Justice fades in tail-lights

Two years’ jail for taking a life with a car: why are killer drivers treated so differently?

Sharon Altoft, at her Sunshine Coast home, is fighting for justice after her husband Ken was killed by a speeding driver. Picture: Lyndon Mechielsenn

Traffic controller Ken Altoft stood on the driver’s side of the ­stationary “bump truck” just after ­midnight. His wife, Sharon, was at the gym when he left for work ­earlier in the evening, but he phoned a few hours into his shift, just to say hello. “Love you, darl,” he said, before hanging up.

At least, that’s what Sharon thinks he said. But who imagines it will be the last time you’ll speak to your husband? What happened to Altoft is a story about drivers turning cars into deadly weapons and a justice system that too often leaves the families of victims angry and disillusioned.

Sharon and Ken Altoft.

Motorists had plenty of warning of work under way on the Bruce Highway north of Brisbane on November 7, 2017. Between the Caloundra turn-off and Sunshine Motorway, the highway was and still is being widened to six lanes, at a hefty cost of $812 million.

The bump truck — a highly visible­ roadwork truck with a lit sign mounted to the rear to help reduce the likelihood of collisions — was parked at Tanawha in the right southbound lane, there to stop vehicles ploughing into the workers and construction ahead.

About 400m before the truck, the speed limit dropped from 110km/h to 80km/h. In another 100m, it dropped to 60km/h. Signs read: “Roadworks ahead”, “Lane closed” and “Do not overtake”.

For the final 120m before the truck, large illuminated traffic cones began to close off the right lane in a taper, leaving only the left lane open. Bright lights turned night into day. On the back of the bump truck, a big sign with flashing lights repeated the reduced speed limit, flashing a worker icon.

At 12.03am, about 2km north of the bump truck, a mobile speed camera on the highway clocked a low-powered Ford Fiesta heading south at 157km/h. Driver Aron Duffy, then 47, likely had the pedal flat to the floor, on bitumen wet from a shower. CCTV cameras recorde­d everything.

Duffy knocked over a traffic cone and sign at the taper’s start without braking. About 50m from the bump truck, his speed was an estimated 154km/h. After grazing the bumper mechanism’s right rear corner, the Fiesta continued along the truck’s right side.

Altoft, on traffic duties, had gone to have a coffee with the truck’s driver and was dragged more than 100m. A coroner said the 56-year-old died instantly from crush injuries to the head, chest injuries, internal organ “disruption”, multiple fractures­ to the pelvis and amputation of both legs.

The Fiesta came to rest on its roof. Duffy, with virtually no injuries, got out and walked off. He’d gone 500m from the collision befor­e telling motorists he’d been in a crash; a witness said to wait for police. He declined to be interviewed by officers. A blood test detected traces of THC (from cannabis), but Crown prosecutor Greg Cummings said the most that could be said was that Duffy drove knowing it was in his system. He pleaded guilty in the District Court of Queensland to dangerous driving causing death while excessively speeding before leaving the scene, and to drug-driving.

Sentencing judge David And­rews said his actions were “incomprehensible … I cannot see how this event occurred”. Altoft’s family still can’t understand it — they suspect Duffy tried to take his own life and took an innocent man’s instead.

“It would have been the same had he picked up a gun,” says Sharon, woken by police with the news at 1.30am. “He used that car to kill someone.” She and Ken had been married 28 years.

Sentencing woes

For killing Altoft, a loving partner, dad, grandad, brother, uncle and friend, Andrews sentenced Duffy in November to six years’ imprisonment, to serve at least two. He disqualified Duffy from driving for two years, saying it would be importan­t for rehabilitation.

A large contingent of Altoft’s family and friends left the court dazed; they were expecting more. Andrews fixed parole eligibility for November 7 this year, the second anniversary of Altoft’s death and Duffy’s arrest. It cuts deeply that Duffy could be freed that day, of all days. It doesn’t take long to find other cases like it, where brief if any periods of imprisonment are imposed; and where the families of victims say it’s not enough.

