He died in 2001, and will never be able to tell the full story of his fatally flawed Asbestosfluf insulation. He never had detailed company records, which has left information sketchy. What there is has been pieced together from company records, Commonwealth records, and former employees for various government reports over many years. Which is one reason that Fluffy residents, and now the ACT government's advisory group, are calling for a full board of inquiry - Canberra's equivalent of a royal commission.

Another reason is that while most of Canberra's homes that had Fluffy insulation have now been demolished, the legacy remains. About 60 houses are still standing. An unknown number in NSW remain with the deadly asbestos still lying in the ceiling and migrating down walls and into homes.

And for some families, most important of all is having their stories on the record.

Last week, the government's own advisory group, headed by paediatrician Sue Packer, recommended a board of inquiry. Still, Chief Minister Andrew Barr resists.

"The ACT government's position remains the same," a spokeswoman said. "Our focus is on the completion of the program. Government programs of the size and scope of the buyback scheme are regularly evaluated, and we anticipate this will occur in the years after the program concludes."

An "evaluation" of the buyback looks to be a newly wound-back version of Barr's 2016 promise to hold a "formal", "comprehensive" and "robust" inquiry when the demolitions wrapped up. He has consistently and repeatedly resisted a full board of inquiry. He has blamed lack of federal co-operation, insisting a board of inquiry couldn't be held without it. But in fact it appears that he might never have formally requested federal involvement, and an ACT inquiry doesn't depend on it in any case.

When the Liberals tried to force the issue in October 2015, putting a motion to set up a board of inquiry to the ACT Assembly, the Greens' Shane Rattenbury voted with Labor to defeat it. He did so on the condition that Barr would push nationally for an inquiry. But it is unclear to what extent Barr has done that, if at all.

Barr said he had made "strong representations" to then prime minister Malcolm Turnbull and the NSW government in meetings in November that year, urging their involvement in an inquiry. But when he finally released his correspondence with the leaders it showed no request.

His 2015 letter to Turnbull said a Fluffy royal commission is "not a priority".

"The proposal for a royal commission into the Commonwealth, NSW and ACT governments' response to the toxic legacy of loose-fill asbestos in over 1000 Canberra region homes (Mr Fluffy), whilst important, is not a priority," he wrote. "The current priority is to focus our efforts on supporting residents."

A letter at the same time to then NSW premier Mike Baird is similar, adding: "At a recent meeting with the Prime Minister, I confirmed our similar positions on this issue."

Asked this week whether he had made further representations since, he answered "no".

Barr's reluctance presumably stems from an unwillingness to have lawyers and judges with the powers of a court, including the ability to subpoena witness and compel evidence, trawling through the government's records and hearing from public servants and politicians over the quarter-century of Fluffy mismanagement by the ACT government. Before that was another 20 years of mistakes under the Commonwealth government.

An inquiry could look at how Dirk Jansen came to import his loose asbestos and how he was allowed to then install it and ship it interstate as his family continued the business, despite warnings and concerns very early in his operation.

Jansen is thought to have started installing the material in 1968, and right from the start, officials were worried. That year, the Commonwealth commissioned a report into the safety of his operation, which warned, according to evidence given to a NSW inquiry: "With the present demand for insulation, Canberra may become a large market for asbestos insulation with many people in the community exposed because some asbestos will be carried out of the roof space by air currents".

A senior official in the federal health department, Arthur Spears, reported: "The results of our investigations have disclosed what appears to be a serious exposure to asbestos dust. In view of [the] harmful nature of this substance the use of asbestos fluff for the purposes of insulating should be discontinued and less harmful substances such as rockwool, insuwool or fibreglass should be substituted."

Despite that early warning, Jansen continued pumping asbestos into ceilings and expanded beyond Canberra, operating another 11 years.

By the late 1980s, alarm had reached such a crescendo that the Commonwealth decided to remove the insulation. It audited the entire city to try to determine the extent of the asbestos, finding the roughly 1000 homes that have been the target of the ACT's demolition program. It decided on a $100 million clean-up, so, as self-government began, families were relocated, their ceilings were vacuumed free of dust and a sealant was painted to capture what fibres remained.

By 1993, the clean-up was over. But doubts and warnings remained. Canberra Times reporter Emma Macdonald traced the bungled handling of the crisis since.

In 1993, the ACT government wrote to owners warning them to contact building control before altering any walls or ceilings. The letter was watered down after Fluffy owners negotiated changes, worried about the value of their properties.

Then Trevor Wheeler, commissioned to report on the Fluffy homes in 2005, told the government it was possible "that some houses remain that have loose asbestos insulation either in bulk or residual form", urging more awareness and "explicit information".

