Pubdate: Sun, 2 Apr 2006
Source: Sunday Star-Times (New Zealand)
Copyright: 2006 Sunday Star-Times
Contact:  http://www.sundaystartimes.co.nz
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/1064
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/pot.htm (Marijuana)
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/mdma.htm (Ecstasy)

THE HAPPY HUSTLER

"You won't find too many guys like me, mate. I'm not saying that with
a big head," says the man with the Gucci sunglasses wrapped around his
big head in the sunny courtyard of a Ponsonby cafe.

"I'm not a bad dude, I'm not a conman. But every 12 or 13 years I seem
to step on my dick, mate, whoops," he laughs.

"Hopefully the judge will see I've never really done too much damage;
just to myself ... and to my son, unfortunately."

The contemplative wideboy in the pink shirt is William Murdoch, 44;
socialite, car salesman, aspiring music Svengali, recovering addict,
convicted drug trafficker.

As it happens, , the judge found his latest mis-step worthy of two
years' jail, with leave to apply for home detention, when he was
sentenced in Auckland District Court on Monday.

The case attracted media interest because Murdoch is the manager of
celebrity model and wannabe popstar Aja Rock, 24, and father of her
31-month-old son, Brooklyn.

In July 2003, Murdoch and Rock, daughter of Canadian music producer
Bob Rock, moved to New Zealand from the United States, where they had
met in a Las Vegas nightclub.

In November that year, Customs intercepted a package addressed to
Rock, from her friend Tara Lee in Vancouver, which contained a CD, a
letter, and just under 27g of powdered MDMA or ecstasy.

Days later, police raided the couple's central Auckland home; 30
capsules of ecstasy were found, with a small amount of cannabis and
computer records referring to an earlier importation.

The ecstasy, highly cut, was of only 31% purity; Murdoch complained to
Lee in emails that "girl, no one wants to know about our candy".
Despite this, police claim the intercepted powder was sufficient to
produce at least 300 capsules worth $24,000 to $30,000.

Murdoch admitted the drugs were his, used for medical reasons, and he
was charged with importing and possessing ecstasy for supply.

"It was the dumbest thing I've ever done; I've got no one to blame but
myself," admits Murdoch - who likes to be known only by his surname -
saying a drug relapse at the time clouded his judgement and let him
blunder into the greedy opportunism of the transaction.

He pleaded guilty to both counts last August, but name suppression
covering Rock's connection - lifted on Monday, meant the case went
unreported.

Despite the spectre of the court case, the fast-living couple set
about establishing themselves as fixtures on Auckland's celebrity scene.

Rock launched her public profile with an appearance on Celebrity
Treasure Island; she did women's mags, music interviews, lingerie
shoots, animal rights campaigns. Stetson-wearing Murdoch was a
wonder-boy of the car industry, making big money running We Want You,
a franchise targeting low-income vehicle buyers.

He eventually took over Aja's music career, establishing a reputation
as a prickly control freak intent on micro-managing her public image.
A year ago, Murdoch, playing a gauche Auckland Gatsby, feted the
city's social luminaries at a lavish party at their Pukekawa lifestyle
block, the Rockin'M Ranch, featuring bunny girls, clay pigeon
shooting, drag queens - all the trimmings.

But it had to come undone. Murdoch lost his lucrative car job in a
dispute with the owner; he struggled to find work afterwards because
of rumours he was a P dealer. A subsequent highly-paid car contract
also ended in acrimony and a smattering of personal grievance cases.

Instead he focused on turning Rock into a popstar.

"I took every single dollar I had and put it straight into her
career," he says.

It was a bad move. Expensive recording sessions and a poorly attended
concert featuring 70s funk legends flown in from the United States
resulted in them losing their house and having their cars repossessed.
Aja's single never saw the light of day. The couple remain $80,000 in
debt.

The pressure of Murdoch's impending sentencing has placed their
relationship under strain. Rock has had only a sporadic presence in
recent weeks at the couple's Remuera home, and has been holidaying in
Australia. There are rumours she is seeing somebody else.

Despite this, he believes they will make it through.

"She's absolutely special," he says. "She's had a shit life like me,
been dealt horrible cards and had stuff happen to her that no one
should have. She came away with this inner beauty.

"I don't love Aja Rock for how she looks. She's the only woman I've
ever been faithful to in my life ... and I've had some honeys."

Murdoch hasn't lost his sense of humour. He asks for a contribution to
a whip-round for his legal fees, extends an invitation to a
"might-be-going-to-jail party".

While some beautiful people have distanced themselves because of the
drugs case - an open secret on the social scene - he is discovering
true friends who like him for the engaging toerag beneath the bluster.
He crows that he has raised $4000 towards his legal fees with eight
text messages.

The cowboy has found a curious serenity as his life unravels."About
five weeks ago, all of a sudden I decided I could forgive my mother.
The minute I did, the anger and frustration I had lived with for years
disappeared.

"Right now I'm really comfortable with who I am. I know I've got some
defects of character. But I'm a better man than I was yesterday."

DESPITE THE trademark Stetson, immaculate American teeth and broad
Ocker drawl, Murdoch was born William Bedford Atkinson, in
Invercargill, on July 26, 1961.

His probation report describes his childhood, with an itinerant, diet
pill- addicted mother, as "horrific": "He does not know who his father
was and combined with his mother's lack of protection this has led to
feelings of abandonment which remain unresolved."

Says Murdoch: "I can remember moving to three different places in a 
week. It's very hard to have a trusting relationship with anybody."

