'Dream Angel' - Page 24:
[tab=30]‘No, I’m afraid not. Do we know one another?’ He said.
‘When I was eight years old you drove me home in a police car at Roma where I lived.’ I told him feeling my voice almost clog up with emotion on seeing this policeman again.
[tab=30]‘Yeah, I remember your old man didn’t look so happy.’ He was now relaxed and remembered me. I was so glad he remembered.
‘He got over it. I can’t believe it’s you. I’m happy to see you again.’ I shook his hand with such force it almost came away from his arm.
[tab=30][tab=30]‘You joined up.’ He said.
‘Yeah, I always wanted to be a policeman.’ I was more relaxed and pleased to see him. I couldn’t believe my luck at meeting him again after so many years.
‘It’s good to see you did. You could have done far worse.’ I never forgot when he drove me home. We said our farewells. I never saw him again.
I was about to celebrate my 23rd birthday. Aunty Mickey telephoned to come to Brisbane urgently, my mother was critically ill in the Royal Brisbane Hospital. I left immediately.
At 1.30am the next morning I was driving on the outskirts of Toowoomba when in my mind I knew Mum had gone. It was a message to stop and not to hurry. I stopped the car and parked on the side of the road. Mum was gone, I felt it, don’t ask me how I knew she was gone, I didn’t receive a message from her or anything and I just knew she died. I had a sleep and drove on. It was the strangest feeling. Was it a telepathic message? One of don’t hurry it’s too late.
When I walked into the ward of the hospital and saw the empty bed, I knew Mum died. The Sister of the ward told me she died at 1.30am. I know it may sound queer but I can’t explain the feeling. I knew it was the final moment.
It was one of the lowest moments in my life to lose my mother. She was forty-five years old...

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Dream Angel' - Page 23:

[tab=30][tab=30]By this time, I saw he was drunk and he’d driven a car and in my mind was sufficient evidence to arrest him but a message echoed I needed to test him.
[tab=30]‘Stay here while I go to the police car.’ I commanded.
I went to prepare the alcohol test. It was a simple test. A glass vial was sealed at both ends; after breaking off one end of the vial a plastic bag was pushed on and a mouthpiece fixed on the other end. The person blew into the devise, the breath passed through a yellow dye and if it changed colour to green it was an indication the person had more than the required amount of alcohol to drive a vehicle. I broke off one end of the vial and fastened it to the plastic bag, then placed a mouthpiece over the other end.
‘Blow into this, and don’t stop until you fill the bag.’ I told him. He blew into the mouthpiece and the bag didn’t inflate. ‘Blow harder.’
‘I am.’ He spluttered. He blew harder until his face reddened. I’d forgotten to break off the other end of the vial. I broke it and he blew and the yellow dye changed to green, a dark green. Now what do I do? This was my first lesson; I was about to learn. I needed to know what to do and know how to do it competently if I was ever to become a detective.
The driver fought the case in court. He was found guilty by the Magistrate and convicted for drink driving and to this day I don’t know how he was convicted of the offence. I needed to grow up suddenly and change my ways and to take my duties seriously. It was a harsh lesson to learn.
One afternoon I was on patrol and returned to the police station. A police officer, not from the station, was standing at the front counter. My jaw dropped. I looked at him in awe and knew he was the same person who I met when I was eight years old at Roma. He’d driven me home. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. He was the same person.
‘How’re you going? Do you remember me?’ I asked excited in seeing him again...

'Dream Angel' - Page 22:

It was the first time I’d worn a uniform since the day I was sworn in, coloured khaki, a dull yellowish greenish brown colour. I was proud to wear the uniform especially when fully dressed in tunic, tie, and cap. The country police wore this colour whilst officers wore blue in the city.
The initial four months I served as a Plain Clothes Constable in the Licensing Branch did not help me at Cunnamulla. I hadn’t arrested anyone and I had a problem. I wanted to help people rather than lock them up. I didn’t understand the enormity of power and authority police possessed to detain and take away a person’s liberty and the responsibility to administer the law. Most times I worked by myself on night shift, from five o’clock in the evening until one o’clock the following morning.
On a particular night I stopped to have a chat with one of the businesspeople. I loved to talk with them because they knew more about what was going on in their town than anyone else. It was about eleven o’clock at night and there was another two hours before I completed my shift. We stood on the footpath and talked to enjoy the cool night air.
The police car was angled parked against the kerb. I heard a noise of a car roaring toward us. Suddenly the driver swerved and drove the car next to the police car mounting the kerb and stopped on the footpath about ten feet from where we stood. ‘How’s youse doing?’ A voice rang out. It was the first time I’d had anything to do with a drink driver.
My heart rate increased rapidly; my mind tried to retrace the procedure we’d learned in training to know what to do when questioning a drink driver. I should have known but do you think I knew what to do. I’d forgotten. I remembered there was a test to give the driver to blow into a bag and see if the crystals changed colour. He fell out of the driver’s side of the car and staggered over to where we were stood...

