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74-year-old Elizabeth Tershke faced a dilemma. She had one day left to decide whether or not to put an offer in for a house, but she couldn't make up her mind. Someone recommended that Elizabeth speak with a spiritualist who was known to have excellent powers, as they might be able to offer some guidance. Seeing no harm in getting their advice, Elizabeth visited the spiritualist, taking her 12-year-old granddaughter Alma as company.
Elizabeth handed the spiritualist papers pertaining to the property. The spiritualist pressed the papers against her forehead and closed her eyes. After a moment of quiet contemplation, she advised Elizabeth not to make the purchase. As long as she was there, Elizabeth thought of something else she'd like guidance on. Alma's mother had died seven years prior from a kidney disorder.
Since then, the young girl had been a much-loved companion to Elizabeth. But their time together was coming to an end. Alma's father lived in the regional Victorian town of Maffra, 220 kilometres away from Elizabeth's home in Melbourne. Plans were underway to send Alma and her younger sister Viola to Maffra so their family could reunite. Elizabeth wasn't against the idea, but the thought of Alma leaving filled her with sadness.
She asked the Spiritualist, if Alma went to Mafra, would she ever come back? The Spiritualist closed her eyes and had a think. "No," she replied. Back at school, Alma told her friends about the visit. They could tell that she was troubled by it. With a sad face, Alma said the Spiritualist told her that she'd die within three months. Alma's friends dismissed the omen, finding it somewhat funny.
But when Elizabeth Terschke was later informed of this, she was confused. She didn't recall the spiritualist giving any such premonition. Elizabeth wondered: Was it a harmless fib Alma told to get attention from her schoolmates? Or was it indicative of an unnerving feeling the young girl sensed within herself? The following month of December 1921, Melbourne was abuzz with anticipation for the coming new year.
Yet, as night fell on Friday December 30, things were quiet and sombre at a flat on Collins Street. Several members of the Terschke family and their loved ones had gathered inside, unable to sleep. Elizabeth Terschke was among them, sitting in the parlor with a light on and the front door unlocked. Minutes after midnight, the door opened. Elizabeth stiffened in anticipation as two police officers walked through the doorway.
With bated breath, she asked, "Have you found my girl?" Hours earlier, Alma Tershki had been sent on an errand. Her uncle John worked at a butcher's shop on Swanston Street, a bustling store-lined thoroughfare in the heart of Melbourne's CBD.
The shop, named Bennett and Woolcocks, was just over two kilometres from Alma's grandmother's home in the city-fringe suburb of Jollymont. Alma was to visit the butcher shop, pick up a parcel of meat, and then drop it at her aunt's flat on nearby Collins Street before returning home. The weekly task was usually carried out by other family members, but they were unavailable and Alma was home for the school holidays, so she was happy to do it.
Although Alma hadn't run this errand before, she had travelled into the city multiple times and was familiar with the area. All up, the trip was expected to take no longer than two hours. Alma was given money for a tram fare, but she decided to walk instead. It was a pleasant day and with plenty of other people moving about and busy traffic passing by, she felt safe to do so.
Alma took the scenic route through the Fitzroy and Treasury Gardens, arriving at Bennett and Woolcocks shortly after 1pm. Alma's uncle John wasn't there, so she spoke to the cashier instead, who gave her the parcel of sausages and corned beef. By the time Alma left for her aunt's flat on Collins Street, it was around 1.30. The flat was just a short walk away, but Alma never showed up.
When she didn't return to Jollymont either, her family grew concerned. They headed out to trace Alma's steps, but she was nowhere to be found. While searching the city, Alma's uncle John spoke to a police officer, who suggested that Alma might have taken a tram to the beach to enjoy the nice weather. But Alma's family weren't convinced. She hadn't been given enough money for a tram ticket that far.
The officer headed back to the station where calls were made to nearby hospitals. Alma hadn't wound up at any of them. Her loved ones were told to return to the Collins Street flat in case Alma had finally appeared there. As nighttime descended with no sign of Alma, her uncle John headed to Victoria Police Headquarters on Russell Street to formally report his niece as missing.
He was assured that a description of Alma would be sent to other stations so that all officers would be on the lookout for the 12-year-old. The slightly built Alma was 4 foot 10 inches tall with freckles and long golden red hair. She was wearing her school uniform, which consisted of a box pleated navy blue dress with a white blouse underneath, a white leghorn hat, black stockings, and black shoes.
Even though it was the school holidays, this was the nicest outfit Alma owned for a trip into the city. The police also made another round of calls to nearby hospitals. Alma still hadn't been admitted to any of them. When told to return to their homes and not to worry, Alma's family couldn't help but feel like the police were treating the situation too casually. Alma was intelligent, reliable, and well behaved. She wasn't the type to get up to mischief.
Respecting her elders was a large part of Alma's personality and she'd never intentionally do something to cause others to worry. She'd recently returned home early from her school's late-night end-of-year celebrations, just to give her grandmother peace of mind. In the 1920s, Australian children were raised conservatively. As a result, Alma was incredibly naive and modest.
