The trial of Melbourne mother-of-three Vicky Soteriou, accused of plotting to kill her husband, gripped Australia last week. With its daily revelations into the dark side of passion, full of salacious detail, it was the stuff of a steamy crime novel brought to life.
The prosecution maintains that Soteriou conspired with her lover Ari Dimitrakis, to do away with her husband Chris, and that she stood to gain more than $1 million in life insurance and superannuation on her husband’s death.
And like the penultimate act of a Shakepearean tragedy, the Victorian Supreme Court heard that it was Soteriou herself who gave the knife used by Dimitrakis to cut her husband’s throat; an act that Dimitrakis pleaded guilty to last year, but was jailed with a reduced sentence after he agreed to give evidence against his former lover.
Betrayal, vengeance, passion and retribution. A jilted lover or a deadly conspiracy?
What is beyond contention is that Dimitrakis and Soteriou had been in the grip of an obsessive mutal attraction that went way beyond a conventional infatuation. In a video-recorded interview to police after the attack, Sotiriou at first confessed to organising the murderous incident. Last week her barrister told the court that Dimitrakis had acted alone.
Tattoos in the most intimate of places, statements of eternal love dramatically revealed, accusation and counter-accusation – the daily drama has been non-stop, and we can’t take our eyes away.
“Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son: give me your blessing: truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man’s son may, but at the length truth will out.”
The Merchant of Venice. Act II, Scene 2. William Shakespeare.