Nationwide, 1137 people were killed on the roads last year and 1226 in 2017. This compares with 414 victims of homicide and relat­ed offences (murder, manslaughter and attempted murder) in 2017, according to government figures. But there’s a flip side: the drivers’ families who defend a moment’s inattention or an uncharacteristic mistake, railing against harsh sentences. They say there but for the grace of God go all of us. How to sentence a killer driver is clearly a vexed question, to be taken case by case.

Altoft deserved better. That’s what at least nine family members and friends told Queensland Attorney­-General Yvette D’Ath, in letters provided to The Weekend Australian. They wanted D’Ath to appeal, to fight for an increased sentence. Two circumstances of aggravation applied. First, Duffy was driving more than 40km/h over the speed limit — the threshold for making it a more serious offence­ in Queensland (Duffy was up to 94km/h over). Second, he’d left the scene. Either of these factors bumps the maximum penalty from 10 to 14 years’ imprisonment.

Up until 2007, the maximum penalty for dangerous driving causing death in Queensland was seven years, more if the driver was drunk. Legislators increase sentences because the tragic results of behaviours have become entirely predictable and the community demands it. Sharon Altoft and other family members ask: what are maximums for, if sentences never come close?

Queensland Sentencing Adviso­ry Council statistics show 363 offenders were sentenced for dangerous driving causing death in the state between July 2005 and July 2017, with numbers relatively stable year to year. One-third of the deaths involved drivers affect­ed by an intoxicating substance and a relatively small number were excessively speeding (6.1 per cent) or left the scene (3 per cent). The ages of offenders ranged from 14 to 80, with 27.8 the median. Most (82 per cent) were men.

For those imprisoned, the average sentence was 5.2 years and the longest nine. The average increased to 6.2 years when there were aggravating circumstances. So no one is getting anywhere near the maximum and Duffy’s sentence­ was bang on average.

It’s a similar story in Victoria, where Sentencing Advisory Council statistics show 98 people were sentenced for dangerous driving causing death in the five years to June last year, facing a maximum 10-year sentence.

Of those sentenced to a prison term, one-third received between­ three and four years. Very few (1.8 per cent) received more than eight years. In the same period, 59 people were sentenced in Victoria for the more serious offence of culpable driving causing death, carrying a maximum 20 years’ ­imprisonment. The median prison term imposed was just over seven years, and the highest was 16 years (one person).

Criminal history

Duffy’s criminal history compounds the grief of Altoft’s family and friends. Two days before the crash, police were called to Duffy’s home at Maroochydore, on the Sunshine Coast, and found him outside — agitated, injured and holding a baseball bat. He wouldn’t say how he’d been hurt or what was bothering him.

Officers found a gram of cannabis in a clip-seal bag and he was charged with drug possession and released on bail. He’d previously been convicted of drug-related offence­s, break-and-enters, assault and obstructing police and assault occasioning bodily harm.

A couple of times he’d been sentenced to periods of imprisonment. There had been a long stint in rehab to deal with his cannabis and heroin abuse. His traffic history­ included a 2014 fine for drug-driving on cannabis and methylamphetamine.

Sentencing Duffy for killing Altoft­, the judge noted he hadn’t offended for almost three years prior to the death, apart from the drug possession charge. Altoft’s family see a pattern of recklessness and someone being given one chance after another.

According to a court transcript, the prosecution presented an incomplete version of Duffy’s criminal history and said it began later than it did, errors picked up by the judge. Letters from members of the Altoft contingent to the Attorney-General give the impression of a lack of preparation and respect. “At no point in the hearing did I feel Ken’s life was being fought for,” family friend Stacy Mac­Kellar wrote. Friend Kelly O’Rourke wrote that “Duffy was given more consideration than Ken, his family and friends”.

Duffy submitted a handwritten letter accepting “full responsibility for the accident”. He made “no excuse­s” and expressed “immense regret, sorrow and shame”.

Sharon finds it impossible to accept­ the apology, particularly when Duffy hasn’t explained his actions. She also struggles with the prior road deaths cited as preced­ents to come up with the sentence, which seemed so different. And how could Duffy be back on the road so soon? “The whole thing was a joke. I think they forgot that someone was killed,” she said.