Menstruation, sex, and other coming-of-age experiences were taboo subjects she knew little about, if anything at all. Alma couldn't even bring herself to talk to the boys at her school, let alone strangers. There was no reason to believe that she was disobeying her grandmother to push boundaries. Alma lived her life doing for others. In a school essay titled "Judy First", she wrote:
We should always do our duty to everybody before we do anything. Duty means kindness, goodness, helpfulness, and to do anything to please others. A duty embraces a multitude of things. The following are duties concerning our lives: household duties, garden duties, to help people, school duties, to love, honour and obey your parents and relations and teachers,
This demonstrated Alma's desire to always do what she was told and never leave anyone waiting by deviating from her given task. As Elizabeth Turschke described, "I had always been very strict with my granddaughter. We had all taken particular pains to keep her mind free from all sordid and frivolous matters. Her disposition was just all sweetness. In her own home, she was happiness itself.
For instance, she might be at a tea party with her aunts and myself, and after we had finished the meal, we would miss Alma. On investigating, we would find that she had actually been washing up the dishes by herself. There was no need for any of us, or even for her, to worry. For Alma's family, her unexplained absence meant that something terrible must have happened.
At the Collins Street flat, Elizabeth waited in the parlor in the hopes her granddaughter would wander in safe and sound. By midnight, four hours had passed since Alma was reported missing. Two police officers soon pushed through the flat's unlocked front door. Elizabeth immediately quizzed them about her granddaughter, but the officers were confused. It was part of their job to check premises where lights were on inside and the doors appeared to be unlocked.
They were just carrying out their regular duties. Although their patch encompassed the areas relevant to Alma Turschke's disappearance, they hadn't been informed of the matter. By the following morning of Saturday December 31 1921, there still hadn't been any sign of Alma. As Melbourne stirred in preparation for New Year's Eve, Henry Errington roamed the streets with his 11-year-old daughter.
The pair were scavenging for glass bottles to cash in for recycling. They'd already made decent pickings around the city's bustling bar district in the east, having so far filled two sacks. The duo made their way to the Eastern Market, a flower and retail market between Little Collins and Bourke Streets.
The surrounding streets and laneways consisted of drinkeries, bedding shops, and brothels, and at night, the area was a hotbed of wild antics and bad behaviour. Henry knew there'd be plenty of bottles scattered about the footpaths, gutters, and drains in the early morning aftermath. The father and daughter turned down Little Collins Street, a one-way lane of boutique shops, bars, and hotels that ran parallel to the wider Collins Street.
Sandwiched between a barbershop and hardware store was a narrow alleyway called Gun Alley. A nearby clock tower chimed 6am as Henry made his way into Gun Alley while his young daughter trailed further behind. It was a secluded space. One side was framed by a two-story brick wall, while a tall corrugated iron and wood fence flanked the other. With no source of light, Gun Alley was perpetually dark.
A few meters in, the alley took a sharp turn that led behind the barbershop and reached a dead end. Henry Errington made the turn and paused. The naked body of Alma Turski was lying face up on the brick pavement. Her legs were bent with one on top of the other. Bruises covered her right eye, shoulder, thigh, jaw and throat.
Henry turned and stopped his daughter from witnessing the horrific sight before rushing to a nearby store to phone the police. Investigators determined that Alma had sustained a heavy blow to her right eye, but the cause of her death was ruled asphyxiation by manual strangulation. This implied that her murder was opportunistic, as the killer hadn't been prepared with a weapon. Alma's body showed signs of sexual assault, yet no foreign fluids were detected.
A watery stain running down Alma's thigh indicated that her killer had cleaned her body post-assault. It was determined that Alma had been dead for several hours before her body was found. Gun alley showed no signs of a struggle, nor was there anything under Alma's fingernails to indicate she'd put up a fight. The killer hadn't left anything behind and Alma's clothing was missing.
Therefore, detectives surmised the bulk of the attack must have occurred elsewhere. Alma had likely been killed the previous day before being dumped in the alley later that night. The area was scoured for clues. Police wondered whether the killer could have tried to force Alma's body down a nearby barrel drain and into the wide pipes 12 feet below, as her head was found partially resting on it. The drains were checked, but nothing of interest was found.
Even if evidence had been discarded down there, the chances of recovering it now were slim. The flowing water would have swept it through the pipes under the city and beyond. Surrounding bins, shops, residents, and rooftops were also checked for clues, but the search came up dry. Police turned their attention to potential witnesses. A sex worker told them that she'd been in Gun Alley just before 1am.
She didn't see Alma's body or anyone suspicious. As this woman had a reliable reputation with authorities, police determined that Alma's body had been dumped sometime after 1 o'clock. Residents who lived above Gun Alley didn't recall hearing a thing, although even if they had, they wouldn't necessarily have looked outside. Gun Alley was often frequented at night by drunks and drifters as well as sex workers with their clients.
It wasn't unusual to hear an assortment of strange noises emanating from down below. At around 1am, several residents of Little Collins Street reported hearing what sounded like two gunshots being fired in quick succession. They quickly realised it was actually the sound of a car backfiring. They also heard a door being slammed shut. This supported the theory that the killer had transported Alma's body to Gun Alley under the cover of darkness.
But the question remained: where had she been taken first? The killer needed privacy and time to not only assault Alma, but clean her body too. Investigators therefore believed he must have taken her somewhere familiar where he didn't run the risk of being caught in the act. For that reason, shared housing seemed unlikely. Local hotels and lodgings were checked and ruled out.
