weeks before the governor dismissed him, an event that would have a serious effect on Moxley's fate.
When MacKay returned, Moxley continued eating and told MacKay about the way he had been taken. He finished eating and repeated his request to speak to MacKay in private. The other police left the room and Moxley said, âI was not in this alone, Mr MacKay. There was another man in it. I admit that I held them up along with this other man and took them to a house in Liverpool, but I left them there to go and get some petrol and when I got back they were gone.â
âWho is the man?â MacKay asked.
âI'll tell you his name later,â Moxley replied. âI'll think that over.â
FUGITIVE SCENES
The NSW Police Force finally
decided to implement police dogs
after a sensational hunt for a
murderer by the name of moxleyâ¦
HISTORY OF THE NSW POLICE DOG UNIT
Frank Corbett's shot has frightened Moxley in a number of ways. He knows it didn't miss by much - but that isn't the main reason. He thought Corbett was his friend, that he might at least give him a cup of tea, maybe even some advice about what to do. He is confused; everything is happening so quickly. He feels as though a big gap has opened up between him and the young couple he saw in Strathfield, but for everyone else, from what he can tell, nothing else matters but the connection between him and them. Them and him. He reads their names in the papers but he can't remember them; he can't remember their faces â he's not sure that he ever saw them. It was so dark and there were so many strange noisesâ¦
He pushes through the scrub, weighed down by the blanket-wrapped shotgun, his kitbag and overcoat, which catches on the bushes. Low branches scratch his face and pull his hat off so that he has to stop, retrieve it and heave the bag and gun into place all over again. He's tired and hungry. God knows I've been tired before, using that bastard of a cross-cut, hut tired and hungry's something else . He'd give anything for a few of Linda's scones. Linda - what was that she was always saying when he lost his temper?
âYou're silly, Bill. You're mad. You'd be better off in the bush.â
He thinks she was right. Everything was much simpler in the bush - just cut the timber down, chop and saw it up and sell it. You only had to talk to the horses. He pushes on through the scrub, not sure of where he's going. Motor cars and trucks, he thinks. They're the things that give a man trouble. Just give me a couple of horses and a dog and the bush and I'd be all right . He feels light-headed and thinks his hunger and tiredness are making him imagine mad things. Why can't he go back to Burwood, pick up Douglas and go bush â go on the wallaby with the boy and a dog? He knows he can't but he isn't quite sure why. And when he tries to remember why he seems to shrink into himself and become smaller. His head hurts. He wishes he had more Aspros; he has only enough to help him get to sleep for one night. Sleep. He has to find a place to sleep.
He moves on, keeping to the scrub, crossing roads only when he has to and as quickly as he can. Climbing down an embankment he drops the shotgun and hears it clatter against a rock. He wonders if he should just leave it there, take the blanket and leave the gun. But he picks it up and rewraps it. To shoot rabbits? To defend himself? To make someone give him money or food? He doesn't know why. He hears a train in the near distance and moves towards the sound. He thinks if he could get on a goods train it might take him up-country where he'd be safe. He could get work cutting wood.
He finds the railway line and crouches close to it, behind some kind of control box. A few passenger trains go past, moving much too fast. A goods train crawls towards him, its long line of heavily laden trucks snaking away behind it. The train is slow enough but it's no use. He looks at his damaged hand as he juggles his bag, gun and
When MacKay returned, Moxley continued eating and told MacKay about the way he had been taken. He finished eating and repeated his request to speak to MacKay in private. The other police left the room and Moxley said, âI was not in this alone, Mr MacKay. There was another man in it. I admit that I held them up along with this other man and took them to a house in Liverpool, but I left them there to go and get some petrol and when I got back they were gone.â
âWho is the man?â MacKay asked.
âI'll tell you his name later,â Moxley replied. âI'll think that over.â
FUGITIVE SCENES
The NSW Police Force finally
decided to implement police dogs
after a sensational hunt for a
murderer by the name of moxleyâ¦
HISTORY OF THE NSW POLICE DOG UNIT
Frank Corbett's shot has frightened Moxley in a number of ways. He knows it didn't miss by much - but that isn't the main reason. He thought Corbett was his friend, that he might at least give him a cup of tea, maybe even some advice about what to do. He is confused; everything is happening so quickly. He feels as though a big gap has opened up between him and the young couple he saw in Strathfield, but for everyone else, from what he can tell, nothing else matters but the connection between him and them. Them and him. He reads their names in the papers but he can't remember them; he can't remember their faces â he's not sure that he ever saw them. It was so dark and there were so many strange noisesâ¦
He pushes through the scrub, weighed down by the blanket-wrapped shotgun, his kitbag and overcoat, which catches on the bushes. Low branches scratch his face and pull his hat off so that he has to stop, retrieve it and heave the bag and gun into place all over again. He's tired and hungry. God knows I've been tired before, using that bastard of a cross-cut, hut tired and hungry's something else . He'd give anything for a few of Linda's scones. Linda - what was that she was always saying when he lost his temper?
âYou're silly, Bill. You're mad. You'd be better off in the bush.â
He thinks she was right. Everything was much simpler in the bush - just cut the timber down, chop and saw it up and sell it. You only had to talk to the horses. He pushes on through the scrub, not sure of where he's going. Motor cars and trucks, he thinks. They're the things that give a man trouble. Just give me a couple of horses and a dog and the bush and I'd be all right . He feels light-headed and thinks his hunger and tiredness are making him imagine mad things. Why can't he go back to Burwood, pick up Douglas and go bush â go on the wallaby with the boy and a dog? He knows he can't but he isn't quite sure why. And when he tries to remember why he seems to shrink into himself and become smaller. His head hurts. He wishes he had more Aspros; he has only enough to help him get to sleep for one night. Sleep. He has to find a place to sleep.
He moves on, keeping to the scrub, crossing roads only when he has to and as quickly as he can. Climbing down an embankment he drops the shotgun and hears it clatter against a rock. He wonders if he should just leave it there, take the blanket and leave the gun. But he picks it up and rewraps it. To shoot rabbits? To defend himself? To make someone give him money or food? He doesn't know why. He hears a train in the near distance and moves towards the sound. He thinks if he could get on a goods train it might take him up-country where he'd be safe. He could get work cutting wood.
He finds the railway line and crouches close to it, behind some kind of control box. A few passenger trains go past, moving much too fast. A goods train crawls towards him, its long line of heavily laden trucks snaking away behind it. The train is slow enough but it's no use. He looks at his damaged hand as he juggles his bag, gun and
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