Casefile True Crime - Case 90: Hoddle Street

Episode Date: July 28, 2018

19-year-old Julian Knight was obsessed with war and combat from a young age. He enrolled in the Royal Military Academy of Duntroon with dreams of one day defending his country, but there was one problem – he didn’t like authority. ---  Episode narrated by the Anonymous Host Episode researched and written by Elsha McGill For all credits and sources please visit casefilepodcast.com/case-90-hoddle-street

Our episodes deal with serious and often distressing incidents. If you feel at any time you need support, please contact your local crisis centre. For suggested phone numbers for confidential support, please see the show notes for this episode on your app or on our website. The Royal Military College, Duntroon, is responsible for preparing cadets and selected candidates for careers as commissioned officers in the Australian Army. It aims to do this by promoting leadership and integrity, inspiring high ideals and the pursuit of excellence, and by instilling a sense of duty, loyalty and service to the

nation. Australian soldiers adhere to a contract that solidifies their solemn obligation to the nation. That contract states, I am an Australian soldier who is an expert in close combat. I am physically and mentally tough, compassionate and courageous. I lead by example. I strive to take the initiative.

I am committed to learning and working for the team. I believe in trust, loyalty and respect for my country, my mates and the army. The rising sun is my badge of honour. I am an Australian soldier, always. Julian Knight was born in Melbourne, Victoria, on March 4, 1968. His birth parents weren't ready to have children, so baby Julian was given up for adoption. Julian's birth parents then went their separate ways, with his mother moving to South Africa where she later remarried and has lived ever since.

What happened to Julian's birth father is unknown. When he was just 10 days old, Julian was adopted by a loving couple named Ralph and Pamela Knight who were thrilled to become parents. When they held Julian in their arms for the first time, they instantly fell in love with their new son. Over the next few years they adopted another two children, Sarah and Matthew, and together the five became a happy family. There were no secrets, all three children knew they were adopted and fully embraced

Ralph and Pamela as their own parents. Ralph and Pamela Knight were devoted to their family and worked hard to keep a loving, warm and supportive household. Ralph Knight was an army education officer who taught literacy and numeracy to Australian soldiers. Due to the nature of his work, he was required to move around a lot, and wherever Ralph's job took him, his family followed. Throughout the years, the Knight family lived on multiple army barracks in Hong Kong, Malaysia

and Singapore, before finally settling down in Lavahton, a suburb 17km southwest of Melbourne's CBD. Lavahton was home to the Royal Australian Air Force Base in Point Cook, where Ralph landed a position in the School of Languages, teaching Chinese to Australian soldiers. This new position offered the Knight family the opportunity for more stability, which Pamela saw as being incredibly important. She had never been a big fan of the transient life as a military family, and now that the kids were all of school age, she felt it was essential they have a permanent, steady home.

Young Julian was enrolled in Epsom Street Primary School. Classmates recalled he was a happy child with a mischievous edge. He enjoyed laughing and joking around, which earned him the title of Class Clown. But it wasn't all carefree and good times for Julian. It was at this school that he first encountered bullying. It wasn't that bullies were attracted to Julian. The problem was that when Julian saw other kids being bullied, he would step in to defend them, and the negative attention would be turned onto him instead.

Julian idolized his father, which fostered a deep fascination for the military within him. From a young age, Julian dreamed of the day he was old enough to serve as a soldier in the Australian Army. He hung off every word that his father told him about life in the Army, and learned as much as he could about the military by watching war movies, reading books, indulging in his own war games, and playing with model tanks and soldiers. There was an obsession that knew no bounds, which only made things more difficult for Julian when Ralph and Pamela Knight announced they were getting a divorce.

Julian was 12 years old. The Knight children didn't take this news well. Julian admired his father deeply, and saw his decision to leave as the ultimate rejection. Ralph Knight moved out, and the kids only had the chance to visit him every second weekend, until he was assigned to a new role in Canberra, and visits dwindled down to just a few a year. Although Julian loved his mother, he struggled to adapt to life without his father, and missed his connection to the Army life. Despite the absence of his father, Julian's obsession with the Army continued to grow,

even when the family moved away from the barracks. They relocated to Ramston Street in Clifton Hill, a suburb four kilometers northeast of Melbourne's CBD. Around at the same time in 1980, Julian was taken out of public school, and enrolled in Westbourne Grammar, an independent, private, co-education school. Julian's mother thought he would benefit from the change, but it had the opposite effect. Still struggling with the divorce of his parents, Julian didn't adapt easily to Westbourne Grammar. The rigidity and formality of the private school system didn't sit well with him.

His grades began to suffer, and he failed several subjects. The only subject he showed an interest in was history. He didn't get along well with the strict teachers. Some female faculty members said they were intimidated by him. He harbored an intensity which gave them the feeling he would burst into a violent rage at any moment. He didn't seem concerned about making friends and was constantly getting in trouble. At one point, Julian locked the teacher out of the room and laughed as she struggled to

find her way in. On another occasion, he set firecrackers off in the school lockers. He expressed creativity through drawing cartoons of extreme violence and passing them around the room for other students to look at, getting a kick out of their reactions. In one cartoon titled Seymour the Six Million Dollar Mouse, the main character goes on a shooting rampage, killing 16 enemies in one frame. Another panel shows the main character holding a machine gun surrounded by corpses. The only colour featured is blood red, which Julian had scribbled over the bullet-riddled

bodies. He wrote above in capital lettering, War is Hell. His antagonistic behaviour and disregard for others earned Julian the reputation as the school bully. He lived up to the title, constantly picking fights with younger, smaller students. Corporal punishment was still legal in Victorian private schools at the time, so when counselling didn't help change his behaviour, Julian was hit with a cane. Despite regular visits to the principal's office and multiple disciplinary warnings