It was also possible that the killer lived with his family but had time alone while they went away for the holiday period. Yet, Alma was manually strangled. This was common in attacks where the killer felt pressured to silence their victim. After killing Alma, common sense dictated that the perpetrator wouldn't have wanted to transport her body very far. The surrounding city streets were never completely deserted, no matter the hour.
It was possible that he'd carried Alma's body in a bag or in some other inconspicuous way. Yet, no one had seen a man lugging anything hefty. The city's alcohol-fuelled nightlife might have allowed him to trek along busy thoroughfares completely unnoticed, while the darkened streets, alleys and doorways would have provided him with plenty of hiding spots. Dumping Alma's body was no doubt a strategic move to prevent investigators from having a crime scene to examine.
Still, they weren't sure what to make of this scenario. If the killer had access to a car, why didn't he leave Alma's body somewhere it wouldn't be found? Alma's body was left at the end of Gunn Alley after it turned 90 degrees and was no longer visible from the street. Unless one had travelled down the alley before, there was no way of knowing it featured this distinctive turn or reached a dead end.
If the killer lived nearby or frequented the area often, he'd know which spots were populated, which were lit, and possibly, the route and timings of police on the beat. Officers tasked with safeguarding this particular area of Melbourne had a set routine. Between 1 and 2am, they headed to the nearby Town Hall Police Depot for a meal and a drink before going back out.
The killer's movements seemed incredibly well-timed to fit this gap. The officer on the beat that night was required to check every lane and alley on the block. Less than an hour after the sex worker left a gun alley, the officer reached the top of the alley and peered into the darkness. Not noticing anything odd, he continued on his route. Had he performed his duties properly and gone into the alley, he might have come across Alma's body and possibly her killer.
Even if the killer had already fled, it was likely he'd still been in the vicinity and there would have been a greater chance of him being caught. With her long golden red hair, freckled face, and school uniform, Alma Turschke cut a memorable figure and several witnesses recalled seeing her on the afternoon of her disappearance. After picking up the parcel from her uncle's butcher, Alma was seen walking in the direction of her aunt's flat on Collins Street.
Unlike the exclusive and opulent precinct that it is today, in the 1920s the Collins Street area was regarded as a disreputable part of Melbourne. In the words of the Herald newspaper, its atmosphere was "squallered and depressing". The streets were lined with decrepit, dated buildings crammed between cheap and gloomy lodging houses. The Age newspaper described it as "an unsavoury quarter of undesirables".
A witness saw Alma slowly turn up Little Collins Street, looking up at the buildings as if she was lost. Had she continued up Little Collins Street and taken a left, she would have reached her destination. However, at 2:30 someone else spotted her on Bourke Street. This meant she'd taken a right.
A mother and daughter incidentally trailed Alma for a short distance until she entered the Eastern Arcade, a two-level building next to the Eastern Market, across the road from Gun Alley. The Arcade served as a thoroughfare from Burke to Little Collins Street. Its long, narrow, enclosed court interior was mostly desolate.
Many of the shops within were empty, save for 50 or so businesses between both floors, including a tobacconist, a herbalist, and second-hand dealers. Drab, dark, and dusty, the building reeked of mustiness. Neglected grime had crusted over the ornate glass-domed roof, preventing sunlight from pouring in, and cobwebs dangled from all corners and crevices. The arcade's inhabitants were rough.
Most were on the fringe of society and/or living in poverty. But there were other unconventional characters like fortune tellers and mediums. As The Age described: "From the early days of Melbourne, this section of the city has been the haunt of thieves and gamblers and other people of low type. A haven for evil characters. Most of the arcade's regulars were suspicious of police and reluctant to speak with them.
There was no known reason for Alma to enter the Eastern Arcade. Alma's grandmother suggested she might have gone in to use the public restroom. Whatever the case, it was unlikely Alma was aware of the arcade's seedy reputation. Towards the Little Collins Street exit of the Eastern Arcade was a bar called the Australian Wine Saloon. It too drew in a bad crowd. Anyone was served there, regardless of age.
Customers were often spotted around Little Collins Street at all hours in varying states of intoxication. Vomiting, urinating, and confronting passers-by. The Australian Wine Saloon was owned and operated by a man named Colin Ross. Shortly before 3pm on Friday December 30, Colin briefly stepped out of his saloon and happened to see Alma Tershke.
She paced around as if looking for somebody before exiting the arcade. The next sighting of Alma was as she crossed Little Collins Street just a few hundred meters from where she'd started her journey. It had taken her 90 minutes to walk in a circle around a city block. Even more troubling, when witnesses described Alma's demeanor, they used words like "nervous", "agitated" and even "frightened".
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Thank you for listening to this episode's ads. By supporting our sponsors, you support Casefile to continue to deliver quality content. Alma's journey would have taken her past some slum dwellings on Little Collins Street.
Investigators considered whether an unscrupulous loiterer had lured her away, or maybe she'd been stalked by a predator who pounced at an opportunistic moment. Given Alma's unsettled state, she might have known she was being followed and had been wandering around trying to give her pursuer the slip. Alma was obedient and introverted in nature, with a soft way of speaking. If something were amiss, she didn't have the tenacity to confront the problem head on.
In the words of her uncle, John: "Though of a bright disposition, Alma was somewhat reserved and did not make friends readily like some girls. She lacked the vivacious manner that encourages a chance acquaintance." By the time Alma's body was discovered, her killer had a sizeable head start. Despite the lack of clues or evidence, investigators were certain the mystery would be solved within days.
