An Island Full of Suspects

For six generations, descendants of the Bounty mutineers have thrived on this stunning South Pacific island largely untouched by the evils of the outside world.

They have prided themselves on creating a peaceful new society from the violence of the past--the bloodshed of their mutinous forefathers and the cruelty of Norfolk Island’s last penal colony. There hadn’t been a murder here in 149 years.

That changed on Easter Sunday when the body of Janelle Patton, a 29-year-old waitress from mainland Australia, was found at Cockpit Waterfall, one of Norfolk Island’s popular tourist spots. She had been brutally stabbed and left under a sheet of black plastic.

“Norfolk Island lost its innocence when she was killed,” says Ken Christian, 52, the great-great-great-great-great-grandson of mutiny leader Fletcher Christian. “The worst thing about this murder is that nobody knows who did it. There’s a really big hope that it’s not one of us.”

Rumors and speculation have swept the island, a self-governing territory of Australia 900 miles east of the mainland, but federal detectives flown in from Canberra, the Australian capital, to find the killer have been stumped. They have no weapon, no motive and no suspects. They still don’t know where on the small island Patton was killed.

With a hint of desperation, police launched a voluntary program this month to get the fingerprints and handprints of every Norfolk resident between the ages of 15 and 70--a total of 1,632 people.

Australian police say they know of no other instance where mass fingerprinting has been used to solve a crime, but this is no ordinary case. Because everyone who travels to Norfolk Island must fill out an arrival card and go through passport control, authorities have the names of all 2,771 men, women and children who were on the island that day.

Police will compare the residents’ prints with partial palm prints and fingerprints recovered from the plastic sheet that covered Patton’s body.

Authorities acknowledge that the prints they found might not belong to the killer, but they hope that a high turnout will flush out the culprit or that matching prints will lead them to the scene of the slaying.

Police are coy about what they know, but for now they’re focusing their efforts on Norfolk residents, not the 690 tourists visiting the island that day. For inspiration, authorities cite the case of Wee Waa, Australia, where voluntary mass DNA testing of the town’s males in 2000 prompted a man who had raped a 91-year-old woman to turn himself in.

If police don’t find a match on Norfolk Island, they say they will track down all the visitors to the island on the day of the slaying and request their prints as well. Police promise to destroy all the fingerprints and handprints once the case is resolved.

For the last three weeks, the people of Norfolk Island have done their duty and come forward to give police their prints. The first two in line were the island’s chief minister, Geoff Gardner, and his wife, Pauline. By Thursday, 1,079 people had been printed.

“The majority of people I know want to get this murder solved and get it behind us,” Bounty descendant Kane Anderson, 35, said after giving police his prints. “They want to get in and get it done.”

The hard part will be persuading the last few hundred islanders to come forward.

Some distrust the police or object to the fingerprinting as a violation of their civil liberties. Other residents, such as “Thorn Birds” author Colleen McCullough, believe that the police botched the case and should have solved it months ago. “They won’t get my fingerprints,” she says.

Today’s peaceful people of Norfolk Island share a colorful and violent history; brutality and killings were once commonplace here.

Capt. James Cook discovered the uninhabited volcanic island in 1774. Then as now, the island was protected by high cliffs and crashing surf that made landing difficult. The temperate, 3-by-5-mile island was covered by towering Norfolk pines, a species found only here. Cook called the island “paradise.” In 1788, weeks after founding Australia’s first penal colony in present-day Sydney, Britain dispatched a ship with prisoners to settle Norfolk Island.

A year later on the other side of the Pacific, Fletcher Christian led a mutiny on the Bounty against his sharp-tongued captain and former friend, William Bligh. The mutineers put Bligh and 18 loyal crew members in a 23-foot boat. They sailed for seven weeks and, nearly starving, reached safety in West Timor. Bligh later became governor of the Australian territory, which included Norfolk Island.

Christian took the Bounty and searched for a new home, eventually reaching uninhabited Pitcairn Island southeast of Tahiti with eight other mutineers, 12 Polynesian women and six Polynesian men. They burned the ship to avoid discovery.

Jealousy and violence consumed the new community, and within a few years, 12 of the 15 men had been killed, including Christian. When an American whaling ship discovered the settlement in 1808, only one man was left, mutineer John Adams, with seven women and 24 children.

By then, the once-vicious community had become a model of virtue. After drinking a potent home brew and reading the Bounty’s Bible, Adams found God and taught the word to the women and children. When news of the Pitcairn settlement reached Britain 20 years after the mutiny, it was hailed as “the world’s most pious and perfect community.”

By 1825, Norfolk was on its way to becoming the most brutal prison in the British empire. For nearly 30 years, the worst of Australia’s convicts were sent here, where they were abused and tortured, often to death. Norfolk became known as “Hell in the Pacific,” where death was the only escape. Local historians believe that the island’s last slaying occurred in 1853, when one prisoner hit another on the head with a shovel.

In 1854, Britain decided to close the prison. By then, the Bounty descendants had outgrown tiny Pitcairn Island. To keep another foreign power from occupying Norfolk Island, Britain offered it to the descendants of the Bounty mutineers. The entire Pitcairn community sailed nearly 4,000 miles from their home to Norfolk in 1856. A handful later returned to Pitcairn, where their descendants still live.