being sent to his parents, Julian failed to curve his negative behaviour. Discipline and punishment only seemed to escalate it. After three years at Westbourne Grammar, the final straw came in 1982, when Julian, who was now in Year 8, got himself in a serious altercation with another student named Archie Clark. A year younger, Archie was also a bully who had been instructed by his father to always finish the fight. The pair got into a senseless argument over a soccer ball, with Archie initiating a fight

by pushing Julian in the chest and throwing the first punch. Encouraged by his soccer mates to hit back, Julian did just that, swinging at Archie several times until he fell onto the ground. When a teacher approached, Archie stopped fighting, but Julian continued. He drew his leg back and ferociously kicked Archie in the head several times, resulting in Archie being concussed. Julian was taken to the principal's office for corporal punishment. Afterwards, he boasted to his classmates about the cuts on his hands.

It was clear to the staff at Westbourne Grammar that Julian wasn't going to be rehabilitated. He was sat and found enjoyment in his aggressive and violent ways. Julian was promptly expelled from the school. Archie Clark's father pressed charges against Julian for the injuries caused to his son. The case appeared before the Children's Court, where Julian was charged with assault by kicking. If convicted, it would damage his chances of entering the Royal Military College he so desperately longed to join. The Children's Court magistrate decided that a conviction wouldn't benefit either of the

boys, as both were already struggling to keep their reputations and behaviour in check. The charges were dismissed, with a simple apology deemed the appropriate punishment. By now, Julian was attending Fitzroy High School in North Fitzroy, a public co-education school that was much more relaxed than Westbourne Grammar. But he failed to improve. His grades continued to drop, and he found himself in trouble for smoking, fighting and setting firecrackers off in the classroom. Julian still held on to his childhood ambitions of joining the military, except now, that interest

had grown into an obsession. He daydreamed about life as a soldier, imagining himself in battles where he fought against the odds to die as a hero in combat. Classmates were well aware of Julian's infatuation with the Army, as he often talked about his goal to become a soldier, and about his interest in firearms. He wore a military jacket as casual wear, and read Soldiers of Fortune magazines. His bedroom walls were covered in posters of Army paraphernalia, and disturbing newspaper clippings featuring pictures of corpses in war-torn areas.

In 1984, Julian applied for a transfer to Melbourne High School, so that he could partake in their Army cadet program. The program offered courses in radio work, map navigation, medical work, and elementary field engineering. The cadet program was an entry-level recruitment platform that led into the Army reserves, and after that, the Royal Military College, Dun Tune, in Canberra. As part of the approval process for enrolment into Melbourne High, Julian had to sign an agreement stating that he would obey the rules, knowing it would impact his chances of entering

the Army reserves if he messed up. Julian knuckled down and avoided trouble. He was a loner, and seemed to prefer his own company to that of his peers, even though many of the other students also came from broken homes and shared an interest in the Army. He was particularly aggressive and overly sensitive about his family life. Julian's grades were still poor, but he managed to stay out of trouble and maintain a position in the cadet program, where his passion for the Army was further solidified.

He attended camps during school holidays, where cadets were required to learn how to fend for themselves, surviving in the bush on rations while trapping and killing wild animals for additional food. Although his marks were below average, Julian managed to complete year 11 and 12, and graduated from Melbourne High at the end of 1985. He participated in the school's ceremonial parade to mark 100 years of the cadet program, where his platoon took part in drill exercises. Julian proudly marched in his uniform and clung tight to his military rifle as the music

of the school band played. In his year 12 yearbook, Julian was remembered blessed for his worthiness as a soldier and more as the class outcast and mischief maker. Quote, Julian Knight inherited the role of cadet unit Looney and chief political agitator. Upon graduation, Julian's first step was to win list in the Army Reserve. Reservists are trained and operate alongside full-time military personnel, but participate in the military on a part-time basis, giving them more flexibility to focus on a civilian life and career.

Julian Knight considered his work with the reserves as a stepping stone into the full-time military career he had dreamed of since childhood. Julian served at the Prince of Wales Light Horse Regiment, while also working a part-time job at Fast Food Restaurant McDonald's. The Army Reserve was enjoyable to Julian. It took part in various camps and was taught how to use a variety of weapons. Meanwhile, his part-time job at McDonald's was not going well. Julian, who was unapologetically racist, was vocal about his disdain for having to work

alongside and clean up after customers from Asia and Mediterranean Europe. He would even pretend to shoot them with an imaginary gun. Throughout school and amongst the cadets, Julian was known as a racist, often talking candidly about his desire to kill certain racers he felt were invading Australia. In order to keep his parents happy, Julian agreed to attend university while he waited for his chance to join the Royal Military College. He enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts degree at La Trobe University, where he studied modern history, French, English and politics, but he dropped out after six weeks, complaining

to others that the university was, quote, full of wogs and leftover hippies. On March 4, 1986, the day of his 18th birthday, Julian applied to obtain a shooter's license. The form he was required to fill out was brief and basic, and as he had no criminal history, his application was approved. A month and a half later, Julian received the license, giving him legal approval to purchase, possess, carry and use firearms. This meant he could now legally carry the Ruger 22 rifle that his uncle had previously given him on his 17th birthday.