The Victorian Government offered a £250 reward for information that led to a conviction, an amount that was deemed woefully inadequate by the local populace. Given the urgency of the situation, they expected a far higher and more tempting offer. If the investigation took too long, the killer could flee the state or worse, strike again.
But by Tuesday January 3 1922, four days after Alma's body was discovered, there still hadn't been any arrests. Alma Tershki was laid to rest that day. Her small coffin was adorned with white flowers, with six of her friends acting as pallbearers.
Alma's grieving family travelled with her body in the hearse that took her to her final resting place, a plot alongside her recently deceased grandfather at Brighton Cemetery. After Alma's funeral, her loved ones went to Gun Alley for a moment of private reflection. They were confronted by a large crowd of strangers gawking at the crime scene.
Gun Alley had been chaotic since the discovery of Alma's body. A non-stop influx of locals, out-of-towners, police and news reporters flooded the small area at all hours. Within the first week of January 1922, thousands of people pushed their way through the tight space to observe the area, lay flowers, condemn the perpetrator, and swap theories.
A line of people nearly 100 metres long stretched from the alley's entrance, with inconvenienced business owners threatening to hose the onlookers if they didn't disperse. Similar crowds also descended on the Eastern Arcade, storming into shops and lodgings shouting "Let us at them!" pulled the place down. Alma Turski's murder was the first crime in Melbourne to create such hysteria.
The press covered the story exhaustively, releasing detailed updates about the investigation every morning and afternoon that included evidence uncovered and witness accounts. The people of Australia were left reeling. How did a killer strike in broad daylight on the bustling streets of Melbourne's Theatre District? Mothers used Alma's death as a warning to their own children, even though no one fully knew what she'd experienced or by whom.
The one thing people did know was that her killer was a cold-blooded, careful predator. As fear gripped the city, members of Melbourne's criminal underworld offered their help by sending the message to the police: "You tell us who you want and we'll get him for you." An article in the Age newspaper asserted:
The circumstances of the case are of such a tragic and revolting character that the whole community should leave no stone unturned to discover the criminal. The issue for police wasn't that they weren't getting enough tips, it's that they were getting too many. Melbourne citizens reported all sorts of suspicious behaviour, including a man who changed his outfit three times in one day.
Police were spoken to about everything, from worrisome dreams to clairvoyant visions. The constant pile-on ran the risk of key information being overlooked. Even though the crime scene had been thoroughly examined and cleared by authorities, amateur sleuths muddied the waters by inundating gun alley and handing over anything they came across, from buttons to a piece of ribbon.
One man even handed over a parcel of sausages he found behind a drainpipe, thinking it could have been the meat Alma Tershki had collected from the butcher prior to her murder. In actuality, all of these items had been strewn there by hoaxsters wanting to stir up some drama. Detectives also began receiving anonymous death threats warning them to drop the inquiry. These too were suspected to be from pranksters.
Despite the chaos, the police encouraged the community to keep information pouring in. On Thursday January 5, someone who lived near Little Collins Street called in claiming they had important information relating to the case. Several detectives piled into a police car and sped towards the destination. As they approached the corner of Lonsdale and Exhibition Streets, a man staggered in front of their car.
The driver swerved to avoid them, causing the vehicle's front wheels to lock and skid. The car overturned, throwing two officers from their seats and leaving a third pinned underneath. The officers only sustained broken bones and relatively minor injuries, but the entire fiasco was reported by the press, who had been casting Victoria Police in a mostly negative light from the outset of the Turski investigation.
The detectives involved in the car accident were described as utterly incompetent and on a wild goose chase. The police car involved in the crash was an old, obsolete vehicle that had earned the nickname among officers as "the suicide car" due to its poor and dangerous state. Its continued usage highlighted the problems Victoria Police faced in the wake of Alma Tershki's murder. For starters, investigators hadn't been supplied with electric torches.
Instead, they relied on matches to search the dark alleyways and other locations. The same went for the officer who had been tasked with checking Gun Alley on the night of the crime. If he'd had better resources, some questioned how things could have worked out differently. Then there was the matter of the police photographer, who shared his services across all government departments. As researcher Kevin Morgan explained in his book, Gun Alley,
It was not uncommon for police to be told, on making application for the photographer's services, that he had been dispatched to country Victoria to photograph new fruit picking techniques or new harvesting equipment and that he would not be back in Melbourne for several days. As a result, Gharnali wasn't photographed for the purpose of the homicide investigation until mid-January 1922, weeks after Alma Turski was killed.
This meant no photographs had been taken of her body in situ or in the mortuary. At the time, it was the sole duty of detectives to examine and interpret a crime scene. Even though forensic sciences were not entirely new, few in Victoria were trained in its most recent developments. Not only did the police lack the expertise they needed, they also lacked manpower.
When Alma's body was first discovered, only three officers were dispatched to Gun Alley. This was barely enough to maintain the integrity of the crime scene, let alone close off the surrounding area to search for the killer. Curious onlookers and news reporters had trudged their way through the alley before it could be cordoned off and guarded. With the limited resources they had, it took the police days to properly examine the crime scene, not to mention the greater area.