In 2005, ACT Asbestos Taskforce head Lincoln Hawkins told Katy Gallagher there was "no guarantee that current owners of these houses are well informed - or informed at all - about this issue". He asked, and she agreed, for a stronger system to alert owners and buyers. Conveyance documents were changed to include a reference to asbestos in 2006, although it didn't specify Fluffy, simply saying "records indicate that a form of asbestos is or has been present on this land". The government also wrote to home owners telling them about the clean-up, telling them fibres might remain in wall cavities and warning them to involve an asbestos removalist in renovations.

In 2010, another review called for a still-stronger message and regular reminders to home owners. Then in February 2014 came the letter from Work Safety Commissioner Mark McCabe that ignited the community and led to a decision later that year to demolish the lot.

His letter was sparked by the discovery of a house in Downer that had been missed in the Commonwealth clean-up. The demolition of that house showed that asbestos had migrated throughout wall cavities and sub-floors, and "confirmed what we have always known", McCabe told home owners, that the dangerous fibres remained in the walls and elsewhere. He warned them not to disturb walls, sub-floors or eaves.

The legacy stretches well beyond the 1049 households identified in the late 1980s. Sales data shows the houses sold many times over - about 220 of them changed hands three or more times in the years since the clean-up. Many people will still be unaware that they have lived in a Fluffy house. In 2015, when the list of addresses was released, television personality Rhys Muldoon was shocked to discover he had been brought up in one, before the clean-up. He played in the ceiling among the blue-grey fluff with his younger sister, even making a cubby.

Muldoon is one of thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of people who must now live with the threat of mesothelioma, an incurable cancer caused by asbestos exposure that has been found at higher rates among the Fluffy cohort.

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As the Canberra demolition draws to a close, there is other unfinished business. The deadly insulation might still lurk in homes missed in the Commonwealth clean-up. These are judged few in number in Canberra, given the audit of the 1980s and the awareness sparked by the intense focus of the past five years. But at least seven have been found to date. Any number might be standing in NSW, including Queanbeyan, with the asbestos still in the ceiling. NSW hasn't done a comprehensive audit, but offered a voluntary inspection and demolition program to home owners who suspected they had Fluffy in the ceiling. Unsurprisingly, given the fear of their house value plummeting, the take-up has been limited.

A board of inquiry could also examine the ACT's response and the demolition program. It would no doubt hear from home owners who feel betrayed by the decision to buy their homes at October 2014 prices. The decision was couched as an "offer", as the government twisted itself in knots trying to avoid the expense and complication of compulsory acquisition, but for many it felt like coercion. They were told the offer was a one-off and whether they took it or not their homes must be demolished by 2020. For those who sold early, they were at least able to buy a new home in the same market. For those who stayed in their homes - and some remain even now in their homes - the scheme was a financial disaster. Canberra house prices have increased an average 26 per cent in five years. For home owners who stay till the final date - ostensibly mid 2020 - the amount the government will pay is frozen at October 2014 prices. They will be trying to buy into a market that has soared since then.

And it could examine the handling of the demolitions, which drew asbestos companies from around Australia to compete for the work, with sporadic concerns raised about safety.

In 2016, 18 months into the demolitions, it was revealed by the Canberra Times that at least one demolition company might be salvaging furniture and fittings from Fluffy homes for distribution into the second-hand market instead of disposing of it as an asbestos hazard. Caylamax was ultimately cleared by a police investigation and a government audit. The audit was never released, but the government strengthened its demotion rules as a result, warning all contractors that furniture was to be disassembled and destroyed inside homes.

The most recent data show that 61 identified Fluffy homes remain standing. Twenty-five owners have agreed to sell but are holding out to what was said to be the last date to surrender their homes - June 30 next year. Fourteen more are still in private hands, with no clear plan on what happens to them.

Surprisingly, the government signalled in July this year that it might allow people to remain beyond what it had insisted was its "last possible date" for owners to move. The government is negotiating with some owners on options that "may include remaining in homes", a spokeswoman said - an outcome that would surely leave the government facing a potentially damaging and highly messy backlash from owners who were forced to move.

Jansen will never be able to tell the full story of his decision to sell a cheap - and, as it turned out, very nasty - form of insulation. But if a board of inquiry was convened, his family could still throw light on the events of more than 40 years ago. Commonwealth and ACT officials involved in the early warnings, the subsequent clean-up, and the ongoing nagging worries could share what they know. Commonwealth reports and ACT government reports, negotiations and cabinet decisions could be laid on the table. And the handling of the final demolitions could be investigated. Above all, for the families, their stories could be heard.

In calling for a board of inquiry, Sue Packer said it would not undo the damage and would not provide the resolution families were looking for. Nor is it the biggest priority, which she identifies as support for residents and research into mesothelioma. But it would help ensure that next time a deadly contaminant was identified, governments would handle the situation better.

"We have to be eternally vigilant," she said.