348: Janelle Patton

Norfolk Island hadn’t had a murder in over 150 years, but that all changed one stormy afternoon in 2002. Two tourists left their accommodation after the rainstorm had cleared. They headed to Cockpit Waterfall. On the floor near the barbecue area, something unnatural caught their attention…

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Speaker 1: Because I thought she was gay, yet all night she

was quiet.

Speaker 2: In seventeen eighty eight, just weeks after the first fleet

arrived in Sydney, Britain claimed a remote spec in the

South Pacific island. First used as a brutal penal colony,

then abandoned, then re established as one of the harshest

prisons in the British Empire, the island earned a dark reputation.

By the mad eighteen hundreds, it was emptied again, only

to be resettled by descendants of the bounty mutineers from

Pitcairn Island. By the early two thousands, Norfolk Island had

transformed into something altogethered different, a semi tropical paradise between

New Zealand and New Caledonia, eight kilometers by five home

to around eighteen hundred souls, it was a territory under

Australian authority, but with its own distinct character. Tourists came

for the torring Norfolk pines, the dramatic coastal cliffs, and

the free and easy island attitude. But on Easter Sunday

two thousand and two, that tranquility shattered forever. It was

just after three pm when the storm hit. The clouds

had been gathering since midday, sitting in the sky like

a dark bruce. When the rain finally came, it arrived

all at once, a wall of water that transformed narrow

roads into rivers and turned the towering Norfolk Pines in

the shadows. The downpour trapped tourist indoors across the island.

Helenope and Mark de Laroche were visiting from New Zealand

for what was supposed to be an idyllic getaway. They

spent the afternoon watching rain hammer against their window. By

six thirty pm, the storm had exhausted itself as suddenly

as it had begun, leaving the air thick and humid.

With only a few hours of daylight remaining, the couple

decided to venture out to Cockpit Waterfall Reserve, a scenic

picnic area named for rock formations that resembled an airplane's cockpit.

As they walked, their shoes squelched through the mud and

sodden vegetation. The reserve was deserted when they arrived, still

dripping from the storm, but then something near the barbecue

area caught their attention. At the first glance, it looked

like rubbish. A large shade of black plastic rumbled and

out of place against the lush landscape. But as they

drew closer, the shape beneath became sickingly clear. Helen and

Mark stopped in their tracks. It was the outline of

a human body, exposed skin peeking out from the plastic,

Norfolk Island's first murder in over one hundred and fifty years.

Janelle Patton had been living on Norfolk Island for a

round two and a half years. She was twenty nine

years old and originally from Sydney. She had left the

mainland feeling dissatisfied and depressed, seeking a fresh start somewhere

far from the chaos of city life. Behind Janelle lay

a turbulent passed, including field relief ships and one abusive

ex boyfriend who had broken her jaw. Norfolk Island represented

something precious to Janelle, a chance to reinvent herself, a

place where nobody knew her history, where she could simply be.

Speaker 1: Those who knew.

Speaker 2: Janell described a bright young woman and a talented musician.

She was bobbly, outgoing, charming, somebody who thrived in the

tourist industry, who could make visitors feel instantly at ease.

Janelle was also an extreme perfectionist, holding herself to standards

that sometimes made life harder than it needed to be.

She apparently rubbed some people the wrong way. Janelle had

arrived on a three year temporary and three permit. Her

first job was as a housemaid. From there, she moved

through several retail positions, searching for the right fit. Most recently,

she landed work as a waitress at the Castaway Hotel,

and for the first time in a while, she seemed

to have found her stride. Norfolk Island is small, only

around eighteen hundre. Her people live there permanently. Everybody knew

everyone or knew of them. To Janelle, however, none of

that mattered. Norfolk Island was paradise. She'd always wanted to

live somewhere exactly like it. It had been hard to

leave her parents, Ron and Carol behind in Sydney, but

they visited often. Carl remembered that her daughter said to

her on the phone, muments paradise. I'm so lucky to

be living in such a beautiful place. The family had

made plans for Carol and Ron to visit over Easter

of two thousand and two. They flew in from Sydney

on Saturday, and Janelle picked them up in the airport.