Today the Norfolk Islanders, as the Pitcairn descendants call themselves, survive mainly on revenue from tourists. Reluctant to adopt the innovations of the outside world, they maintain a simple, traditional life. The island has no stoplights, no postal delivery and no garbage pickup. There is no income tax, sales tax or unemployment. The top speed limit is 30 mph, and cows wander freely across the roads.

Residents rarely lock their houses and usually leave their car keys in the ignition. On the road, motorists give a little wave to the drivers of oncoming vehicles. Norfolk’s first lady, Pauline Gardner, waits on tables at the family restaurant.

Court convenes once a month and usually adjourns by lunch. There hasn’t been a reported crime serious enough to warrant a jury trial in a decade. On the rare occasions when a minor offender is jailed, police leave the cell door open so the prisoner can go outside and smoke. It is the kind of place where families stick together and everyone knows everyone else’s business.

“You can’t even change your underwear here without somebody knowing,” says shop owner Norelle Little.

Television didn’t arrive until the mid-1980s. Last week, residents voted overwhelmingly not to allow cell phones on the island, siding with opponents who argued that the devices were “annoying, antisocial and irritating” and could “destroy the peace and tranquillity of the island.” Many islanders still speak the Pitcairn language, a singsong blend of Tahitian and 18th century English developed by the mutineers and their Tahitian wives.

As of last year’s census, there were 756 Pitcairn descendants--48% of Norfolk Island’s permanent residents. The remainder migrated here over the years, some of them marrying into the Pitcairn families.

The names of Bounty mutineers live on. The slender Norfolk phone book lists 44 Christians, 30 Quintals, 17 Adamses and 12 McCoys. Many have colorful, if obscure, nicknames such as “Lettuce Leaf,” “Pumpa,” “Morg,” “Toofy,” “Loppy,” “Kik Kik,” “Pusswah” and “Boof.” For the tourists, there is the Bounty Glass Bottom Boat, the Bligh Court Holiday Cottages, the Fletcher Christian Apartments and the Pitcairn Settlers Village, to name a few attractions.

Norfolk Island’s parliament has placed strict controls on who can move here. Would-be immigrants are carefully screened, their health certified and their criminal records checked. Those seeking to live here permanently are required to buy a business and are only allowed to replace departing residents one for one. Then they are required to live here for five years and win final approval before they can receive residency.

To maintain the tourist industry, the government allows hundreds of temporary workers to live here for up to three years. The number of permits issued depends on the number of workers needed. Most work in restaurants and inns and come from mainland Australia, like Janelle Patton.

Patton, who would have turned 30 in June, was working as the dining room supervisor of a hotel restaurant. Trim and athletic, she had been living on the island for two years and had dated several men. Recently she had helped raise money so the surfing club could send a team to compete in Tonga.

“She appeared to fit in very well in the community,” says Geoff Gardner, the chief minister. “She was very friendly and had an outgoing personality. She was an attractive young lady who attracted attention. I think she enjoyed life.”

Her parents came to visit her March 30, the day before Easter. After working at the restaurant that Sunday morning, Patton bought groceries and went home. Before meeting up with her parents, she went for her customary walk on the streets near her home.

About 11:40 a.m., a neighbor driving along Rooty Hill Road saw her walking. When the neighbor came back a few minutes later, Patton was gone. No one has reported seeing her after that. Det. Sgt. Bob Peters, who is heading the investigation into the slaying, suspects that Patton was picked up by a passing car, perhaps driven by someone she knew.

A little later, several golfers playing on the course at the south end of the island heard screams but thought that they were the sounds of children playing. At 6 p.m., two New Zealand tourists found Patton’s body near the waterfall on the north side of the island. She had been dead for more than three hours; heavy rains had fallen about 3 p.m., and water had collected on the plastic covering her body.

Police say Patton would have bled profusely from multiple stab wounds, but they haven’t been able to find traces of her blood anywhere. Residents say it’s odd that her body was left in such a public place. Everyone here knows that the way to get rid of something is to dump it from a cliff into the ocean--the same way the community disposes of its garbage and old cars.

Peters suspects that the killer panicked and wasn’t thinking rationally. “I don’t think you could say it was well thought out,” the detective says. If not, then the killer was exceedingly lucky. He or she was able to pick up the victim in broad daylight, kill her and dispose of the body in a public place during the middle of the day, apparently without being seen.

Some wonder whether more than one person was involved or whether members of the killer’s family are helping to cover up the crime. “My feeling is, people must know more,” Gardner says. “Somebody must have seen something. Whether they are deliberately holding back, I don’t know.”

Some islanders suggest that the killer came from the mainland and left right after the murder, but police discount that theory. Many suspect that Patton was killed by a former lover or a jealous rival. At least one ex-boyfriend was quick to give police his fingerprints.

The discovery of the body prompted residents to worry that a serial killer might be on the loose. Islanders began locking their doors for the first time. Women who lived alone moved in with friends. “Initially it was a lot like throwing a grenade into a crowded restaurant,” Gardner says. “It devastated the community.”

Now, many residents are frustrated that police have been unable to solve the case more quickly and that Norfolk Island’s reputation remains under a cloud.

“All we know is, the murderer was here that day,” Peters says. “We haven’t ruled out anything.”