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I think I was wrong – there weren’t 2 horse floats – just one. It simply made another trip sometime in the days after Good Job Bob drove it through the night from Bowen Hills to the Cornubia Mansion on the Hill on 1 April 2014.

Eric cannot remember the exact date in April that he and Humphrey B. Bear made the journey together to the Mansion with the trailer attached to the towbar of their vehicle. He does know that it was a warm day, and the trailer was filled with documents and waiting for them when they arrived at the CFMEU office to collect it about mid-morning, after receiving a phone call from the Dog instructing them to do so post haste.

He says that when they arrived at the Mansion they loaded the boxes into the shed, which already contained a large number of boxes, presumably those delivered by Good Job a night or two before.

As they were loading the boxes a few broke open, and he noticed the BLF emblem on aged looking letters and documents.

Smacka doesn’t like hearing this evidence, not at all. She should by rights be doing cartwheels but for the reasons that I have explained throughout the course of the day she is instead glum, and seemingly both angry and upset, all at once.

The defeated looking Smacka asks Eric about other visits he may have made to the Mansion, and he described travelling there to collect the union caravan that was used by organisers when they travelled to remote areas to organise workers who lived in camps in which CFMEU officials were not permitted to stay.

Hanna has given sworn evidence that it was in fact Ravbar’s van that was stored on his property. That the Dog lied is no surprise to anyone – he was doing so since he took the stand, and for years before; probably for most of his life – but how on earth did he imagine that he’s get away with this one?

The Maestro is going to monster him during cross-examination tomorrow, absolutely tear him apart. And he will immensely enjoy doing so too, for the Maestro is a man of principle, and the truth is important to him, and its discovery and upholding his life’s work.

The Dog would be well advised to pack his toothbrush in the morning, for it is 6/5 against that he will be enjoying the NRL finals this weekend on his big screen in the lounge that someone else built at his mansion that someone else built too.

Smacka can no longer bear the agony of witnessing the straw house that she has ill-advisedly built being burnt to the ground. It has taken the entire day, but finally now, with sun drawing down on Salem’s town square, she finally realises that she had been wrong, and that Hanna has taken her for a humiliating ride. Her re-examination lof him tomorrow will be worth the price of admission alone.

The Maestro takes a quick but devastating turn, twisting the knife into Hanna one last time for the day. At his prompting Eric tells us that all the training coordinators report directly to Hanna, a bully who rules with an iron fist.

If you recall the Dog’s evidence, no union officials were present during the removal of the documents that he falsely claimed was ordered by Ravbar. The only people there were the office staff, whose day had been interrupted by the arrival of their new colleagues bearing all their wares, and were working late to finalise the biannual accounts; a couple of pre-teenaged kids whose parents were working late, and had given them some old paper to shred to keep them amused; and the men who reported directly to the Dog, and feared he would make their lives a misery if they challenged any part of his rule.

He is going to jail is Mr David Arthur Hanna. He has lied to a Royal Commissioner, and wilfully and with a degree of pre-meditation deceived his much-admired and respected lieutenants. That they brought it upon themselves is of no consequence; Hanna must pay.

And pay he will, a terrible but much-deserved price. By his deceit he has lost his friends, his job, his income, his reputation, and any hope of a future career. Soon he will lose his home, his family, and his liberty; and will spend the years when he should be watching his children blossom into adulthood instead peering up through bars at a little tent of blue, that for his sins he has learnt is called the sky.

All this, just so he could ride on a big expensive motorbike, and live in a candy coloured mansion high up on a hill. He will have years behind bars to ponder the question – “was it all worth it?”

Hanna should have listened to the lesson that his motorbike was trying to teach him when it hurled him to the ground. But Hanna never listened to anyone, and that his why his future as far as the eye can see consists of porridge for breakfast and showers with men who will stare at his ass and worse; for while they may dream of women like Ooh La La, OMG and Lacey, any port must do in a storm, or in the protective unit of a penitentiary.

And the lesson that the motorbike was trying so heard to teach him?

Crime doesn’t pay.

Solidarity Forever Dave. Some people know that it is union that makes us strong. Comrade.