Operation Weather

the hackers’ activities. However, all three hackers were also charged with some form of ‘incitement’. By writing articles for the IS magazine, the prosecution claimed the hackers had been involved in disseminating information which would encourage others to hack and phreak.

On 4 May 1995 Mendax sat in the office of his solicitor, Paul Galbally, discussing the committal hearing scheduled for the next day.

Galbally was a young, well-respected member of Mel- bourne’s most prestigious law family. His family tree read like a Who’s Who of the law. Frank Galbally, his father, was one of Australia’s most famous criminal barristers. His uncle, Jack Galbally, was a well-known lawyer, a minister in the State Labor government of John Cain Sr and, later, the Leader of the Opposition in the Victorian parliament. His maternal grand- father, Sir Norman O’Bryan, was a Supreme Court judge, as was his maternal uncle of the same name. The Galballys weren’t so much a family of lawyers as a legal dynasty.

Rather than rest on his family’s laurels, Paul Galbally worked out of a cramped, 1970s time-warped, windowless office in a William Street basement, where he was surrounded by defence briefs — the only briefs he accepted. He liked the idea of keeping people out of prison better than the idea of putting them in it. Working closely with a defendant, he inevit- ably found redeeming qualities which the prosecution would never see. Traces of humanity, no matter how small, made his choice seem worthwhile.

His choices in life reflected the Galbally image as cham- pions of the underdog, and the family shared a background with the working class. Catholic. Irish. Collingwood football enthusiasts. And, of course, a very large family. Paul was one of eight children, and his father had also come from a large family.

The 34-year-old criminal law specialist didn’t know anything about computer crime when Mendax first appeared in his office, but the hacker’s case seemed both interesting and worthy. The