The Murder of Allison Baden-Clay by David Murray

Author:David Murray
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RHA eBooks Adult
Published: 2014-09-17T04:00:00+00:00

Found

Monday 30 April 2012

Professor Daryl Joyce would usually go kayaking on a weekend, but in April 2012 he had two weeks of leave. It was so good not to have to rush to get out on the water this morning. The University of Queensland horticulture researcher, who was in his 50s, had taken time off work to set up a vegetable garden on his 1-acre block in Karalee, Ipswich. The Monday was his first day of holidays, and after a weekend of rain it was gloriously sunny. He planned a relaxing paddle to clear his mind before getting stuck into the garden. Joyce kissed his wife goodbye as she went to work then loaded his fibreglass kayak onto the top of his car and drove five minutes down the road to the Riverside Park boat ramp.

It was about 8.30 am when he left home and he was soon bobbing in the Brisbane River, paddling upstream towards Ipswich. Joyce was a creature of habit; he always went against the tide on the journey out and cruised with the tide on the way back. Today was no different. Sticking to the left bank, he paddled for a couple of kilometres before crossing to the other side and turning back.

Kayaking had been an enjoyable weekend hobby for about six years. The dad of three grown-up children used it as a chance to get some exercise and fresh air.

On the days he paddled towards Ipswich, he liked to duck into Kholo Creek on his left on his return to the boat ramp. Years earlier, he’d found a beautiful, semi-tropical rain forest area where the tall trees formed a canopy overhead and the water became clear. He’d never seen anyone else on the waterway and felt he’d discovered an unspoilt secret. Since the floods of January 2011, a large tree had blocked access to the little creek at low tide. Today, his timing was spot on: the tide was high enough for him to cruise across the top of the fallen tree when he reached the creek mouth at close to 10 am.

He was paddling under the big water pipes that crossed the creek. Then he saw her. The woman lying on her side on the exposed, muddy bank under the bridge ahead on his right. For a moment, Joyce thought she might have been sleeping. As he drifted past, he realised who it was. Allison. The three-quarter-length pants and running shoes, like the mannequin dressed the same way on the news. He knew instantly. As he passed her, the breeze carried the scent. She was dead.

There was no way he could get out of his kayak onto the creek bank and he never took his mobile phone when he went to the river. Joyce paddled back to the boat ramp, drove home and phoned the Karana Downs Police Station.

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