The Age from Melbourne, Victoria, Australia • Page 5

TUESDAY 1 JULY 1997 THE ACE A 5 Peter Shoobridge professed to love his daughters but he killed them. Why did four young girls die? Search for -1 A poet and family man who fell apart my 1 "Dichotomy" The quickest way to educate is to learn from one's mistakes es It's also very often said the makers, of mistakes are dead If these two facts clues in a killer last letters A thick sheaf of letters written by Mr Peter Shoobridge before he killed his four daughters and then himself are being examined by police looking for clues to the tragedy near Hobart. Up to 15 of the handwritten letters, most posted without stamps in bloodstained enve-lopes, have been recovered. According to police, some make vague comments about his intentions, including a belief it would not be right to bring the girls up in such a cruel world. Police yesterday were doubtful whether the reason for his actions would be established.

Mr Shoobridge, 52, used a knife to kill his daughters Rebecca, 18; Anna, 14; Sara, 12; and Georgina, 9, on Saturday night at his hobby farm. He then posted the letters before calling emergency services, chopping off his right hand with an axe, and shooting himself. The children had arrived at 7 vY V-V still coexist, why are we not 1p perfectionists? i ML "A Moment's Thought" Thejagged silver-capped voice wearing an age-scarred face, said: "I want you to take me to the cemetery. You know the place" My mind's second relived his life. Rebecca Shoobridge, age 18.

Anna Shoobridge, age 14. My life was relived the next: 3 He came home but tossed In farming, which failed to satisfy him. He married his solicitor wife Wendy and set up business as a "wood doctor" and later antique dealer. A fellow dealer Mr Michael Hobden, recalled that Mr Shoobridge was a self-taught cabinet maker who was very particular about the sort of furniture he restored and sold; turn-of-the-century Items mainly of blackwood that were very well made. "I liked Peter," said Mr Hobden.

"He was a straightforward, no-nonsense type. He worked hard and he was a perfectionist." Mr Reynolds believed that beneath the jolly public persona, there was someone who kept his antique life entirely separate from his family. "You could say that he was eccentric, but that covers a multitude of sins," said Mr Reynolds. "He was easygoing but there was an aspect I don't know how to describe. Most people are satisfied calling it eccentric because they can't put their finger on It" Mr Shoobridge difference showed up In verse, which he might declaim in the midst of an antique auction, ramble on with at special dinners, or spout energetically on a local daytime television show.

Mainly these poems are the unsophisticated words of one of lifefe keen observers. A poem called Hallucinate Is about giving up cigarettes; another called The Choolcs' Last Walk to the Woodheap is about the perennial poultry owners' threat to non-laying birds. But in his book, the autobiographical notes end jarringly. "He has thought about bunji (sic) jumping off the Tasman Bridge but figures if he is to fight this battle of life and win, he would like full military honors at its end rather than AWOL." In fact, he has left himself no honors and people like Mr Reynolds can do no more than wonder why. "My feeling is at some point in the past few months, his ordered existence has just come apart." By ANDREW DARBY, Hobart Peter Shoobridge didn't just love his family, he adored them.

He wasn't Just good at cabinet work, he was fanatical about It. He didn't only build a house, he constructed the perfect homestead. Now this order has crashed. Last Saturday night, he became a person who could kill his four daughters and destroy the life he had made. The only explanation that came from the letters he left was his claim that he did not want to expose his children to the troubles of a cruel world.

There were signs of these troubles In the closure of his antique shop a year ago, his separation from his wife and, earlier this year, when he lost a valued Job managing a neighbor's vineyard. "I've felt for a couple months that he had been depressed about something," said Mr Rick Reynolds, an antique dealer and a friend of 20 years. "That disagreement over the vineyard; he came to see me to say he felt he had done the wrong thing. He had a lot of regret about things he said to them." Yet there was no outward sign he would not carry on. Only last Thursday, Mr Shoobridge poked a handful of cards under the door of another dealer, advertising his antiques restoration service.

The same day, he visited Mr Reynolds, who was moving shop. "I was busy at the time. He seemed a bit withdrawn." According to Mr Shoo-brldgc's poetry, the foundation of his existence was his family. He dedicated his 1992 self-published book to: "My ever caring and supportive wife and four beautiful daughters, who provide all the beauty a human could ever wish to have." The whimsical verse In the book showed a man who had overcome early fallings. Born a twin in the country town Ouse, he recalled: "At school my nickname was Wooden Named not for wood-working SO WE WENT.

the home on Saturday afternoon for a regular weekend visit. During the week, they lived in Hobart with his estranged wife, Wendy, a solicitor, who was described yesterday as shocked and unable to comment. The deaths left widespread mourning at the private St Michael's Collegiate where the three eldest girls went to school. Grief counsellors were sought and students mourned at a lunchtime prayer service led by the Anglican Bishop Philip Newell who had lived in the same street as the girls. Police said the three letters most recently recovered were hand-delivered to neighbors' mail boxes.

Mr Shoobridge left instructions for his own funeral, but made no request for his daughters'. He expressed his feelings for other people, but Detective Sergeant Tony Bennett was not prepared to speak about these. The letters are being held by the coroner. Police ended their examination of the property yesterday. Sergeant Bennett said there was no sign of any fierce struggle inside the house.

Andrew Darby From Peter Shoobridge's book of poetry, "A Bush abilities I look back when I open up memoryfe lid to my parents and their wooden-headed kid." Years later at Southemfield, he stood proud: "I am a superhuman In my Multi Function Polls Living on a hobby farm we bought from Reverend Wallace I took the fifty acres on to please me wife and kids but the 50 acre run was tons of volcanic lids." Even the rocks were bettered. He picked them by hand to build drystone walls around the sandstone home fitted with his cabinet work. The years before his family had been those of a young rural man on walkabout. He went to wool school in Melbourne, worked as a jackaroo in New South Wales, Britain, Europe and the United States. "IT -rim I Georgina Shoobridge.

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