Excited to show them how well she'd settled in, She

took them on a scenic drive, pulling over repeatedly to

snap photographs, wanting to capture everything. That night, Janelle insisted

her parents come to dinner at the Castaway Hotel. When

they arrived, she made a point of introducing them to everybody, colleagues, regulars,

anybody within rich. She wanted them to see her life,

understand how far she'd come. Carol remembered it vividly. She

was just brilliant with the people. I think maybe that

was her flare. She was a meticulous organizer. Carl and

Rahm were proud that their daughter was thriving, and it

was a delight to witness. Sunday morning arrived bright and clear,

no hint yet of the storm to come. Janelle worked

the breakfast shift at the restaurant, finishing approximately eleven am.

From there, she headed to the local supermarket to buy

ingredients for dinner. She was making bridos for her parents

that evening. After shopping, Janelle left to go on our

regular morning walk along the coastal track near her home.

It was something she did every single day without fail.

Potter for routine, her way of starting the day right.

She had plans to made her parents sometime between one

and two pm, but Janelle never arrived, and now a

storm was battering the island. The rain fell in torrents,

turning the roads to rivers, bluring the world into grand certainty.

And somewhere in that deluge, wrapped in black plastic near

barbecue area in Cockpit Waterfall Reserve, lege in Helle Patten's body,

just waiting to be found. After Helen and Mark discovered

the body beneath the trash bag, they backed away slowly,

careful not to disturb what they now understood to be

a crime scene. They called for police. It didn't take

long for officers to arrive. It was a small island,

after all, but they were only a handful of detectives available,

and none of them had ever worked a murder investigation

on Norfolk Island before. There hadn't been one in living memory.

They gordoned off the scene immediately. When they carefully removed

the black plastic shape from the body, they found a

young woman. She was fully clothed but her clothing was

saturated in blood. She had been stabbed multiple times. Her

arms and hands bore defensive wounds, the kind that told

the story of someone fighting desperately for their life. She

was carrying identification Janelle Patten. It became clear almost immediately

that Janelle hadn't been killed where she was found. There

was no blood of the scene, however, had left her

body at cockpit. Waterfall of reserve had brought it from

somewhere else. After the crime scene was documented, Janelle's body

was transported for autopsy. She had endured a prolonged period

of extreme violence. Janelle had sustained sixty four separate stab wounds.

Her skull had been fractured, her pelvis had been fractured,

three ribs were broken, her head and body were covered

with bruises, abrasions, and cuts, and she had sustained the

stab wound that punctured her lung. She hadn't been sexually assaulted,

but detectives didn't really out the sexual motive entirely. Unfortunately,

the rainstorm that had battered the island that afternoon had

washed away any potential d NA evidence from the dump site.

Whatever trace evidence might have existed was gone carried away

in torrents of water. There hadn't been a murder on

Norfolk Island in around one hundred and fifty years, so

world traveled fast. Brian Perr's, a local resident, tried to

articulate what the island had been before that Sunday. Norfolk

is a place like Australia was ten to fifteen years ago.

You don't lock your car, you don't lock your house,

and women feel a lot more confidence walking around here.

That sense of safety evaporated overnight as the investigation got

under way, so the public fear. Detective Peter Perkins noticed

the shift. The mood on the island's pretty somber. Everyone's

afraid to go bout at night, especially women. In one sense,

the investigation should have been straightforward. There were less than

two thousand residents on Norfolk Island at easter. There are

around six hundred and ninety tourists. That was a relatively

narrow list of potential suspects compared to a mainland city.

Detectives began with basic questions. Was anybody acting suspicious? Did

somebody fail to make an appointment? Was there anybody with

blood on their clothing? But detectives soon learned a hard

truth about island life. People in Norfolk Island look out

for one another. Some residents didn't want to speak with

the detectives. They were relocked into bright information about fellow locals,

even when it might have been relevant to a murder investigation.

