Searchers come together at the banks of Lake Ainsworth in the name of Bronwyn Joy Winfield
Women and men from all walks of life gathered at Lake Ainsworth united by a single purpose – to find the remains of Bronwyn Joy Winfield | Listen to episode 10.
So they gathered.
Men and women – former defence force divers, surfers, retired concreters, forensic science graduates and ex-detectives – who, just a month ago, went about their daily lives in contented anonymity. Some were locals and knew each other. Others met on this day for the first time.
Here they were, together, on the southern bank of Lake Ainsworth, that dark stretch of water stained with amber tannins on the northern fringe of Lennox Head, united by a single purpose – to find the remains of missing mother Bronwyn Joy Winfield.
The locals from this northern NSW seaside town included Ian “Scruffy” Gluyas. Scruffy knew both Bronwyn and her husband, Jon Winfield, back in the day, and suspected foul play when Bronwyn, a devoted mother of two small daughters, inexplicably vanished on May 16, 1993.
Scruffy was joined by Debbie Hall and her husband Murray Nolan, who lived directly next door to the Winfields in nearby Sandstone Crescent. As neighbours they were party to the Winfields’ marital strife leading up to Bronwyn’s vanishing and have never stopped wondering what happened to her.
Here too was Madi Walsh, 21, Bronwyn’s second cousin, who never met her relative but was determined to use her degree in forensic science to finally solve the riddle of Bronwyn’s disappearance and possible murder.
Present also was Bronwyn’s brother, Andy Read, and his daughter Caitlin, from Sydney’s Sutherland Shire, who came for the civilian search simply because there was no other option for a family tormented by their loss for three decades.
Other observers included Bronwyn’s friends Virginia Beves and Denise Barnard.
And overseeing the search was former detective sergeant Glenn Taylor, who tried to reinvigorate the investigation into Bronwyn’s disappearance in 1998, alongside former Sydney detective Damian Loone, who was instrumental in helping resolve the disappearance of Lyn Simms in a case that was famously at the centre of journalist Hedley Thomas’s podcast, The Teacher’s Pet.
They were all joined by Captain Ash McDonald, a former Australian navy diver who decided to lend his expertise to The Australian’s investigative podcast, Bronwyn, also created by Thomas.
Captain McDonald had driven through the night from Newcastle.
Aiding the probe for Bronwyn was the team from Search Dogs Sydney, a volunteer organisation dedicated to locating long-term missing persons. They brought with them trained cadaver dogs, a boat, sonar equipment and a drone.
Early last Saturday these disparate individuals congregated on the edge of Lake Ainsworth, organised a search plan and co-ordinated data. If Bronwyn’s remains were beneath those murky waters, they would try to find her.
An emotional Andy Read looked out on the riffled surface of the lake, a place, depending on the time of day, of both incandescent beauty and eerie malevolence.
“We just can’t thank everyone’s involvement enough … to give their time,” he told the latest episode of the Bronwyn podcast.
“We’ve had no closure. We’ve had no movement in the case. The police just move so slow. It’s just so frustrating. Very frustrating.”
The renewed focus on Lake Ainsworth as Bronwyn’s final resting place was prompted by the bombshell revelations in the podcast of Lennox Head neighbour Judy Singh who believed she saw Bronwyn’s husband, Jon Winfield, drive past her house late on that Sunday night with what looked like a sheet-wrapped corpse in the back seat of his Ford Falcon. She also noticed a surfboard in the car.
This new information up-ended the accepted timeline of the case that had calcified over three decades.
This immediately invited speculation that perhaps Bronwyn’s remains had been dumped closer to home, namely in Lake Ainsworth. It was not only just a short five- or six- minute drive from Sandstone Crescent. But it was familiar to the Winfield family as a popular picnic and swimming spot.
Neighbour Murray Nolan, who was a surfing buddy of Mr Winfield, told the podcast that young families often went down to the lake.
“He (Mr Winfield) used to go down the lake,” Murray said.
“He’d take the kids down the lake. Sunday afternoons we’re all going on a barbecue down the lake. It was like a bit of a ritual sort of thing.”
(Jon Winfield has always strenuously denied any involvement in the disappearance of Bronwyn. He has never been charged in relation to the case of his missing wife.)
For more than a century, the lowland “dunal” freshwater 12.4-hectare lake has been a popular recreational area for locals and visitors. It was named after a local pioneering farming family.
The water of the lake is permanently a dark amber colour due to the tannins leaching into the water from the swamp paperbarks that surround it.
In Indigenous culture it was an important place for women during and after childbirth due to the waters’ healing properties.
The tannins, however, severely restrict the water’s visibility.
The hunt for Bronwyn began with Search Dogs Sydney president Chris Darcy and his team using a drone to map out an aerial grid of potential lake search zones. These grids were then transmitted to a computer at the base onshore.
A search boat with side-scan sonar equipment then swept the grids, producing images of the lake floor.
Any suspect objects were subsequently checked by Captain McDonald, who has vast experience diving in difficult conditions.
“It’s a sandy bottom … there’s obviously branches … tree bark and leaves and so forth,” he told the podcast.
“And then I think as you get further out, there’s less and less of that and just a flat, sandy or muddy bottom in the deeper parts. Visibility’s obviously the challenge.
“In that navy experience we did lots of searches … different types of searches on the bottom for objects, but also, searches in zero visibility on the hulls of ships and so forth.”
By late morning the team came across a curious anomaly on the sonar screen. It turned out to be half a house brick, probably used to weigh down yabby pots dropped in the lake over the years. None of the experts ruled out that a human body might still be resting at the bottom of the lake, even after 30 years.
“I need to prepare you guys for the worst,” Chris Darcy said, “because it’s not going to be a nice site if it does occur.”
Captain McDonald, after multiple dives in the lake that day, explained to Thomas why he decided to become involved.
“I think the, the stories that you’ve told through various podcasts have made a difference in people’s lives,” he said.
“I was inspired by the possibility of being able to help … bring closure to the family.
“I thought, look, my experience is a long time ago. I’m not the most up to date, you know, current, in terms of my diving experience. But I do have a desire to help … and if they can be brought to bear to help bring a successful result, I’m very happy to help.”
Throughout the day curious onlookers approached the search base camp. What was going on? Who was missing?
But other locals carried on, oblivious. Just metres from the boats and sniffer dogs and drones, families enjoyed a rare sunny break in the recent rainy weather, sunbaking and reading books on the lush green grass by the water.
Andy Read, however, was focused on his lost sister.
Earlier, he had spotted an unusual cluster of shadows on the search boat’s sonar screen (they turned out to be tree debris) and brought them to the team’s attention.
“Wouldn’t it be something,” he said, almost to himself and staring across the lake, “if I was the one who found her.”
Do you know something about this case? Contact Hedley Thomas confidentially at bronwyn@theaustralian.com.au
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