
Last week, Erin Patterson was sentenced to life in prison, with a non-parole period of 33 years, for three counts of murder and one of attempted murder.
Justice Christopher Beale acknowledged the media maelstrom surrounding the case, and how this would likely necessitate Patterson’s placement in solitary confinement.
He said:
I infer that, given the unprecedented media coverage of your case, and the books, documentaries and TV series about you which are all in the pipeline, you are likely to remain a notorious prisoner for many years to come, and, as such, remain at significant risk from other prisoners.
The first of these TV series has now been released. The three-part documentary Revealed: Death Cap Murders depicts Patterson as a loner who craved community and a liar who would “stop at nothing” to achieve her own ends.
Directed and produced by Gil Marsden, Death Cap Murders blends news footage and interviews with the benefit of hindsight to create a complex profile of a woman whose motives may never be known.
During sentencing, Justice Beale acknowledged the difficulty of understanding Patterson’s crimes, telling her, “only you know why you committed them”.
The mystery of motive
The mystery of motive drives Death Cap Murders, paired with a compelling portrait of a woman who could be both incredibly measured and incredibly reckless.
The series unfolds in a montage format. It interweaves the investigative work of The Age’s crime journalists Marta Pascual Juanola and John Silvester with interviews from Patterson’s former colleagues, classmates and friends, as well as mushroom experts, psychologists and doctors.
Rob Maggs – a former air traffic controller who worked with Patterson in a high-stakes job where “there is no room for error” – describes Erin as a smart and switched-on individual who “knew how to maximise [her intelligence] with minimal risk”.
In the same breath, Maggs recounts how Patterson was prone to impulsivity – often acting abrasively or somewhat aggressively “without actually thinking about the ramifications”.
Patterson’s driving offences are used by the filmmakers as a clear testament to her disdain for the law. Jay Westall, an ex-flatmate of Erin’s, claims after Patterson lost her licence in “an alcohol-induced car accident […] she drove almost every night, sometimes still drunk”.
In one scene, Maggs recalls how Patterson was fired from air traffic control for habitually leaving work before the end of her shift. Maggs says she denied this claim until human resources confronted her with video footage of her leaving the premises early.
According to Maggs, Patterson responded, “OK, you got me.”
The woman with ‘two faces’
We see Patterson could be both remarkably callous and unexpectedly kind.
We are told, following the death of the father of her housemate’s girlfriend, Patterson was asked to collect her belongings from the share house, so grieving family members could use the spare room for the funeral. According to Patterson’s housemate, Westall, Erin said: “I’m sorry your dad has died, but that’s not my problem. I’m busy this week.”
We hear Patterson volunteered at the Korumburra Baptist Church (where survivor Ian Wilkinson was the pastor) and helped colleagues with their tax returns. Maggs attributes this gesture to her desire to belong.
Westall says Patterson was “lonely inside”. He claims part of Patterson’s attraction to her ex-husband, Simon Patterson, lay in his intelligence, friendliness and above all, “the in-built community around him”.
It is a layered portrayal of Patterson as an almost Jekyll-and-Hyde figure – both vulnerable and volatile. This evokes an early moment in the trial when Crown Prosecutor Nanette Rogers claimed Patterson had “two faces”: a public face and a private one – an accusation Patterson fervently denied.
Salt in the wounds
In a recent episode of Say Grace – one of several mushroom podcasts dedicated to the Patterson case – Marsden said during the filming of the series, he came to understand “two things can be true at one time”.
This truism is skilfully embodied by the docuseries. Marsden captures the story’s many contradictions: the locals’ simultaneous embrace of the media alongside their plea for privacy; the obvious inconsistencies in Patterson’s evidence.
The series also contrasts the stunning beauty of the South Gippsland region with sombre insights into Patterson’s tireless deceit and elaborate cover-up of her guilt.
In the opening footage of Patterson’s police interview at Wonthaggi Station in August 2023, Patterson sits unfazed as she lies to the interviewing officer about previously foraging for mushrooms, and about owning a dehydrator – both aspects proven in her trial.
During sentencing, Justice Beale described Patterson’s “pitiless behaviour” as an “enormous betrayal of trust”, adding “your failure to exhibit any remorse pours salt into all of your victims’ wounds”.
Veteran journalist Silvester’s insistence Patterson knew about the dangers of death caps – “the Chernobyl of poisons”, as he says – reiterates the jury’s verdict: there is no other reasonable alternative other than Patterson did this on purpose.
“Everybody [in South Gippsland] knows about death caps,” Silvester says. “It’s like, you know, people in the Northern Territory don’t swim with crocodiles.”
Any retelling of the mushroom case will be a why-dunnit rather than a matter of who, how or when.
Death Cap Murders asks why a woman who yearned for connection would ultimately destroy the very thing she sought.
The first episode of Revealed: Death Cap Murders is now available on Stan. Episodes two and three will be released later this year.
This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organization bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: Kate Cantrell, University of Southern Queensland
Read more:
- Hollow Knight Silksong: how 3 people in Australia made the world’s hottest game
- Lesbian Space Princess is a cheeky, intergalactic romp that turns the sci-fi genre on its head
- New horror film Went Up The Hill is a chilling exploration of trauma and memory
Kate Cantrell does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.