That reluctance sent the rumor mill into overdrive. One of

the main rumors circulating was that Janelle had been killed

by a woman. Another suggested she'd been killed by a

tourist staying at the hotel where she worked. Some believed

who members of a prominent island family were involved. Others

whispered that Janelle had relationships with multiple men on the

island and one had become jealous. Sergeant Brendon Lindsay identified

the problem directly. That's one of the problems here. People

start to believe what they hear. People here are very

reluctant to give information about other locals. The island's local newspaper,

The Norfolk Islander, addressed the issue in print in true

Norfolk Island fashion, The rumor mill was soon turning out

its own version of what had happened and their own

warped theories. Regardless of the families and individuals who they

are pillaring. The rumors were destructive. They pointed fingers without evidence,

They created suspicion where none belonged, and they made the

investigation harder. Detectives began to focus on retracing Janelle's last

known movements. She had left work at the Castaway Hotel

around eleven a m. From there, she'd gone to the

local supermarket. Then she'd headed out for her daily walk

along the coastal track, wearing a black top and light

colored shorts. A passing motorist had seen her on her walk.

The motorist was a woman driving her baby around the

island to get him to sleep. She spotted Janell walking

along Rudy Hill Road between eleven thirty a m and

eleven forty a m approximately halfway to the lookout point.

When the woman looked back around ten minutes later, Janelle

had vanished. Not long after that, customers at a nearby

golf clubhouse heard what sounded like screams. They didn't call police,

as one of them said, Norfolk. Being Norfolk, you don't

have that sort of thing, do you. Another woman, Kathleen Wheeler,

had interesting insight as well. She said that she had

seen a couple in a white car driving on Rudy

Hill route. She said they were sitting far apart, as

if they weren't speaking to one another. She recalled, the

thought went through my mind that it was a couple

that had a snout, or an argument or something. Detectives

began to believe that Janelle had been intercepted by her

killer somewhere along Rudy Hill, wrote They turned their attention there,

scarring the road inch by inch. It was surrounded by

dense woodland, which made the search more difficult. Visibility was limited,

the undergrowth was thick on the road itself. They found

something of interest, a pair of women's sunglasses. They were smashed.

This discovery led to a theory Janelle had been abducted

at the side of the road, forced into a vehicle,

and then murdered elsewhere. The sunglasses suggested a struggle, a

moment of resistance before she was overpowered. Where had Janell

been taken and by who. While the investigation pressed forward,

around three hundred people gathered a uniting church for Janelle's

memorial service. Reverend Ken Rogers attempted to articulate what the

entire community was failing when he said, this brutal and

senseless waste of a beautiful young life has caused a

wave of fear to sweep this beautiful island. That is

I believe without president, no words can adequately express the

collective sadness being felt and the feelings of disbelief that

this could possibly happen here. How can we as an

island community deal with something we have no point of

reference for. Janelle's parents spoke to the congregation. Her mother, Carol,

recalled how her daughter had felt that Norfolk Island was paradise.

Through tears, she told the gathered mourners, we feel that

part of her life would always be here, in this

special paradise. She said. They were grateful that they had

been visiting when it happened and they had those last

final days together. We will try to sure that time

together forever, she said. Janelle's father, Ron, urged everybody to

keep Norfolk Island as the paradise his daughter had loved

so deeply. After several days of investigating with limited resources,

detectives called an additional federal police, including forensic crime scene specialists.

They appealed to the public for any information, especially wanting

to speak with tourists who had left the island since

March thirty first, Norfolk Island's Legislative Assembly passed emergency legislation

allowing the mass collection of DNA, something that had never

been needed before. The island had never experienced such a

serious crime, so no such legal framework had existed. Sergeant

Peters was blunt when he asked why it was necessary.