As Victoria Police faced growing criticism, the government upped the reward in Alma's case to £1,000. This was one of the biggest rewards ever offered in Australian history - enough to buy several houses and live a comfortable life. The increase was well received by the community. It served as both a face-saving strategy for the government and a timely distraction of the underlying issues that plagued the police.
Meanwhile, the relationship between the police and the press remained rocky. While both were set on identifying Alma's killer and worked in tandem at times, the press's criticism hurt relations. Within days of Alma's murder, they'd portrayed the police as having failed ingloriously for not making any arrests. They started demanding a royal commission into the police's incompetence, and the public had little confidence in law enforcement as a result.
The pressure on detectives to solve the case quickly was immense. One detective told the press: "Any day now we expect to get our man." The editor of the Argus newspaper doubted this, writing: "As each day passes, the grievous disappointment of the public at the failure of the police to track down the murderer of Alma Tershki grows more profound.
The detective and police forces of Melbourne are on trial, and no matter how exacting they may find the ordeal, they must realise that the public will not tolerate failure on their part. Working on the theory that Alma's killer had to be local to the area surrounding Gun Alley, police questioned various frequenters of the Eastern Arcade.
Among them was the proprietor of the Australian Wine Saloon, 28-year-old Colin Ross, who had reported seeing Alma walk past his saloon at around 2.30pm. The mother and daughter who saw Alma enter the Eastern Arcade verified Colin's account. They not only saw Alma, but also remember seeing Colin Ross as he stepped outside of his establishment to observe the arcade. When they glanced back, both Alma and Colin were gone.
The Australian Wine Saloon took up two shop floors of the arcade's ground level. Inside the entrance, an arched doorway on the right led to the neighbouring shop floor where the saloon's parlour was located. To the left sat the bar. Behind the bar was a small, curtained-off room that contained a couch with two blankets on it, as well as the opening to the cellar. According to the staff, this was a private room used only by Colin Ross.
If the curtain was closed, it meant no one was allowed to enter. Colin had first reported his sighting of Alma to two detectives who visited his saloon the day after the 12-year-old's body was discovered. When one detective asked him, "How much do you know, Ross?" He replied, "I don't know anything at all." Over the days that followed, Colin and other arcade regulars were questioned several times.
Elaborating on his movements from Friday December 30, Colin said that he'd arrived at his saloon at around 2pm. The bar was quiet, so he wandered out the front to take in the happenings around the Eastern Arcade. That's when he glimpsed Alma Turschke walk past. Colin then went back into his saloon and remained there until closing time at 6pm. At 6:10, he travelled to the suburb of Futscray where he lived with his mother and brothers.
He ate dinner before heading back to the city. Colin had planned to meet his friend Gladys at the Eastern Arcade at 9pm. Arriving early, he wandered around Little Collins Street aimlessly for 15 minutes before catching up with Gladys and taking her to the Australian Wine Saloon. Given it was after hours, they were the only two inside.
They stayed there until 10:45, at which point Colin locked the place up and walked to Gladys the roughly 20 minute journey to her flat on King Street. He then went to Spencer Street Station and took a train home, where he stayed for the rest of the night. Gladys confirmed Colin's version of events, but she said they left the saloon at 10:20pm, 25 minutes earlier than what Colin had stated.
According to Gladys, the pair spoke outside of her flat for a while before parting ways at 11:15. Gladys watched Colin walk off and was under the impression that he was heading home. Although Colin Ross was simply being questioned in relation to the Amaterski case, rumours quickly spread that police had placed him under arrest for her murder. A 3,000 strong crowd gathered at the entrance of the Eastern Arcade shouting for officers to bring him out.
The building was locked down as officers on horseback arrived to disperse the angry crowd. For the general public, who absorbed all of their information about the case from the press, Colin Ross was exactly the type of man who would kill Alma Turschke. There was no doubt about that. A little under two years earlier, in March 1920, police received a call from Colin's then-girlfriend, Lily.
She claimed that Colin had threatened her with a revolver after she rejected his marriage proposal, saying that he'd have her dead or alive. Terrified, Lily had accepted his proposal just to placate him, but then called the police as soon as he left. Colin was charged with using threatening words towards a young woman and carrying firearms without permission.
He avoided a 14-day stint in jail by agreeing to a 12-month good behaviour bond with a £5 fine. More recently, a patron of the Australian Wine Saloon was robbed of his cash and shot in the shoulder. Several people were suspected of being involved in the crime, including Colin Ross, and he was subsequently charged with armed robbery. Yet, the victim had been heavily intoxicated and couldn't recall who was responsible for his injuries.
Investigators were left with conflicting accounts from the disreputable accused, who lobbed blame at each other, and Colin was ultimately acquitted. A criminal with a penchant for violent acts, Colin Ross fit the bill of a killer. He had a burly, strong figure and could have easily intimidated and overpowered little Alma Tershki. He matched the police's suspect profile, being a local business owner familiar with the area,
Yet, they hadn't uncovered anything to justify his arrest for Alma's murder. Detectives quizzed Colin about his relationship with women. Through their inquiries, they'd been told that Colin was known to boast about his sexual prowess, claiming that he was "the largest sexually made man". He allegedly said that if his sexual partners didn't do what he wanted them to, he would "strangle the bastards".
Though police never revealed their sources for this information, it was no secret that they'd questioned many sex workers in the aftermath of Amaterski's murder, and Colin was known to engage their services. When confronted with these statements, Colin asserted it was all lies. He seemed perplexed that anyone would say these things about him, so much so that he arrived at police headquarters to find out who had.
