Justice the loser in fatal one-on-one that ended an officer's career

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This was published 5 years ago

Justice the loser in fatal one-on-one that ended an officer's career

By John Silvester
Former policeman Tim Baker was charged with murder.

Former policeman Tim Baker was charged with murder.Credit: Paul Jeffers

Former leading senior constable and accused murderer Tim Baker sits in his sparsely-furnished flat, his eyes burning with injustice and his voice quavering with anger. In the corner his 10-year-old deaf dog, Patsy, sleeps on a mattress, snoring contentedly after a two-hour walk.

Baker’s story raises questions on the investigation of police fatal shootings, the treatment of officers with mental illnesses and exposes a stubborn refusal by Police Command to change a flawed policy in the face of overwhelming evidence.

Baker always wanted to be a policeman and went to university to fill in time until he was able to join in 1989, aged 18 years, six months. He worked busy suburban stations, Transit and the City Patrol Group until, tired of the endless churn of divisional van shifts, he moved to the Prahran Highway Patrol.

Tim Baker at his graduation from the police academy.

Tim Baker at his graduation from the police academy.

Baker, like many others, began to buckle under stress and was eventually diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and placed on long-term sick leave.

The treatment of police mental health is never one size fits all. For many the job is an important part of rehabilitation, but to be operationally fit means being authorised to carry a firearm. Once there were hundreds of behind-the-line jobs where police, bruised from front-end duties, could withdraw to recover. But the demand for efficiency means most of those duties have been moved to the private sector or public service.

Which means when Baker was cleared to return to duty there was no chance of a slow reintegration - but then someone made a decision that defies logic. They put Baker back on the road as a solo Highway Patrol Unit – one of the most stressful and high-risk jobs in policing.

That was back in 2013 - three years after a coroner recommended such patrols be banned because they were too dangerous.

In April 2005, Senior Constable Tony Clarke was murdered with his own gun while working one-up on traffic duty after he intercepted a car on the Warburton Highway. In the 2010 Clarke inquest, Coroner Kim Parkinson recommended an end to “one-up” patrols for late-night or remote-area intercepts.

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In 2015 police finally agreed and banned the patrols, but it came too late for Baker and Vlado Micetic –the man he shot dead in what began as a routine car check.

So what happened?

Baker says the shift on August 25, 2013, was largely nondescript until he slipped down to St Kilda in the hope of spotting a serial burglar who had been stealing high-powered cars to speed away from police.

Around 10.30 pm he spotted a “dinged-up Hyundai” that a quick check showed was using stolen registration plates. He followed discreetly along Punt Road and chose to pull the driver up in Union Street, Windsor, a strip he considered low risk because it was wide, well lit and subject to regular traffic flow.

According to Baker, when the driver said he found the stolen plates in the rubbish he decided to take him for a formal interview.

Vlado Micetic, shot dead after a "routine" police intercept.

Vlado Micetic, shot dead after a "routine" police intercept.

“I got him out of the car and managed to get one handcuff on. She (female passenger Evelina

Niedzwiecki) got out of the car and walked away. He started to struggle. That’s when I saw the knife in his hand. I thought I was going to cop it. I thought I was f---ed ... I let three rounds go.

“I remember the shots didn’t sound that loud - not like on the shooting range. He was lying on his back - there was silence. All I could hear was him gasping. He was dying right in front of me.

"Within 30 seconds the supervising sergeant arrived. I had gone into shock. There was blood and s--- everywhere. I went to the side of the road and spewed my guts up a couple of times.”

Baker was taken back to the station and assured he had picked the right spot and conducted a textbook risk assessment. “I was told I had nothing to worry about.”

On the advice of  Police Association lawyers he refused to make a statement to homicide investigators. “They were not impressed,” he says.

Driven home near dawn, his driver pulled up silently at a 24-hour bottle shop to pick up a six-pack. It would begin a spiral of using alcohol as a prop that would end disastrously.

For the first time in a fatal police shooting there was an electronic record, as the unmarked police car was equipped with a dashcam and Baker was wearing an audio mic.

Former policeman Tim Baker, charged and acquitted of murder.

Former policeman Tim Baker, charged and acquitted of murder.Credit: Paul Jeffers

The tape shows Micetic admitting he has been in trouble with the police and was on bail, then he freely gives his name, address and date of birth. The driver is calm and compliant - the policeman calm and assertive.

