He was also stubborn and had a definite view of the world.

Overland was a Nixon appointment and everyone viewed him as a potential successor. There was no doubt she was grooming him as her nominated replacement.

But even Nixon knew it would take time. While Overland was a polished speaker and terrific media performer, there were a number of senior people - Nixon included - who believed his management style needed some work.

In my opinion, he at times appeared aloof and so confident in his ability and decision making that he would not entertain opposing views. This could also be his achilles heel.

On one occasion during the gangland wars, he criticised the judiciary, claiming it needed to toughen its stance on granting bail for offenders charged with serious crimes.

Nothing wrong with that. But it was his methodology of informing the judiciary that raised questions and a few eyebrows.

He claimed, through an interview with journalist John Silvester, that some of the violence could have been prevented had the courts remanded offenders and not allowed those charged with serious offences to return to the streets on bail.

His interview - conducted without my knowledge or that of the Media Unit - caused a major political furore and phone calls between the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court and Overland. It seemed as if he was missing a political antenna.

Every other member of senior command usually had the courtesy of asking the media director for advice before talking to a reporter. Not Overland.
 

THE LEAK

Overland had previously told me (of a separate article on Operation Briars), but didn't provide further details.

He was being deliberately evasive, I thought. By Thursday evening - the night before publication - I was in a flap.

In all, from 7.40 to 9.12 on the night before publication, I made 27 phone calls - nine of which were to retrieve missed calls diverted to message bank as I was already on the phone. I then rang Nixon.

I told her what was happening and that I had serious concerns. I believed at the time that Overland was behind the leak.

I had come to the conclusion that Overland - who had a history of cultivating personal contacts with reporters - had perhaps leaked information on Briars and other matters.

The important point to remember is this: the OPI held its public hearings in order to allege that the actions of myself and others caused an investigation to be compromised.

This was not proper, nor true. The OPI alleged that I started the chain of events. While I accept that I played a part, it is clear that Overland was the first link in that chain.

A raft of senior legal experts, including criminal lawyer and Civil Liberties Council president Terry O'Gorman, have since commented that Overland's role should have been examined more closely.

O'Gorman told The Australian it appeared from Mr Overland's affidavit that he passed on intelligence from a telephone tap to protect his career.

In the end, there was no smoking gun. The OPI had misfired. And the lives and reputations of so many people were left to rot in the pages of history.
 

My palms were sweaty

BIG FALL

I WANDERED out to the golf course and there was (Christine) Nixon, (Asst Commissioner Luke Cornelius) Planet and (Simon) Overland deep in discussion.

There was no laughing, no joking, nothing but seriousness cast across their foreheads. The s--t was about to hit the fan and they knew it.


SECRET HEARINGS

DURING the next three hours, I would make some career-ending decisions. I look back now with a sense of anger and incredulity. How could I have been so stupid?

The key moment came when (counsel for the Office of Police Integrity Garry) Livermore asked whether I had spoken to anyone about Operation Briars or the substance of this hearing.

Do I tell Livermore that I had spoken to (Noel) Ashby about Briars, even though I shouldn't have? If I do declare that, I might lose my job. And I certainly wasn't prepared to let Leon (Ashby's nickname) down.

Do I confess to Livermore that I had spoken to Ashby about this hearing?

That would mean I had broken the confidentiality summons and admitted to an offence. If I denied telling or speaking to Ashby about Briars, I would be committing perjury. And in most cases that meant jail.

I raised my hand and asked: "Can I seek some advice please?"

My barrister Martin Grinberg immediately arose and asked for a short adjournment.

I was sweating profusely. I started to talk to Grinberg and he uttered to me to keep quiet - the room was probably bugged.

I moved closer to Grinberg and whispered that I was concerned they were going to ask whether I had spoken to Ashby about Briars.

But this was my call: I would either roll the dice in the hope there were no phone taps, or tell the truth.

