The trial of Erin Patterson lasted for 10 weeks but it felt like it could have been years.
Some of us in the press pack compared the freezing cold days outside court as we dodged junkies and degenerates to a Walking Dead-style apocalypse.
And after each day, we retreated to cramped hotel rooms only to be terrorised further by the locals who stalked us in the daylight hours.
Some of us felt like we were losing our minds. A photographer had a heart attack on the first day. Something about this trial felt cursed.
Meanwhile, as we hacked out copy and grumbled about the lack of good cafes in the area – The Daily Cafe and Foodstore being the exception – inside the courtroom a woman was unravelling.
Patterson’s words wove a tapestry of half-truths so intricate that even she forgot where the threads of reality ended, and the lies began.
And by the time she entered the witness box she was already looking down the barrel of a guilty verdict.
Those watching the trial from start to finish believed she would only front the jury in a last desperate move to try to convince them that what she did was indeed one big tragic accident.
Erin Patterson faces life behind bars
The trial took place in Morwell, a working class town built on the back of the coal industry
Locals on the streets of Morwell, located in the Latrobe Valley, 150km east of Melbourne
It was seen as a ‘Hail Mary’ move by her barrister Colin Mandy, SC, who by then had worked hard to try to create in the jurors’ minds just enough doubt to acquit his client.
Patterson had already made a name for herself off the back of what was widely viewed as an insincere performance in front of the media in the days after she killed her lunch guests.
She broke down in crocodile tears and proclaimed she had done nothing wrong.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ she said, wiping her eyes.
‘I loved them and I’m devastated that they’re gone.’
Patterson said all four guests were wonderful people and had always treated her with kindness.
‘Gail was like the mum I didn’t have because my mum passed away four years ago and Gail had never been anything but good and kind to me,’ she said at the time.
Mr Mandy had been able to work some magic behind the scenes and managed to get three attempted murder charges against his client dumped before the trial even began.
Detective Stephen Eppingstall (right) with prosecutor Dr Nanette Rogers walk through the fog on their way to the Latrobe Valley Law Courts on June 12
Colin Mandy, SC, (left) and his associate Sophie Stafford (centre) had worked hard to clear Patterson
A suspected death cap mushroom found by Daily Mail Australia on June 11 at Loch Reserve, the spot where Patterson was accused of visiting prior to the lunch that killed her guests
He also had some evidence that appeared to be damning fall his way during the trial, particularly wishy-washy phone evidence that suggested Patterson had been in areas where death cap mushrooms had been sighted.
The initial police raids on her home appeared a bit slapdash, with little focus on the different dinner plates she owned. Cops also missed electronic devices, including what appeared to be Patterson’s main phone, which has never been found.
Detectives had even allowed Patterson to wipe another phone while they searched her house.
Mr Mandy managed to find a doctor who told the jury that, despite never examining Patterson in person himself, he believed she was sick after eating the lunch.
Things were looking up. Until Homicide Squad Detective Stephen Eppingstall entered the scene.
It had been Eppingstall who carried out Patterson’s record of interview after her initial arrest.
And for the first time in the trial, the jury got to see Patterson get to work telling lie after lie.
She lied about her food dehydrator.
She lied about foraging for mushrooms.
She lied about her phone usage.
She lied about having cancer.
She lied about the source of the mushrooms.
She lied about nearly everything.
Detective Stephen Eppingstall (right) with prosecutor Dr Nanette Rogers who systematically picked through Patterson’s lies
Lone survivor Pastor Ian Wilkinson gave compelling evidence at the trial and attended most days
When Eppingstall was done, the prosecution closed its case.
Mr Mandy, who had refused throughout the trial to give Justice Christopher Beale any indication whether he would call Patterson as a witness, cast the die.
In the witness box, Patterson initially appeared calm and confident as her barrister guided her through what must have been a meticulously planned examination.
Mr Mandy and fellow barrister Sophie Stafford had been routinely visiting Patterson in the police cell where she was held throughout her trial at the Latrobe Valley Law Courts.
Patterson was taken through the many lies she had told police, medical professionals, health workers and child protection officers in the days and weeks after the deadly lunch.
