Just one of scores of web-based appeal for information on Lucille Butterworth…missing since 1969.
The man who claims to have driven the alleged murderer to the Claremont bus-stop. And to have buried Lucille Butterworth. He wanted to purge his conscience. I wanted to put him before the media. He would only talk to me. He should now talk to a coroner…it’s time.
My Toyo became a recording studio. After the interview my informant stems his nerves with a smoke. Former ballistics cop and two-tour Vietnam veteran Stan Hanuszewicz was at Kingston for the failed 1986 search for Lucille’s body. I sent the video interview to sections of the media…and to a politician, within two days.
A graphic from the author’s book, all names changed, written as a result of negative response from the distribution of the video. He has provided a link to a free download (below).
Lucille Butterworth. Is the man who buried her telling the truth? The author believes so.
Lucille Butterworth. Beautiful, young and calling from her grave…Find me! The power of a coroner should bring this mystery to an end for all time. Find her.
Now that an election date has been set, all pugilists have returned to their corners and Lara’s snake-skin policy has sorted out Chamelion McKim, it’s time for me to ask TT readers to listen quietly to a little lost girl’s pleas ... Find me!
Several years ago I wrote a piece for Tasmanian Times, of accompanying a former ballistics cop to a place in Kingston, south of Hobart, after he dropped the bombshell, ‘Would you like to see where Lucille Butterworth is buried?’ ( TT here )
He told me of a confession and a search in 1986 of the area that failed to find the body of Lucille, last seen at a Claremont bus-stop in 1969.
Two years ago I met the man. He wanted to purge his conscience. He claimed to have buried Lucille Butterworth. I met him at Buckland in December 2011. He was in the company of the former police ballistics officer, Stan Hanuszewicz.
With tremulous hand in a stifling car, I held a small camera and video-recorded the confession of the man who buried Lucille Butterworth. To me the mystery was over. I believed his story.
My informant said he chauffeured a well-known footballer at his direction to the bus-stop. They stopped. Lucille got into the back seat, the footballer joined her. They drove to nearby Cornelian Bay Cemetery. My informant went for a smoke. He came back to the car, Lucille was on the back seat beneath a Tartan blanket. My informant drove her body to an isolated spot in Kingston, where the soil was loamy and easy to dig. At the behest of the footballer, he dug a four-foot grave and Lucille went into it. End of story…and the beginning of one of Australia’s most intriguing mysteries.
In the intervening two years since I filmed the confession, I have made representations to a number of people and given copies of the video to them, hoping for an appropriate follow-up.
But no, nought but silence. There may be good reasons why this ball was allowed to go through to the wicket-keeper. But now, with an election looming and The Greens no longer compromised with big-party considerations, it is time at least for this breakthrough on Lucille to go its rightful corner…the Fourth Estate.
I have tried the ABC, Four Corners, even the New York Times…all too big for such a small story. Now for TT. I have held back from TT, as executive editor and founder, Lindsay Tuffin, a former Examiner colleague is a good friend…and it seemed at the time unfair to push the Lucille barrow onto old friendships.
But for how long do we ignore the plaintive cries of a little common sparrow ... find me, find me, for it seems perhaps with the cacophony of cries for help from the four corners of our humanity, Lucille’s have simply been drowned out.
And after all disappearances at the rate of millions a year, have become quite common.
But keep calling Lucille ... it’s election time, Tasmania. And now all the fighters for good governance and justice have gone to their rightful corners, just one of the contenders might hear that call from a lonely grave ... find me.
This is the link to a segment of the interview, posted onto YouTube. Is it the end of the mystery of Lucille Butterworth ... or the beginning?
Want to know more? Watch and Read here:
*Paul Tapp entered journalism with The Examiner Newspaper as a 30 year-old cadet in 1975. He worked as police roundsman with ABC Hobart where he won the 1988 Keith Welsh Award for Journalistic Excellence. He also received a special baton from Tasmania Police Association for his reporting on many issues of public importance, in particular the growing dilemma of underage drinking, and issues related to internal police politics and rank and file morale. He Moved for a time as police reporter with ABC Adelaide and moved to the Northern Territory as a press secretary. Tapp moved back to Tasmania for the inquest into the police killing of Joe Gilewicz in 1991, worked for a time in the Liberal Press Secretariat. With Stan Hanuszewicz, he researched the history of two families in Nazi concentration camps, court records of the Gilewicz coronial inquest and produced a book that became central to the flawed 2000 Gilewicz Commission of Inquiry. He is at present finalising his series of exclusive interviews with Hobart’s Dr Geoffrey Boughey, sentenced to life imprisonment for the murder of his young Fijian wife. Boughey’s view of prison life is the substantive theme of the book, ‘Get Boughey’. Tapp served as a conscript infantry reinforcement with several battalions in South Vietnam in 1967 and lives at Orford in full retirement, researching and producing online self-publications on Lulu.com and Kbuuk.com. He lives with his wife Jennifer of 48 years and has four grand-children to his two sons, Randall and Cameron, both of whom live interstate.
• Paul Tapp penned this poem about Lucille ...
Lucille… I met the man who ferried you
To a secret place and buried you
He had to get it off his chest
He knows you’ll never be at rest
Until at last we ferry you
To where your mum and dad now sleep…Lucille.
I’ll find someone who wants to know
About a girl so long ago
Who met for maybe love…and ne’er came home.
The road to truth is always steep
But worth the climb to let you sleep
‘Find me, find me’ have you cried,
Importuning since you died.
I take it on as Hallowed quest
To put you finally to your rest…