Michaela trial: Avinash Treebhoowoon and Sandip Mooneea found NOT GUILTY

Two hotel workers have been cleared of murdering honeymoon bride Michaela McAreavey in her luxury hotel suite on the paradise island of Mauritius.

• Jurors took only two hours to reach the unanimous not guilty decisions on Avinash Treebhoowoon and Sandip Mooneea
• Members of the McAreavey family walked straight out of court when the verdicts were read out
• Both accused broke down in tears on hearing the result
• Irish priest fears murder will tarnish island's reputation

Jurors took just two hours to reach the unanimous not guilty decisions for Avinash Treebhoowoon and Sandip Mooneea who had both been charged with the murder of 27-year-old Michaela after she returned to the couple’s room at the exclusive beachside complex and caught them stealing.

As the two acquitted men walked out of the Supreme Court in Port Louis throngs of people cheered 'justice, justice' in Creole as policemen hurried the men through the chaotic scenes. Moments later defence lawyers were carried aloft.

Members of the McAreavey family walked straight out of court when the foreman of the jury made the verdicts known.

Outside the courthouse Treebhoowoon said he was overjoyed. He also expressed sympathy for the McAreaveys.

'I'm so sad about this lady,' he said. 'But I did not kill this lady.'

Mooneea wept as he hugged his lawyer Rama Valayden.

'I am so happy to be back with my family,' he said. 'These past 18 months have been so hard.'

John McAreavey had been married to Michaela for just 12 days when she was found strangled in the bathtub of the Legends hotel on the island.

When the verdict was read out in court both the accused broke down in tears in the dock while relatives jumped to their feet cheering wildly.

During the trial defence lawyers had said that Avinash Treebhoowoon was tortured into confessing to a murder he did not commit by a police force in a hurry to find someone to blame.

The jury's not guilty verdict showed they believed the room cleaner's insistence that a detailed admission statement produced three days after Michaela McAreavey's death, which bore his signature, was a mere fabrication.

Relief at being spared a potential 60-year jail term will be tempered with anger that he has been incarcerated for the last 18 months on what jurors evidently concluded was a tissue of lies invented by detectives.

The 32-year-old will now attempt to restart his life, still on medication for the recurring nightmares he claims he has about the officers who beat him into signing.

Treebhoowoon had been working at Legends hotel for almost five years when Mrs McAreavey was murdered last January.

As a room attendant he was paid 7800 Mauritian rupees a month - about 200 euros.

It was during that time he met his wife Reshma, who used to be a sales assistant.

The couple married in 2009. She soon became pregnant but would lose the child.

She was present at court throughout the trial, the orange streak through her hair a symbol of love for her husband.

A potential defence witness, for six weeks she maintained a quiet vigil on a bench outside court room five, unable to attend proceedings.

But each morning she would scurry over to the dock to spend a few moments with him before court began.

When her husband's lawyers decided not to call her to give evidence, she was finally able to sit and listen to the trial's concluding phases.

Treebhoowoon grew up in a small village in the north of the island and left school early and without qualifications.

Prior to Legends he worked in another hotel - the Meridien - and also had spells of employment as a lorry driver and in one of the country's many textile factories.

During his time in the Meridien he was suspended for two weeks after an Italian couple claimed 500 euros was stolen from their room.

Treebhoowoon insisted he was cleared by a disciplinary committee, which blamed one of his co-workers, and he went on to work at the hotel for another two years.

In that period he says he was offered but turned down a promotion opportunity.

'I was not yet ready for the responsibility,' he told the trial.

At the time of the murder he was one of five room attendants working under the supervision of his co-accused Sandip Mooneea.

His day began at 7.15am and he would work to 4pm, cleaning nine or 10 rooms in that period.

One of those he worked with was Raj Theekoy, a man he considered a friend but one who would go on to implicate him in the murder as the prosecution's star witness.

Fellow attendant Govinden Samynaden said the two were always laughing together.

'Avinash and Raj were always joking,' he said.

Having left school early, Treebhoowoon claims he does not have great command of the English language.

An interpreter had to explain proceedings throughout the trial.

Up until two weeks before the murder, he and his wife had lived at his parents' house in Amaury, a rural village in the centre north of the island close to Riviere du Rempart.

There he spoke a language of Indian origin, Bhojpuri.

His father Sooriedeo is a 52-year-old labourer who cannot read or write.

Treebhoowoon claimed he had a fight with him on December 22, 2010 over his failure to buy gas for the house. The row prompted him to leave.

He stayed for a short period with his wife's mother but then moved into rented accommodation in Plaine de Roches.

It was an episode that prosecutor Mehdi Manrakhan found hard to explain, asking where Treebhoowoon got the money to pay for the new pad.

