source : the age
The Independent Commission Against Corruption hearing room seven floors above Elizabeth Street is a windowless space where all sense of time – and, for some, memory – evaporates.
For 24 long days now, Operation Navarra has been publicly delving into the murky world of the City of Parramatta Council under the rule of now-sacked chief executive Gail Connolly and her band of cronies known as the Pink Ladies.
The inquiry has heard allegations that Connolly and her allies at the council had undermined recruitment processes to favour mates, ordered the monitoring of councillor emails and phone records, forged signatures, smeared an elderly council driver with a vicious anonymous email, organised sham conduct investigations into staff, and authorised large payouts to workers she did not like.
The claims of jobs for mates and retribution for perceived enemies have offered jaw-dropping insight for all ratepayers in NSW, not just those in Parramatta. In a sector with more than 50,000 employees, it’s difficult to conclude such suspect behaviour is confined to Connolly and her groupies in western Sydney.
But it is impossible for the anti-corruption watchdog to investigate all 128 councils across the state, and in Connolly, the ICAC has found itself a rich cautionary tale of what happens when someone in charge of a public organisation may not always play by the rule book.
Unsurprisingly, Connolly has not enjoyed the scrutiny. Sitting in the witness box over seven days, she has often appeared frustrated by questions and annoyed when pressed for more direct answers. Chief commissioner John Hatzistergos has on several occasions had to tell Connolly to listen and respond to the question she has been asked rather than the rambling answer she opted for.
She has also struggled at times to turn her mind to key events and conversations. Transcripts show Connolly relied on the words “can’t recall” or “don’t recall” at least 440 times in the witness box. Connolly repeatedly insisted her memory blanks were due to the passing of time.
Connolly’s tough-it-out approach was in stark contrast to another Pink Ladies member, Roxanne Thornton, who helped three friends secure jobs at the council through a “charade” application process. In her evidence, Thornton fessed up to wrongdoing.
“I know I’m gonna lose my job. I’ve done the wrong thing,” she told the commission in late May. “There’s people watching that are going to get heaps of joy out of this. F—ing good times. I’ve admitted to everything.”
There was no such concession from Connolly. In her final days of evidence before Operation Navarra concluded on Wednesday afternoon, the 58-year-old was defiant, insisting for the most part she had done nothing wrong.
Sure, some of her Pink Ladies allies may have not always done the right thing, she readily conceded. But her? Absolutely not.
Counsel assisting Joanna Davidson, SC, wrapped up her questioning of Connolly a little after 2pm on Tuesday. Connolly was then cross-examined by lawyers acting for various former council staff who had a less-than-ideal experience with her over the years.
The toughest customer was Arthur Moses, SC, acting for the council Connolly once ran. He didn’t miss in his opening question: “Have you heard of the expression ‘hypocrisy is the audacity to preach integrity from a den of corruption’?”
Does she accept that she engaged in misconduct?
“No,” Connolly said to Moses.
Does she accept she behaved dishonestly?
“No I don’t.”
Does she accept she engaged in corrupt conduct?
“No.”
Did she try to mislead the ICAC?
“No.”
Does she accept she saw herself – and still sees herself – as “being above” Parramatta’s elected councillors?
“No.”
Did she know she had no power to authorise the surveillance of councillors?
“I can’t recall.”
On and on it went. Asked whether she accepts she had done anything at all wrong, Connolly conceded she should not have sent some “indiscreet” text messages and that she had shared some information with others that should have remained confidential. She also later admitted she had once lied to the lord mayor.
Whereas Davidson, the ICAC counsel assisting, deployed a forensic questioning model with Connolly, Moses opted for a good old-fashioned grilling, accusing her of “engaging in historic revisionism to get yourself out of a tight spot”.
“You are unable to confront the truth yourself, which is why you’ve been sitting here for six days making up explanations – because you cannot admit that you lack integrity,” he put to her. She rejected the suggestion that was true, or that it perhaps explained why the hearings had dragged on for so long.
Fed up, Moses declared to the sacked council boss: “This is not a Monty Python skit.”
“No,” Connolly replied. “It’s the Spanish Inquisition.”
With the hearings done and the ICAC hearing room finally vacated, Hatzistergos must now determine which version of events is true. The Pink Ladies are in for an anxious wait.
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Bevan Shields is a senior writer, and former editor of The Sydney Morning Herald.Connect via email.
