Andrew Rule: The strange case of stolen hull and high water
A lucrative stolen speedboat racket is plaguing the Murray Valley, with one distinctive feature key to the rebirth - and subsequent reberth - of pimped-up power boats.
Andrew Rule
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The last time I broke into a house was in a town near the Murray, just after Gough Whitlam was dismissed.
It allegedly happened like this. The co-offender, a law student, had just assured a policeman we would be driving no further than his uncle’s house “just around the corner”. The lawman would have taken a stern view if we’d admitted the truth: we were actually planning to drive my banged-up FB Holden many kilometres out of town.
It was very late and we had been taking cool drinks in a pub on the New South Wales side of the river. Uncle’s house was an inspired bit of improvisation when it came to naming a safe destination.
“Drive straight there,” growled the walloper, who was manning the bridge separating the states.
So we did. What I didn’t realise until my associate crawled through the bathroom window into the darkened house was that uncle was out of town — and, it turned out, had repeatedly warned this particular nephew that if he caught him breaking in again he would have him arrested.
Naturally, we left no sign of illegal occupation when we allegedly sneaked out next morning before the neighbours were about.
On the way to the budding lawyer’s family farm for breakfast, he stressed the value of silence on the precise details of the overnight accommodation. He had similar advice on the subject of how he and two other reptiles had driven a borrowed Mini to Brisbane without a driver’s licence between them while supposedly studying hard at an alleged university.
He embraced the concept of the “No Comment interview” even then, working on the theory that laws are more a rough guide than an absolute decree.
Cut to the year 2020. The scallywag law student is now a respected defence lawyer, the Rumpole of the Riverina, with a high-earning reputation from Swan Hill to Shepparton. In fact, his latest client appeared in court up there last week alongside another colourful Murray Valley identity charged with handling hot speedboats.
“Hot” being exactly the right word in all senses. These boats are not just any old runabouts. Rumpole’s panelbeater client and his builder friend (who has retained Zarah Garde-Wilson) have been charged over stolen property worth $700,000, including several boats.
The centrepiece of their alleged haul is a Malibu hull that was the pride and joy of a well-known family who also live beside the Murray.
The Malibu is the marine equivalent of a pimped muscle car for the wakeboarding fraternity. A legitimate dealer who fits out and sells power boats describes his clients, off the record, as “cashed-up bogans” who love the smell of high-octane fuel in the morning. Not to mention the serenity.
Among even reasonably honest members of this group are those who can be conned into buying a rebirthed boat for prices ranging from $120,000 to $200,000. The crooks have worked out it’s easier to rebirth, and reberth, fast boats than fast cars.
The coveted Malibu fibreglass hull is ideal for this. It is an American design that is also made in Australia — in Albury, in fact — under licence. Meaning there are both locally-made and imported examples of Malibu hulls all over the land. For abalone barons in Tasmania to nightclub kings in Perth, the Malibu is a primo toy. And a target.
Bad guys can pinch one and take it interstate, repaint it or wrap it in vinyl film and rivet on a Hull Identification Number (HIN) from another boat and overnight create something to sell for big bucks.
The racket is so profitable there is a black market for recycled American HIN plates to disguise stolen Australian-made hulls. The racket is so profitable, in fact, there is a suggestion the boat rorters have an insider on the take in a government department.
Albury detectives working on the missing Malibus neither confirm nor deny detecting a bent keyboard jockey in a certain department for supplying the gang with registration details used to mock up watertight false papers.
The mail in the Murray Valley is that the case of the vanishing boats is another example of the oldest story in crime: what happens when friends fall out.
Everyone who races ski boats at the top level knows other competitors and their boats. This has made life difficult in the main players’ home district.
One witness and his wife have left town for a while. They are friends of the family whose prized boat was allegedly stolen.
The same man attended court last week in a T-shirt worn back-to-front, not as a fashion statement but to highlight the fact it is printed with the name of the stolen boat.
The T-shirt wearer seemed so keen to be visible that he posed for photographers outside court.
Hells Angels have been known to support friends in court by wearing “one percenter” T-shirts and belt buckles shaped to form the number “81”, denoting the alphabetical order of the letters H and A. Not a word spoken. But to borrow from that great legal mind, Dennis Denuto, it’s the vibe that counts.
It is doubtful that Zarah Garde-Wilson approves of such unorthodox techniques. Not all clients take counsel’s advice on matters of court etiquette.
What is known is that her client is no country bumpkin. In fact, he has been a partner in a Preston-based building business.
The business went belly-up, allegedly stiffing a lot of people owed a lot of money. But some savvy IT types got revenge by hacking into the alleged builders’ website and wrecking the company’s glossy image by rewriting captions. They even reproduced threatening text exchanges from accused boat thief and would-be hard man, making him look foolish. Proof that the forward slash can be mightier than the bash.
As for any historical housebreaking charges, I could always brief Zarah, the Hyphen herself. The Riverina Rumpole is never going to incriminate himself.
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