Eager to expand his gun collection, within months, Julian had purchased a Mossberg 12 gauge pump-action shotgun and an M14 Narinco semi-automatic military rifle. Since late high school, Julian had been in a tumultuous relationship with a young woman named Katie, not her real name. Although the two had been together for two years, their relationship aired on the toxic side, fuelled by Julian's infidelity early on. Katie was one of the few people who saw Julian's emotional side. On multiple occasions, he had gotten drunk and broken down, crying to her about being

adopted and the agony of his parents' divorce. But he could also become hostile at the drop of a hat, quickly switching from affectionate to aggressive. Katie suggested he see a psychologist to deal with his childhood traumas, but Julian refused. His behavior always worsened when alcohol was involved. After a fight broke out at a house party between guests, Katie hid in the toilets for safety. Julian dragged her out and kicked her in the head.

And up with his violent and unpredictable behavior, Katie called the relationship off. As his part-time job, university studies and romantic relationship broke down, so did Julian's reputation in the Army Reserves. He was often accused of slacking off, not pulling his weight, being selfish, and failing to relate to his peers. Despite his enthusiasm and drive for the Army, those around him felt he didn't possess the discipline or the physical fitness levels required for a career in the military. So it came as a surprise to everyone, when in late 1986, after going through a rigorous

selection process, Julian was accepted to join the Royal Military College, Duntroon. Julian was ecstatic, his lifelong dream was finally coming true. The Royal Military College, Duntroon, better known simply as Duntroon, is a prestigious Army training facility located four kilometres outside of Australia's capital, Canberra. It was officially opened as a military college in June 1911 by the Governor-General. When the first class of cadets were rushed through the college at the commencement of World War I, General Soran Hamilton, commander of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, stated, each Duntroon educated officer was worth his weight in gold.

Cadets received training in leadership, tactics, military history, military law, corporate governance, and weapons systems. The intensive course aims to test the cadets physically and mentally. Graduation is not guaranteed. Both at Duntroon is demanding, and many new recruits can't take the pressure and go away while within the first few weeks of training, while many others never complete the course. In January 1987, 18-year-old Julian Knight travelled to Canberra, where he joined the 45 Squadron of Cacota Company at Duntroon.

He was one of 12 cadets in his platoon, and one of 85 new cadets all up. The 85 new recruits were selected out of more than 400 applicants, which gave each of them a solid feeling of elitism, believing they were the best the country had to offer. Life at Duntroon was fast to kick into gear, and Julian's days were quickly filled up with morning parades, fitness training, firearms training, lectures, and cleaning. There was a lot to take in and a lot to adapt to, especially given the amount of teamwork involved. For someone like Julian, who had always been a bit of a loner, working as part of a team

didn't come easily. Given that group unity and cooperation is essential in the Army, Julian tried to secure his place in the group by lying to his peers about his skills, accomplishments, and abilities. He talked himself up as a Rambo-type soldier, after the fictional character played by Sylvester Stallone in the film of the same name. In reality, the others at Duntroon saw Julian as a scrawny, pockmarked wimp who only exuded power when holding a gun. Julian desperately wanted to live up to the image of his successful father, but he had

a chip on his shoulder he couldn't shake off. Julian's facade didn't take long to crack. In short time, his lack of dedication and resentment towards authority began to shine through. Within months of entering Duntroon, he had racked up a long list of offences. These ranged from small offences like falling a sleeping class, to serious offences like being absent without leave, and having a civilian female on Duntroon grounds. He showed no respect for the rules that applied to someone of his ranking, and was known to

wear, spit, and purposely disobey policies regarding the length of his hair and the way he dressed. He would sleep through alarms, spend late nights out drinking in Canberra pubs instead of studying, failed tests, and display a lack of confidence and awareness during field exercises. He repeatedly got into altercations with civilians whilst outside base, usually while intoxicated. As far as his position in the army went, he had the motivation, but that was about it. As someone who had never responded well to being told what to do, the strict rules and routines of the army did nothing but enrage and frustrate Julian.

Essentially, he was the very opposite of the focused, dedicated, and respectful recruit the army was looking for. He was the runt of his unit, and struggled to bond with his peers who took their positions in the military with great pride. One cadet remarked he felt no desire to die for Julian as he would for other soldiers. The Australian Defence Force Academy and Royal Military College have a history of allegations of hazing and brutality amongst younger cadets. Known as bastardisation, these acts are considered serious criminal behaviour, although many

go unreported or are denied entirely by officials. At the most serious end of the spectrum, reported acts of bastardisation include rape, beatings, sodomy, burning, branding, forced consumption of toxic substances, sexual humiliation, and other acts of violence. But less serious rituals of degradation and abuse of power are most common. During Julian's first few months at Duntrune, he experienced bastardisation firsthand. He was targeted by older cadets for his lack of conformity. In one instance, he was made to stuff an entire piece of toast lathered in peanut butter into

his mouth at once, making it difficult to breathe, chew, or swallow. In another act, he was made to serve food to peers by getting on all fours, carrying plates on his back, and crawling across the floor. At times he was also beaten. New cadets lashed out at Julian, aiming to break down his bravado and crack his disrespectful attitude and insubordination. However, it had the opposite effect, fuelling Julian's resentment towards authority and his refusal to obey.

Tensions reached boiling point for Julian during a night out at the Private Bin Nightclub in Canberra. He had recently been in trouble for being absent without leave, and had been instructed not to leave the Academy grounds. Older cadets were livid when they spotted Julian out at the club on a Saturday night, yet again disobeying and disrespecting orders. Sergeant Major Philip Reed was particularly riled up about Julian's presence at the club. Throughout the night, Sergeant Reed approached Julian and demanded he leave, but Julian refused.

