Perth woman's nightclub Nazi salute costs her $1000 fine and her job
Theresa Plunkett-Hill, 43, was sentenced on Thursday in Perth Magistrates Court for making a Nazi gesture that would be visible in a public place.
The court heard Plunkett-Hill had been on a night out on July 10 when she was asked to leave Connections nightclub because she had had too much to drink.
Plunkett-Hill claimed she did not understand why she had been asked to leave and began arguing about the decision out the front of the building with a German security guard.
She then raised her right arm and said, 'heil Hitler' three times, which she claimed was not aimed at the nightclub employee.
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After the police arrived, she performed the same movement again, and was arrested.
On Thursday, her lawyer told the court Plunkett-Hill had performed the gesture out of 'frustration' and didn't know it was illegal, adding she had 'learnt a lot from this process'.
It was also revealed Plunkett-Hill had been let go from her receptionist role at an Indigenous organisation due to media coverage over the incident.
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Sydney Morning Herald
7 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
How Anzacs became the forgotten heroes of a Balkans war
Both became spies. Sayers secretly became an agent of Britain's Special Operations Executive (SOE), formed to conduct espionage and sabotage in German-occupied Europe and to aid resistance movements. Loading Jones, also operating alongside an SOE agent, built up his own haunting store of secrets about the leader of the Chetniks, Draža Mihailović. The Chetniks, Jones saw, spent more time fighting the communist Partisans than the Germans despite begging for supplies from Britain. Mihailović pleaded he didn't want to provoke German massacres against the civilian population. It is unlikely you have heard of the two Victorian heroes. Raised in pinched circumstances during the Great Depression, neither was schooled beyond the age of 13. And yet, in the distant fastness of Serbia's mountains, valleys and high meadows, they learnt to speak Serbian and lived by their wits, figuring out how to survive a civil war within a war that took countless lives, often in the cruellest ways. Separately, too, they witnessed atrocities against men, women and children that remain lodged in the collective memory of the people and heritage organisations of today's Balkan countries. Both men eventually made it home to Australia where, after briefly becoming subjects of media interest, they locked away their memories and their trauma for the rest of their lives. In the last 40 years of Jones' life, he spoke not a word of what he endured in Serbia. Sayers refused to march on Anzac Day and became angry and fearful as immigrant Chetnik supporters paraded under their old flags through Australian streets among Anzac veterans. We are learning their stories now, in great and confronting detail, thanks to a new book, Anzac Guerillas, by Canberra-based historian Edmund Goldrick. Goldrick spent almost four years undertaking the most comprehensive research into the lives, the soldiering and the spying of Jones, Sayers and some of their fellow escapees. His searching took him through archives in Australia, the United Kingdom, Serbia, the modern former Yugoslavia, Germany and the United States. His book's bibliography extends for 12 closely typed pages. The result is a book that reads almost like a first-person adventure story, though Jones and Sayers and all the other Australians Goldrick mentions had died well before he began his research. One of the techniques he employed to achieve such vividness was to reconstruct the details buried in old intelligence and military reports, not just about the features of a battle or a massacre, but about the physical circumstances existing at each crucial moment of the narrative. British and German military planners, for instance, maintained exhaustive reports on weather conditions relating to battlefields and supply drops. Goldrick even studied the seasons and the phases of the moon from these times, and the geography of the areas he wrote about. Thus, when he was able to match up dates, he could refer to the guerillas marching through snow on a moonlit night, or in deep darkness when the moon had set or when cloud obscured a hillside or a valley. Within Goldrick's sprawling and endlessly fascinating chronicle is the secret that drove Jones to survive until he could deliver it to the Allies. The secret, according