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Allegations
of Sexual Abuse |
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Possessing equal
quantities of intellect and diplomacy, Clint Rickards was determined from
early in his career to become New Zealand's first Maori police commissioner. His love of the blue
uniform began even before he left school. He was an unlikely candidate to be
a law enforcer. The burly boy from Rotorua, of Tainui descent, was a rabble-rouser
as a teen. "If something
wasn't nailed down, it would find its way into my pocket," he once said.
He attended Rotorua's
Edmund Rice College from 1974 to 1978. Though admitting to being "a bit
of a troublemaker" who "got up to the usual mischief", he was
always fascinated by policing and signed up as a cadet in 1979, aged 18. He completed his
training in Trentham and was posted back to Rotorua. During his first week on
the job, a gun was pulled on him, but this failed to dampen his enthusiasm. In 1982, he was deemed
suitable for undercover work and, for the next three years, infiltrated the
criminal underworld in Kawerau, Invercargill, Christchurch, Wellington and
Auckland. He lived, worked and associated with some of New Zealand's worst
criminals, gathering intelligence to lock them up. When he gave evidence
last week at his trial of raping Rotorua woman Louise Nicholas 20 years ago,
along with former policemen Bradley Shipton and Robert Schollum, he told the
court the undercover operations were very successful. He had been awarded a
gold merit badge -- the highest accolade a police officer can get -- for his
work. It's easy to see how he
was successful. When he was arrested in Auckland in March last year, he
arrived at court with a goatee and a moustache, prompting one police officer
to say he looked more like a gang leader than a police boss. He stands at
just over 1.8 metres tall, weighs 120 kilograms, has a shaved head and
tattoos cover his arms. His bulk, developed by
hours in the gym, is not just for show. He swapped schoolboy rugby for judo,
becoming New Zealand heavyweight champion and competed at the 1986
Commonwealth Games in Edinburgh. In 1983, while still
doing part-time undercover operations, Rickards rejoined the uniformed branch
in Rotorua and began his meteoric rise through the police hierarchy,
alternating between uniform and the Criminal Investigation Branch. It was here that he
became friendly with Shipton and Schollum. Shipton and Rickards looked like
twins. They were of similar age and similar height -- big men into body
building and partying. They worked together and played together. They would
drink together at a bar at the Cobb and Co restaurant where Nicholas also
drank. In evidence Rickards
said he remembered being introduced to Nicholas by Shipton on the street one
day. A few weeks later the pair had a threesome with her. Rickards said it
was a happy, jovial occasion for everyone involved, though he said he felt
embarrassed and ashamed, as he had a partner and two children at the time. While Shipton and
Schollum remained close friends, working together in Rotorua and the Bay of
Plenty, Rickards moved on. He had ambitions to fulfil. By 1993 he had become
detective inspector in charge of the Invercargill CIB. Four years later he
was promoted to superintendent, taking up the helm at the troubled Gisborne
police district. At 36, he was the country's youngest police boss. A year later he became
Waikato's top officer as he continued towards police headquarters in
Wellington -- a journey that ruffled a few feathers. Former colleagues say
Rickards was tough and uncompromising and made no secret of his desire to
scale the heights of the police hierarchy. However, many took his
self-confidence as arrogance. "I'm fair, but I'm not afraid of making
the hard decisions," he has said. His journey hit a
roadblock in 2000. Prime Minister Helen Clark declined his application to
become deputy police commissioner after hearing of anonymous letters sent to
police alleging that he was a sexual abuser. It turned out to be a
momentary hiccup. The following year recently retired police commissioner Rob
Robinson promoted Rickards to assistant commissioner -- a non-statutory role
that did not need government approval. Robinson defended the
decision when Nicholas told her story publicly, saying that it would be wrong
to discriminate against Rickards over unproved allegations. He knew Rickards
had admitted having consensual group sex with Nicholas, but questioned
whether "sexual proclivities" should affect an employment decision.
Just weeks before the
Nicholas allegations surfaced, Rickards added the overall control of greater
Auckland's three policing districts, comprising 2500 officers, to his
responsibilities. At the time he said it was easy to lose touch with what was
happening on the streets from the heights of police headquarters. Colleagues say he could
be as ruthless in the boardroom as he was with criminals. He is articulate
and intelligent, holding a business degree majoring in human resources from
Massey University and a master's degree in public policy from Sydney's
Charles Sturt University. He told the court he was also completing a diploma
in Maori development and a doctorate in public policy. Inspector Tania Eden,
his partner for 14 years, showed little emotion during proceedings but her
presence spoke volumes about her loyalty. The couple have five children: two
each from previous relationships and one together. The families of the
three men have become close since their arrest last year. Before proceedings
on the last day of the trial, they all gathered in the court lobby and said a
karakia (prayer) together, led by an elderly relative of Rickards. Rickards always
maintained his innocence. When he was arrested,
his lawyer, John Haigh, QC, said his client "utterly denied" any
offending. Rickards continued his vehement defence last week, telling the
court repeatedly that Nicholas was a liar. Just as forceful has been the
pride in the uniform he has worn for 27 years. "I'm proud to be a
police officer and serve my community," he snapped in response to
suggestions by Crown prosecutor Brent Stanaway that he wore his uniform to
court on the first day of the trial to intimidate Nicholas. Shipton and Schollum
ditched the uniform years ago in favour of other careers. Schollum, who went
on to become a police prosecutor, resigned in the late 1990s. He became a car
salesman, his immaculate presentation and charm ensuring his success. Shipton, who also
resigned in the 1990s, went on to own several bars in Tauranga and Hamilton
and become a Tauranga city councillor. --Dominion Post |
