In 1884, a small child went missing after just one night in her new home at Moglonemby — and no trace of her has ever been found.
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Her family had been followed from Caniambo — almost 40km away — in their horse-drawn cart by two men, also in a horse-drawn cart, who stopped every time they stopped.
The men claimed they had tailed the family to avoid getting themselves lost.
There were no signs and few houses in the heavily forested area at the time, making it difficult for travellers to navigate a path.
But was that really the reason, or did these men have something to do with the mysterious disappearance of the family’s youngest living child, three-year-old Ann ‘Annie’ Byrnes, the very next day?
Two years earlier, Annie’s father had died suddenly, at 45, leaving her heavily pregnant mother, Margaret Byrnes (née Dwyer), widowed and isolated on a 97-hectare property with nine kids under 11.
In 1882, women were prohibited from owning property or entering into contracts. In fact, women couldn’t even get a bank loan without a male guarantor until 1971.
Around two months after her husband’s death, Margaret gave birth to their 10th child and named him Michael Byrnes Jnr, after his father.
Sadly, Michael died before he turned one.
Having faced hardship after hardship, Margaret’s luck appeared to change when she met Thomas Layfield, a man who helped her on the farm and soon proposed to her.
The catholic Margaret and protestant Thomas were married in 1884 after being granted permission by the Catholic Church in Rome and packed their things onto that horse-drawn cart bound for Moglonemby just five days later.
That night was the nine children’s first night in a home with a timber floor after spending their Caniambo years in a small dirt-floored cabin.
On the morning of July 15, 1884 — the day Annie disappeared — the eldest Byrnes child, Patrick, 13, helped his stepfather work the farm.
The eldest daughter, Bridget, 12, helped her mum in the house, while the next eldest daughter, Margaret Jnr, 11, supervised her six younger siblings outdoors while they familiarised themselves with their new environment.
She went inside to put the kettle on when neighbours arrived to welcome the family to the area.
That’s when Annie was noticed missing.
The family and their neighbours searched for Annie all day long to no avail, before Thomas travelled 13km to Euroa the next morning to report her missing.
A police officer went to the property and inspected the area before contacting Benalla police and enlisting the help of an Aboriginal tracker named Darby.
Darby arrived in Euroa via a goods train later that afternoon and was escorted to the Layfield farm, where the search continued. All the water holes within 365m of the house were dragged.
Unfortunately, it had rained through the night, so there were few tracks remaining for Darby to follow.
The search area radius was expanded to 6km from the house, but sadly, no trace of Annie was found then, or still to this day.
Her distraught mother blamed herself for her daughter’s disappearance and believed she was being punished by God for marrying outside her own religious faith.
Margaret believed Annie had been kidnapped by the mysterious men following them on their journey from Caniambo.
The family, including Annie’s niece, Nelva Griffith, who is over 100 years old, shares this belief.
Nelva, who lives in Melbourne, is Annie’s sister Margaret Jnr’s daughter.
When she was 97, she told local historian John Gribben that she had researched Annie’s death her entire life and the family was convinced she had been kidnapped because no trace of Annie’s remains or clothing was found in the 15 years the family continued living on the farm.
The mysterious men hanging around at the time added weight to their theory.
Mr Gribben said because the case was so cold, modern thermal imaging equipment and ground-penetrating radar would be useless in finding remains.
He believes Annie more likely drowned in a nearby creek and that her body was buried by sand and silt.
He has a few reasons for his theory, including that the police must have also considered this a logical explanation, as they had dragged the nearby waterways at the time.
He said the area’s soil had significant sand content, so Annie’s body could have been easily covered if the waterways’ beds had been stirred up.
He believes the farm’s remoteness — still accessed via a dirt road today — meant few people would have passed by and if someone had shown up, they surely would have been seen by someone or their presence made known by the farm’s dogs.
No matter how little Annie met her demise, her family never got closure.
And Annie never got laid to rest in the peace of a cemetery; nor was her existence recognised or memorialised with a gravestone.
On Tuesday, August 20, a memorial rock was unveiled at the Layfield property on O’Sheas Rd at Moglonemby to honour Annie and her story.
The day was as gloomy as the subject. Around 20 onlookers, including family, historians, media and community members, huddled on the muddy roadside deep in cropping country beneath a small temporary gazebo puddling on top with relentless rain.
Rows of dead foxes hung as a warning to others of their species on nearby properties’ fences, along winding roads lined with wattle trees only recently blooming with gold, signalling that another spring without an answer to Annie’s disappearance is almost upon us.
State Member for Euroa Annabelle Cleeland did the honours.
“The plaque is a symbol of our respect, our remembrance and our commitment to never forgetting Annie and the tragedy associated with missing people right across our country,” Ms Cleeland said.
“National Missing Persons Week has just concluded earlier this month and it’s important to reflect on the tragic circumstances which unfortunately impact on thousands of families each year.”
She said about 56,000 missing persons reports were made across Australia annually, with 2500 remaining on the long-term missing persons list.
“I can’t imagine the heartache of waiting for that person to come back home and I think that’s why missing people who aren’t ever returned home have such a lasting impact for generations because of the ache that exists until things are resolved,” Ms Cleeland said.
Heavily pregnant and a mother herself, she said the tragic story of the Byrnes family was particularly emotional for her on Tuesday.
“I couldn’t imagine what Margaret went through,” she said.
“One, to have nine children — my hips would not survive that — but also to have that enormous weight of carrying a family without a system and a government that supported women at the time.
“It’s important to remember stories like this. It reminds us of a different time; the hardships, the strength of the people, the women, the mothers of the family, the children, everyone had to chip in and were incredibly resilient and these are our regional settlers in the area.
“The plaque also stands as a reminder to others that our community will not forget those that go missing, and we will also pray for their safe return.”
Michael Byrnes Snr and Michael Byrnes Jnr are buried together at Shepparton Cemetery.
Historian Max Burnside, who was integral in piecing Annie Byrnes’ story together and in attendance at the unveiling, recently made a memorial plaque for the father and son’s previously unmarked grave.
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