It's very likely that the killer is still on the island,

he said. The legislation marrid criminal procedure laws already in

place in the Act and New South Wales, but its

passage on Northivik Island marked a fundamental shift in how

the community saw itself. While the investigation continued, Janelle's body

was returned to Sydney, where her funeral was held at

the Northern Suburbs Crematorium. At the service, her parents booked

once more about her love of Norfolk Island. Janelle's younger

brother Mark told those gathered that the family was struggling

to come to terms with what had happened. The weeks

trickled past achingly slow, the case remained unsolved. In May,

detectives resorted to distributing questionnaires to every single person who

had been on the island the day of the murder.

They knew the name of every resident and every tourist.

It was simply a matter of finding out who among

them had killed Janelle Patten. The forms asked whether people

knew Janelle personally, whether they'd seen her the day she

was killed, and whether they had any information about her murder.

More specifically, respondents were asked to account for their whereabouts

at fifteen minute intervals from eleven ala to six pm

on Easter Sunday, where they were, who they were with,

what vehicle they were in, and what roads they traveled.

The forms were voluntary. Terists returned seventy three percent of them,

Locals returned only fifty three percent. Then, in August, detectives

called for voluntary fingerprinting of all residents between the ages

of fifteen and seventy. They had lifted partial hand and

fingerprints from the crime scene, specifically from the shade of

black plastic that had covered Janelle's body. The residents came

out in droves. By September, more than twelve hundred people

had provided their fingerprints voluntarily. Then detectives were stunned to

find a match someone who had provided their prints matched

the fingerprints found on the black sheep, but the case

wasn't going to be as easy to crack as they

initially believed. The finger prints matched a local laborer named

Steve Cochran. Detectives believed they had their killer, but it

quickly fell apart. The man had an airtight alibi. He

couldn't have been the one who murdered Janelle. There were

other finger prints on the plastic shading found as well,

prints that detectives believed actually belonged to the killer. It

was a significant blow to the investigation, but it did

provide one positive lead. The black plastic was traced to

a building site on the island. Now a detective simply

needed to determine who had access to that site. While

they examined that angle, a fifty thousand dollar reward for

information was offered. The investigation of the building site turned

up no useful clues. In July, detectives widened their net,

asking every tourist who had been on Norfolk Island over

Easter weekend to provide finger prints. The reward was then

boosted to one hundred thousand dollars. In August, detectives hoped

the lure of money would compel someone to come forward.

It didn't. Then, in March of two thousand and four,

the reward was tripled to three hundred thousand dollars. Detectives

believed that somebody somewhere knew who the killer was, and

for reasons they couldn't fath them, were shielding them. On

a small island like Norfolk, things don't go unnoticed. Some

one had to know something. An inquest into the murder

was held in May of two thousand and four, two

years after Janelle was killed. For the first time, detectives

publicly announced persons of interest in the case. The list

included a former workmate, a former flatmate, and even Janelle's

own parents. However, Detective Bob Peters stressed that while these

individuals had come under scrutiny, there was never any evidence

to charge any of them with a crime. He said,

community suspicions and rumors concerning those people have at times

proved inflammatory and caused considerable personal distress. The inquest revealed

details that had been kept from the public. Nineteen months

before Janelle was killed, a woman named Sue Fields had

been charged with assaulting her at a local club after

Janelle accused Sue of marital infidelity. Sue had slapped Janell

during an argument. After that, who left the island for

eight months. When she returned, she and Janelle remained on

frosty terms. One witness told detectives he had seen Sue

driving near the spot where Janelle's body was found that day.

He said she appeared to be holding something down on

the passenger seat. The man that Janelle had accused Sue

of having an affair with was Charles men Heavy. Someone

had told detectives that they witnessed Charles pulling Janelle's hair

in early two thousand and two and shouting stopped this

shit or offshort yacht. Both Sue and Charles denied any involvement.