Things got heated and a flight broke out. Julian suffered multiple blows to the head from Sergeant Reed and another cadet who got involved. Afterwards, Julian was kicked out of the nightclub. He went to a nearby public toilet block and cleaned the blood off his face. Instead of returning to Duntrune as he had been told, he re-entered the nightclub. Sergeant Reed stood with his back against the bar, talking to a group of first-class cadets. Julian took a knife out of his pocket, approached Sergeant Reed, and swiftly stabbed him twice

in the right side of his face. Sergeant Reed sustained two deep lacerations near his ear. Julian was admitted to the surgical ward of Canberra Hospital for an accidental self-inflicted gash in his hand. Sergeant Reed's wounds were non-life-threatening, and he fully recovered. On his release from hospital, Julian was charged with three offenses, malicious wounding, assault-occasioning actual bodily harm, and assault. He was given two options, suspension from the Army until the court hearing, or resign

from Duntrune. Given the stabbing incident and his subpar performance at the college where he'd recently been ranked at the bottom end of his class, Julian resigned from Duntrune. And officially and abruptly ended his lifelong dream of combat and becoming a war hero. As of July 24, 1987, Julian Knight was no longer a member of the Australian Army. Shattered, angry, and disappointed, Julian left Canberra and returned to Melbourne. Not expecting her son to ever move back into the family home on Ramston Street, Pamela Knight had turned Julian's old bedroom into a living room.

He had to sleep on the floor on an old foam mattress. His belongings packed away in boxes. His old group of friends didn't want much to do with him, nor did his ex-girlfriend, Katie. Over the following weeks, Julian struggled to find a job fit for his skills. He enrolled in a security course, only to find out most security companies wanted their employees to be at least 25 years old. Julian was just 19.

He had no money and owed his uncle seven grand for a hold in Tirana he had purchased the previous year, a car which was his pride and joy, but was now having mechanical issues. Julian decided he was going to sell the car, but knew it would be difficult due to the condition it was in. To make ends meet, he took a mundane job as a storeman and driver for a clothing company, which he hoped would only be temporary until he could figure out his next step. He also decided to reach out and contact his birth mother, but his letters went unanswered. On the morning of Sunday, August 9, 1987, Julian woke up seedy and hung over.

The night before, he found out his ex-girlfriend was having a house party that he wasn't invited to. Upset, Julian spent the night drinking alcohol to numb the sting of rejection. Around midday, he dragged himself out of bed and across town to his grandmother's house in Hawthorne. His family was gathering to celebrate his mum's birthday from earlier that week. Julian stayed until around 4pm before driving his 15 year old sister home. The gearbox in his car had been malfunctioning, and on his way home had jammed entirely,

getting stuck in second gear. His chances of selling the car were now jeopardised, he'd have to find a way to pay for repairs. Slowly, and with great effort, he managed to get the car home to Ramston Street. Inside, he changed into jeans and a navy blue jacket before heading to the Royal Hotel in Clifton Hill, which was his regular drinking hole. While nursing beer after beer, he vented to bar staff and to locals about his car troubles, life outside of the army, his break up with Katie, and how she had been ignoring him since his return to Melbourne.

Julian stayed at the hotel until around 8pm, having drunk somewhere between 8 and 15 beers over the course of the evening. By the time he left, bartenders noted he seemed a little depressed, but appeared relatively unaffected by the alcohol. After the pub, Julian walked home to Ramston Street. His mother and sister were home watching a movie on TV. Julian's 16 year old brother was staying the night at his grandmother's house in Hawthorne. Julian headed upstairs and entered his mother's bedroom.

Reaching under her bed, he pulled out a box where he kept his three guns, a .22 Colobo Ruger rifle, a 12 gauge 8 shot pump action shotgun, and an M14 semi-automatic military rifle. Julian picked up all three. He then went to his mother's cupboard where he stored his ammunition. He collected three 10 round rotary magazines for the Ruger, a belt of 25 rounds of ammunition for the shotgun, and one 60 round magazine for the M14 rifle. He loaded all three guns and slipped a single bullet into his pocket, labelling it his suicide

bullet. Slinging the M14 over his shoulder, Julian carried the .22 and the shotgun and went back downstairs. It was approximately 9.29pm when heavily armed Julian Knight snuck out of his house. He immediately took off running in a westerly direction, down the quiet, tree lined Ramston Street, moving towards Hoddle Street. Hoddle Street forms part of a large urban highway that runs for three and a half kilometres from the suburbs of Clifton Hill to Richmond, where it then turns into Punt Road, located

less than five kilometres from Melbourne's CBD. Hoddle Street is one of Melbourne's major thoroughfares, connecting north and south, and servicing thousands of cars every single day. The section of Hoddle Street at the western end of Ramston Street is a four-lane arterial main road, busy with a constant stream of traffic. On Sunday nights, cars flow up and down Hoddle Street, carrying people home from weekend getaways, relaxing Sunday outings, inner-city activities, and work. It was no different the night of Sunday, August 9, 1987, as Julian Knight slipped under a

fence and emerged on the eastern edge of Hoddle Street. Pairs of headlights glistened and passed by as Julian crept along the darkened side of the road. He knelt down into some shrubbery, biting himself from view. He positioned himself facing the oncoming traffic, raised his shotgun, and pulled the trigger. One of the first bullets struck the windscreen of a car carrying Alan Dury and his girlfriend Monica Vitale, leaving a hole in the centre.

The couple initially thought their car had been struck by a rock. As they were pelted with more bullets, the realisation of what was actually happening became terrifyingly clear. Alan shouted at his girlfriend to duck down. Monica slid in her seat, shielding herself behind the dashboard. Alan struggled to steer the car away from the onslaught whilst keeping his own head lowered and out of the shooter's line of sight. On shots continued to hit the passenger side of their car, causing the windows to smash.