'Let us not forget that this is a man who would fight with his father over buying a gas cylinder and yet find the money to go rent a house for him and his wife to live in?' he said.

The incident that saw him move out of the family home assumed great significance in the trial. After he signed the confession statement, Treebhoowoon met briefly with his father in a police station.

An officer who witnessed the incident claimed the suspect said: 'Forget about your son now, I have made a mistake.'

But in the witness box both Treebhoowoon and his father insisted he was talking about the family fall out and not the murder, instead saying: 'Don't forget about your son,' before he asked to move home.

In the event he could neither go to Amaury nor settle into his rented apartment.

From the day after the murder his new home was to be the four walls of a prison cell.

It was a traumatic trial for Michaela's widower John McAreavey who at one point during the prosecution’s 90-minute closing speech appeared to discreetly wipe away tears.

During the trial prosecutor Mr Manrakhan had told the court: ‘The person who has suffered the most in all of this, as if he hasn’t suffered enough after the death of the love of his life, Michaela, is John McAreavey.'

‘I am duty-bound to speak about the manner in which fingers have been constantly pointed at John McAreavey in the most unbefitting manner.’

Judge Justice Prithviraj Fecknah had told jurors to ignore any ramifications their verdicts may have on the reputation of Mauritius.

His direction followed remarks by lawyers for the defendants claiming the verdicts would send a signal out to the world about Mauritius.

He had said to the jury: 'I have to remind you this is not your role and you are not to allow yourselves to be influenced by such considerations.

'You are not politicians and you cannot allow yourselves to be swayed by political considerations.'

The prosecution had said the defendants attacked the 27-year-old teacher when she interrupted them stealing in the room, having momentarily left her husband John at a poolside restaurant to fetch biscuits.

During the trial the jury had been shown CCTV footage which the defence implied showed John and Michaela arguing at the hotel reception shortly before the killing.

However, police later came to court with proof the couple in the video were German holidaymakers.

In his closing speech Mr Manrakhan had said all the defence theories were ‘short-lived’ and had been abandoned ‘one after the other’ when it became clear they were unfounded.

The verdict in the Michaela McAreavey case will inevitably prompt serious questions for Mauritian police over their handling of the murder investigation.

While allegations of police brutality against one of the accused were a consistent theme through the eight weeks of the trial, many other aspects of officers' conduct were also put under the spotlight.

None more than the treatment of John McAreavey in the hours after the crime. The bereaved husband was arrested, handcuffed and left alone in a police station for five hours.

Defendant Avinash Treebhoowoon made his first official complaint of ill-treatment at a court appearance two days after the murder.

He would later allege that a confession statement signed by him the following day was extracted by violent means.

His claims against individual officers were repeated again and again throughout the case by his lawyer Sanjeev Teeluckdharry and then by the defendant himself when he went into the witness box.

In summary he alleged he was subject to numerous beatings, grabbed in the groin, whipped on the soles of his feet with a pipe, hit on the head with a plastic bottle and stripped naked and held down on a table while his head was plunged into a bucket of water.

At one stage he vomited blood, he claimed.

The torture was not just physical, according to the accused. Detectives also allegedly threatened to lock up and beat his parents and, bizarrely, apparently told him they were going to send his wife to Ireland to live with Mrs McAreavey's widower.

His chief tormentors, the accused claimed, were the officers of the police's major crime investigation team (MCIT).

Defence lawyer Rama Valayden memorably claimed MCIT stood for 'My confession is true'.

Treebhoowoon said much of the alleged violence was meted out in the team's headquarters in Port Louis.

Each claim was rejected by the MCIT personnel when they gave evidence.

The head of the MCIT, assistant chief commissioner Yoosoof Soopun, was also forced to deny claims he threatened to kill the suspect with a revolver he kept concealed in his sock.

Chief prosecutor Manrakhan challenged Treebhoowoon to explain why doctors who examined him during this period did not find any external signs of injury.

Mr Manrakhan put it to the defendant: 'I tell you, you never got beaten, you lied.'

'No, I got beaten,' he replied firmly.

Mr Teeluckdharry said it would be naive to think police would not know of torture techniques that would leave no marks or traces.

Mr Valayden, who represented Mooneea, shocked the jury as he attempted to demonstrate how hard it was to leave a lasting mark with a slap by striking himself hard on both cheeks.

The nine jurors looked taken aback, especially when the lawyer urged them to do the same.

In a startling revelation during his opening address, Mr Valayden then claimed he had got one of his legal team to subject him to another form of brutality alleged by Treebhoowoon - whipping on the feet with a plastic pipe.

'I asked the big guy to do it on me,' he said pointing at a rather well-set junior counsel sitting behind him. 'But you can try it too.'

