The Figgs suffered one of the most horrific crimes of all. It left
their relatives and friends not only devastated, but also struggling
to understand why it happened. And, with deadly consequences, its impact would extend to a police officer
assigned to investigate.
Samuel Figg was the first to discover that something was seriously
amiss at the Mylor home of his brother, William. He had called there
at around noon on Monday, December 10, 1934.
Employed at Macclesfield, about 12 miles from Mylor, Samuel often
called at the house, but had never known all its doors and windows
to be shut and bolted as they were on this day.
The son of a neighbour, who lived a short distance away, approached
Samuel and indicated that some delivered milk had been left untouched,
and two young shed-bound pigs were continually squealing, as if they
were hungry.
Samuel made repeated calls, to which he received no answers, and
so felt that something was terribly wrong. Of his unease, he notified
Mounted Constables P. Kelleher and S. Ninnes of the Stirling police
station. The constables set off shortly afterward to investigate.
After they arrived at the Figg cottage, the two policemen peered
intently through every window. Through one of them, the policemen
saw what appeared to be a small human foot protruding from beneath
blankets on one of the beds.
They forced open the door and confronted the most grisly scene imaginable.
Lying on a bed in one of the rooms was 29-year-old Dora Figg, with
her neck cut almost through to her spine and, to the top of her head,
a wound that appeared to have been inflicted with an axe.
In another bedroom was her eldest son, six-year-old Harry, while
her other children, Leonard, four, Thelma, three, and two-year-old
Hilda, were in the third bedroom. The necks of all four children had
been cut similarly to the way in which their mother’s had. Evidence
indicated that they had been murdered early on Saturday morning, December
8.
It appeared that the crime had been swift, unsuspected, and perpetrated
as the victims slept. No signs of any of them having struggled were
evident. All the victims were wearing sleep attire, and the blankets
had been pulled up to cover their bodies.
Of William Figg there was no trace. Likewise, the weapon used to
bring about the wholesale slaughter was not to be found.
Subsequent investigations revealed that Figg had been last seen cycling
through Mylor, in the direction of Echunga, on Saturday morning at
about 6 am. He was wearing a dark suit and hat, and carrying a double-barrel
shotgun. He also had a khaki haversack slung over his shoulder.
Local storekeeper, Mr J Scotland, greeted him with a “Good morning”,
but Figg had not responded.
Figg had been born in Mylor 47 years earlier and had worked there,
and in the Echunga districts, as a wood-cutter, virtually all his
life. He was one of South Australia’s leading axemen, and had held
about 10 Royal Adelaide Show championships.
He had married Dora Annie Berry, of Echunga, about seven years earlier
and lived at nearby Stirling for almost six years. The family had
then moved to a point mid-way between Mylor and Aldgate, before moving
to the home of the tragedy – two months before it happened.
The house – known locally as Lion Villa, because of the four lion
statues that adorned the stone steps leading to the front gate – was
about a kilometre from Mylor, toward Adelaide. It stood well back
from the road on a slope almost 15 metres above the road level. Surrounded
by trees, it was not visible from the road.
Family friends and neighbours told the investigating police officers
that they had not been aware of any Figg family discord. They said
that Dora and Figg appeared very affectionate toward each other. Dora,
described as physically attractive, had a fair complexion, a tall,
thin build, and was regarded as charming, friendly and very pleasant.
Figg was widely known throughout the area as quiet, reserved and
a hard worker. He was often employed on a casual basis on various
properties as a woodcutter.
All four of the Figg children were described as cheerful and well-liked
youngsters. The usual whispered rumours of extramarital affairs, and
jealousy as a motive for the tragedy, emerged once news of the horrific
event spread. At a later inquest into Dora’s death, however, no evidence
ever emerged to substantiate the rumours.
...Echunga policeman, Mounted Constable Edmund Coligan,
had died about a month before Figg’s body was discovered.
During the course of the inquest, Harold Figg gave evidence as to
his brother’s mental condition. Figg, he said, had been struck by
a motor car some years earlier and, as a consequence, had been confined
to the Adelaide Hospital for seven weeks. This, he said, left scars
over his brother’s temple, and on the side of his head.
From that time on, he had observed a marked change in his brother’s
demeanour. He often became depressed and stood aloof. As the years
went by, the change became more marked.
About four years after the accident, a tree branch fell on Figg’s
head and left another scar near the first he had sustained. His demeanour
changed even more dramatically. He often suffered fits of depression
for no apparent reason and, at times, wandered away from home and
complained of unbearable headaches. The testimony of other family
members later substantiated that given by Harold.
Dr Arthur Reid had listened to the previous evidence and was asked
to comment on it.
He said a progressive state of mental degeneracy frequently followed
head injuries, and that mental degeneracy would probably reach its
peak many years after the head injuries were sustained. He said the
evidence given was consistent with the symptoms of traumatic psychoses,
and the probabilities, based on the evidence of these witnesses, were
that Figg was a manic-depressive.
When the coroner, Mr F Chardon announced his findings, he said that
Dora Figg had come to her death on or about December 8, 1934, as a
result of a fractured skull, caused by blows from an axe. He also
found that: “William Arthur Figg, on or about December 8, did feloniously
and wilfully, and with malice aforethought, murder his wife.”
Mr Chardon said he thought it unnecessary to hold an inquest into
the deaths of the children. He added: “With regard to the mental condition
of Figg, there is evidence that he was mentally abnormal but, to what
extent on the day in question, I am not able to say.”
The search for Figg continued for many months. Almost nine months
after the tragedy, William Feder and Albert Elliot of Mylor stumbled
across the scattered remains of a man in dense scrubland. Scraps of
clothing and personal items, including a double-barrel shotgun found
near the remains, were identified as having belonged to Figg. The
search and speculation was over. Figg had at last been found.
Before the case could be legally brought to a close, it was necessary
to establish, beyond reasonable doubt, both the identity of the deceased
person whose remains had been found and, if possible, the cause and
approximate date of death.
Dr Reid, having examined the remains, was once again called on to
express his opinions. The bones, he said, were those of a male adult
who had been dead for at least seven months. The skull was shattered
into 12 pieces. This, the doctor indicated, might have been caused
by the application of an internal explosive force, such as would result
if a gun were placed in the mouth and discharged.
The police produced evidence to show that the shotgun – found alongside
the remains with one discharged cartridge and one live cartridge in
the breech – was registered to Figg.
Other items found with the remains were also positively identified
as belonging to Figg.
At the conclusion of the testimony – much of which had already been
delivered to the inquest into the death of Dora Figg – the coroner,
Mr Chardon, presented a short summary of his findings.
He said there was little doubt that the bones which had been found
in a thickly wooded gully about five miles from Mylor, on October
2, 1935, were the remains of William Arthur Figg. He was equally certain,
he said, that Figg had died on or about December 8, 1934, as the result
of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.
The Figg tragedy, however, had brought another unfortunate consequence.
It emerged that Echunga policeman, Mounted Constable Edmund Coligan,
had died about a month before Figg’s body was discovered.
Coligan, 46, had been ill for several weeks with sleeping sickness.
This was brought on, according to his medical attendants, by worry
over the failure of months of arduous searching for Figg in rough
country and scattered mine shafts.
Mounted Constable Coligan had served almost 20 years with the South
Australia Police and left behind a wife and two children.
