The Specific Allegation

• Author: David M. Paciocco
• Pages: 145-167

CHAPTER

7

The

Specific

Allegation

city,

Auckland;

it is

framed

by

three

graceful

mountains

—

Tongariro,

Ngauruhoe,

and

Ruapehu. Much

of the

area around Lake Taupo

is

sacred

to the

Maori. Anyone

who has

been

there

would

not be

surprised.

The

lake

sits

in

mystical

environs,

surrounded

by hot

springs, boiling

mud

pools,

and

vents

that

open

from

the

deep recesses

of the

earth, spewing

clouds

of

steam

that

climb through

the

trees

and

hang

in the

sky, creat-

ing

an

ethereal

atmosphere.

The

many

watercourses

that

give life

to the

central island have unique, varied colour, depending

on

their origin,

depth,

or the

geological composition

of

their basin:

a

washed-out peacock

blue,

a

deep emerald green,

or the

milky

grey

of the

shallow glacier-fed

streams

that

run in

from

the

mountains. Tourists

flock

to the

centre

of the

North Island

to

tour sheep stations

or a

buried Maori village,

to

watch

Maori

warriors perform their Huka,

or war

dance,

to wet

tied

flies

in the

Tongariro

River,

the

"fly

fishing

capital

of the

world,"

or to

take

to the

water

on jet

boats

—

sleek, propellerless

craft

that

can

skim over shallow

rocky

streams

and

spin

"360s"

at

heavy speed.

On a

calm, beautiful January

day,

Barry

Marshall

was

operating

a jet

boat

full

of

tourists

on the

Waikato River

on the

edge

of

Lake Taupo when

he

spied what appeared

to be the

bloated stomach

of a

sheep floating

in

the

water.

He

worked

the

boat

closer.

It was not the

bloated stomach

of

one of the

less fortunate among

New

Zealand's sixty million sheep

but

the

swollen body

of

Peter Plumley Walker,

his

feet

and

hands

still

bound,

with

a

rope hanging loosely about

his

neck. Marshall dropped

the

tourists

on

the

dock and, acting

on the

instructions

of the

police,

returned,

tied

a

tow-rope

to the

body,

and

dragged

the

corpse slowly

to

shore.1

Plumley Walker,

as he

came

to be

known both

in the

media

and in

the

parlours

of New

Zealand where everyone

was

talking about

the

case,

L

ake Taupo is a small but magnificent body of water that seems on

North Island . A three-hour drive south of that country's major

a relief map to bore a hole into the middle of ew Zealand's

had

gone missing under mysterious circumstances several days before.

His

gold Ford Cortina

had

been found

on

fire

in

southeast

Auckland.

This

was

cause

enough

for

worry,

but

Peter's

state

of

mind

the

last time

he had

been

seen added

to the

fear.

After several years

of

separation

that

Peter

had

never wanted

to

accept,

his

wife

had

finally

obtained

a

divorce

decree.

Disconsolate,

Peter

had

wandered

into

his

bank, withdrawn

$200,

and

disappeared.

Ian

Walker, Peter's brother,

did not

know

of

Peter's

habits.

Despite

a

veneer

of

conventional respectability

as a

well-known cricket umpire,

Peter,

a

tall stately

man

with

a

magnificent white handlebar moustache,

had led a

secret

life.

He

craved

the

unfathomable pleasure

of

bondage,

and

he

would periodically

set out to K

road

in

Auckland, where

any

per-

version

can be

gratified

for

enough money. When

Ian

began looking

for

his

brother,

he

went into Peter's apartment

to see if

there were

any

clues

to his

disappearance.

He

found

a

small

sheet

of

paper

by the

phone with

notes written

in

Peter's hand.

He

could read

the

names

and

phone num-

bers

of

several women.

An

address

on

Rotomahana Terrace showed

next

to

"4:30 Friday." From

the

magazines

and

letters scattered around

the

apartment,

Ian

knew

that

the

names

on the

paper would belong

to

dom-

inatrixes,

women

who

would beat,

bind,

or

even torture men,

and

occa-

sionally even

other

women,

for a

price.

Following

the

leads contained

in

some

of

these materials,

the

police

made

their

way to the

impressive home

of a

middle-class woman.

She

answered

the

door.

Yes,

she

provided domination services. Yes,

she had

sent

a

letter

to

Peter Plumley Walker's address describing what

she

would

do to

him

after

he

responded

to an ad she had

placed

in

Raunchy magazine.

No,

she had

never actually

met

him. Yes,

the

police could look around.

In her

diary

the

police

found

the

inscription, "Peter

—

$200.00."

It

showed

on

Friday,

27

January,

the

same

day

that

Plumley Walker

was

last seen.

In the

yard

the

police found cinder blocks

that

looked similar

to one

that

a

police

diver

had

recovered

from

the

bottom

of the

Huka

Falls

on the

Waikato

River.

They found rope

that

appeared similar

to

rope

that

had

been

tied

around

the

brick.

On the

curtains

in the

bedroom, they found blood.

Forensic

tests

were ordered.

The

police were sure they

had the

case solved.

As

anyone knows

who has

followed

a

different

Walker case

— the

case

of

Albert Walker

—

circumstantial evidence

can be

enough

to

prove

guilt. Walker

was

recently convicted

of

murdering Ronald

Platt

on the

strength

of

powerful circumstantial evidence.

He was

convicted

because

he

had

motive

to

kill Platt

to

steal

his

identity;

Platt's

body,

identifiable

by

the

Rolex

watch

he was

wearing,

had

been dredged

up in a

fishing

net

along

with

an

anchor identical

to one

Walker

had

purchased,

in an

area

146

PROVING

GUILT

AND

MAINTAINING INNOCENCE