MOTHER’S ANGUISH
Crime took more than Linda’s life
WHEN I heard last week that an arrest had been made in the Linda Reed murder case, my mind immediately turned to the first panicked telephone call I took from Linda’s mother Nancy Fein.
In 1983, I was a 22-yearold police reporter at the Gold Coast Bulletin, just one year older than Linda, and Mrs Fein had called the paper out of desperation following her first dealings with police.
“We’ve reported Linda’s disappearance but they say we have to wait 24 hours before she can officially be classified as a missing person,” she said. “I know something’s wrong – can you please help me?”
Mrs Fein described how close she and Linda were, saying that the daughter would ring her mother every day from a public phone at the end of her lunch hour as she returned to her department store job.
We spoke many times over the following few days, and I also spoke with Linda’s young husband Robert. He was so obviously innocent and devastated by the nightmare he was now experiencing. He was also an early suspect who was subjected to questioning by police before his involvement was discounted.
The life of Linda and Robert Reed had been so normal. Happily married teenage sweethearts working in regular jobs and living with the in-laws as they socked their money away to buy a house and start a family. An uncomplicated world, living on the Gold Coast where the weather was grouse, jobs were plentiful and the chance of a blessed life was easier than in most places on the planet.
Theoretically, it just didn’t seem plausible that Mrs Fein’s fears for her daughter’s safety that day could have been realistic. Yet, in practice, there was no denying that her fears were totally justified. I wrote stories daily and remained in close connection with the family, an intensity I’d previously never felt with strangers.
When Linda Reed disappeared, the Gold Coast was more like a big country town where its sun-kissed residents felt safe at any time of the day or night. Less than 150,000 people lived here – a quarter of today’s population.
McDonnell and East at Pacific Fair was the perfect, loveable blend of the old and new Queensland – a traditional and trusted department store business built by a couple of 19th Century Irish drapers, housed comfortably within a brash, new shopping mall on reclaimed swampland which prided itself on taking its architecture from Disneyland. Everyone let
their teenage children go shopping at Pacific Fair, and nobody gave their safety a second thought.
When Linda Reed’s body was found three days after she disappeared, a number of things changed forever. The most significant and tragic outcomes of course were the devastation of a family, Mrs Fein and her husband Oskar, their son Philipp and the young widower Robert.
And for the rest of us – a sense that Linda’s loss had brought with it a loss of innocence for the Goldy. It would never be quite the same after a senseless and brutal event, which is only cheapened by using such cliches as ‘senseless and brutal’ to describe it. How could anybody go to
those shops and not come home?
My world certainly changed as a result of my shared experiences with the Reed family. I realised I was not cut out for crime reporting, and that I needed to be closer to my family living interstate. My journalism path changed, but that is so trivial compared to Linda’s family.
I telephoned Mrs Fein yesterday, wanting to express my relief that she was finally on the brink of closure. I called her on the landline at her home where she still lives, and her voice was soft and youthful. I explained to her how I knew her, not expecting her to remember. It took her a few minutes but slowly it came back to her.
“Oh yes, I spoke to you, I was so frustrated by the police,” she said.
She spoke of the difficulty they had all faced in the intervening years, with the case “not being finished” and how it was too late for her late husband. Remarkably, she wanted to know how I was and what I’d been doing since 1983. We spoke of jobs and children, I explained how chilling it was for me to hear of the arrest at this point in my life as I also now have a 21-year-old daughter.
Mrs Fein spoke of her prayers. “Just recently I was looking at my son and my grandchildren, thinking how everything was finally in its place,” she said.
“The grandchildren have all grown up now and are leading successful, happy lives.
“I thought to myself, the only thing that is preventing me now from finding peace within myself is Linda. I have been asking the Lord for all these years to give me this, sometimes he takes a while.”
As we finished our conversation, she expressed her gratitude that I had called, and gave me wonderful advice: “All the best to you dear, and to your daughter. Keep her safe – and hug her.”