It is all routine until the conversation moves to the plates - Micetic either won’t or can’t give an explanation. The policeman instructs him to get out of the car with the intention of taking him to a police station for interview. Micetic still appears calm. ‘‘I don’t know why you are bugging me up for this. I’m not being a smartarse. I’m respecting you."

Baker responds: “But you have bodgy plates on your car. Why? They are stolen plates. I’m going to have to interview you about it, so put your hands behind your back for me.”

Micetic responds: “I think you should talk to your superiors first.”

An increasingly frustrated Baker says: “I think you should do what I tell you.”

Micetic trots out a series of letters and numbers to suggest he is a registered police informer and should be treated differently. Baker is not impressed. “Do as you are told, I don’t want to use force ... Do it while I figure out what is going on.”

Micetic is unhappy but both men still appear calm. “Why are you doing this?” he asks.

“Because you have broken the law.” Baker radios for backup.

When Ms Niedzwiecki leaves the car and walks away, the situation deteriorates. Micetic falls to the ground. “What are you doing man? You are going to get into trouble ... you are going to lose your job.”

They step in front of the Hyundai, blocking the view of the dashcam. There are muffled, urgent words followed by three quick shots and the groaning of the fatally wounded man. Seconds later you hear what sounds like a zip opening, followed by a click. It would later be the key prosecution claim that Baker shot Micetic and then planted a knife before calling in the incident.

Tim Baker on his way to court in January 2016.

Tim Baker on his way to court in January 2016.Credit: Wayne Taylor

Baker returned to work two days later, but “life went off the rails pretty quickly. There were flashbacks, it was like a movie playing over and over again. It was always the same. The man lying on the ground bleeding out. My alcohol consumption went through the roof - I was drinking to unconsciousness. I was going batshit crazy.”

Suicidal, he went to a park with his Patsy and a bottle of pills with the intention of taking his own life. He woke in the Royal Melbourne Hospital in a neck brace with no recollections, later finding he had driven his car into a pole. He was admitted to a psychiatric facility and went through detox, but his life continued to deteriorate.

His house was raided by police, looking for receipts to prove he had bought the knife found at the scene, and in 2015 – more than two years after the fatal shooting - he was charged with murder.
He spent two weeks in custody, eventually bailed to live with his parents and forced to report at the local station to his former colleagues. He split with his long-term partner: “He struggled with the police culture,” says Baker.

The Crown case was simple. An audio expert made a statement that a noise 14½ seconds after the final shot was Baker opening the flick knife he planted on the dying man. This is despite a peer reviewer (a Queensland police forensic recording analyst) disputing the conclusion and the defence having their own specialist who said the knife was opened two seconds before the first shot.

“The prosecution said I had a little hissy fit and that’s why I shot him. Then I planted the knife.”

Baker, who is gay, says he found the "hissy fit" expression homophobic and "just ridiculous".

Now let’s not be naive. Evidence, including weapons, have been planted on suspects, but usually by old school, heavy-handed detectives.

What the Crown failed to explain is why a traffic policeman with no history of planting evidence would be carrying an illegal weapon on the off-chance he might need an alibi.

Nor why he would murder someone on a busy street near high-rise buildings where there could be witnesses and when he could not know if incriminating evidence would be caught on the video or audio recordings.

The jury was told Micetic, nicknamed "Knifeman", had 99 previous convictions, had five knives in the Hyundai and kept a sawn-off shotgun at his house.

It is impossible to know for certain what happened in front of Micetic’s car, but what is certain is there was insufficient evidence to justify a conviction. Which is why in September 2017 the jury rejected the case against Baker after less than five hours' consideration.

Baker has left policing, his 27-year career destroyed. He says: “I have no firm plans for another career. I have been doing this since I was 18. It is all I know. To say I am angry and bitter is an understatement.”

Despite claims to the contrary, Baker has received no welfare treatment from police since the day of his arrest.

By charging Baker in a case that could not possibly succeed they also left the Micetic family with no real answers. If this had been a coronial investigation rather than a Supreme Court trial the question of why police persisted with dangerous single-officer patrols and why a policeman with a history of mental illness was placed under unreasonable stress would have been examined.

The clear conclusion is that if the dinged-up Hyundai had been pulled up by two officers rather than one, the confrontation would not have fatally escalated and Micetic would be alive today.

Now one man is dead and a second may never recover. Is that justice?

For help or information, call Lifeline 131 114, beyondblue 1300 224 636 or MensLine 1300 789 978

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