Broken glass struck Alan on the side of his neck, below his left ear. Desperate to find cover, Alan turned the car away from the openness of the road and into a nearby mobile service station, barely 100 metres away. He raced inside, yelling at the staff that they'd been shot at and to call police. Staff ushered customers and passers-by inside, hastily flicking off the building lights as the group ducked in the darkness, away from the windows. Sergeant Graham Larchin and his partner, Senior Constable Betty Roberts, had spent that Sunday afternoon investigating two unrelated firearm incidents near Northcote Police Station.

It was around 9.30pm when the pair heard the crack of gunfire in the distance. By now, several drivers had been fired upon whilst travelling along Hodel Street. Some of these drivers came across a police car nearby and they stopped to report what had happened. As police rushed to the scene, persons in and around Hodel Street heard what they thought to be small explosions, like fireworks. Unaware a gunman was indiscriminately firing upon anyone who crossed this path. Cars approached the area with little concern, only to be bombarded with bullets from the

unseen gunman. Drivers desperately steered out of the line of fire. Some managed to floor down Hodel Street and out of danger. Many others only got as far as the mobile service station, where Alan Jury and Monica Vitelli had taken sanctuary. Over the following minutes, a long line of cars had gathered there. The passenger side of each was littered with bullet holes. Drivers and passengers emerged shaken and confused.

Some were wounded. They took cover within the service station, waiting for police to arrive. The gunfire was too close for comfort, but none were willing to risk heading back out onto Hodel Street to try and get to a safer location. 24-year-old Vesna Markovska and her boyfriend Zoran were returning home from a party. They were driving in separate cars, Zoran following behind Vesna. Their route took them straight down Hodel Street. As their vehicles neared the Ramston Street intersection, Vesna's windscreen suddenly

shattered, sending sharp flakes of glass into the car. Having no idea what happened, she pulled over and parked before getting out to investigate. Zoran stopped his car to see if Vesna was okay. Suddenly, a burst of 13 gunshots pierced through Zoran's windscreen. Vesna stood exposed on the street, little time to react. Six bullets penetrated her body. One who had received lacerations to his hands and pellet wounds to the side of his head fell out of his car and raced to her.

He bent over Vesna's body frantically and helpless as his girlfriend laid dying in front of him. News of casualties on Hodel Street reached police. They were fast converging on the area with Zoran's wailing, blue and red lights flashing. As they approached the scene, they were greeted by a volley of gunfire. 27-year-old Englishman Robert Mitchell was returning home from dinner with friends. As he drove down Hodel Street, he spotted cars parked off to the side and a woman wounded on the ground. It looked as though a vehicle accident had occurred, or perhaps the woman had been hit

by a car. Robert pulled over to offer his assistance. Within seconds of getting out of the car, he fell to the ground. The bullet that struck him killed him instantly. At the same time, 21-year-old Gina Papianu rolled her car to a stop close by, having noticed the injured body strewn across the roadway. Gina got out of her car to help. As she crossed Hodel Street, she was struck by two bullets.

The large hole in the left side of her body, later described by police as being similar to a shark attack victim. The sound of gunfire smashed glass, screeching brakes, car horns and screaming rung out through the surrounding suburbs. The chaos caught the attention of 26-year-old John Muskat and his friend Peter Kermey, who were at a friend's place on nearby Turnbull Street. A neighbour told them someone was outside shooting and that he'd just called the police. John and Peter decided to see what was going on.

As they reached Hodel Street, they met a third man, Steve White. Steve worked at the nearby leisure centre and thought the initial sounds of gunfire were children throwing pebbles onto the building's roof. When he went outside to investigate, he witnessed the gunman firing on passers-by. Steve warned the other men of the danger and the trio cautiously crossed the street, approaching the bodies of Vesna, Gina and Robert. As they got close, the gunfire recommenced. John Muskat was struck six times in the left shoulder, chest, head, neck and right ear.

Peter Kermey was hit in the right arm, chest and thigh. Both men fell to the ground. Steve White managed to avoid the bullets, taking shelter behind a tree about five metres away. The firing stopped. Steve thought the shooter either fled or had run out of bullets. He crept out from behind the tree and immediately rushed to help John and Peter. The flash of two rifles being discharged at the same time sparked in the distance. Steve was shot in the head and chest.

Despite their injuries, all three men were still alive, laying helpless in the wide, open expanse of Hodel Street. 53-year-old Doosan Flajnik travelled south on Hodel Street on his way to work at the Carlton Brewery. His brown Sigma sedan was struck by two bullets. One lodged itself in the back seat behind the driver's side door. The other struck Doosan, ending his life. Not far behind, Kevin Farmer drove his 23-year-old wife, Tracy Skinner, and their 18-month-old

son down Hodel Street, oblivious to the destruction they were heading into. Their baby son was dressed for bed and nestled in his mother's lap on the passenger seat. The couple spotted Doosan's car stopped in the middle of Hodel Street, as well as the other cars parked off to the side. Bodies lay around them. They didn't have much time to assess the situation before their own car was pelted with gunfire. Tracy quickly lowered her baby between her legs to protect him. A 308 bullet made contact with the car, smashing the passenger side window and hitting Tracy

directly in the face. Kevin sped the car to the mobile service station further down the road. He screamed, he's killed my wife, my wife is dead, I'll kill the bastard, I'll kill the bastard. 21-year-old Kenneth Stanton was on his Kawasaki motorcycle on his way to work night shift at Australia Post. As he sped down Hodel Street, he was struck by a bullet knocking him off his bike. Kenneth was seriously injured, but still alive.

