SHOT HIS MATE."

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 98, 27 April 1935, Page 10

SHOT HIS MATE."

OUTBACK MINER.

DRAMATIC TRIAL IN DARWIN.

WIFE AND. CHILD PRESENT,

A moving drama of the outback where tlie unwritten law is more than a meaningless phrase was revealed at the trial in Darwin this month of Thomas Richard Sullivan, a miner, Tor the murder of Jack Dixon, another miner, 011 December 5.

Behind the story told in court was a background of violence and passion in th • little mining town of Pine Creek, where one night, casting aside all restraint, a hot-liead arrogated to himself the role ot judge, jury and executioner. And having shot Jack Dixon dead because he Ijjlieved that he had assaulted his twelve-year-old daughter, Ellen, Thomas Sullivan stood his trial in a coure where ceremonial mingled strangely with the carefree atmosphere of an outpost to present a stirring human drama.

Judge and"barristers in Horsehair wigs perspiring in a humid atmosphere, miners in loose-litting store clothe?, a thin-lipped wife, her face drained of all colour as she.followed the evidence—-all this must have see ncd cxasperatingly formal to the man 011 trial for his life sny.-i tlie ".Sydney Sunday Sun" correspondent. Worked TogetherThere jjiust have been a poignant noie in the proceedings for Thomas Sullivan because for months he and Dixon were mates who worked together in the Enterprise Show at Pine Creek. When the afternoon shift was over they would walk down from the mine 011 the hill to the hotel with the low-roofed bar when.' the beer, it seems, is always hot.

Then Sullivan noticed that Dixon did not drink with him as often as he used to do. A small thing this, it would seem, but in the Territory not to drink with your friend is a hcroons offence. It is u barometer from which the warmth of friendships may be gauged.

Then the whispers, the accusations against Dixon linking his name with Sullivan's young daughter. Sullivan trie.l to banish these innuendoes from his mind, but at midnight one night when drink was in him he dragged the crying girl from her bed, even beating her in his furv to learn the truth.

With his wife and the girl he went to the home of the man who had informed him of Dixon's alleged assault and shouted vehemently: "Dixon did it. 1 have a revolver here. I am going to shoot Dixon." "I Didn't Do It." Deaf to all appeals to reason. in his obsession for revenge, he ran to the mine quarters where the men were sleeping, awakened Dixon and said: "You have done this." "I did not, Tom.'' the other expostulated. Hot words passed between the pair.

But Sullivan was implacable. He shot his former friend, the bullet being discharged at such close range that the powder burned a great hole in the victim's singlet.

The garment smouldered away as Dixon lay dying. "I didn't do it, Tom!" he gasped as his life ebbed away. Sullivan Mas impenitent. The shooting seemed to clear his mind. Leaving the camp he sought the policeman. Waking him lie told his story and returned with him to face Dixon. The dying mail refused to give the name of his assailant, but Sullivan, standing over him, the constable at his side, said bluntly: "I shot you, Jack." "Yes, Tom, for a thing I didn't d 0,",, the other murmured. They were almost his last words. Doctor's Flight in Vain, In the meantime another drama typical of this country was taking placeThe con-stable had told Darwin,- and ar> the flame of Dixon's life was guttering out the Flying Doctor of the Territory, Dr. Clyde Fenton, was racing ,to the scene in his Moth 'plane. As the wheels o[ his machine touched earth at Fine Creek, Dixon died. It 'was too' late.

The atmosphere in the court was tense as the story was unfolded, and many glance* were directed at Sullivan's wife, who followed the .evidence with intent interest. At every interval, Mrs. Sullivan and her daughter sat before the barred doors of the watehhouse cells, the woman straining her hands through to hold 'her husband's. Daughter's Tears. The electrical atmosphere was heightened when Dixon's twelve-year-old daughter entered the box to give evidence.

Her testimony followed that of a number of niin'em, witnesses of the tragic events' at Pine Creek. In simple words, with a studied avoidance of the dramatic, they told how Sullivan, inflamed by drink, had dashed to the sleeping quarters and shouted at Dixon the accusing words, "You betrayed my daughter—and she was only twelve." As the daughter was giving her evidence, Judge Wells exclaimed. "Is it fair, to the girl to ask her to give evidence against lier father?" . The crying girl left the witnessbox. Verdict of Manslaughter. At 5.45 p.m. the jury retired, but at !) .p.m. each member was given a sheet, a blanket, a towel and a mosquito net to retire for the night, as an agreement seemed unlikely.

At 10.30 a.lll. next day they returned a verdict of manslaughter, with a strong recommendation to mercy, and Judge Well* scute- .ed tiie accused to 10 year's' imprisonment! When sentence was pronounced Mrs. Sullivan's iron restraint broke, and in the cell, throwing her arms around her husband, she cried: "What shall I do? What will become of me?"

At dawn last Wednesday the wife, with her four children, returned to Pin™ Creek. That morning her husband began his sentence in Fanny Bay Gaol.