Dream Angel' - Page 21:
[tab=30][tab=30] SP Bookmakers, (starting price bookmakers), were persons who collected bets on horse races at hotels and other places. My role was to go into the bar of a hotel and try and place a bet with the SP Bookmaker.
It was easy because over the years I’d placed many a bet with bookmakers and knew what to do. In twelve weeks, I placed eleven bets with different bookmakers who were arrested and charged with ‘betting in a public place.’
At times I went undercover in search of prostitution at hotels and boarding houses. Why women solicited themselves to men in payment for sex, I could never understand. I’d lived a sheltered life and didn’t understand why women would sell their bodies for sex. Over time I began to understand why police needed to be active in this area. Four months working in the Licensing Branch didn’t help my career as a police officer but filled my mind with the facts of life I never knew existed.
It was Friday morning before Christmas 1970, I arrived at work when the Boss told me, and you’re transferred to Cunnamulla. His words echoed in my ears. I didn’t know whether to feel good about the transfer or not.
Again, the town of Cunnamulla entered my zone for reasons at the time I didn’t understand. Twelve months before I worked at Dyvenor Downs when I experienced my first trip west. Now it happened again and this time in the role of a police officer. I could have been transferred to any other town or city in Queensland but it had to be Cunnamulla. Was this transfer meant to be? Was there some cosmic message in the universe forcing me to return to Cunnamulla for a reason?
Being a single officer, I resided in the police barracks. It was an old building; three bedrooms adjoining one another and a full-length veranda. At one end a kitchen and on the opposite end the shower and toilet. Gauze lined the veranda to keep the flies at bay. The barracks were a short walk from the rear of the police station next to the cell block to house the prisoners...

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'Dream Angel' - Page 20:
[tab=30][tab=30]My parents joined in the celebrations and attended the swearing-in service with Uncle Vivian and Aunty Mickey. I felt proud to be a member of the Queensland Police Force as we marched past the gallery of spectators.
My dream to become a detective still burned inside like a fire constantly being fuelled by a desire to know what it would be like. In the meantime, I had to learn many things about being a police officer. Like, traffic duty; how to serve a summons; execute a warrant and take complaints from the public. Along the way I was confronted with different situations almost daily and to fight the desire in my mind with what I wanted to do. At times it was tough to face those responsibilities. Could I do it? It began a long journey in my life I will always treasure.
At about a quarter to five on the afternoon on the first day I was sworn in, a police officer switched on the traffic lights while he performed traffic duty on the corner of Queen Street and George Street, in the city. Unbeknown to him when he turned the key, a spark ignited a gas leak beneath the roadway and caused an explosion sufficient to blow a manhole cover from the road surface.
Panic erupted. Chaos ruled. People screamed and ran to avoid being hit by flying debris. An eighteen-year-old girl was fatally injured. I didn’t know the constable personally but knew he had only been sworn-in about three months. He resigned shortly after this catastrophe. I’m pleased it didn’t happen to me.
My initial post was as a Plain Clothes Constable with the Licensing Branch, Brisbane. I wasn’t a detective but worked undercover to seek out SP Bookmakers. The only reason I was appointed to the position because I knew how to bet on horseracing...

'Dream Angel' - Page 19:
[tab=30] He pared away the skin from the chest to expose the rib cage then used an instrument like bolt cutters to break the ribs and removed them. After extracting the liver, heart, and lung he laid each one on a table in front of us and sliced the liver into pieces. He did the same with the heart and lung and found water in the lung enough to fill a quart bottle.
After he completed this section of the torso he made an incursion across the hairline of the deceased head from the top of the left ear to the top of the right ear and peeled away the skin and hair to expose the skull. Using an electric buzz saw he cut the cranium removing it to expose the brain. He removed the brain and placed it on the table beside the heart; lung and liver then sliced the brain into three sections and explained the damage of the brain. Part of it was a dark colour indicating alcohol abuse. This was my first post-mortem I’d seen. It was a fascinating experience.
After the post-mortem examination we returned to the police barracks for lunch. Sheep brains were on the menu. It was another way to look forward to being a police officer and the tough times one needed to encounter. It was part of four months training.
The newly appointed Commissioner of Police was sworn in on the same day I was sworn in as a member of the Queensland Police Force. All sections of the Queensland Police Force were present, Traffic Branch; Detectives; Mounted Police; and other representatives of the Force, marched in step to the Police Pipe Band.
It was a glorious event to see such a large contingent of police personnel gathered to celebrate and witness the swearing in of the newly appointed Commissioner of Police and twenty-eight recruits: Constable Thomas Patrick Ritter being one of them.

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'Dream Angel' - Page 18:
Chapter Two

This time I passed with flying colours. Police Barracks at Petrie Terrace was my home for the next four months. We lived in dormitory type lodgings with three recruits to a room. The duty sergeant, an Irishman, totally committed to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth 11, ruled with discipline and fear. ‘What are you son, a poofter or a poet? I’ve never read any of your poetry, so you must be a poofter.’ He’d scream at full lung capacity to try and break our spirit. A daily job for each recruit was to clean the brass door knobs with a cleaning solution. He’d check each knob to see if he could see his face in it.
My life had totally changed. Training was regimental and disciplined. We rowed a rowboat in the Brisbane River; rode a horse at Oxley Mounted Police; shot a pistol at the range and marched; each day was marching and studied law and police duties.
We recruit thought it was tough but how important was this training to become a police officer and deal with the public. Policing was a career and each day one never knew what would happen next. We needed to face the possibility of the unknown.
One morning we visited the Institute of Forensic Pathology, commonly known as The Morgue, to be present when a post-mortem examination was carried out by a pathologist.
The deceased was a male person found dead in the Brisbane River. He’d been in the river for three days; flesh missing from his body eaten by fish, crabs, or other creatures. The pathologist explained each step of the procedure. He described the deceased person was a male; age about 30 years; colour of hair – brown; physical appearance – lean; height 5’11” and weight about 10 stone. He used a scalpel to make an incursion in the top of the dead man’s neck near his windpipe and cut the skin down along the chest through the centre of his body to the belly button...