Lesley Elliott - Sophies Legacy: A Mothers Story of Her Familys Loss and Their Quest for Change

sophies legacy

A mothers story of her familys loss and their quest for change

Lesley Elliott with William J OBrien

contents

This book is dedicated to the memory of

Sophie Kate Elliott

11 June 1985 9 January 2008

T wo months after Sophie died a memorial service was held at the University of Otago. Sophies friends selected one of her favourite songs to play during a slide show depicting Sophies life. The chosen song, More Than Words by Extreme, has a hauntingly beautiful melody and lyrics that meant so much to her.

It was somehow appropriate More Than Words had been chosen, for how do you describe what Sophie meant to us? It takes more than words. And how do you describe the nightmare we encountered following her death? It takes more than words. Sophies potential was immense but how do we quantify her loss? It takes more than words.

Lesley Elliott

I never knew Sophie Elliott and there was no reason why I should have. I certainly became aware of her following her horrific slaying at the hands of Clayton Weatherston. Sickening as the murder was, I wasnt unduly surprised or affected, as after 35 years in the New Zealand Police, I had seen enough images showing what some people were capable of doing to other human beings.

However, I became more interested and concerned about this case during the High Court trial. Although I thought I had seen it all, I was absolutely appalled at the brutality of this particular murder. I watched television news reports of the trial and was aghast at how the victim was being portrayed. Was Sophie Elliott really the sort of person Weatherstons defence would have us believe? It almost seemed to me as if it was Sophie on trial. This was not fair, to my mind, either to the victims memory, her family or friends, or others associated with her. It was as if to exonerate Clayton Weatherston the blame had to rest with someone else. The unimaginable torment Sophies family and close friends must have been experiencing was simply being compounded.

The ultimate insult came when the defendant took the stand. For five days Weatherston smirked and smiled as he gave his evidence. He blamed the victim for her own demise and showed no compunction at trashing her reputation. He claimed it was Sophie who attacked him first using a pair of scissors even though that had never been raised, either at the time of his arrest or in the 18 months that followed. He even made vain attempts to suggest his motivation to kill Sophie was as a result of other peoples influence.

I am not for a moment suggesting people are not entitled to robust defence. This is one of the cornerstones of our justice system. What concerned me was where do we draw the line? In criminal trials the defences emphasis seems to be more about getting an acquittal than getting to the real truth of the matter. As a result, many people, people like the Elliotts, become victims not only of the crime, but of the justice system.

When an acquaintance suggested Sophie Elliott couldnt have been a very nice girl, I decided then that perhaps her story should be told. I believed the Elliotts, if they so wished, should have a voice; a chance to set the record straight and restore Sophies name. There were many issues in the criminal justice system the family were grappling with and I learned they were keen to express their concerns. So this book is about how murder impacts on a family, how the criminal justice system can compound grief, and what we can learn from this terrible tragedy regarding relationship violence. Above all, it is about restoring the image of Sophie, a beautiful young woman in every sense of the word.

During the writing of this book, I spent many hours with Lesley Elliott. Seldom have I come across a person who has such an amazing inner strength, yet I know the loss of Sophie weighs as heavily on her heart now as it did three years ago. It was inevitable that our frequent conversations would lend wings to unhappy memories, but I was astounded at how eloquently Lesley could talk about traumatic events while retaining great composure, poise and dignity. Then she might pick up a handwritten note Sophie had left and tears would flow easily. The writing of Sophies Legacy has not been easy on either of us. I feel I should pay tribute to Lesley.

Lesley, I admire you, your courage, fortitude and compassion. You have often said how much you admired and took great pride in Sophies achievements. I have no doubt that she would have been immensely proud of you, her mum, for the way you have carried yourself through the darkest of times.

You are about to read a story of incredible loss and despair. Loss of a treasured daughter and despair at the way our judicial system can further traumatise good people. I hope that Lesleys story will touch not only hearts but minds, so that we can build a system that truly cares for people who lose a loved one to murder.

Perhaps the thing that encapsulates the loss of Sophie and what that loss truly means was reflected in an incident during my very first interview with Lesley. We were sitting at her dining room table when our mobile phones rang simultaneously. Lesleys call was from her aged mother, wanting advice and comfort. The elderly woman lived alone, many kilometres away. Formerly an independent woman, she had suffered terribly since the death of Sophie, a much-admired granddaughter, and her health had declined along with her confidence. She was seeking comforting words about a minor medical concern.

My call was from my son-in-law, brimming with excitement and pride. He was phoning to say I had just become a grandfather for the second time. A beautiful little girl had just been born and after finishing what I was doing could I call into the hospital to cuddle the new arrival? So, here we were, me at one end of the table contemplating what might be and Lesley at the other end reflecting on what might have been.

William J OBrien

T he University of Otago campus is set in beautiful surroundings. Old stone buildings are interspersed with modern structures where hordes of eager students strive for excellence. The place drips with history, effort and success. The grounds, where students sit on lawns and study during breaks or bustle along the Water of Leith to any of the numerous lecture rooms or laboratories, are kept in immaculate condition. Many pass by a lone cherry blossom tree surrounded by flowers. Set into stone at the base of the tree is a small brass plaque dedicated to the memory of Sophie Kate Elliott, my daughter.

The reason I begin this story of Sophie within a university setting is that she has become synonymous with that institution, studying and gaining a first-class honours degree in economics. She spent so much time and effort there achieving the high goals she set herself. Sadly, it was at the university she met and began a relationship with one of her tutors something that was ultimately to cost Sophie her life.

Sophie is still associated with the university. A memorial prize is offered annually to recognise outstanding achievement in the fourth-year honours course in economics. On the University of Otago website it is written: Sophie shone academically but she was about more than outstanding grades. She was truly engaged with learning for its own sake In memory of Sophie, the University has established The Sophie Kate Elliott Prize.

It was always intended that Sophie, or Soph as I almost always referred to her, graduate in person in front of family and close friends and alongside her classmates. When someone who is about to graduate has died, a private ceremony is held in the university council chambers. We didnt want that. We wanted Sophies degree to be conferred at the Town Hall on the day she would have normally received it. We approached the vice chancellor and, disappointingly, he didnt agree and said something about it not being university policy. I suggested Gil, my husband and a former graduate of the university, or our younger son Chris, also a graduate, could be the recipient on Sophies behalf. The vice chancellor still said no. This degree had meant so much to Sophie so we went higher and approached the chancellor. His reaction was quite the opposite; he thought it was an entirely appropriate idea and the university council agreed with him.