I wished that I could have sat down with my wife to discuss the options. She would have known what to do: tell the truth.

My obligation was to my family, not Ashby or anyone else. But there I was. I could see the train coming and it was about to hit me. My life was about to change forever.

And then it came. The moment I was dreading. The moment that would lock me into disaster . . . I had just committed the first offence of my life.

My heart was pounding but I tried to remain as calm as possible.

The hearing continued and naturally enough went down a path that I didn't want to go. Livermore was teasing me, or at least trying to tease out information he knew existed but which I was reluctant to divulge. I had to remain loyal to Ashby. I couldn't let him down.

The hearing adjourned. As we walked back to Grinberg's chambers, I recall saying to him that they didn't have any tapes.

If they had, they would have played them. Naivety and stupidity are not a good mix. I drove home exhausted.

I was now certain this investigation was not about who leaked the information . . . Every key question honed in on discussions I'd had with Ashby. This was not about Briars, something else was at play.


PUBLIC HEARINGS

BY THE time I was called to take the stand it was about 1pm. I was literally sweating through my shirt, hoping that it didn't stain my jacket. I was dry in the throat and my heart was pumping.

I was finally called and swore an affirmation.

In my view, Dr Lyon (counsel for the OPI) knew full well at the time he asked that question that I believed Overland, Planet and (Graham) Ashton were preparing for life after Christine Nixon.

(They were) interstate interlopers who had charged into Victoria on a mission to succeed Nixon and take over Victoria Police. I had discussed this theory with Leon and others, often over a coffee.

I had no evidence, it was just an assumption based on interpretation and "gut feeling" . . .

That weekend I had to wrestle with the fact that the evidence I gave on Wednesday was, at best, inconsistent with the evidence that emerged on the tapes during Thursday and Friday's examination of Ashby.

The OPI had me on toast. I toyed with the idea that I could say the tapes had jogged my memory, admit my answers were inconsistent and change my evidence.

But it would be wrong. I had intentionally given misleading and untruthful evidence. I had lied. Simple as that.

I spent Saturday morning writing my resignation. I preferred to resign than be sacked, even though it would make no difference to prospective employers.

My career had come to a crashing end. I still wanted to emphasise the point that while I should not have told Ashby about Briars, it's not as if I was telling a journalist or anyone outside Victoria Police.

Ashby was the longest serving and only surviving assistant commissioner from the Comrie era.

Finally I got my opportunity: "I accept that I shouldn't have told (Ashby) of those things. And I'm having to pay a big price for that. But he was a member of senior command. He was my mentor. He was my best friend. I'd just like to say that."

Quick as a whip, Dr Lyon responded: "You were also getting paid a lot of money to do a job as a professional."

And I replied: "I understand all that. And now I'm not."


THE FALLOUT

IT WAS perhaps the worst weekend I had experienced. Family and friends gathered around along with unwanted journalists, photographers and camera crews.

A huge box of flowers was left at the front door, without a card.

My mother sat them on the kitchen table, but my sister and I were concerned they were bugged.

In what became a comedy of Seinfeld proportions, the flowers moved from the kitchen to the dining room, to the lounge room and finally the laundry, without a word being spoken.

Finally, we huddled outside in silence and meticulously combed the flowers for bugs. None was found. We never knew who sent them, though we suspected it was a plant by the OPI.

Nixon's feud with Mullett was, in my view, personal and damaged Victoria Police's reputation.

(When) Justice Robert Osborn ruled in the Supreme Court that the OPI public and private hearings were not conducted within the law . . . Leon walked free.

I was genuinely delighted.

Like me and others, he had never deliberately or inadvertently sabotaged a murder investigation.

And he should never have been the subject of Operation Diana, a politically motivated investigation into an assistant commissioner Nixon had never liked.

Original Source - http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/victoria/i-believed-simon-overland-was-behind-the-leak-stephen-linnell/story-e6frf7kx-1225911382219