Detectives couldn't connect either of them to the murder, but

they remained persons of interest Bill, who had acrimonious relationships

with Janelle. Another person of interest was Raymond Yeager. His

sexual advances had been rejected by Janelle, and according to

an eye witness, he had spent ours cleaning his ute

the day that Janelle was killed. Even more suspicious, he

flew out of Norfolk Island just three days later. Detective

Paters told the court that Raymond had joked with the

travel agent while booking his flight. The travel agent, Angela Judd,

had asked, you never killed that girl, did you? He replied, Yeah, yeah,

what's that word premeditated. Raymond's ute was forensically examined and

they found green paint. While that in itself wasn't unusual,

green paint had actually been found on Janelle's body. Raymond,

who now lived in Cambodia, said he had no idea

where it came from. As for why he left the

island so quickly, he claimed he was going to visit

his four year old son in Western Australia. Another person

of interest was Terence Joke, who had access to black

plastic shading like the kind used to wrap Janelle's body.

Sergeant Peters told the inquest that a woman on the

island said Terence had made unwanted advances towards her the

previous year, and had even entered her home one night

when she was asleep. The inquest also heard about Steve

Cochran and his fingerprints on the black plastic. Also on

the list of sixteen persons of interest were Janelle's former

boyfriend Paul Japman, Hetty and the island administrator Robin Murdoch,

who had begun seeing Paul after he and Janelle broke up.

It was alleged that Janelle had trouble accepting the relationship

was over and had harassed both Paul and Robin with

phone calls and late night visits. Paul's daughter, Dana was

also a person of interest. She allegedly hated Janelle for

making rude remarks about her late mother. The two women

had been seen pushing each other and screaming twice they

had to be physically separated at a local club. A

lot of the persons of interest had come from Janelle's

own diary entries. In one, she had written, spoke to

Jap fuck with found out he's been rooting Robin and

has been since Kurt's birthday. Told me he's my first

enemy in Norfolk. In another, she wrote, went to Francis's

for her coffee, so all bucket at Footies invited me

to tea. Basically only wanted a root, so I left.

The inquest cleared up some rumors, but it accomplished little else.

There were multiple people who could have killed Janelle, but

there was no evidence to connect any of them. To

the murder. The inquest also revealed for the first time

the exact nature of Janelle's injuries. Her mother, Carol, tearful

and shaking, said her injuries were beyond our worst imagination.

There appears to not be much of Janelle's body that

wasn't injured in this savage attack. When we think about

the manner of Janelle's death, we think about her fear.

We wonder if the reason she died was because she

fought so hard. Along with the sadness and grief, though,

comes a sense of pride. We're proud of the weshy fought.

Sixty four separate wounds, a fractured skull, a broken pelvis,

three broken ribs, bruises, abrasions and cuts covering her head

and body, defensive wounds on her hands and arms. Janelle

Patton had fought for her life with everything she had,

but it hadn't been enough. At the time of Janelle's murderer,

Norfolk Island was a temporary home to numerous foreign workers

seeking employment in the island's hospitality industry. Among them was

twenty four year old Glenn Peter Charles mc neill. He

was from Nelson in New Zealand, a coastal city on

the northern tip of the South Island, known for its

beaches and fishing. McNeil had come to Norfolk Island in

two thousand with his girlfriend Galicia. They married in January

two thousand and two, just months before Janelle was killed.

McNeil worked as a chef for the territory's chief minister,

Jeff Gardner. Gardner would later recall his impression of the

young man. He was a very quiet chap, a very

good employee, a very competent chef, but kept very much

to himself in a lot of ways, so he probably

wasn't known very well on the island. He was a

personable young man. He was keen to work and make money,

had ideas about traveling, keen to surf and fish. Nothing

out of the ordinary for somebody the age of twenty

three or twenty four. By all accounts, mc neil was unremarkable.