to Jones' resultant written testimony, which Goldrick found, was that Mihailović himself had told Jones that he planned to wait until the war was over and then to 'clean' Greater Serbia of all but ethnic Serbians. These days we'd call it genocide. But how could Jones warn the British? Jones, a lieutenant promoted from the ranks in Australia's 2/8th Battalion, had come a long way since he was taken prisoner on Crete and then escaped the Germans. He was initially taken in by generous Serbian peasants who provided food and safety, which enabled him to recuperate after the desperate deprivations of imprisonment by the Germans in Greece. His health restored, Jones set off on foot in the hope of finding a way to reunite with Australian troops in Egypt. Soon, however, he and a fellow escapee he came across on the road, an English officer named Maurice Vitou, were held up by a roving band of Partisans who placed them on trial as spies, or 'fifth columnists'. The penalty for such activity was death. Strange fate intervened. A Chetnik officer accompanied by an armed escort arrived and led Jones and Vitou away. At that early stage of the war, the Partisans and Chetniks observed a form of alliance against German invaders. The Partisans simply handed over Jones and Vitou as a goodwill gesture to the Chetniks. They were taken to the mountain redoubt of Draža Mihailović. Mihailović, it turned out, believed Jones and Vitou would have the codes that would make it easier for him to radio the Allies with requests for supplies. They didn't, but Mihailović chose to keep them by his side as guerilla soldiers. 'His idea of 'cleaning the country' as he called it, was firstly to eliminate the Partisans and then the Croats, [Muslims], Bulgarians, Romanians and all Roman Catholics in the country.' Ronald Jones' written testimony after his time with General Dragoljub 'Draža' Mihailović By mid-1942, Jones had seen and heard enough of Mihailović and the bloody civil war. He set off, burdened by his secret. He was promptly arrested by Italian soldiers. He was interrogated under torture and dumped in the first of three prisoner-of-war camps that would hold him until he escaped again, this time in northern Italy from yet another German train after Italy had capitulated. In November 1943, Jones, aided by three Italian mountain troops heading home themselves, staggered into Switzerland. Loading He sat down to write, believing he might be the only Allied prisoner to make it out of Yugoslavia alive. He unloaded everything that had happened to him since his first escape from the Germans and through his experiences with Mihailović. 'During the time that I was with him we had many discussions regarding the fate of Yugoslavia and its future after the war,' Jones wrote. 'He was never very interested in there being a Yugoslavia as a union of the Slav peoples who lived in the country, but considered the Serbs were the only people that had any right to live in the country. '... His idea of 'cleaning the country' as he called it, was firstly to eliminate the Partisans and then the Croats, [Muslims], Bulgarians, Romanians and all Roman Catholics in the country.' Ronald Jones had unburdened himself. He concluded his intelligence report by declaring that Mihailović 'was not worthy of the assistance granted him by Great Britain and that a better result would have been obtained in granting that assistance to the Partisans'. Within a month, Britain decided to dump Mihailović and his Chetniks and officially support the Partisans. Ronald Jones believed he had been vindicated. The less glorious truth, Goldrick ascertained, was that Jones' report had been read by few. Britain's decision to change sides in Yugoslavia was driven by the fact that Germany's secret codes had finally been broken by the Ultra project. German transmissions, decoded, made it clear Mihailović and his Chetniks had been collaborating and that the Partisans were the only guerillas feared by Axis forces. Sayers and his fellow spies knew it was now too dangerous to stay with the Chetniks. Guaranteed safe conduct by the Partisans, they were evacuated to Italy. Josip Broz Tito's Partisans were the victors of the war, and Tito's communist dictatorship of Yugoslavia lasted 35 years until his death in 1980. Mihailović was tried in 1946 by the communist authorities for high treason and war crimes, found guilty and put to death. He was officially rehabilitated by a Serbian court in 2015. Ronald Jones, double agent and deliverer of a secret that almost killed him, disappeared from the Australian story.
