A hitman’s legacy: the family left devastated

It can hit him from nowhere – the murder of the father he never knew, killed in a professional hit when the son was 14 months old.

When the news reports the discovery of an unidentified body that has been undisturbed for years, “your world stops”, says the boy who is now a man.

It took decades for Stephen Wilson to put together a realistic picture of his father.Credit: Simon Schluter

The worst was when Stephen Wilson, then in his 20s, would drive to work from his Windsor home. On the way to the West Gate Bridge was a giant billboard advertising the TV show Underbelly: Tale of Two Cities.

It showed actor Dustin Clare posing as hitman Christopher Dale Flannery, the man who killed Stephen’s father, Roger.

“It was the hair that got me [a look-alike for Flannery’s]. The first time it scared the hell out of me. I can remember five times when I had to get myself together when I arrived at work,” Stephen says.

We tend to think of hitmen as cool professional killers who for a price target other criminals. But Roger Wilson was no gangster. He was a lawyer and a driven businessman, a husband and father of three, Jacqueline, Jessica and the youngest, Stephen.

Wilson was ambushed and murdered on February 1, 1980, by, police would allege in court, two hitmen who were paid $35,000 by bankrupt businessman Mark Alfred Clarkson, who blamed Wilson for his financial demise. The victim’s body was never found.

Christopher Dale Flannery entering court.Credit: Age archive

The men police would allege killed Wilson, later acquitted along with Clarkson by a jury in the Supreme Court, were Flannery and Kevin John Henry “Weary” Williams.

Clarkson was later jailed over fraud-related charges.

In a rambling defence, Clarkson recently wrote that he was the victim of a giant police and judicial conspiracy – ignoring the fact the system he says is corrupt acquitted him of the murder. “The objective of completely destroying me would have been achieved had I been convicted on the false murder charge presented against me,” he wrote. “In a very real sense the Irish Roman Catholics tried to take my life.”

The passport photo of Roger Wilson. Released by police days after he went missing.

Flannery became Australia’s most notorious hitman, and although he was murdered 40 years ago, he remains a subject of public fascination.

At the same time, Wilson has been reduced to the passport photo used in police appeals for information when he disappeared, and he has become a bit player in his own life.

Stephen Wilson was left with that passport photo, a cricket bat and a pair of cufflinks that belonged to his father. It would take decades for him to put together a realistic picture of his dad.

After studying law at RMIT, Roger Wilson practised as a barrister but soon realised his passion lay in the world of commerce.

He married Deidre, in 1971 and eventually, they moved to a Nar Nar Goon dairy stud farm.

At 31, he was already building a reputation in the business world as an innovator with interests in two private hospitals, a farm and manufacturing companies. He was importing solar panels decades before it became a trend.

On February 1, 1980, Wilson left his West Footscray factory about 8.20pm for the 80-kilometre drive home. On a good day, he would be home just before 10pm. This was not a good day.

Near the Chapel Street overpass on the South Eastern Freeway, he was involved in a minor collision when he ran into the back of a Peugeot sedan. His white Porsche was left with a smashed left headlight and panel damage. The Peugeot driver told police Wilson “apologised several times over the accident”, before they both drove off.

About 9.50pm, a man saw a white Porsche pulled over on the side of the road next to a bright yellow car, just a few kilometres from Wilson’s farm.

Debbie Boundy. Murdered to stop her testifying.Credit: Fairfax Media

The yellow Falcon was rented because it looked like an unmarked police car. Flannery and Williams made a makeshift “Police” sign, according to Williams’ teenage girlfriend, Debra Boundy.

When Clarkson, Flannery and Williams were charged, police had built an impressive circumstantial case with 152 witnesses, but at the time no one had been convicted in Victoria without a body.

In this case, Witness 54 was to be the game changer – Boundy, 19 – a fact Flannery, an accomplished jailhouse lawyer, knew.

Which is why when they were on the run he told Williams to kill his girlfriend before police could get to her.

Williams lied and said she was dead.

