Keith Banks - Gun To The Head: My life as a tactical cop. The impact. The aftermath.

Certain names and details have been changed to protect the guilty and innocent alike.

First published in 2021

Copyright Keith Banks 2021

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

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ISBN 978 1 76106 512 5

eISBN 978 1 76106 215 5

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Dedicated to all police officers, current, veteran and future.

You do things others cannot. Thank you for your service.

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

Friedrich Nietzsche

Its usually a Glock but sometimes its my old Smith and Wesson .38. The scenes change but have one constant: I am in immediate danger and the weight of the weapon in my hand is comforting and familiar. I aim at my enemy and squeeze the trigger, but it is locked in place. I continue to squeeze the trigger, willing it to move, but it remains frozen. The gun is useless and Im defenceless.

I wake in fright, my pulse pounding, my eyes wide. I take deep breaths to calm myself and it takes a few seconds to register that Im in my bed, safe and secure. My mind drifts back to all those years ago and theres no more sleep for me.

The dreams are fewer these days but come unbidden, just like the waves of sadness that ebb and flow without cause or remedy.

Such is the dark legacy of PTSD.

27 July 1987

I arrived at the Tactical Response Group (TRG) office in Alderley on Monday morning for my normal 8 am to 4 pm shift. The moment I got there, Inspector Harry Edwards asked to see me in his office. I walked upstairs and was told to close the door behind me. Sergeant John Watt, a part-time member of the TRG, was sitting in a chair near the bosss desk.

I greeted John. He looked sombre and nodded hello.

Harry was direct. Weve got a job on and if it goes ahead, its probably going to be the most serious one weve done.

The month before Id been sent to the Special Air Service Regiment in Perth to attend the Police Assault Group Counter Terrorist Instructors Course. Id spent two weeks learning how to teach tactics and plan operations, and also practiced live fire close-quarter battle in the killing house. Selected operators from each state were on the course, and we learned how to smash our way into strongholds using stun grenades, tear gas and submachine guns, moving quickly in the darkness, identifying hostile targets and engaging them.

I was twenty-nine years old and on top of my game. Id been a successful undercover cop and was now full-time in tactical response. I had total faith in my own abilities. That sounds arrogant, but I was working at the sharp end of policing and treated it accordingly. Hearing the boss say it was going to be serious gave me that familiar rush, knowing thered be danger, adrenaline and fear, but I was also a professional. This was what my job was.

Okay boss, what have we got?

Harry had briefed John already. I soon realised why John wasnt saying much.

This stays in this room for the time being, Harry said. The CIB has a possible address on Paul James Mullin, a violent armed robber whos good for at least two stickups on banks here. Hes an escapee from Long Bay and hes been on the run since 1978. Hes a violent bastard and interstate detectives say he will not hesitate to shoot. Harry handed me a thick manila folder containing Mullins criminal history.

My pulse quickened as I read the pages. Mullin had robbed his first bank in 1972. He was arrested soon after and sentenced to ten years. He was released on parole after three. In 1977 he started robbing banks again, becoming increasingly violent with each robbery. Then, in late 1977, he shot and crippled a security guard standing outside a Sydney bank with no provocation or warning. Hed been arrested and placed on remand in Long Bay gaol while awaiting trial.

Not long afterwards, Mullin and another inmate staged a violent escape, bashing a building contractor and stealing his vehicle. Since then, Mullin had been moving between Queensland, New South Wales and Western Australia using several stolen identities and funding his lifestyle with armed robberies. He was a skilled bushman and spent long periods living in the scrub, always managing to keep one step ahead of the police. His abandoned campsites were often found with weapons stashed nearby.

On 2 July 1987, Mullin robbed a Suncorp bank in Toombul Shopping Town. As he was making his getaway, he was tackled by a brave passer-by. They wrestled for control of a sawn-off Ruger Mini-14 .223 calibre rifle, but Mullin got the upper hand and fled. He took the rifle with him, leaving almost thirty thousand dollars in a bag on the footpath.

That night, in a display of astounding naivety, the passer-by was interviewed on television. His full name and the suburb he lived in were broadcast.

Harry explained that Mullin was living at 38 Walter Street, Virginia with his de facto partner, Susan Theresa Clarke, and her two sons. Clarke was his accomplice and driver in the armed robberies. The information had come from a 67-year-old woman employed as a part-time nanny who had been in the house when Mullin saw the interview. You dont know who I am, but I know who you are, he had yelled. Im going to square up with this bastard and fucking kill him.

Clarke had told the woman about Mullins real identity, and shed seen guns in the house. His outburst scared her so much that shed felt compelled to act. She went straight to the Redcliffe police and asked to speak to detectives.

If it is Mullin, Harry said, we need to plan how we take him out. The code name for this operation is Flashdance.

John and I looked at each other. I already had the feeling that this wasnt like other raids, and I could tell from Johns expression that he felt the same. Okay, I said. Lets start on the Operation Order.

You need to think about who you want to go in, John said, looking at me intently. Make sure theyre the right blokes. I knew what he meant. I needed to pick the best of the group, men who were focused and switched on who wouldnt take a backward step. The TRG had executed hundreds of forced entries and responded to numerous sieges but had never fired a shot in anger. Theres a fucking good chance this is going to go hot, Banksy.

My journey to this point had been a path not trodden by many cops. Id always wanted to work in areas that were full of action and excitement. That urge had taken me at the age of twenty-one into deep undercover, where Id been changed forever. After I returned to the world of normal policing, Id needed to find that addictive rush of adrenaline again. The next logical step for me was to seek out the world of special weapons and tactical operations.