At 6 a.m. Barry Buckstone was woken up from his temporary cell in the Community Centre by a policeman and dragged across the street into the interview room at the Jabiru Police Station. He tried to break away but was quickly subdued and pushed onto a chair opposite two burly policemen. They grilled him for two hours, repeatedly asking him to go over his movements during the last week. They were aggressive, accusing him of masterminding the terrorist attack. When he protested his innocence and tried to get out of his chair they slapped him hard across the face knocking him to the floor. They picked him up and threatened to charge him for resisting arrest. He was refused water and told he wouldn’t receive any refreshment until he confessed. They half-carried him back to his cell and dumped him on the floor. One of his cell mates rushed to help him up on a chair and gave him some water.
He was still sitting on the chair thirty minutes later when one of the policemen entered the cell and hauled him up out of his chair and dragged him into the office.
Feeling groggy, Barry asked “What’s happening now?”
The policemen replied “You’re being released.” He gave Barry an envelope with his personal belongings and ordered him to sign a receipt for them. He then pointed to the door.
“I don’t know why you’re being released but get out of here and stay out of trouble you stupid bastard.”
Barry struggled out the door and staggered out across the road. He never saw the large 4WD come roaring around the corner. The bull-bar of the vehicle caught him flush, lifting his body up in the air, tossing him like a rag doll several metres in the air until his body crashed back onto the road. The 4WD kept going and accelerated around the next corner, vanishing from sight in seconds. At that time of the morning the street was deserted but Ollie Grant, the owner of the Shell service station fifty metres away, was making himself a cup of coffee in his tiny office when he heard the noise of the crash. He hurried outside to see a body lying on the side of the road and a white vehicle disappearing round the bend. He rushed over to see Barry’s lifeless body covered in blood just as a policeman charged out of the police station. The policeman checked Barry’s pulse and breathing but could find no sign of life. He immediately started CPR yelling at Ollie to call for an ambulance but knew there was no hope of saving the victim. Another policeman joined him and cordoned off the area as a small crowd started to gather.
The ambulance arrived quickly and the officers applied resuscitation procedures but there was no response. The body was placed on a stretcher and driven away to the medical centre where a doctor pronounced Barry dead.
Sergeant Barker was quickly on the scene and interrogated Ollie. All Ollie could recall was that the vehicle was white and looked like a Nissan Pathfinder 4WD. He did remember that the cover of the spare wheel had a design of a crocodile on it.
Meanwhile the rumour had quickly spread around the local indigenous community that Barry had been beaten up and killed by police. Within an hour, a large group had gathered outside the police station chanting for justice. The crowd was starting to get ugly and a few started throwing rocks at the police station breaking windows in the process.