Detectives refused to tell Colin their sources and asked why he was so anxious to know. Colin replied that he didn't believe anyone said those things about him. If they had, Colin said that he'd, quote, "...warm them up, sensing an opportunity." Detectives tried to provoke Colin in the hopes he might react by doing something that implicated him in Alma Tershki's murder. Replying to Colin's threat, one detective said, quote,
"Very good. Try it." But Colin kept his cool and continued to fully cooperate with investigators. He even suggested they look into two men who occupied an upstairs room on the opposite side of the arcade to his saloon. His tip only raised detectives' suspicion as they felt Colin was trying to divert attention from himself. Still, he willingly provided follow-up statements whenever asked and his story never changed.
It was always presented with an air of confidence, as though he had nothing to hide. On the day that our Maturshki's body was discovered, the Australian Wine Saloon's liquor licence happened to expire, marking its final day of trade. Colin had attempted to renew it, but Victoria Police ensured the application was rejected due to Colin's criminal behaviour and the many complaints they'd received from neighbouring businesses regarding the saloon's rowdy patrons.
Colin had no choice but to close the establishment down. By the time detectives got around to examining the saloon on Tuesday January 3, four days had passed since Alma's body was found. By then, the entire building had already been completely emptied and gutted. Two weeks later, on Thursday January 12, detectives visited Colin Ross at home.
They noticed a pair of blankets folded up under a pillow on his couch, one brownish-red in colour, the other a grey-blue. Colin said the blankets had previously been in his saloon slung over a couch in the curtained-off room behind the bar. Looking at the brown blanket, one of the detectives noticed a long red hair stuck to it.
The blankets were confiscated for further analysis. All up, a total of 22 red hairs were recovered on the brown blanket. The blue blanket also contained five red hairs as well as two semen stains. Prior to Alma Turshki's burial, a lock of her hair had been placed inside an envelope to aid with future investigations. An analyst compared the hairs found on the blankets to Alma's.
They concluded that all of the hairs had derived from the scalp of the same person.
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Thank you for listening to this episode's ads. By supporting our sponsors, you support Casefile to continue to deliver quality content. At the police station, Colin Ross maintained that on Friday December 30 he'd walked his friend Gladys back to her flat before catching the train home. He added that he got home at around midnight and went straight to bed. Once again, detectives switched their line of questioning to Colin's personal life.
They said a source had told them that Colin had a habit of exposing himself when drunk. Colin denied this, saying, "That is a lie, and I do not believe any person told you that." The interviewing detective, Fred Pigott, responded, "Do you think I am lying?" Colin mulled it over before replying, "I won't say that." His response intrigued detectives as it wasn't an outright denial.
In a way, his coy answer seemed like an admission. For Detective Piggott, this was a huge step in the right direction. What Colin didn't know was that someone had already come forward implicating him in Alma's murder. Olive Maddox was a sex worker by trade and a regular visitor at the Australian Wine Saloon. She considered Colin Ross a friend, even though he'd unsuccessfully propositioned her for sex on multiple occasions.
Olive had told police that she'd been at Collins' saloon at 5pm on Friday December 30. After ordering a drink, she stood in the archway to the parlour to see if she recognised anyone inside. Sitting alone in a corner was a young woman wearing a dress with red hair flowing down from under her hat. She had a glass in front of her, but Olive wasn't sure what it contained.
According to Olive, she approached Colin Ross at the bar and told him there was a girl in the parlor who appeared too young to be drinking there. Colin smiled and responded sarcastically, "Oh well, if she wants it, she can have it." Olive left the saloon shortly after, noting that the girl was still there. When she returned almost an hour later, it was five minutes till closing time, and neither the girl nor Colin Ross were anywhere to be seen.
Olive claimed to have crossed paths with Colin Ross again six days later on Thursday January 5 when he asked for her thoughts on Alma Turski's murder. Olive didn't know much about it, but Colin had plenty to say. He started lambasting Alma, claiming the papers were making her out to be goody-goody when she was in fact, quote, "a cheeky little devil". He said that the little girl was at an age where she wanted a man.
Colin's comments disturbed Olive, but she couldn't say with certainty that the girl she'd seen in his saloon had been Alma Tershki. While they bore a resemblance and the girl had been wearing clothes that fit the description of Alma's school uniform, the parlor had been poorly lit so she couldn't be entirely sure. But Olive Maddox's account was just one piece of a damning puzzle forming against Colin.
Detectives had learnt that Olive wasn't the only one who claimed to have seen a girl matching Amaterski's description at the Australian wine saloon. Ivy Matthews was a bartender and former employee of Colin Ross. She told the police that on December 30 she'd dropped into the saloon at around 3pm.
As she approached the bar, Colin emerged from his private room, leaving the curtain open long enough for Ivy to catch a glimpse of a young, red-headed girl sitting on a chair inside. Ivy wasn't sure what to make of the situation. She wondered whether the girl's mother was also in the room, just out of sight. Ivy watched Colin pour a glass of wine before returning back behind the curtain.
She left the saloon shortly after, but her observations continued to bother her. Ivy already thought Colin Ross was a pervert. She claimed to have previously seen him follow and accost children around the arcade and had warned him to leave them alone. According to Ivy, when she learned of Alma Tersky's murder on December 31, she immediately confronted Colin at work about the girl she'd seen in his back room.
