Cheryl was not a case file, she was an amazing funny little girl
In a New South Wales parliamentary chamber, the long silence surrounding dozens of cold cases has at last been formally broken. Families who have carried unanswered grief for fifty years or more testified this week about children and siblings who vanished — and about the institutional failures that compounded their loss. The inquiry asks not only who may have killed, but how a system meant to protect the vulnerable allowed such darkness to persist unexamined for so long.
- Families who spent decades without answers are finally being heard by a formal parliamentary inquiry, but the weight of lost time — parents who died not knowing, siblings who aged into old grief — cannot be undone.
- The shadow of serial killer Ivan Milat stretches further than his seven known victims; investigators are now asking whether his killing began years earlier, with cases like Keren Rowland's 1971 disappearance potentially reframing the full scope of his crimes.
- In case after case, police failures were not peripheral but central — a teenage confession ruled inadmissible, a missing girl dismissed as a runaway, decades of what one witness called 'ignorance, poor leadership, parochialism and arrogance.'
- The inquiry will continue over coming months, representing for many families what may be their final opportunity to extract truth from institutions that have long offered only silence.
Ricki Nash came before a New South Wales parliamentary inquiry to speak about his sister Cheryl, who was three years old when she disappeared from a Wollongong beach in January 1970. More than fifty years on, he was still waiting. He told the room that if police had done their job in 1971, the family would have known the truth long ago. Cheryl, he said, was not a case file — she was a funny little girl.
The inquiry, which opened its public hearings this week, is examining dozens of cold cases and long-term missing persons across New South Wales, some stretching back more than half a century. A recurring thread is police failure — and the possibility that serial killer Ivan Milat, who murdered at least seven young backpackers in Belanglo State Forest between 1989 and 1992, may have begun killing far earlier than was ever established.
Keren Rowland vanished from Canberra in February 1971, twenty years old and five months pregnant. Her cousin submitted evidence suggesting she may have been Milat's first victim, and described more than five decades of institutional arrogance in how the case was handled. Kevin Docherty spoke of his twin sister Kay, who disappeared near Wollongong in 1979 at fifteen. A police officer that night dismissed her as a runaway. Their parents never learned what happened to their only daughter, and Kevin said they virtually died of broken hearts, eight years apart.
The Cheryl Grimmer case took a different turn. A suspect was charged in 2017, but his teenage confession was ruled inadmissible and the trial collapsed. The family received no conviction, no closure, no explanation. Forensic criminologist Dr. Xanthe Weston offered psychological context on Milat, describing how personal loss drove him toward killing as a means of control.
For the families who testified, the inquiry is perhaps the last real chance to pull truth from decades of silence — not just about who killed, but about how institutions meant to protect them looked away.
On the first day of public hearings, Ricki Nash sat before a New South Wales parliamentary inquiry and spoke about his sister Cheryl, who was three years old when she vanished from Fairy Meadow beach in Wollongong in January 1970. More than fifty years later, he was still waiting for answers. "If they had done their job in 1971, we would have known the truth years ago," he told the room, his voice carrying the weight of a lifetime spent in the shadow of an unsolved disappearance. Cheryl was not a case file, he said. She was a funny little girl.
The inquiry that began this week is examining dozens of cold cases and long-term missing persons across New South Wales—some stretching back more than half a century. What binds many of them together is a pattern of police failure, and the possibility that some victims may have been killed by Ivan Milat, the serial killer who murdered at least seven backpackers between 1989 and 1992. Milat would pick up hitchhikers traveling the long road between Sydney and Melbourne, drive them into Belanglo State Forest, and kill them. His victims were young—aged nineteen to twenty-two—and came from three countries: Germany, Britain, and Australia.
But the inquiry is asking whether Milat's killing began earlier, and whether police negligence allowed him to operate undetected for longer than anyone realized. Keren Rowland disappeared in February 1971 from Canberra when she was twenty years old and five months pregnant. Her cousin, Dr. Andrea Hughes, submitted evidence to the inquiry suggesting Rowland may have been Milat's first victim. In her testimony, Hughes described more than five decades of "ignorance, poor leadership, parochialism and arrogance" in how the case had been handled.
Kevin Docherty spoke about his twin sister Kay, who went missing near Wollongong in 1979 at fifteen. When their mother went to the police station that night, she encountered what Kevin described as one good cop and one bad cop. The bad one wrote Kay off as a runaway. Little was done to find her. Both their parents died without ever learning what happened to their only daughter—their grief so profound that Kevin said they "virtually died of a broken heart eight years apart." The police failure was not incidental to their loss; it was woven into it.
In the case of Cheryl Grimmer, the failure took a different form. Despite extensive searches after her disappearance, there were no leads for decades. Then in 2017, a suspect—known only as "Mercury"—was charged with her abduction and murder. But his teenage confession was ruled inadmissible in court, and the trial collapsed. The man denies any involvement, and prosecutors abandoned the case. Cheryl's family got no closure, no conviction, no explanation.
Forensic criminologist Dr. Xanthe Weston gave evidence about Milat's psychology, describing him as egocentric and noting that when his sister died and he lost control of his personal life, he compensated by killing. The inquiry will continue with further hearings over the coming months as investigators attempt to determine whether Milat was responsible for additional murders beyond the seven he is known to have committed. For the families who testified this week, the inquiry represents a chance—perhaps the last one—to extract truth from decades of silence and institutional indifference.
Notable Quotes
If they had done their job in 1971, we would have known the truth years ago— Ricki Nash, brother of Cheryl Grimmer
Both my parents went to an early grave without answers or knowing what happened to their only daughter. They virtually died of a broken heart eight years apart.— Kevin Docherty, twin brother of Kay Docherty
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does it matter now, fifty years later, whether these cases are solved?
Because the families never stopped living with the not-knowing. Ricki Nash has carried his sister's disappearance his entire life. When you don't have an answer, you don't have closure—you have a permanent wound.
But the police failures seem almost routine. Why was this inquiry called now?
The possibility that Ivan Milat may have killed more people than anyone realized changed the calculus. If he was operating earlier than thought, and if police missed connections, then entire cold cases take on new meaning. It's not just about individual failures anymore—it's about a pattern.
What does it mean that Cheryl Grimmer's case collapsed in court?
It means the family got no justice and no answers. A confession was ruled inadmissible, the suspect walked free, and the case was dropped. They're left with nothing but the original mystery.
How does a family survive that?
They don't survive it, really. They endure it. Kevin Docherty's parents died without knowing what happened to their daughter. That's the real cost—not just the missing person, but the way the not-knowing destroys the people left behind.
What does the inquiry actually hope to accomplish at this point?
To establish whether connections exist between cases, whether Milat killed earlier than known, and whether police negligence allowed him to operate longer. It won't bring anyone back, but it might finally give families the truth they've been denied.