced herself; she hadn't met these officers before.
'Anglia's in the yard.' The female officer nodded at the bank of video screens on the wall. 'Closest to the wall there. You ready to go now? Boss said to use his office.'
'Yeah. Thanks.' Jill followed the heavy-set woman from the room, giving Claire a nod on the way out.
ACMU housed a maximum of fourteen inmates. As usual, the unit was full, and the majority of its occupants were out in the small, dusty courtyard of the compound. Four men kicked a tennis ball against a wall, while others watched the game from the partial shade of a covered walkway. Two or three men talked to themselves, making listless hand gestures to the air. Although obviously heavily medicated, their hallucinations were evidently breaking though. This unit wasn't designed to house the mentally ill, but with the majority of the gaol's population suffering some form of mental illness, all units had to share. These men would be especially vulnerable, unable to survive in the main gaol.
'Did ya hear Finker's in here?'
The officer spoke without looking at Jill, nodding towards a heavily bearded man sitting alone near one of the guards.
Jill thought a moment before the name registered.
'You're kidding,' she said, unable to keep the disgust from her voice and face as she stared at the man.
Larry Finker was one of the state's most hated. When his wife had left him, he'd kidnapped their two children; a boy aged four, and a girl, six. He'd strangled his son the first day, but kept the little girl alive for 24 hours, raping her repeatedly before strangling her as well. Jill had heard he was trying for forensic status, appealing to the court on the grounds that he was mentally ill in an effort to keep himself out of gaol. Although there was no evidence that he was insane, it looked like his attempt would be successful – he'd be murdered within a week if not afforded protection.
'He's been here since Monday. We fought to keep him out for three weeks, but in the end we had to take him.' The officer's voice was flat.
'Looks like someone's got to him already,' said Jill, noticing the man's left eye was blackened.
'Yeah. We broke up the fight as soon as we could,' the officer said, sounding unconvincing. 'What're you gonna do?'
Jill laughed, and the officer half-smiled for the first time.
'I'll unlock the office for you and bring Anglia over,' she said.
'Thanks, Kellie,' Jill responded, reading the woman's name from her badge.
Kellie unlocked a door just inside the covered walkway, and began to walk back towards the yard. She stopped, and turned back to Jill.
'You know who that is, don't you?' Kellie pointed her chin at a relatively small, dark-skinned man pacing near the wall in the hot sun.
'Um…'
'That's Teddy, serial rapist. Attacked a female officer at Goulburn.'
'Nice place you got here, Kellie.'
The officer gave another small smile and left.
Jill put her shoulder bag on the desk in the tiny office, and stretched the kinks in her neck. She looked up at the camera staring down at her. Every room, every corner of this compound was monitored by a camera. While this should have been reassuring, Jill couldn't shift the heavy blanket of dread that settled over her shoulders every time she visited this place.
Sensing movement, Jill looked up to see Kellie approaching the doorway. A pair of thin legs in green shorts was visible behind her.
'Robert Anglia,' announced the officer, stepping aside. 'Buzz when you're done.' She pointed to a button at the door.
'Thanks, boss,' Anglia said, as Jill motioned the small, thin man to the only other seat in the room. She sat in the seat nearest the door. First rule in these places. The windowless room was painted the same dirty green as the inmates' uniforms. A bench secured to one concrete wall served as a desk. The phone and PC were both outdated and box-like. Only the omnipresent security camera in the corner seemed to have been made this century.
'My name is Sergeant Jackson,' said Jill, taking control of the interview. 'I'm investigating the death of a couple of mates of yours – David Carter and George Manzi or Marks.' She held her pen ready and looked at him expectantly.
Jill already knew that Anglia knew Rocla. She wanted to know whether he also knew Carter and Manzi. The small man shifted in his seat.
'It's not like they were mates of mine. I hardly knew them,' Anglia said, scratching unconsciously at a bandage taped across his forehead.
'Really. That's not what we heard.' She decided to change tack for a little while. She was already ahead with his easy admission that he knew the other dead men. 'So how did you end up in this unit anyway?' she asked.
Anglia looked down at his shoes. Gave her nothing.
'Not hard to find out, is it, Bobby?' Jill said turning slightly in her chair, typing purposefully on the keyboard of the ageing computer. It was a bluff – she didn't have access at the moment to the prison's record system, although she could get it if she needed to.
'Who gives a fuck who knows?' Anglia muttered. 'Took a header off the shithouse.' He kept his face angled at the floor.
'Whoah!' Jill gave a disparaging laugh. 'And that's all you got, that cut on your head? Doesn't look too bad to me.'
Self-harm and suicide attempts were one way to get into this unit. Spearing oneself headfirst into the concrete floor from a height, like a bed, or in this case the toilet, could cause serious head injuries or death. Given the small bandage on his forehead, it looked like Anglia was more interested in getting out of the main gaol than out of life altogether. 'What do you fuckin' know?' Anglia was sullen now. 'Sounds like you needed to get out of the main pretty bad.' Anglia said nothing; his eyes darted towards the door.
'Come on, Bobby. You can tell me. Who's after you? You're an endangered species, you lot.' She gave a short laugh. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Yeah you do. Someone's killing off members of the club. We've heard you're next.'
'What? I'm not even in their fuckin' club.' Anglia was on his feet. 'Sit. Down.' Jill stood too. Anglia sat quickly. So there was a club.
'Look, whether I like it or not, Bobby, I'm getting paid to stop the next death, so it's in your interests to tell me more about the club. You can't expect me to catch whoever's taking you guys out if I don't know where to look.' Jill had her pen poised. 'Let's start with the members you know.' 'I don't know what you're fucking talking about.' Anglia's eyes were back on the ground. 'I got nothing to say about no club. I don't even know of any club.'
Jill closed her notebook; put the lid on her pen. 'You know, Bobby, you should be a little more polite, swear a little less. I am a cop, and I can make a note in your file about your attitude. If you're in here for protection, doesn't your attitude have to maintain a certain standard?'
He raised his eyes, all compliance now. 'No problems here, boss. Sorry, boss.'
''Cause I can call Kellie back now if you really want to go. Tell the other guards you didn't feel up to cooperating today.'
'Nah, it's all sweet. I'm cooperating, boss. What did you want to know?' Anglia's feet had started to tap under his chair.
'Well, if you're sure now.' Jill paused a little, as if she was considering whether to go on or not. Finally, she took her notepad out again, tapped her pen on the paper. 'I just want to talk a little more about your friends. How long did you know Dennis Rocla?'
'He used to go out with my sister. I'd sorta see him around at times, you know. Then when he split up with his missus he stayed at the same pub I was staying at for a while.'
'Which pub was that?' 'Great Southern.' Jill wrote it down. 'And then you moved in together, is that right?'