Altoft rode motorcycles and was a cyclist and keen golfer. At his funeral, cyclists held their helmets in a guard of honour, and mourners roared in on Harleys. Best mates Geoff O’Rourke and John Faithfull and John’s wife, Patrica, played golf with Ken most Saturdays. “John and Geoff (grown men) still burst out crying over something they will remember doing or saying as they would go to hit their golf shots,” Patrica wrote to the Attorney-General.

The chairman of Queensland’s Sentencing Advisory Council is former District Court judge John Robertson. He presided over dangerous driving cases “probably in the hundreds” in his 24 years on the bench.

“They were always up there with the most difficult — they were up there with the really­ serious child sex offenders,” he said, referring to the impact on everyone involved. “At times you had families of victims pleading with you not to send the person to jail. At times you had people from religious backgrounds telling you they’d forgiven the person.

“Then you had others who were still very angry. And if you’re honest with yourself, I don’t know where I’d fit in that paradigm if it happened to me. If someone ran down and killed one of my 10-year-old granddaughters, I’d kill them, I think.”

One case forever changed his approach to victims: a drunk driver who collided head-on with an oncomin­g car, killing members of three generations of one family, including a 10-year-old girl. Alcohol was clearly a factor, but police hadn’t done a blood test, impacting the sentence. ­Robertson gave him the maximum at the time — seven years — but after reading the victim impact statements spoke directly to the victims’ family in court.

“I said how much it affected me,” Robertson said. “I couldn’t for a second­ understand the level of their suffering. I just said to them: ‘I want you to know I will take into account what you said.’ ” He was told it had a profound effect, that the family felt he really cared.

“That’s because I did. That I think is the problem — judges, very few actually do that.” Robertson says he doesn’t think you can force that on judges, but believes a lot more can be done to support victims. That doesn’t necessarily mean longer sentences, though in his time he has seen dangerous driving cases that should have been manslaughter. He’d like to see victims offered more extensive treatment, rehabilitation and financial support. “It makes such a huge difference if you can connect in a real way, I always found that.”

John Sutton, managing partner and head of criminal law at Armstrong Legal, a practice with offices in four states and the ACT, agrees offences of driving causing death are among the most difficult to sentence. He represented NSW driver Mohamed Fageer, who in 2017 pleaded guilty to negligent driving occasioning death.

At 10am on December 18, 2016, Fageer was in a right-hand turning bay. He waited for traffic but didn’t see cyclist Ann Formaz-Preston coasting down the hill towards him. Formaz-Preston, 33, a doctor about to start training at Sydney’s Royal North Shore Hospital, was struck and killed. Fageer was sentenced to 300 hours of community service and was disqualified from driving for two years. Cycling advocate Ray Rice, from Bicycle NSW, reportedly said at the time that the sentence was “outrageously light”.

“Everyone says, ‘You killed someone, it must be dangerous driving’,” Sutton says. “Well, no, it can just be a horrible, terrible accid­ent.” He says the grief of relatives is more than understandable, but is concerned about the level of influence they could have on sentencing. “How long is it before we go the next step and the next step and the next step, and before we know it, we’re back at lynch-mob mentalities?” he asks. “The whole reason you have a justice system is, in my view, to take the emotion out of it, to deal with it on objective standards as far as you can.”

Battle for justice

Sharon Altoft and her friend MacKellar went to see the prosecutor, Cummings, in his office days after the sentence. They wanted to understand why he hadn’t asked for more than six years, and to find out how to appeal. Both recall him saying he was very busy and that they were lucky to see him. They were shocked when he said he didn’t work for victims. He bristled when they said they didn’t feel he tried. “He said they’re all overworked. He had another case straight after Ken,” Sharon said. Cummings declined to comment.

Commenting generally rather than on that case, retired judge Robertson said the system was “run by human beings, so it’s falli­ble”. The 28-day appeal period lapsed without an appeal. D’Ath declined to ­comment. The Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions would not answer questions but said in a statement that it was “preparing to communicate” with Altoft’s ­family.

The parole board contacted Sharon in May and said Duffy was coming up for release and that she could oppose it. She sent in the victim impact statements and letters prepared for D’Ath. “I did say in my letter he should have to tell us why he did what he did that night, if he wants to get out,” she said.

If you’re on the Bruce Highway, or any road for that matter, you might want to give Ken Altoft some thought; it might save a life.