Colin swiftly ushered Ivy outside and onto Little Colin Street so they could talk privately. He had admitted that he'd been standing outside his saloon when Alma approached and asked him for a drink. He said that he led her inside and into the back room. Colin assured Ivy that he didn't do anything to Alma, but implied that she'd been with men before. He said he'd intended to move her on when his bar closed, but she wouldn't leave.
But Colin soon changed his tune. He allegedly broke down, telling Ivy that he suffered from a disease where being in the presence of a child caused him to lose his head. He confessed that he'd, quote, "ravished Alma" and that without meaning to, she was dead before he knew it. Afterwards, he wrapped Alma's body in the blankets from the back room and went home.
He drove back to the saloon in the early hours of the morning and used his car to move Alma's body to Gun Alley. As Colin told Ivy this, he was visibly distraught. According to Ivy, he said that after killing Alma, he'd felt like getting a knife and finishing himself. Interviewing detectives presented Colin Ross with the allegations from Olive Maddox and Ivy Matthews.
He called them deliberate lies, saying, "'You can get nothing on me.'" Colin Ross was nevertheless charged with the murder of Alma Turski. As he was led away for processing, his relaxed attitude faltered and he began yelling about a frame-up. His mother and brothers accepted his assertions of innocence and contacted a lawyer. Colin was scheduled to appear in court the next day.
By then, news of his arrest had made headlines, making him the most hated man in Australia. A large angry crowd amassed at the city court calling for Colin's head as the police tried in vain to disperse them. Colin was transported into the building via a direct passage from the police station cells to bypass the raging mob. Colin appeared optimistic about his situation, though wept after briefly speaking with his mother.
His nerves kicked in once he was in front of the judges. Detective Fred Piggott detailed the case against the accused. He spoke of Colin's sighting of Alma at the Eastern Arcade, but added nothing further, simply saying: "There is other evidence, which, at this stage, the police do not wish to disclose." A coronial inquest into Alma Turski's death was scheduled to determine if Colin Ross would stand trial for her murder.
He objected to being remanded in custody until then, telling the court that he'd prefer to be out so witnesses could come to him and prove his whereabouts on the night Alma was killed. The remark was ill-considered, as it only further cemented the judge's belief that Colin needed to be remanded. Colin pleaded, "But there is no reason why I should be here." With that, his mother Edie abruptly stood up in the public gallery and announced,
"I can prove where he was." One of Edie's sons quietened her and pulled her back down to her seat. Colin Ross was remanded until the coronial inquest. As he left the dock in an apparent state of shock, he remarked sarcastically: "This is a great country. There's no doubt about it." While Colin was on remand, a fellow prisoner named Sydney Harding came forward to the police to divulge a serious incident.
During a private conversation in the prison yard, Sidney claimed that Colin had asked him, "What do you think of my case?" Sidney didn't know enough about it to offer any insight. Colin asked if Sidney could be trusted. Sidney assured him so. Colin then told Sidney about how he'd seen a distressed looking Alma walking through the Eastern Arcade. He tried to strike up a conversation with her but she ignored him.
Colin told Alma that she didn't need to be afraid as he was the owner of the saloon. He encouraged her to come in and sit down. Alma followed Colin inside where the only other customers were seated out of view in the parlour. Certain that no one had seen them, Colin led Alma into the private room behind the bar, closed the curtain, and offered her a drink of sweet wine.
She refused at first, but Colin eventually persuaded her to take a sip. The two proceeded to talk for several hours, during which Alma consumed two more glasses of wine. At one point, Colin left to speak with another bar patron. After closing up shop, he returned to the back room to find that Alma had fallen asleep. Colin allegedly told Sydney Harding that he couldn't resist the temptation,
He began molesting Alma, during which she stirred awake and cried out. Colin covered her mouth with his hand and proceeded to rape her. At some point during the attack, Alma fainted. Colin left the back room for a moment, during which Alma regained consciousness and began crying out. He rushed back and tried to pacify her, but she wouldn't settle. Not knowing what came over him, he began choking her.
Colin allegedly told Sydney that when he came back to his senses, he lifted Alma's arm and it flopped lifelessly, confirming she was dead. He calmed down and tried to think. Alma looked horrible and was bleeding badly. Colin grabbed a bucket full of water and cleaned her body, then the scene. He had plans to meet his friend Gladys at 9pm and he knew it'd be suspicious if he cancelled.
He took Gladys to the saloon, where she remained blissfully unaware that a child's body lay hidden just meters away. According to Sydney, Colin said he then walked Gladys home and caught public transport back to his place in Footscray. Along the way, he made himself as conspicuous as possible to establish as many alibis as he could.
In the early morning hours, Colin stole a bicycle from a neighboring home and rode the 10 kilometers back to the Eastern Arcade. After walking around the building to check that the coast was clear, he went inside the saloon. He stripped Alma's body naked and wrapped it in a coat before carrying her body across the road to Gunn Alley and leaving it there. On his way home, Colin stopped on Footscray Road and tore Alma's clothing into strips.
