It had been an excruciating two months. They had confirmed the sandals and the Baru had been with Susan, her fingerprints were on both and her DNA on the sandals. They also had Mark’s diary and his multiple identities, they had Susan’s testimony spoken on tape and as a transcript, they had four passports of vanished girls and a new one to add, they had five sets of distraught families. Yet they had almost nothing, nothing to give them a real clue where any one of these people could be found, not even a clear location of anyone’s last resting place.
Alan felt like screaming in frustration. He had wanted this case, first to make his reputation and then to seek Susan’s salvation. Yet she was gone and he could not find her and he could not find any of the others as well.
The only redeeming feature was the friendships that sustained him. Strangely the most important was the friendship with Charlie, that wise dark skinned elder who could look past this place of blockage and sense there was something beyond, it gave Charlie equanimity and this gave him continuing hope.
The others were the gang, so to speak, of Anne and David, Buck and Julie, Vic, and, of course, his own dearest Sandy. Whenever others came to Darwin they would have a gathering of some sort, sometimes at Alan and Sandy’s flat, sometimes at a restaurant or hotel, but mostly held at Charlie’s place to eat a ritual fish curry, catfish was best but when it was not to hand there were plenty of other substitutes, each washed down with ice cold beers.
At one of these gatherings David had an idea: “We have tried this on our own now for more than two months and it has not got us very far. Why don’t we turn it on its head and try and enlist public support.
“There is no longer anything much to hide, all the private secrets of these girls are being ferreted out and fed to the tabloids, but that is just scuttlebutt to feed the sensation seekers. However, while these rumours circulate, our search is getting drowned. There must be somebody out there who remembers something. I don’t mean regular police publicity calling for assistance, but something much bigger.
“We need two things, a sympathetic story of each girl which the public will remember and be moved by, and we need public attention which will bring in money, money for rewards, money for investigations, but most of all to buy publicity to reach into people’s distant memories.
“I have connections into the commercial media of Sydney, why don’t I ask them for assistance, perhaps just one company or perhaps they all could come on board to turn it into some sort of public appeal, both to raise awareness and to seek funds for this cause.
“Perhaps we could call it the Lost Girls Fund, not just for them but for the many others who have disappeared without a trace across Australia: money to fund ongoing investigations, on behalf of distant parents. Most of all money to find these girls, bring them home if possible or, if not, to place a memorial to remember them where they last were.”
Everyone agreed it was a good idea. Alan said he would need to clear it with his bosses but thought it made sense. David said he would pursue it on his return to Sydney once Alan gave the go ahead.