Inside mushroom cook murderer Erin Patterson’s sentencing
Erin Patterson’s fate feels like a natural final chapter in a mystery that has ghoulishly captivated the public. She answered 4267 questions during her trial but offered zero insight into her choices.
Erin Patterson stands to hear that she will be imprisoned, probably in solitary confinement, until she is 82, placing her measure of evil alongside child killers and male monsters who hunt their victims.
For this, the climax of a 45-minute judgment, Patterson opens her eyes.
For most of Monday’s sentence hearing, when she hears she was diabolical in her planning, and to this day without remorse for her “senseless” wickedness, Patterson sits with her eyes shut.
She barely moves, as if meditating, in contrast to the security officer who appears to chew gum beside her.
Her dark hair is down and pulled over her left shoulder.
Her hands are clasped and her fingers, often a subtle tell of nerves, stay loose, apart from some rotations of the thumbs.
Patterson doesn’t slump, or cry out, or contort of expression on hearing her 33-year non-parole period, by which time her younger child will be in their 40s.
It’s tempting to guess how she feels, of course. But it’s difficult to try to describe her reactions to these emotions, mainly because there aren’t any.
Patterson chances some glances around on her arrival to the courtroom.
But her gaze seems removed, as if she is disengaged. There is a stillness about her, as if she is braced for the dreadful news that awaits.
Patterson is here, it seems, but she isn’t here at all. Does closing her eyes put distance between her and her circumstances?
She applied this approach throughout much of her 10-week trial, when observers sometimes wondered if she had fallen asleep.
Witnesses in the trial left impressions. Her estranged husband Simon brimmed with frustration. Her surviving victim, Ian Wilkinson, projected pain and, rather remarkably, forgiveness.
Patterson, despite her central casting, did not express anything memorable beyond an understandable desire to be anywhere else. When she clutched tissues, and dabbed at her eyes, some journalists wondered if there were in fact any tears.
But she does not cry – or pretend to – on Monday, not even when her obvious trigger – her children – are said to have been doomed to “untold suffering”.
Patterson hears some unvarnished truths.
She wanted to kill all her guests, says Justice Christopher Beale.
He draws on her own words, in a text to her estranged Simon on the night before the lunch, to make a point: “I wanted it to be a special meal as I may not be able to host lunch like this for a long time.”
Justice Beale is forthright.
Patterson lied about the colour of the plates, her meal served on a smaller “orangey tan” plate to distinguish it from those meals laced with death cap mushrooms.
She lied about feeding leftovers to her children, and lied with her “vague story” about an Asian grocer, and lied to police about mushroom foraging and her ownership of a dehydrator.
Most poignant perhaps, is Justice Beale’s insights into her lies which could have affected the life-and-death outcomes of her victims.
Treatment decisions – namely the use of a drug Silibinin, a “specific antidote for death cap mushroom poisoning” – might have shifted if the presence of foraged mushrooms in the meal was admitted to.
Justice Beale cites a victim impact statement to describe those horrors: “black lips, gaunt face, pained and serious expression”. Another victim was desperate for water because her “insides were burning”, but could not be given water.
Patterson knew that these victims would suffer as they did in their twilight hours of life, because it is “implausible” that she did not know how death cap mushrooms would attack their organs, one by one.
Patterson had shown no pity. Legally, Patterson’s “intention to kill was ongoing” which constitutes an “additional aggravating circumstance”.
In everyday terms, she chose her weapon of death, then lied after deploying it to ensure the weapon could fulfil her deepest wrath.
Patterson’s 33-year non-parole period happens to match the ultimate non-parole term of Robert Farquharson, who drove his car into a dam in which his three sons drowned.
He was found guilty in two separate trials, and at one point he appealed the absence of a non-parole term. In effect, he got his prison sentence down to 33 years.
Patterson’s fate feels like a natural final chapter in a mystery that has ghoulishly captivated the public for more than two years. (Many members of the public queued outside the court from well before 8am. They really wanted to see this).
But like Farquharson, there may be legal appeals.
Like Farquharson, Patterson seems likely to always maintain her innocence.
Justice Beale speaks to this.
We know what she did, but not why she did it.
“Some murders happen for no apparent reason … ” he cites. “Only you (Patterson) know why you committed them.”
Like Farquharson, who also took to the stand to explain inexplicable events, there’s that question.
Why did a trusted family member steamroll innocence?
Patterson answered 4267 questions during her trial. She offered zero insight into her choices.
No one will ever grasp them. We’ll never know.
Call it eyes wide shut.
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Originally published as Inside mushroom cook murderer Erin Patterson’s sentencing