He did his job well, he didn't cause trouble. He

blended into the background of island life, just another temporary

worker among many. After Janell's murder, mc neil continued living

on Norfolk Island for a period before eventually leaving and

returning to New Zealand, he divorced Alicia and began a

new relationship. He moved on with his life. Nothing about

Glenn mc neil suggested he was anything other than what

he seemed, a quiet, young chef with modest ambitions, but

investigators were about to discover otherwise. By two thousand and four,

police seemed no closer to solving Janelle Patten's murder than

they had been two years earlier. The mass finger printing

operation had yielded nothing useful, The sixteen persons of interest

had led nowhere, the investigation had stopped. Detective Bob Peters

had been working the case relentlessly. Determined not to let

it go cold, he began combing through old police files

looking for anything, anything at all, that might connect to

Janell's murder. Then he found it. A fingerprint card taken

during the investigation of a burglary that had occurred shortly

after Janelle's murder. Glenn Peter Charles McNeil had been brought

in for questioning about the break in at a tourist shop.

His fingerprints were taken and put on file. He was

also asked if police could collect DNA evidence as part

of their broader murder investigation. According to court documents, McNeil

agreed to all requests and signed the consent form. The

consent form recorded that his DNA will not be used

in evidence. At that time, no match had been made.

The fingerprints had simply been filed away. Peter sent the

card off for comparison to the prince found on the

black plastic torp that covered Janelle's body. He didn't give

it much thought. It was just one more lead to

eliminate in an investigation filled with dead ends. Then came

the result. It was match two of the fingerprints found

on the shade of black plastic belonged to Glenn McNeil.

Detective Peters and his partner, Detective Tony Edmondson, were stunned,

but they needed more for an arrest. They needed physical

evidence that definitively placed McNeil at the scene, not just

the fingerprints on plastic shading that could theoretically have been

explained away. After all, the other fingerprint turned out to

be a red herring. They set about finding more evidence

from McNeil's time on the island. McNeil had abandoned his

white horn the Civic when he left Norfolk Island. After

Janelle was killed, he dumped it on somebody's property, and

that person eventually called police and mentioned it. When police

finally tracked down the vehicle, they discovered what would prove

to be an evidence gold mine. Forensic examination of the

houn that found traces of green glass that matched glass

found in Janelle's hair. The back garden of McNeil's form

home also contained black plastic shading that matched the sheet

wrapped around Janelle's body. Most significantly, hairs matching Janelle's DNA

were located in the boot of the haun the Civic.

Though the hair was without root and couldn't be tested

for nuclear DNA, mitochondrial testing found that Janelle and her

maternal relatives couldn't be excluded as sources of the hair.

It wasn't a positive identification, but it didn't rule McNeil

out either. Combined with everything else, it was damning. The

evidence was circumstantial, but it was mounting. Fingerprints on the

plastic hair in the boot, green glass connecting his card

to the crime scene, black plastic at his home matching

what had been used to wrap Janelle's body. On the

first of February two thousand and six, Glenn Peter Charles

McNeil was arrested at his home near the town of

Nelson on the New Zealand South Island. He was taken

to the police station and presented with the evidence they

had collected connecting him to Janelle's murder. Instead of act

surprised or deny any involvement of Janelle's murder, McNeil admitted

he was involved. However, he stressed that he didn't murder her.

He said that he had accidentally hit her as he

was driving down a road in Norfolk Island. He said,

I drifted down to pick up my smokes and then

all of a sudden run something over. I thought I'd

run over a car or dog or something like that.

And then as I got out of my car, I

looked onto the car and she was under there, stuck

under my car. I pulled her out and put her

in the book because I thought she was dead, because

I thought she was Dee.

Speaker 1: Did she show what she knew? She was quiet, didn't

hear any noises or anything. I said to you, okay,

And she was not saying anything, not moving. This where

I panicked and just put her.

Speaker 3: In spoit in my can.

Speaker 2: McNeil said he then drove home.

Speaker 3: I drove back home and set back home, and I

was at home for about an hour or two and

then I grabbed a black plassic from out of the

back and I grabbed a knife, and I think I

stabbed her.

Speaker 2: He said about two hours later, he stabbed her with

a fish fileting knife. He said she didn't put up

a fight. However, this completely contradicted the findings at autopsy.

