On December 2, 2010, the concierge at a luxury apartment tower made her way to the garbage room.

She was looking for a broom. But something was blocking the door. She gave it a shove with her shoulder and caught sight of a young woman lying in a pool of blood among the fallen bins.

The concierge panicked, praying the body was a mannequin. Then she braved a second look.

Phoebe Handsjuk was 24. Complex and beautiful. She lived 12 storeys above with her much older boyfriend, Antony Hampel, a son of Melbourne's legal establishment.

But on that night, Ms Handsjuk died the most horrific death. She plunged 40 metres, feet first, down the garbage chute. 
She survived the fall. But the garbage compactor at the bottom had virtually severed her right foot. She bled out in the dark, alone, her jeans around her knees.

But how did she get into the chute? And why? 

Three years after her death, the coroner decided Ms Handsjuk had climbed in herself. He recorded death by misadventure. But there were no fingerprints at the top of the chute, and no useful CCTV footage gathered. Her family doubts the coroner's version was even physically possible.

A major new, six-part podcast, published today by the Sydney Morning Herald, has found that, from the first night, the investigation into Ms Handsjuk's death was plagued by problems.

Police on the scene would not allow ambulance officers to check for signs of life. Apart from the refuse room where her body lay,  other relevant scenes on the 12th floor – the apartment where she had lived with Mr Hampel, and the entry to the garbage chute – were not properly secured.

There was blood in the apartment, on a computer keyboard and mouse, and on an architrave in the apartment. Only some of it was tested and found to be Ms Handsjuk's.

Very quickly, police came to regard the death as a suicide. But Ms Handsjuk's family did not accept that. Her grandfather, Lorne Campbell, a retired police detective of 28 years' experience, began conducting his own investigation, involving Ms Handsjuk's friends in attempts to get in to the same garbage chute which she had fallen down.

They found it difficult, but possible, to climb in feet first, but their hands were all over the entrance to the chute, making the lack of fingerprints puzzling.

Compounding the family's scepticism was the revelation that Ms Handsjuk had a blood alcohol content of 0.16, and had taken sleeping drug Stilnox.

"There's a big balancing thing involved in that, and a lot of co-ordination, and if you were drunk, you just couldn't do it," Mr Campbell said. "And ... having seen Phoebe with a few drinks in her, and seeing how quickly she lost her sea legs, that made it doubly suspicious."

There was also unexplained bruising on Ms Handsjuk's neck, upper body, wrists and arms.

Ms Handsjuk's family say the troubled 24-year-old was attempting to leave Mr Hampel in the days leading up to her death, and had broken up with him a number of times in previous weeks, before going back.

But Mr Hampel, who declined to be interviewed for the podcast, said later Ms Handsjuk had just been taking time out, and had been looking forward to a Christmas trip with him to Paris, for which he had already bought tickets.

Mr Hampel objected to a coronial inquest being held. He was supported by his father, retired Supreme Court judge George Hampel, and step-mother, sitting County Court judge Felicity Hampel.

Coroner Peter White ruled against Mr Hampel and held an inquest in 2013. Despite the counsel assisting recommending an open finding, the Coroner found Ms Handsjuk entered the chute in a "sleepwalking state" under the influence of alcohol and prescription sleeping drug Stilnox, and had no intention to kill herself.

Mr Hampel was found to have played no role in Ms Handsjuk's death, and the Sydney Morning Herald is not suggesting otherwise.

Ms Handsjuk's family wants an open finding returned, but cannot afford to appeal the Coroner's decision.

Now, for the first time, we can tell the full story of the short life and brutal death of Phoebe Handsjuk.

Listen now and subscribe for free at smh.com.au/phoebesfall/