by SARAH HARRIS
“I know it sounds horrible, but I need to know if he suffered. I don’t know if he’s in pieces. Or if he’s whole. I don’t know.”
Whenever Faye Leveson talks about her missing son Matthew, it’s with heart-wrenching resignation. She knows he’s dead.
Police have never found his body, but a mother’s instinct tells her that the night her boy disappeared after leaving an inner-city nightclub – he was murdered.
But how, where and why and by whom?
They’re questions Faye has tortured herself with for more than four years.
“Every night I go to bed wondering how he died. Every night I wonder, was it quick or was it slow?” Faye wonders.
Faye stares into the distance, her voice is a whisper. You can tell she’s thinking dark thoughts that no parent should ever have to.
The agony of not knowing what happened to Matthew, is what has brought us to this lonely and overgrown bush track in Kurnell, south of Sydney.
Faye walks close to her husband Mark, who’s carrying a shovel in one hand and a pick axe in the other. They hope today is the day they finally find their son’s body.
Debbie Malone — a psychic — is up ahead, pushing through the undergrowth towards the putrid stink of mangrove mudflats.
“Matthew showed me he had trees, above him… lantana,” Debbie says.
Debbie believes Matthew’s body is buried somewhere here. And although she has never met Matthew, she says she speaks to him often.
“When I tune into people, I see things through their eyes. Sometimes I’m the victim and I’ll see what happened to them. It’s like watching television; I can watch it through the perpetrators’ eyes as well.”