He scattered the pieces as he rode onwards, throwing each of her shoes into two nearby rivers. After returning the bicycle to his neighbour's house, he went home. Colin allegedly told Sidney that the only other person he'd told this to was his lawyer, who'd advised him to keep his mouth shut. He said he trusted Sidney and felt good about his case. Once it was all over, he intended to sue for compensation.
unless he lost, in which case, he'd take his own life. The inquest into the death of Alma Tershki took place on Wednesday January 25, a little under a month after she was killed. An angry mob encircled the building, forming the largest crowd the court had ever seen. This time, the police came prepared.
They kept the peace as detectives, witnesses and members of Colin Ross's family were hurried inside, followed by the shackled man himself. Each of the case's witnesses took the stand to reiterate what they'd seen or heard. Colin stared unflinchingly as Ivy Matthews and Sydney Harding detailed the alleged confessions he'd made to them. Every so often, his lips would curl into a smile.
After hearing testimony from witnesses, case detectives, and the forensic analyst, Colin refused the opportunity to take the stand. The coroner then handed down their findings, concluding that Colin Ross was responsible for Alma Turski's death and committing him to stand trial for her murder. In the meantime, a woman came forward to hand something over to police.
She'd been travelling along Footscray Road when she came across a six-inch square piece of blue fabric in the gutter. The police believed it was part of the dress Oumeturski was wearing on the day she was murdered. The discovery added validity to the alleged confession that Colin Ross gave to his fellow inmate, Sydney Harding, and only strengthened the case against him. The trial commenced the following month in February.
Having established itself as one of the most infamous criminal cases in Victoria's history, the courtroom was packed. Those who missed out on a seat lingered outside the court, waiting for minute-by-minute updates. For Melburnians, the trial was just a formality. The general consensus was that Colin Ross was guilty. Colin was ushered into the courtroom, where he staunchly announced his declaration of not guilty.
All the witnesses who testified at the coronial inquest reappeared for the murder trial. They more or less provided the same testimony, albeit with some additional details that filled in the blanks. The prosecution also presented two new witnesses, the first of whom was a man named Francis Upton. On Friday December 30 1921, Francis said he'd been drinking heavily at the Australian Wine Saloon.
He ended up passing out in the nearby Flagstaff Gardens. Once he regained consciousness, it was a little after midnight and he was feeling sober. Wanting another drink, Francis headed back to the Australian Wine Saloon and noticed a light on inside. He approached the saloon and overheard a woman's voice say from within, "Oh my god, darling, how are we going to get rid of it?" Francis tried the door. It was unlocked.
He heard Colin Ross's panicked voice say, "There is somebody here." Colin then appeared at the door, clearly rattled. He held a small towel against one arm and his hands were stained red. Francis asked him for wine. Colin rushed to the bar, grabbed a bottle and thrust it at Francis, pushing him away and retreating back into the saloon without asking for payment.
Outside the arcade, Francis noticed the wine bottle had the same red staining on it as Colin's hands. The bottle was still sealed, leading Francis to suspect the staining wasn't wine, but perhaps blood. He took a swig from the bottle and left it on the corner of William and Flinders Streets. The second new prosecution witness was Joseph Dunstan, another man who had been on remand with Colin Ross.
Joseph testified that he was once reading a book in the prison yard when he saw Colin and Sydney Harding walking back and forth in deep conversation. Joseph overheard Colin saying things like, I was talking to the girl. If they find any wine inside her, that ain't to say I gave it to her. And, no, a bike. Joseph heard Sydney ask, how was she dressed?
This testimony further supported Sidney Harding's allegations that Colin had confessed to killing Alma Tershke. Primed by the press, the public viewed Colin Ross contentiously. Seemingly utterly unapologetic and unaffected in court, he chewed on lollies and joked with his lawyers during breaks. Whenever Colin was escorted through the angry mob, he shouted at them playfully, "'Bye-bye!'
Unlike at the coronial inquest, Colin opted to take the stand at his trial. He cut the figure of a gruff and angry thug, he denied all accusations levelled against him, and repeated his "unchanged" version of events. Colin said the police were trying to pin Alma's murder on him as payback for the armed robbery case they lost against him years prior. The trial concluded on its fifth day.
Colin sat composed and listened intently to the prosecution's closing remarks that described him as "a desperate man facing a desperate charge and prepared to say anything desperate." The jury deliberated for a day before presenting their verdict. Guilty. Colin stared blankly ahead as the announcement was made. Asked if he had anything to argue against receiving the death penalty, Colin responded:
I still maintain that I am an innocent man and that my evidence is correct. If I am hanged, I will be hanged an innocent man. My life has been sworn away by desperate people. The judge sentenced Colin Ross to death by hanging. Colin reasserted his innocence several times over, but the judge interrupted him, saying, And may God have mercy on your soul.
Outside court, the massive crowd erupted in cheers. For the first time, Colin appeared distraught and nearly collapsed as he was led to a waiting van. As he passed, the crowd yelled "Scoundrel! Serves you right! Hanging's too good for you!" The conviction heralded a celebration in Melbourne unlike any criminal trial in the history of the state. Colin endeavoured to appeal his conviction but was ultimately unsuccessful.
He was sent to the gallows on Monday, April 24, 1922, almost four months after Amatersky's murder. His final words were: "I am now face to face with my maker, and I swear by Almighty God that I am an innocent man. I never committed the crime, and I don't know who did. I never confessed to anyone. I ask a God to forgive those who have sworn my life away."
To be continued next week.