Mr Soopun also had to explain the conduct of officers when Mr McAreavey outlined how he was apparently treated by police.

He said the decision to detain the widower was a wrong one, but he blamed the Legends hotel, insisting that staff withheld room entry records that would have immediately eliminated him from inquiries.

WHY WAS DEFENCE LAWYER WHO QUIT THE CASE NOT CALLED AS WITNESS?

No return: Defence lawyer Ravi Rutnah dramatically quit the trial in the second week, but despite saying he would take the witness stand, he never gave evidence.

'I'll be back,' the colourful lawyer declared. 'In Arnold Schwarzenegger style.'

The London-based counsel was referring to his intention to appear as a witness for the defence.

The defence's decision not to call him to the stand left one of the case's most unusual lingering questions unanswered.

Did he or did he not eat the fried rice?

But unlike Schwarzenegger's Terminator, Mr Rutnah was not to return for another scene.

A police witness's claim that the lawyer asked to share his portion of takeaway food the evening his client - Avinash Treebhoowoon - allegedly admitted Michaela McAreavey's murder prompted his withdrawal from the case.

'It was a cordial, friendly atmosphere because we even shared our food with Mr Rutnah,' Inspector Luciano Gerard told court.

'I still remember there was fried rice and I'm not fond of fried rice and I gave him my portion - it was takeaway.'

An incensed Mr Rutnah said the accusation, along with claims he turned up to the meeting at the offices of the police's major crime investigation team (MCIT) more than an hour late, amounted to an attack on his professional integrity.

'As a direct consequence of that, I have decided to withdraw representing accused number one, Avinash Treebhoowoon,' he said.

At that he grabbed three legal textbooks between his hands, tapped them loudly on the bench, turned on his heels and strode out of a shocked court room.

If some observers found the theatrical exit hard to digest, the fried rice simply refused to leave the menu.

Time and again lawyers returned to the topic.

But they were not indulging in frivolity, for the fast food portion became a touchstone for the competing claims of the defence and prosecution.

If Mr Rutnah had shared rice with police officers in a convivial atmosphere it would have undermined his claim that both he and his client were threatened before Treebhoowoon was forced to sign a fabricated confession statement.

If the episode was a figment of the police's imagination it was further proof, defence counsel maintained, that they were prepared to stop at nothing to cover up the fact that they had used violence to compel the suspect to make an admission.

With Mr Rutnah departed stage left, Treebhoowoon's senior counsel Sanjeev Teeluckdharry set about getting to the bottom of the affair.

'You gave your fried rice to Mr Rutnah?' he challenged Mr Gerard under cross-examination.

The policeman replied: 'Yes, I am adamant about that.'

The tenacious lawyer then produced a statement from Mr Gerard's superior, Assistant Police Commissioner Yoosoof Soopun, in which he claimed it was actually him who donated rice to a hungry Mr Rutnah.

'Mr Soopun said he gave fried rice to Mr Ravi Rutnah, and not on the 12th but on 13th January.'

Mr Gerard did not think twice before contradicting his boss.

'If Mr Soopun had given a statement that it was on the 13th I will say that Mr Soopun has made an error. I am totally sure about that.'

The lawyer hit back: 'My instructions are, neither your version or the version of Mr Soopun are correct.'

Mr Gerard stood by his story: 'I would say my version was correct because it was my takeaway. And I gave it to Mr Rutnah.'

Mr Teeluckdharry insisted the whole thing had been made up in an attempt to force his colleague to step aside.

'These are allegations and a below-the-belt attack on a legal representative,' he said.

Chief prosecution Mehdi Manrakhan reacted with incredulity to this assertion.

'What allegations?' he asked.

'Giving someone your fried rice is not an allegation? Below the belt?'

Days later a key prosecution witness unwittingly got embroiled in the matter.

Raj Theekoy, who was originally arrested in the wake of the honeymooner's murder, was asked by Mr Teeluckdharry if he had been served food when in custody.

'Yes, fried rice,' the hotel cleaner replied, wondering why his answer had been met with stifled giggles in the public gallery.

Soon it was the turn of Mr Soopun to give his version of the by then infamous meal in the MCIT building in Port Louis two days after Mrs McAreavey's murder.

'We normally had a special dinner when we worked late and we worked until late on the 12th (January 2011),' he explained to Mr Manrakhan.

Mr Soopun, the head of the MCIT, claimed that after a five-minute meeting with his client about his intention to make a full confession statement the next day Mr Rutnah and Treebhoowoon emerged.

'Then we invited them to share our meal,' he said. 'They said they would be delighted and accepted our invitation.