Janelle had fought desperately for her life, sustaining numerous defensive

injuries to her hands and arms. Furthermore, there was no

dirt or grease marks on Janelle's body consistent with such

a scenario. According to McNeil, he had been smoking marijuana

that day. After the confession, he was extradited to Norfolk

Island and charged with Janelle's murder. After that, he was

flew in to Sydney. Norfolk Island didn't have adequate facilities

to hold a prisoner for lengthy periods. Glenn McNeil was

ordered to stand trial for the murder, and he elected

to have a jury trial. It was the first murder

trial in over a century and a half. It was

to be held on a one hundred and seventy five

year old former military barracks with two tens erected to

accommodate the overflow of media and public It began on

the seventh of February two thousand and seven. Prosecutor Dan

Howard stood before the jury and told them about the confession.

McNeil said he stabbed Janelle just to be sure she

was dead. Defense attorney Peter Garling said a very different

picture would emerge when all of the evidence was put

in the context. He said, he is an innocent man

who isn't guilty of this crime. He did not murder

Janelle Patten, and the Crown will not be able to

prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he did. The testimony

got under way and various people testified about the day

janelle body was found. Jeanette Griffith said she saw a

couple arguing in a car on Rudy Hill Road that day.

Arthur Keeping said he heard a scream from a nearby

golf club that went on for about twenty seconds. He

testified it was like a high pitched scream. It just

continually went on. Detectives testified about the search of Rudy

Hill wrote, they said there was no evidence that suggested

any kind of vehicle collision occurred. The pathologist Alan Khala

similarly said that Janelle's body showed no evidence to suggest

she was run over. He said it was a violent

attack and had gone on for some time. Given the

number of injuries that miss Patten had sustained, it was

suggested that some of Janelle's head injuries could have come

from a blow to the head with a glass bottle.

That would explain the glass found in her hair. Similar

glass was found in McNeil's boot. The jury then heard

about the forensic evidence about the dark colored hair found

a McNeil's boot and the fingerprints from the black plastic sheet.

A DNA profile found on the boot laid of McNeil's

car with ten billion times more likely to have come

from the victim, Janelle Patten than anybody else, But the

jury also heard that no DNA from McNeil was found

on any items relating to the crime scene. His DNA

wasn't on her body, on her clothing, on the plastic sheet,

or even on the items recovered from the hound. The

civic forensic biologist Joanna Lee explained that sometimes there just

isn't enough DNA present to return a reliable profile. Bacteria, chemicals,

and warm or moist conditions can also make a sample unreliable.

When DNA from one person is present in large amounts,

it can sometimes have a swamping effect on any DNA

from a second person. After that, the jury fell to

a hushed silence. Glenn McNeil made his way to the

witness stand, and he was going to tell a story

completely different to what the prosecution were presenting. While Glenn

McNeil had earlier confessed on the witness stand, he now

claimed that he had made the entire story up. According

to McNeil, everything he told detectives was a lie. He said,

it was complete rubbish. He claimed he hadn't run Janelle

over and he hadn't even seen her the day she died.

His life, he said, had spiraled out of control in

the months leading up to the confession. He was in

crushing death. He made a suicide attempt in November two

thousand and five where he slashed his wrists, increasing drug

use that left his memories fractured and unreliable. Standing before

the court, McNeil said, I'm shocked by what I said.

I feel very sorry for the patent family. Their loss

is enormous. But I did not murder Janelle Patten. Thanks

for listening. With that, the defense rested, but during closing arguments,

McNeil's defense team unveiled a starlingk theory. According to the

defense attorney Peter Garling, the real killer wasn't a man

at all. It was a woman. He told the jury,

you could have no doubt whatsoever that the person who

murdered miss Patten was a woman who had the motive

to do it. It couldn't have been mister McNeil. The evidence,

he suggested supported this conclusion. When Janelle's body was discovered,

her shorts had been pulled on, exposing her pubic area.

Her clothing had been cut deliberate slashes through her shorts, underwear,

and top. To the defense, this suggested something deeply personal,

a calculated attempt to stage the scene to obscure the

killer's t identity. There was no evidence of any prior

relationship between Janelle and McNeil, but this murder was clearly personal.