As he cried out for help, a flurry of bullets was sent in his direction, ending his life. By now, Julian Knight's shooting spree had been going on for an agonising 15 minutes. Police and paramedics pressed forward, despite being shot out on site. At this stage, they didn't know how many active gunmen were in the area, where exactly they were or how many victims they had amassed. Police radio was a loud and frightening mass of sirens, gunfire and panicked officers. Roger, 303, presumably still on foot, is he? After blocking traffic along nearby Queen's Parade, Sergeant Graham Larchin and senior

Constable Betty Roberts drove towards High Street. Their headlights on High Beam illuminated a man carrying a gun across his chest. The officers thought he was a plain-closed detective out searching for the shooter. From their divisional van, the officers watched as the man jumped a fence near the railway. When he spotted the police van, the gunman beelined down the tracks towards the officers. When he closed in, he crouched down, held up a rifle and fired five times. Shot at? Lawton, 232, repeat your message.

232, I'm at High Street and Hercot Street. We shot at from somewhere towards the railway station, I think. The shooter quickly disappeared into the dark surrounds. Sergeant Larchin told senior Constable Roberts to use this as an opportunity to escape to safety. Sergeant Larchin got out of the police car and ran along the street in a zig-zagging motion to make him a difficult target to shoot, while scanning the shadows for the gunman. Meanwhile, police and paramedics reached the mogul service station on Hoddle Street. There, they discovered the body of young mother, Tracy Skinner.

Because they're calling with 303. Calling with 303. 303, I'm sorry, we haven't really got the engine running, just been shot bad. Is calling with 303, what's the location? Calling with 303, we're still at the mogul service station. A police helicopter appeared over the Clifton Hill area, scanning the residential streets below with a blinding spotlight. As they hovered, bullets flew past the helicopter from the unseen shooter.

The first few shots missed, but then one hit. Air 495, urgent. Air 495, go. Air 495, we've just been hit underneath the helicopter. At this stage, all systems still OK. By 10pm, the usually quiet and narrow streets of Clifton Hill and its surrounds were a flurry of action. Police cars sped by as officers sprinted through yards and alleys with weapons raised. During the frantic search, Constable Colin Chambers ran into the gunman

who had taken up position on the end of the Queen's Parade Bridge, which spanned Mary Creek. Constable Chambers was shot in the torso, just above his right hip, and quickly took cover under his police car. The police helicopter, hovering above, set its bright lights on the gunman, causing him to fire his rifle back in return. After being hit three times and sustaining damage to the engine, the helicopter was forced to land. Air 495, VKC.

Air 495. By the time we've been hit underneath, we have to put down in an ovary to check damage. At approximately 10.13pm, less than 45 minutes since the shooting began, a possible sighting of the gunman near Queen Street and Russell Crescent in North Bitsroy was radioed to Constable John Della Huntie. Della Huntie arrived to the area alongside a second responding unit, Constable Ralph Lopman, who'd come from the Russell Street police headquarters. Constable John Della Huntie, quote,

We could hear the police helicopter nearby, and we could hear more shots. And the helicopter came up on the radio saying they'd been hit. And I remember saying to Ralph, Gee, he's close. He's coming this way. We were standing outside the car because we didn't want to sit in the car and be a target. And then Ralph smacked me and said, There he goes.

And I could just see this figure running across the road on Russell Crescent. Fearing they might lose sight of the suspect, the officers got into a divisional van and gave chase. Della Huntie fishtailed the van and came to a grinding hole, cornering the shooter in a laneway. The car's headlights illuminated the gunman, who opened fire on the police car, showering it with bullets.

Constable Della Huntie, quote, I started to open the door, and that's when he started shooting. He just opened fire. And that's when I felt the impact to the side of my head. The handbrake was still in my hand, the lever had been shattered, and I saw some blood on my hand and knew I was shot.

I bounced out of the car and the shots just kept on coming. The bullets were going straight through the car. I lost sight of Ralph. I went straight to the ground and started crawling to get to the back of the car. I could feel the flicks of the bullet going over my head. I went to the side of the car and stood up and then fired back, and all I could see was the flash. I thought I'd hit him because it all went quiet.

I saw you after a big shot. Unit, uh, urgent. Two and three. We're off, right, sir, prison. That's 200 meters to the left. There's a sender and a weapon. Roger, uh, you have the offender. Please, stop. There's a bloody automatic weapon.

Julian Knight was now out of ammo. Crouched down behind a low brick wall, he searched frantically for the suicide bullet he had tucked safely away in the pocket of his jeans. But he couldn't find it. The single bullet fired by Constable John de la Hunte swept past him, without a means to take his own life and with police closing in. Julian was living his lifelong fantasy.

He was about to die in combat in his own deluded blaze of glory. Yet, when confronted by the realisation, he was about to die. Julian Knight realised he didn't want to go through with it. He hastily threw down his empty M-14 rifle and came out from behind the brick wall, hands raised in the air. He begged, don't shoot, I'm unarmed, don't shoot.

Constable John de la Hunte, quote, I couldn't believe how pathetic he looked. He was just a skinny, pathetic person who was begging us not to kill him. That was the thing that got me the most about him, is that here he is, he was scared, he was frightened, he was screaming and pleading, don't shoot me. And yet, he had just murdered seven people and shot dozens more. All up, Julian Knight had fired about 125 rounds of ammunition at 50 people.

In total, 19 people were injured and seven were killed. Vesna Markovska, Robert Mitchell, Gina Popianu, John Musket, Deuston Flajnick, Tracy Skinner and Kenneth Stanton. Constable Ralph Lopman forced the gunman onto the ground. The police were convinced they were multiple gunmen, so they were screaming at him to tell them where his accomplices were. When he said there were no others, they slammed him onto the bonnet of the police car, handcuffed him and called for backup.