Eventually, Boundy told police that Flannery had told her: “I’m sick and tired of talking in riddles in front of you. We are going to kill someone, and we are trying to work out some way to stop him.”

She said she saw them dress as detectives. Flannery put a gun in his pocket and grabbed the sign. It was February 1.

When they returned, Boundy said Williams had told her: “He’s dead. We pulled him over and when he got out of the car, Wilson said, ‘It is my unlucky day, I got pulled over before [a reference to the earlier accident].’”

When she was called as a witness at the inquest/committal, she denied everything, but to Flannery she was still a loose thread.

On Christmas Day 1980, Boundy went to Richmond’s Royal Oak Hotel. She was lured out by a woman she trusted and murdered by Flannery’s associate, Alphonse Gangitano. Her body was never found.

Dustin Clare as Flannery in Underbelly: Tale of Two Cities.

In October 1981, after Victoria’s longest murder trial, the men were acquitted.

Stephen Wilson says: “I was a happy kid. Around grade 4, I knew there was something different.”

He now knows that after his father disappeared, his mother had to deal with the loss of her husband while subjected to a campaign of terror, forcing the family into hiding.

“Murdering him wasn’t enough,” he says. “There was a vendetta. Anyone connected with the farm or his businesses was threatened, even the guy who milked the cows left.

“Mum was only allowed back to the farm twice. Once the policewoman who was with her got the call that Flannery had been tipped off and was on his way. They had to get out.

“She has been amazing. She went back to work and looked after us. Her strength is extraordinary. We will forever be grateful.”

When at De La Salle, Wilson had been a star student and the head of the army cadets. He had perfect handwriting, while another kid’s, Tom Buick’s, needed work. They made Tom sit next to Roger to learn. They became life-long friends.

“Tom and Elizabeth Buick have been amazing for us,” says Stephen. “They had five kids, but they took us in for three months.”

With Wilson’s business associates scared off and Wilson considered legally missing rather than dead, his portfolio collapsed. “We couldn’t even sell the Porsche in Victoria, and it had to go to NSW,” says Stephen.

“We left the farm with a secondhand Mercedes, a couch and a TV.”

The passport photo of Roger sat on his bedside table. “It was my most valuable possession,” he says.

For the son, his father was frozen in time. “Up until my early 20s I wanted to live up to being Roger’s son. In my eyes he was perfect, and I was trying to live up to a ghost.

“I had to learn that he wasn’t perfect, and it was OK to stuff up.

“Between the ages of 16 to 18 I was obsessed with finding the body. I wanted to say to Mum, ‘Here he is.’”

Along with the Buicks, Stephen says another De La Salle old boy, Paul O’Gorman, stepped up as a mentor. “We have been very lucky to have those three in our lives,” he says.

O’Gorman was in year 9 when Roger was in year 12. They met when the younger boy joined the army cadets, and they realised they had a shared interest in music.

Soon there were three of them on the school stage performing Peter, Paul and Mary’s song 500 Miles.

“My parents heard me and bought me a guitar. I started my musical journey all because of Roger,” says O’Gorman.

He became a professional musician and songwriter, voted the most popular new talent in the 1978 King of Pop awards.

After leaving school they formed a band, The Manston Trio, performing on Kevin Dennis’ New Faces show on Channel Nine.

Stephen says: “Dad had a love of music. But he wasn’t very good.”

O’Gorman is more discreet. “Roger wasn’t a natural. By sheer force of will he would make himself sing in tune. I was reluctant to tell my mentor he could be a bit out of tune from time to time.”

While music was his love, O’Gorman worked in the public service to pay the bills until Wilson suggested he study law at RMIT, which ended with the singer-songwriter becoming a solicitor.

“Roger was the one who encouraged me into two main areas of my life, music and the law. He was a terrific guy.”

O’Gorman released an album, Poet and the Painter. One of the tracks, Jacqueline, was written about the Wilsons’ first child, then just two months old.

“I remember playing it for them when they lived in Ashburton,” he says. “Deidre was sitting on Roger’s knee. They were in tears and made me sing it five times in a row.

“Now I don’t think I can get through the song.”

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