The Age
7 hours ago
- The Age
How Anzacs became the forgotten heroes of a Balkans war
Both became spies. Sayers secretly became an agent of Britain's Special Operations Executive (SOE), formed to conduct espionage and sabotage in German-occupied Europe and to aid resistance movements. Loading Jones, also operating alongside an SOE agent, built up his own haunting store of secrets about the leader of the Chetniks, Draža Mihailović. The Chetniks, Jones saw, spent more time fighting the communist Partisans than the Germans despite begging for supplies from Britain. Mihailović pleaded he didn't want to provoke German massacres against the civilian population. It is unlikely you have heard of the two Victorian heroes. Raised in pinched circumstances during the Great Depression, neither was schooled beyond the age of 13. And yet, in the distant fastness of Serbia's mountains, valleys and high meadows, they learnt to speak Serbian and lived by their wits, figuring out how to survive a civil war within a war that took countless lives, often in the cruellest ways. Separately, too, they witnessed atrocities against men, women and children that remain lodged in the collective memory of the people and heritage organisations of today's Balkan countries. Both men eventually made it home to Australia where, after briefly becoming subjects of media interest, they locked away their memories and their trauma for the rest of their lives. In the last 40 years of Jones' life, he spoke not a word of what he endured in Serbia. Sayers refused to march on Anzac Day and became angry and fearful as immigrant Chetnik supporters paraded under their old flags through Australian streets among Anzac veterans. We are learning their stories now, in great and confronting detail, thanks to a new book, Anzac Guerillas, by Canberra-based historian Edmund Goldrick. Goldrick spent almost four years undertaking the most comprehensive research into the lives, the soldiering and the spying of Jones, Sayers and some of their fellow escapees. His searching took him through archives in Australia, the United Kingdom, Serbia, the modern former Yugoslavia, Germany and the United States. His book's bibliography extends for 12 closely typed pages. The result is a book that reads almost like a first-person adventure story, though Jones and Sayers and all the other Australians Goldrick mentions had died well before he began his research. One of the techniques he employed to achieve such vividness was to reconstruct the details buried in old intelligence and military reports, not just about the features of a battle or a massacre, but about the physical circumstances existing at each crucial moment of the narrative. British and German military planners, for instance, maintained exhaustive reports on weather conditions relating to battlefields and supply drops. Goldrick even studied the seasons and the phases of the moon from these times, and the geography of the areas he wrote about. Thus, when he was able to match up dates, he could refer to the guerillas marching through snow on a moonlit night, or in deep darkness when the moon had set or when cloud obscured a hillside or a valley. Within Goldrick's sprawling and endlessly fascinating chronicle is the secret that drove Jones to survive until he could deliver it to the Allies. The secret, according to Jones' resultant written testimony, which Goldrick found, was that Mihailović himself had told Jones that he planned to wait until the war was over and then to 'clean' Greater Serbia of all but ethnic Serbians. These days we'd call it genocide. But how could Jones warn the British? Jones, a lieutenant promoted from the ranks in Australia's 2/8th Battalion, had come a long way since he was taken prisoner on Crete and then escaped the Germans. He was initially taken in by generous Serbian peasants who provided food and safety, which enabled him to recuperate after the desperate deprivations of imprisonment by the Germans in Greece. His health restored, Jones set off on foot in the hope of finding a way to reunite with Australian troops in Egypt. Soon, however, he and a fellow escapee he came across on the road, an English officer named Maurice Vitou, were held up by a roving band of Partisans who placed them on trial as spies, or 'fifth columnists'. The penalty for such activity was death. Strange fate intervened. A Chetnik officer accompanied by an armed escort arrived and led Jones and Vitou away. At that early stage of the war, the Partisans and Chetniks observed a form of alliance against German invaders. The Partisans simply handed over Jones and Vitou as a goodwill gesture to the Chetniks. They were taken to the mountain redoubt of Draža Mihailović. Mihailović, it turned out, believed Jones and Vitou would have the codes that would make it easier for him to radio the Allies with requests for supplies. They didn't, but Mihailović chose to keep them by his side as guerilla soldiers. 