'Our meal was fried rice, my Lord. Mr Gerard doesn't like to eat fried rice. Mr Rutnah made a request if he can be given the share of Mr Gerard's fried rice and he was happy with it.'

It was an account Mr Rutnah never got the opportunity to challenge in court.

He did not come back as promised in his movie-style farewell.

But if he failed to follow the lead of Schwarzenegger's most famous film character, he still fully intends to replicate the Austrian-born actor's real-life career change.

The lawyer has made no secret of his desire to get into politics and one day become the prime minister of Mauritius.

THE IDYLLIC HONEYMOON IN PARADISE THAT BECAME A NIGHTMARE

There is no Room 1025 at the Legends Hotel any more.

The bricks and mortar of the four walls still stand, but the number has changed.

The bath where Michaela McAreavey was found dead is no longer inside; the bed she shared with her husband John for two nights has also been replaced.

Even the hotel has a new name - Lux.

But memories of the day the Co Tyrone honeymooner was murdered inside the luxury gated resort are harder to erase.

The complex is located in the far north of Mauritius, more than an hour and a half's drive from the international airport in the south-west corner.

The route cuts through large swathes of sugar cane plantations, the tall crops moving in unison in the wind like rolling oceans.

On the verges, fruit sellers sit by abundantly stocked stalls, while vendors with more permanent businesses stand outside their shop fronts - each more colourfully painted than the last.

Sparsely grassed football pitches are a common sight. Competing teams are overloaded with eager young Mauritians, most sporting the familiar strips of English Premier League sides.

John and Michaela McAreavey made the trip on Saturday January 8 2011 - two days before the murder.

The security guard on duty at the imposing wooden front gate would have waved them on through to the arrow-straight, palm tree-lined driveway that leads to the main car park.

On the left side is a small golf course - where Mr McAreavey took a lesson on the morning of the fateful day.

Koi carp swim around an ornamental pond at the front entrance. Close by, fresh flowers float in huge terracotta pots full of water.

The distant thwack of racquet and ball can just be made out over the flowing water features as holidaying couples take in a bit of exercise on the tennis courts.

The ancient feng shui theory of creating positive energy in design features is clearly an influence.

Yin and yang symbols are engraved on glass doors and windows throughout the complex.

The reception area is still monitored by the security camera that became such a key issue during the trial.

On the Sunday of their stay, the McAreaveys attended a briefing on what activities they could indulge in on their planned seven-day stay.

The white sand beach that greets visitors emerging from the wooden-beamed high ceilings of the reception is the base for many of them.

A high-powered speed boat bobs in the shallow turquoise waters of the circular inlet, while the occasional gust catches the sails of the catamarans pulled up on shore ready for use.

Among them is a microlight sea plane that would not look out of place in an old James Bond movie.

Guests in the sheltered bay laugh and joke as they narrowly avoid colliding with each other in cycle pedalos.

Those wanting to take things a bit easier lie on sun loungers beneath the shade of thatched grass parasols or in the large hammocks designed for two.

Looking down on the waterfront is an open-air half-moon-shaped restaurant, its tiled wall and table mosaics depict fish, hinting at the local specialities on offer.

This is not where the McAreaveys enjoyed lunch together shortly before she died.

The Banyon restaurant is at the other end of the complex, almost in a mini resort of its own.

The walk between the two weaves through numerous two-storey accommodation blocks.

The last one before the Banyon is a deluxe building - where the room once numbered 1025 is housed.

It is about 100 to 150 metres from the poolside cafe where John and Michaela lunched on chicken curry - a one to two-minute walk at most.

Jurors retraced that journey when they spent a morning at the hotel during the trial to gain a sense of the locations discussed in court.

Mauritius is a volcanic island and the stack of huge black boulders blocking the eyeline from the rooms to the pool look like they have come straight from the centre of the Earth.

The Banyon is more like a picnic area than a restaurant.

It is tucked away among twisted tree trunks, whose hanging branches and vines provide cover from the sun.

The rustic wooden tables and stools sit in a bed of fine gravel only yards from the figure-eight pool where the honeymooners swam for an hour before a waiter brought them menus.

Beyond the pool the ground falls away to another beach, smaller and noticeably quieter than the main waterfront.

The sliding double doors of Room 1025 were a stone's throw from the water's edge.

A long way out to sea a constant wave breaks over a reef. Further on still an odd-shaped rock rises out of the water like a huge whale taking in air.

The view is idyllic and it was one of the last the McAreaveys shared together before Michaela left to walk back to Room 1025 to get a dark chocolate Kit Kat to enjoy with her tea.

She would never return.

Legends may have been re-christened but one name in this area of Mauritius has endured for much longer.

It is attached to the seafarers' landmark just round the coast from the complex.


Source: Daily Mail