There were, once again, tears when she spoke about her love for her estranged husband Simon’s parents, who died a slow and agonising death after eating her death-cap-laced beef Wellington.
Patterson claimed she became worried she might be blamed for deliberately poisoning her in-laws after a conversation with Simon at the hospital on August 2.
The conversation centred about Patterson hiding dried mushrooms in her daughter’s muffins, which she seemed to enjoy better than the ordinary muffins.
Simon Patterson denied ever accusing his wife of using the dehydrator to poison his parents
It was then that Simon hit her with an unexpected question.
‘He said to me, “Is that how you poisoned my parents using that dehydrator?”‘ Patterson claimed.
Simon denied he ever made the comment. It was another lie, and Crown prosecutor Dr Nanette Rogers was about to be unleashed.
While she had opened the trial back on April 28, reporters wondered what Dr Rogers had been up to in the days and weeks after as it progressed.
Much of the heavy lifting had been done by her offsiders, Jane Warren and Sarah Lenthall.
But with Patterson in the witness box, Dr Rogers proved she had not been kicking back and enjoying the sights of Morwell.
Again and again Dr Rogers picked through Patterson’s many lies.
‘Agree or disagree,’ she would bark at Patterson over and over again.
Don and Gail Patterson died after eating the deadly beef Wellington
Dr Rogers tore apart Patterson’s claims she had an interest in foraging for mushrooms.
It had been evidence reintroduced into the trial late by Mr Mandy in a move that baffled many watching on.
How did it help to show Patterson had knowledge and an interest in picking and eating mushrooms? Surely a simple one-off mistake would have been more believable to a jury hand-picked in country Victoria?
By the time Dr Rogers was done, Patterson had effectively branded nearly every witness a liar, including her own children and lone lunch survivor Ian Wilkinson.
Patterson seemed to have forgotten agreed facts in the trial offered at the very opening by her own barrister.
She had invited her guests over to talk to them about some ‘medical issues’.
It had been how she lured them over and hoped Simon would also attend, Dr Rogers suggested.
In the witness box, Patterson began denying ever mentioning a medical issue to her lunch guests during the invitation.
And when she went a step further, she really was cooked.
Erin Patterson in the days after her murderous lunch
Patterson said she had planned to have gastric bypass surgery, which had been booked into the Enrich Clinic in Melbourne.
‘I was going to have surgery soon… gastric bypass surgery,’ she told Dr Rogers.
‘I had an appointment for early September.’
But Dr Rogers had done her homework too and found the clinic didn’t even offer that kind of surgery.
‘The Enrich Clinic does not offer gastric bypass surgery or gastric sleeve surgery. Agree or disagree?’ Dr Rogers asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Patterson responded.
By now, even Patterson’s defence team must have been scratching their heads in disbelief.
Patterson had gone off the reservation.
She just couldn’t be believed, and any lingering doubts the jury may have had were flushed down the toilet.
Wayne Flower covered every day of the epic trial, losing more than most in the process
Behind the scenes, the jury received only a glimpse of the chaos that was unfolding around them day after day.
Inside court, members of the public were routinely tossed out for taking selfies with Patterson.
One bloke stopped proceedings when he jumped up and had a crack at Justice Beale in open court.
Situated 152km east of Melbourne, there is not a lot to see or do in Morwell, where a group of die-hard journalists gathered for a grinding nine weeks.
When court broke for lunch, reporters needed to be mindful of what they said because jurors would often be seated alongside them in one of the few cafés in town.
When they were finally sequestered at the end of the trial, they ended up in the very same hotel as a swag of Daily Mail reporters.
As the trial began at the end of April, it was shocking to see just how drug-affected many locals on the streets there were.
This was full-on Walking Dead-style zombie stuff – the kind you think only exists in America.
A once-thriving mining town, Morwell now houses many sad cases of domestic violence victims and their drug-addled partners and mates.
On my first day there, a bloke bumped into me and dropped his bum bag on the footpath.
The mean streets of Morwell
In many ways Morwell seemed like a place time forgot, but is also filled with kind, lovely people
The Morwell rose gardens created a sea of colour and joy in an otherwise bleak town
Out dropped a huge knife, which he picked up and placed back into the bag before asking for directions to court.