'His idea of 'cleaning the country' as he called it, was firstly to eliminate the Partisans and then the Croats, [Muslims], Bulgarians, Romanians and all Roman Catholics in the country.' Ronald Jones' written testimony after his time with General Dragoljub 'Draža' Mihailović By mid-1942, Jones had seen and heard enough of Mihailović and the bloody civil war. He set off, burdened by his secret. He was promptly arrested by Italian soldiers. He was interrogated under torture and dumped in the first of three prisoner-of-war camps that would hold him until he escaped again, this time in northern Italy from yet another German train after Italy had capitulated. In November 1943, Jones, aided by three Italian mountain troops heading home themselves, staggered into Switzerland. Loading He sat down to write, believing he might be the only Allied prisoner to make it out of Yugoslavia alive. He unloaded everything that had happened to him since his first escape from the Germans and through his experiences with Mihailović. 'During the time that I was with him we had many discussions regarding the fate of Yugoslavia and its future after the war,' Jones wrote. 'He was never very interested in there being a Yugoslavia as a union of the Slav peoples who lived in the country, but considered the Serbs were the only people that had any right to live in the country. '... His idea of 'cleaning the country' as he called it, was firstly to eliminate the Partisans and then the Croats, [Muslims], Bulgarians, Romanians and all Roman Catholics in the country.' Ronald Jones had unburdened himself. He concluded his intelligence report by declaring that Mihailović 'was not worthy of the assistance granted him by Great Britain and that a better result would have been obtained in granting that assistance to the Partisans'. Within a month, Britain decided to dump Mihailović and his Chetniks and officially support the Partisans. Ronald Jones believed he had been vindicated. The less glorious truth, Goldrick ascertained, was that Jones' report had been read by few. Britain's decision to change sides in Yugoslavia was driven by the fact that Germany's secret codes had finally been broken by the Ultra project. German transmissions, decoded, made it clear Mihailović and his Chetniks had been collaborating and that the Partisans were the only guerillas feared by Axis forces. Sayers and his fellow spies knew it was now too dangerous to stay with the Chetniks. Guaranteed safe conduct by the Partisans, they were evacuated to Italy. Josip Broz Tito's Partisans were the victors of the war, and Tito's communist dictatorship of Yugoslavia lasted 35 years until his death in 1980. Mihailović was tried in 1946 by the communist authorities for high treason and war crimes, found guilty and put to death. He was officially rehabilitated by a Serbian court in 2015. Ronald Jones, double agent and deliverer of a secret that almost killed him, disappeared from the Australian story.
Sydney Morning Herald
13 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
The Sydney Morning Herald journalists scoop the pool at Kennedy Awards
Journalists from The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age have scooped the pool at the 2025 Kennedy Awards, taking home eight major prizes. Investigative reporter Nick McKenzie was named journalist of the year for the third time for a body of work that included the Building Bad series, which exposed high-level corruption and organised crime links at construction union the CFMEU. The investigation, which won the Gold Walkley last year, also garnered The Age, Herald, Australian Financial Review, and Nine's 60 Minutes, the award for outstanding investigative reporting. Herald health reporter Angus Thomson was named young journalist of the year for work including an investigation exposing high blood lead levels among Indigenous children in the mining town of Broken Hill, and a series of exclusive reports on Sydney's troubled Northern Beaches Hospital. Testament to the success of cross-platform collaboration at Nine, the Herald 's Eryk Bagshaw, Clare Sibthorpe and Bianca Hrovat and 60 Minutes ' Natalie Clancy won the award for outstanding television current affairs reporting for their exposure of sexual assault and migrant worker exploitation in Sydney's restaurant industry. Photographer Flavio Brancaleone claimed two awards for his arresting images from the Vatican of the funeral of Pope Francis, including the prize for outstanding news photography. The public voted his image of the late pope lying in state the winner of the 'Power of the Lens' award. The Age journalists Michael Bachelard and Charlotte Grieve won the prize for outstanding reporting on the environment for their story on carbon offsets, 'Dollars in the dust: Is outback scrub really saving the planet?' In recognition of the unseen work that is the backbone of the Herald newsroom, associate editor Kathryn Wicks was named mentor of the year. She shared the award with 60 Minutes executive producer Kirsty Thompson.