It wasn't long before more police arrived by car and on foot. As the gunman lay handcuffed on the ground, he told the police his name, Julian Knight. He had military training and acted alone. Detective Senior Constable Richard McIntosh stepped forward and told Julian he was under arrest for murder. At the Senkilda police station, the ease at which Julian Knight gave his full confession shocked everyone. Julian answered questions openly and honestly, responding with disturbing calm. He consented to requests for blood samples and swabs checking for firearm residue. Detective Senior Constable Richard McIntosh remarked interviewing Julian

was like dealing with a spoiled child rather than a hardened criminal. Detective Senior Constable Graham Kent had a similar impression of Julian, quote, It was as if we were talking to someone who was very immature, incredibly self-centered, who was playing out of fantasy and had no understanding or care for its consequences. The Homicide Squad detectives asked Julian to recant his movements that day, when asked why he decided to go home and grab his guns and ammunition, Julian answered that he wanted to see what it was like to kill someone. He believed that as soon as he killed someone, the Special Operations Group would arrive and finish him off.

Julian revealed his initial desire was to be killed. He admitted that he'd been thinking for years about what it would be like to kill and be killed as a military man. He said his plan was to keep shooting until he ran out of ammunition, at which point he would end his life in the blaze of glory moment he'd fantasized since childhood. Detective Senior Constable Graham Kent, quote, The biggest part of it was around him wanting to experience combat and wanting to know what it was like to kill people and wanting to get into what he called the theater of war, where he would be in combat. The problem with that explanation of his is that it doesn't stack up,

because he was shooting at unarmed people, civilians, and the moment he was confronted with armed police who did fire once shot at him, he immediately gave up. Although he never appeared to be affected by alcohol, Julian claimed the shooting would never have happened if he hadn't been drinking that night, as he lost all control when he consumed alcohol and had a terrible temper. Julian agreed to participate in a recorded re-enactment of the night's events. He accompanied the homicide squad detectives back to Hodel Street. The vehicles of many of his victims remained in situ as Julian walked in handcuffs.

I can't remember exactly, but I think it was here that I first propped. What did you do here? I think this is where I started shooting. Were you standing or kneeling? Kneeling. In which direction were you shooting? In that direction. And what were you shooting at? The passing cars.

You left that area there, where did you go then? To the edges, the bushes here. Anywhere? A prop there. Where about? Kneeling. At the edge of where the bushes start here. Yeah, and what did you do there? Continued firing.

What was your intent when you were shooting at those cars? Shoot at the people in them. What was your intent towards those people? Shoot at them. Julian Knight revealed that during the period when police were out hunting for him, he stopped behind a tree to smoke a cigarette. This action gave detectives the belief that Julian Knight was not lost in some sort of mental break, but was fully aware of what he was doing and the situation he was in.

It was the way in which Julian explained killing Kenneth Stanton that gave detectives disturbing insight into his thought process. Kenneth was shot as he travelled down Hodel Street on his motorcycle. Although Kenneth was hit, he didn't die instantly. Julian Knight, quote, I let off another three rounds. I hit him and he started screaming out and he hit the ground and he was still screaming. So I didn't want to keep him in any more agony.

So I let off other rounds until he stopped screaming. When asked whether he had any feelings of regret over the deaths he had caused, Julian's response was, I regret that it had to be civilians and I regret that I was captured rather than killed. Survivors, family members of the victims and witnesses were spared a trial when Julian played guilty to seven counts of murder and 49 counts of attempted murder. He had accepted a plea bargain agreeing to plead guilty in exchange for the possibility of parole after serving 27 years.

Julian had been assessed by multiple psychiatrists and specialists who found no sign of mental illness. It was noted he suffered unhealed trauma from his childhood, was influenced by various stress factors, fueled by alcohol, had a high level of immaturity and low self-esteem. Psychiatrists agreed that while some degree of dissociation had occurred, Julian never lost touch with reality. It was clear that Julian's desire to live up to the image he had of himself as a soldier and war hero was the main factor that drove his behavior.

On November 10, 1988, Julian appeared at the Melbourne Supreme Court to receive his sentencing. Justice George Hampel quote, On August 9, 1987, you were responsible for one of the worst massacres in Australian history as a result of which seven people died and 19 were injured. Many more were fortunate to escape death or injury as you indiscriminately fired over 100 rounds of ammunition from three weapons at passing motorists and at the police as they tried to apprehend you. The answers to what you did lie in your background, your fragile and disordered personality and

ultimately in your inability to cope with the accumulation of pressures and stresses which operated on you. Justice Hampel went on to sentence Julian Knight to seven life sentences for the seven counts of murder and ten years imprisonment for each count of attempted murder. Having to take into account Julian's plea deal, Justice Hampel sentenced him to serve the minimum term of 27 years before being eligible for parole. 27 years works out at 3.85 years for each murder. In prison, Julian was a relatively peaceful inmate.

Behind bars he completed a bachelor of arts and multiple tape qualifications. But despite his cooperation as an everyday inmate, he stirred up all kinds of trouble for the Victorian legal system. Over the years, he attempted to take legal action for a range of appeals, most of which had absolutely no basis and were destined to fail. He appealed that inmates who were participating in tertiary education behind bars should be eligible to receive OZ study, a monetary payment given to students by the Australian government. He appealed against the denial of his request for a computer

and the denial of his request for the prison to sell e-cigarettes. More ludicrously, he lodged a complaint to the Equal Opportunity Commission alleging discrimination against his political beliefs after prison officers removed numerous articles associated with the Ku Klux Klan from his cell. By 2016, Julian had attempted to lodge 40 legal actions, only 10 of which proceeded to court. The Victorian Attorney General then took him to court to declare him a vexatious litigant for life. This means he has to seek permission from the court before taking any new legal action in the future.