The motive of Garling suggest tested was jealousy, anger, revenge.

He said it had to be a woman who had

that sort of motive that would give rise to a

vicious killing of this kind. And then there was the DNA.

Unknown female DNA had been found underneath Janelle's fingernails, on

her shorts, on her underwear, and on a cigarette pot

that was discovered at the scene where her body was found.

A woman's DNA, not Glenn McNeil's, but the jury wasn't convinced.

After deliberating, they returned a verdict of guilty. The courtroom erupted,

an applause outside the barrack's relief washed over the assembled crowd.

Tom Lloyd, a local newspaper publisher, captured the mood when

he said the dark cloud that's been hanging over the

island was lifted. McNeil was sent to Parklay Jail to

await sentencing, but before that hearing could take place, he

was attacked by other inmates. Even Janelle's father, Ron found

no satisfaction in the news. He said, no one likes

to hear that jail should be a place where it's

safe for those who have committed crimes. So we hope

that they could rectify that, but it's something that's beyond

our control. On the twenty sixth of July, mcneille returned

to the barracks to be sentenced. Norfolk Chief Justice Mark

Weinberg didn't mince his words when he said the crime

was vicious and callous. He said, you took the life

of an innocent young woman intentionally and without any semblance

of justification or excuse. She was a total stranger to

you and had done you no harm. She died in

the most appalling way. Your crime has shocked the small

community of Norfolk Island. It sickoned the people of Australia.

It demands severe punishment. He then sentenced him to twenty

four years in prison, with parole eligibility after eighteen years.

Since Norfolk Island had no facilities for long term inmates,

McNeil would serve his time in New South Wales. He

appealed his conviction, arguing that he had been induced to confess.

The appeal was denied. Mclenn McNeil wasn't done talking. In

twenty ten, he offered yet another version of events. This

time he claimed that Janelle had been killed by a

drug dealing couple. He said they blackmailed him into disposing

of her body because he'd stolen marijuana plants. From them.

In a letter to author Roger Maynard, who wrote a

book on the case called Fatal Flaw, McNeil wrote, I

couldn't say anything for the fear they would hurt me

and my family. But now my family is safe, so

I don't have to hide the truth anymore. McNeil provided

two names to documentary filmmaker Brian Bruce, who passed them

along to detectifs. According to McNeil, he had buried a

pair of latex gloves in his garden after disposing of

Janelle's body. Detectives investigated the claims, but they found nothing

of interest. The couple McNeil named were no longer together,

but the man still lived on the island. Janelle's parents

wanted the woman's DNA tested to save it match the

unknown female DNA found underneath their daughter's fingernails. Detectives refused

to reopen the case. Then, in twenty and eleven came

another revelation. One of the jurors who had convicted McNeil

said that McNeil was a scapegoat and that his fate

had been sealed before the trial even begun. He'd said,

we know he didn't do it, but know who did.

He wouldn't tell us, so we decided to slought him.

In January of twenty and twenty four, Glenn McNeil was

paroled and deported back to New Zealand. He moved in

with his mother, leaving behind the small island where Janelle

Patten had lost her life more than two decades earlier.

To this day, Questions linger the unknown female DNA, the

juror's shocking admission, the tight knit community of Norfolk Island,

desperate foreclosure, perhaps willing to accept any answer rather than

live with uncertainty. Did Glenn McNeil really kill Janelle Patten?

A jury of his peers said yes. But in the

years since, doubts have crept in like fog rolling across

Bloody Bridge. Perhaps the truth remained somewhere out there, buried

beneath years of conflicting stories, protected by silence, hidden on

an island that guards its secrets. Well, well that is

it for this episode of Morbidology. As always, thank you

so much for listening, and I'd like to say a

massive thank you to my new supporters up on patroon

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morebidology dot com for more information about this episode and

to read some true crime articles. Next time, take care

of yourselves, stay safe, and have an amazing week.