He attended up to 60 schools; the longest in one place was Dunedin's
John McGlashan College, where he spent about three years in two stints
as a boarder. This brief interregnum was so meaningful that as a
36-year-old, he wrote from America to his former housemaster, David
Murray, requesting any school records or photos that might serve as a
precious memento of a rootless childhood.

Murray explained to the court: "At age 15 he had left school and
started to travel ... Not long after that his mother died and anything
of value was sold and the personal material was dumped."

The boy stood out as "a very, very good actor. I think part of that
was self-preservation".

Murray sent him some photos, a list of prizes he had won and schools
he had attended; Murdoch reciprocated by flying Murray, his wife and
daughter to Las Vegas for a holiday.

Murdoch left the country for Australia after his mother's death of
breast cancer and a brush with the law in 1978. He met a former
boyfriend of his mother's, William Atkinson, whom it had always been
suggested may have been his father.

Upon meeting, they realised this was not the case; when the older
Atkinson, recently bankrupted, asked for some cash to pay off a phone
bill, the younger decided to slough off his humiliating past and
change his name.

With a hat-tip to tycoon Rupert Murdoch, William Murdoch, high-flying
party boy was born.

Sydney in the 1980s was a happy hunting ground for a natural wideboy
with ambition. He sold insurance, made a fortune, hoovered it all up
his nose.

"There was a period of my life for seven years when there was always a
packet of blow in my pocket. I would wake up to a line and go to bed
with a line."

His drugs, cash and easy patter gained him entry into the fast set. He
lived with a Miss Australia, was married to a Duran Duran dancer for
six weeks, and claims to have had a regular cameo role in the
television appearances of his friend, a television entertainment
reporter, swaggering into shot and delivering the droll '80s
one-liner: "Where are the good drugs and the women with big breasts?"

At the height of the madness he found himself on an eight-month bender
in Caracas, Venezuela; by the end of the decade his habit had grown
into a monster.

He returned home and immediately undertook "a tiki tour of New Zealand
writing bad cheques". The 13-year-itch had kicked in. He was busted in
a restaurant in Wellington and convicted on 22 fraud charges totalling
$8103. He avoided a jail term, but was ordered to undergo
rehabilitation.

Cleaned up, he married an American and moved to Las Vegas, paradise
for a flashy-dressing hustler with a funny accent. He was a natural
talent in the car business.

"I lived the American dream," he explains, becoming a clean-living
millionaire until the economy took a post-September 11 downturn and
his marriage fell apart. He claims US laws preventing foreigners
owning companies meant that his wife owned their assets; they worked
together amicably until the ex-wife met Rock. However, the consequent
financial difficulties paled in comparison to a 2002 motorcycle
accident in the desert which nearly killed him. He shattered his arm,
requiring a titanium plate at the elbow, and became addicted to
morphine-based painkillers, then marijuana and ecstasy.

By the time they moved to New Zealand, around the time the drug deal
was made, Murdoch had fully relapsed and was barely functioning; the
probation report says Rock would have left him during that time had it
not been for their son.

It's awfully rock and roll. "I can't remember being too bored, but
I've had some painful times, like now," says Murdoch.

The judge told him: "This is a catalogue of personal circumstances
which takes you right out of the ordinary. You're an exception to the
general rule."

DRIVING HIS silver BMW with son Brooklyn in the back seat, Murdoch
says: "(Sunday Star- Times About Town columnist) Bridget (Saunders)
says New Zealand needs more people like me; I don't know whether she
meant for everybody to laugh at."

It's several days since our last meeting, a few days until sentencing,
and Murdoch feels used, humiliated, the world's little joke.

There has been a sea-change over the weekend, signalled by some
ominous texts: "Mate, right now the only girl I love hates me ... She
is someone I don't know at present."

Murdoch has discovered Rock is in another relationship; police were
called after the ensuing argument.

"Something clicked inside and I stopped loving her and stopped
hurting; I got really focused about my kid," he says.

US police documents obtained by the Star-Times show Rock is a
convicted prostitute, having been arrested in Hawaii in 2000 for
negotiating a $US150 trick with an undercover police officer she met
at a Subway restaurant.

Murdoch feels Rock has used him for his wealth; he says he has
financed three breast augmentations and two nose jobs for her in the
past three years.

"He's worth 50 Aja Rocks," he says, watching his toddler scoot around
Auckland's Domain.

"I don't want the life Aja wants to go on for him. I've seen a lot of
kids in America from showbiz backgrounds; those kids aren't normal.
Jack Osborne, Aja Rock, these kids are products of a rock 'n' roll
lifestyle .. I don't want that for my son."

He calls later that night, breaks into verse he says he wrote in 1983
"about a man who realises everything he valued is shit". "It's about
how many cars can you have? How many girls can you have sex with at
once? You have five, then what, six? Who cares," he explains.

The day of judgement finally rolls around. He feels more serene than
he has in years, he says. He weeps silently in the dock.

"Might get lucky for Brooklyn's sake, God help me please," he texts
during an adjournment.

He gets lucky. The judge has made provision for the sentence to start
in two months. "Happy might be an understatement," he says afterwards.
He can begin making plans again: to quit Auckland's party scene, write
a book on selling cars, and become independently wealthy again within
the next few years.

He trails off mid-sentence: "Geez, look at that."

"You know you're over somebody when you start noticing other women
again - and that is a beautiful woman. My God," says the remarkable
William Murdoch, already looking ahead. 
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MAP posted-by: Richard Lake