In handing down his judgment, Justice Jack Forrest said, quote, Mr Knight's applications, frequently baseless, take up scarce judicial resources and mean that other non-vexatious litigants are delayed in accessing justice. Forensic psychologist Professor Paul Mullen assessed Julian and concluded he received satisfaction out of causing trouble. By May 2014, Julian Knight had served his 27-year sentence and was eligible to apply for parole. In a highly controversial move in order to prevent him from gaining parole, the Victorian government purposefully amended the Corrections Act.

This prevented the board from ordering Knight's release on parole unless satisfied, amongst other things, that Knight is in imminent danger of dying or is seriously incapacitated and that as a result, he no longer has the physical ability to do harm to any person. Put simply, the law was altered so Julian Knight would never be released unless he is on his deathbed. As part of his original plea deal, Julian agreed not to raise in court any mention of the bullying and bastardisation he had endured while at the Royal Military College, Duntroon. When Julian's chance of parole was squashed, he decided this meant he was no longer bound by the stipulations of his plea bargain. In 2014, Julian Knight launched legal action

against the Commonwealth over the alleged abuse he suffered as a cadet at Duntroon. He also applied for compensation as a victim of crime in the ACT Magistrates Court. But the statute of limitations had passed, meaning Knight had to seek an extension to have his case heard. Associate Justice Mossup agreed that Knight was clearly distressed by his experiences at Duntroon, but rejected his application for an extension, noting his habitual litigation in the past and the fact that he clearly gained satisfaction from legal proceedings. While in prison, Julian Knight penned an apology letter to victims of his massacre. However, it was clear the letter was less an attempt to bring closure to the bloodshed,

but to air his frustrations and not receiving parole. I offer my sincerest apologies to my victims and to all Victorians, but given the enormity of my crimes, that doesn't amount to much, does it? What else can I do? The Hoddle Street shootings were despicable, cowardly and senseless. They were not, however, committed in anger as a war on society. Thirty years have passed since the Hoddle Street shootings and I am far from being the immature, disturbed, desperate teenager who committed them. If I had been granted parole in 2014, I would have very quickly faded into obscurity and I would have ended my days leading a quiet,

simple life devoted to community service. Instead, the future holds nothing but endless legal battles. I didn't want this. If the blame lies anywhere, it lies with Corrections Victoria and successive Victorian state governments. If they never intended to release me, they should have made this plain thirty years ago. Hoddle Street survivors rejected Knight's apology as self-serving. Steve White, who was shot by Julian as he rushed to help other victims, stated the apology was a fraud and labelled any tears cried by Knight as fake. Nothing he could say would ever show me that he felt remorse or sorrow or anything like that.

I saw the first person get shot and I saw him shoot another person after that. He was calculating in what he did. He wanted to be Australia's most notorious mass murderer. This is a sentiment shared by those who have been incarcerated with Julian Knight and the guards who watched over him. According to them, Julian would brag about his status as a mass killer. Sydney Morning Herald journalist Tess Lawrence spoke with Julian during his imprisonment. His shooting had since inspired a copycat. Months after Hoddle Street, in December 1987, Melbourne resident Frank Vickovic walked into the Australia post offices on Queen Street, carrying a sawn-off M1 carbine. His attack resulted in eight fatalities, five serious injuries,

and his own death after he fell from the 11th floor window. Like Hoddle Street and later Walsh Street, this killing would come to be known by the street it occurred on, the Queen Street Massacre. A search of Frank Vickovic's room revealed he kept newspaper clippings about the Hoddle Street shooting, with sections underlined in red. Julian spoke of Frank Vickovic with the stain, but for unusual reasons. He considered Vickovic an amateur who knew nothing about guns, and remarked that it was a fluke he had killed as many as he did. It was clear to journalist Tess Lawrence that Julian was expressing a seething jealousy over Vickovic's killings, and seemed genuinely upset that the Queen Street death tally

was one higher than his own senseless slaughter. It was as if shooting sprees were a competition to Julian, one based on victim count. This came to the forefront again in 1996, when prison televisions displayed news of yet another shooting massacre, this one occurring in Port Arthur, Tasmania. Night was seen leaving the room in irritation. In the words of a prison guard, Julian had a sick head, and was seen pouring over crime scene photos from Hoddle Street and showing other inmates. He bragged about receiving a smaller sentence than the Russell Street bombers, even though he killed more people. Julian, who had nicknamed himself the Knight Rider,

told a fellow prisoner, I'm going to do it again, then I'll know the Knight Rider is back. The comment was overheard by a guard, as well as the prison warden, and confirmed by the other inmate. In another conversation about mass killing, Knight spoke about the best ways to create maximum casualties. In 2001, the public were outraged to learn that Julian took a course on military strategy and weapon systems whilst inside prison. The backlash resulted in a review of the inmate education system. A year later, in 2002, Knight did a stint in solitary confinement when knives and maps of the prison were found in his cell. In prison, Julian wrote a manifesto of his

recollections of the shooting. He wrote, These notes were written after I'd mentally gone over that night and psyched myself back into that frame of mind. The writing is short, sharp, and breathless, but adds no further insight into why Julian decided to go out and kill that night. A soldier who trained with Julian at the Royal Military College, Dun Tune, stated after the massacre, quote, Trouble was, Julian was looking for a war. He was always saying he wished one would start in Australia. Well, he started his own war. The thing is, he fought a coward's war, didn't he? Civvie Street is no war zone. What he did was a terrible thing.

Don't you believe all that shit he tells you about the army training you to kill? I know he says he went into a killing mode that night, and that's shit. The last thing Dun Tune does is teach you that sort of thing. That wasn't killing, that was murder. The army might teach us to kill, but it doesn't teach us to murder.