He walked straight in, receiving a docket to collect the blade on the way out – standard Latrobe Valley Magistrates’ Court operating procedures there.
In those early days, police told reporters we had been marked by the local junkies for trouble, and they were there to protect us.
They’d wanted to get their heads on the TV and there were plenty of cameras lining the footpath outside the court.
A rumour spread that someone had paid the troublemakers $400 to get out of town for a while and leave us all alone.
True or not, the real rabble did seem to vanish in the weeks that followed, with just a few regular locals left to troll the camera crews made to stand outside the court house for weeks and months on end.
Ian Wilkinson would make his way past the crews day after day, offering a polite ‘hello’ and playful banter as he entered the court.
Colin Mandy and Sophie Stafford would stroll past camera crews stony-faced, determined to look respectful during what was an awful case.
On occasion, Ms Stafford would break into a smile and attempt to hide it with her flowing brunette hair.
By the trial’s end, the stunning and friendly barrister would have a solid fan base among both reporters and camera operators.
Sophie Stafford would try not to smile as she walked past the camera crews
When not sitting in court, detective Eppingstall was engaging and talkative, recalling tales of past jobs he’d been called to attend in and around Morwell.
One story was so disturbing it probably shouldn’t be repeated and hopefully one day I too can forget it.
He was kind and generous with his time and went out of his way to help me with some personal issues in ways I will never forget.
When you think about it, there were quite a few people who had their lives cut to ribbons by this senseless tragedy.
The first guy who springs to mind is Colin Patterson, the man who lost a brother.
Brothers stand together no matter the storm, and there was Colin every day for nine weeks navigating his way through the muck with his wife by his side.
You could sense the ghost of his brother looming large in that courtroom.
Colin, I think, made sure of that.
He and his wife are both decent, God-fearing folk.
Colin Patterson and his wife attended every day of the trial and sat front and centre
Colin took notes throughout the trial, for what purpose who really knows.
Perhaps in his mind it wasn’t enough just to listen and watch.
Then there was David Wilkinson. He lost his mother and, thanks only to some sort of miracle, nearly lost his father.
Like Colin, he didn’t miss a day. Remember this was the guy who walked Erin Patterson down the aisle 20 years ago.
What if, on that day, he could have seen into the future?
Every day you could sense his white-hot anger as he entered the courtroom.
Brooding rage, his eyes fixed firmly on his mother’s killer, hoping, praying, like the rest of the family, that justice, while painfully slow and drawn out, would eventually be served.
Then there was Ruth Dubois. The daughter of Ian with the exotic last name, but nevertheless a Wilkinson through and through.
Someone who has seen her fair share of tragedy and heartbreak – confined to a wheelchair and now, like David, without a mother.
The Patterson family (pictured) never entered the court alongside the Wilkinsons
Each day she sat there, her husband stoically by her side, listening intently to every shred of evidence, every lie and every denial.
And then, of course, the Pattersons.
The Wilkinsons and the Pattersons have blood ties and obviously their lives have intersected through this tragedy, but you could sense there was nothing else connecting these two families.
Every day they arrived separately. Openly you would never see them speak to one another. Strange.
Matthew and Nathan, like Simon, lost both parents.
The two brothers attended every day. Simon did not. Was it just too painful for him to watch? Too embarrassing at times? The woman he once loved was now a stone-cold killer.
Then there was Alison Rose Prior, Erin’s best and possibly only friend, the one person in this world who, despite all logic and common sense, still believes her.
If anything could destroy a friendship, it’s murder, but there she was every day without fail, vape in hand.
Plus, we had the super sleuths, the true crime enthusiasts – this merry band of misfits who turned up each day at 5am in sub-zero conditions to watch this car crash spectacle unfold.
What drives and motivates these people? The car crash itself or a desire to be part of it in some small way?
Alison Rose Prior, Erin’s best and possibly only friend
Ruth Dubois is confined to a wheelchair. She and her father Ian Wilkinson attended court daily
David Wilkinson (centre) was frontg and centre in court every day
Then there was Erin Patterson herself.
This short, obese woman who had financially propped up the family of her husband before inexplicably deciding to kill their loved ones.
Seated in the prison dock just spitting distance from the balloted reporters, she would stare and scowl at them as they turned to check on her appearance, clothing and whether or not they could see a tear in her eye.
This was a spiteful woman who clearly remembered some of those same reporters as the ones who had knocked on her door in the days after her deadly lunch.
Did she think we had helped turn up the heat on her in those first days when cops believed they were likely just helping sort out a coronial inquest?
In breaks, she would ask her friend how the kids were doing, begging her son to receive additional hugs.
For all the wealth she had – and shared – before her eventual arrest, the trial itself must have driven her to near bankruptcy.
Barristers don’t work cheap, with Mr Mandy earning anywhere up to $9,000 every day he entered the court.
He spent a lot of days in court this year and dozens more during pre-trial hearings throughout last year.
Then there was Sophie Stafford and lawyers Bill Doogue and Ophelia Hollway.
Any fortune Patterson had was now helping this lot add another storey to their homes.
Erin Patterson’s legal team Sophie Stafford, Bill Doogue, Ophelia Hollway and Colin Mandy, SC, do not work cheap
Like Morwell, the place where all this drama unfolded, Erin Patterson is a contradiction.
A deeply insecure woman fighting a lifelong battle with obesity entering middle age alone.
Her 20-year relationship with Simon had become an agonising, almost daily battle over issues like child support.
Her children were the only constant in her life.
Who truly knows the moment those insecurities manifested into sheer hatred and Erin Patterson went from devoted mother to evil killer.
What was the breaking point?
It was something never truly explained.
Channel 9’s Amber Johnston (left) and Penny Liersch (right) outside the Latrobe Valley Law Courts. They started early and worked late and brightened some very gloomy days
The prison van carrying Erin Patterson was spotted by photographer Steven Cook pulling over so the driver could have a smoko break
Out on the streets, it was tough work for the camera crews that had to scramble for fresh pictures every day.
Daily Mail Australia photographer Steven Cook had a heart attack outside the court on the first day of the trial.
He managed to file his photos to the news desk before driving himself to the emergency room at the nearby hospital.
He was still trying to get himself discharged as they rushed him by ambulance to The Alfred in Melbourne to get a couple of stents put in.
He was back at work within three days and finished out the trial to the end.
Other reporters were terrorised at night by seemingly drug-affected home invaders, one of whom brandished a knife while tapping on the window of a female television reporter just after midnight.
Another drugged woman found her way onto the balcony of a house loaded with female reporters who were forced to phone triple-0.
Inside court, six reporters were allowed in via a ballot with the rest seated in a ‘spill room’ down the corridor.
Live blogs were being bashed out at relentless speeds, with reporters from rival news companies rallying together to make sure what was being published was right.
No one wanted to be that person to have the jury discharged.
There were mistakes and there were threats of prosecution made, but the trial went onto its conclusion against all odds.
Reporters were working away from home and loading up on out-of-pocket expenses that would often just be absorbed.
Alcohol was being consumed at night in large proportions, with the pubs and restaurants of Morwell and nearby Traralgon arguably making more money in those weeks than they’d make all year.
Hello darkness, my old friend: Wayne Flower enters the Latrobe Valley Law Courts as winter sets in
Many reporters celebrated birthdays while out ‘in the zone’, including a milestone 50th birthday for myself.
It warmed my heart to be taken out to dinner, provided a cake and gifted with a photograph that everyone signed with a kind message.
One reporter was forced to leave in the last weeks of the trial because his wife was having a baby – he’d been working out in Morwell covering the trial in what was the most important time of his life.
As the days and weeks dragged on, the job began to take its toll on people’s minds and bodies.
And it kept getting colder and colder.
Photographers would freeze as they tried to work out new ways to shoot Patterson in the back of the prison van.
Only a few lucky frames of her were ever captured.
I bought multi-vitamins and fish oil in the hope of pushing through a little longer.
At home, a long way away, my life and family were imploding.
The grind and my absence had made my partner of 24 years – the mother of my two children – come to realise she no longer needed me in her life.
Days after my 50th birthday, for which she had organised a surprise party with all my friends and family in attendance, she told me she no longer loved me and I was discarded like yesterday’s newspaper.
But the trial went on and so did I. Perhaps the last sad victim of Erin Patterson.
