“Thursday, May thirty-first, at 11:30 p.m., Officer Tim Kujowski and Officer Nicholas Pancetti are traveling south in their patrol car on Pine Street when they get a call from dispatch to go to 1792 Addison Street, on a report of a disturbance. They get out of the car, see the lights are on, hear someone inside running a vacuum cleaner. Officer Kujowski knocks on the door, and the vacuum stops. From inside, someone tells them to hold on, but he never answers the door. Officer Kujowski knocks on the door again. Still, no one appears, so Kujowski runs around back. He gets to the back of Jennifer Yamura’s house just in time to see a tall, well-built man running out the back door. The defendant. David Hanson. Officer Kujowski tells him to stop, but the defendant keeps on running. But Kujowski was a track star in high school, and the defendant doesn’t get far.
“Called by his partner, Officer Pancetti checks to make sure that Officer Kujowski has secured the defendant, then walks inside the open kitchen door, calling out to anyone who might still be inside. In the kitchen, Officer Pancetti sees that the dishwasher is running and the sink is full of water, suds, and dishes. Moving into the living room, Officer Pancetti sees the vacuum cleaner. On the coffee table he sees a can of lemon Pledge, a bottle of Windex, and some rags. By now it’s obvious to Officer Pancetti that Mr. Hanson had been trying to clean the place. Officer Pancetti searches the rest of the house. He starts with the second floor. Then he looks for the basement. The doorway is covered by a curtain of yellow glass beads. Officer Pancetti pushes the beads aside, and he sees Jennifer Yamura lying faceup on the steps. Her eyes are open. Blood has drained from the back of her head, down the steps, and pooled onto the floor.
“Officer Pancetti calls Officer Kujowski on the radio, tells him what he’s found, then calls dispatch for backup. He asks dispatch to send the detectives and the crime-scene investigation unit.
“Within thirty minutes, Detectives John Tredesco and Ed Cook arrive at the house. They make a cursory examination of the premises, being careful not to disturb it—at least not to disturb it any more than the defendant already has. Then they turn the scene over to the CSU team, take the defendant into custody, and transport him to the station house. There, the defendant does two things. First, he lies and says he was at his office all day. You’ll hear from his secretary that that isn’t true. Second, he demands to speak to his attorney and clams up until Mr. McFarland arrives.
“Fast-forward four months. The trial in this case is less than a month away. The defendant has been out on bail since the murder. A main condition of bail was that he forfeit his passport and promise not to leave the country. But the defendant is about to face you folks, and he knows it. A Learjet lands on a private airstrip outside of Mexico City. The plane’s door opens. David Hanson descends the stairs to the tarmac, takes a limo to a company known as Azoteca Comercial, where he enters the corporate vault and physically makes off with two million dollars in cash. Then he has the pilots fly him to the Cayman Islands, where he withdraws another two million dollars from his own personal offshore accounts.”
David Hanson fleeing from the scene of the murder after getting caught trying to disinfect it of every trace of himself.
David Hanson lying to the police about where he’d been at the time of Jennifer’s murder.
David Hanson preparing to flee from the jury on the eve of trial.
Damning stuff. And now that he’s grabbed the jurors’ hearts, Devlin lays it out for their minds, methodically previewing each witness he intends to present, and what each witness will say. Finally, sixty minutes after he began, Devlin concludes by lifting onto an easel a large color photograph of Jennifer Yamura. The picture depicts the young woman in her college cap and gown, standing between her proud parents.
“Jennifer Yamura had the whole world open to her that day she graduated,” Devlin says. “She could have gone anywhere to pursue her dream of becoming a journalist. She chose to come here, to Philadelphia. Our city, yours and mine. The City of Brotherly Love. The city Jennifer Yamura came to love. The city she came to fight for as a journalist, exposing crime and corruption, working for the betterment of our schools, the integrity of our government, the safety of our streets. In the short time she was with us, Jennifer never let this city down, and this city isn’t going to let her down.” Devlin pauses, takes the time to look each and every juror in the eyes, then turns and walks slowly back to his seat.
I want to give my opening right away, not allow Devlin’s speech to congeal in the jurors’ minds, but Judge Henry lets the jury take a fifteen-minute midmorning break.
When we come back, we repeat the same routine. The judge takes the bench, has Mike Holleran summon the jury to take their seats. Like Devlin, I walk slowly, pay my respects to the court, then take my place before the jury. No notes. “Good morning,” I say. I pause to see how they respond. No one smiles. A few say, “Good morning.” A few nod. Most look down, or over at Devlin.
I inhale, wait a beat, then begin. “Ladies and gentlemen, it was my privilege for twelve years to work as a Philadelphia district attorney.”
I pause and let my words sink in. I want the jury to see from the start that, like my opponent, I was the people’s servant—their servant—for many years. I want them to see me as one of the good guys. And, importantly, I want them to know that I know what I’m talking about when it comes to how the police should investigate crimes, because that’s going to be a major theme of my defense.
“As a prosecutor, I was privileged to work with some of the finest police officers ever to serve our city. And what made those officers so good, every one of them, was this: They never stopped short. They never took the easy way out of an investigation by latching on to the first possible suspect. They turned over every stone, questioned every potential witness, took the time to investigate and rule out every possible perpetrator, to make sure they didn’t bring an innocent man to trial. Didn’t destroy his reputation. Didn’t force him to suffer through the hell of living with the threat of false imprisonment hanging over his head. Didn’t—”
“Objection.” Devlin is on his feet. We both know I’ve crossed the line into improper argument, and Walker’s own opening has won him more than enough political capital with the jury to object during my opening—one of the advantages of going first. The judge sustains the objection, and I continue.
“Without belaboring the point,” I say, my voice now quiet, “the police officers I served with did exactly what the officers who investigated”—I use my fingers to make air quotes around the term—“Jennifer Yamura’s tragic death failed to do. Detective John Tredesco, the detective in charge, in particular, latched on to David Hanson to the exclusion of all other possible suspects. And the evidence will be clear that there were many very dangerous people who had reason to both hate and fear Jennifer Yamura. The prosecutor made reference to Jennifer’s work as a reporter who exposed corruption and tried to make our streets safer. And many in this city know, as you will hear witnesses testify, about Jennifer Yamura’s work as a reporter in exposing a ring of crooked police officers, men who violated their sacred duty to protect us by banding together with drug dealers to flood the city’s streets with drugs. One of those officers, Stanley Lipinski, testified before the grand jury against his fellow conspirators, publicly dared his criminal friends to come and get him, and they did, gunning him down on the street.”
I have no proof that Lipinski was killed by any of the crooked cops, and Devlin knows it. He has the right to object, but he’s holding back, not wanting to look obstreperous to the jury.
“As the prosecutor has told you, Detective Tredesco is going to testify that he didn’t need to consider other potential defendants because the police caught Mr. Hanson, quote, ‘red-handed’ running out of Jennifer Yamura’s house. The defense theory is that Mr. Hanson’s running away—and his trying to clean up the murder scene itself—shows consciousness of guilt. But you’re going to hear the detectives themselves admit that Ms. Yamura had been dead for at least eig
ht hours by the time they discovered Mr. Hanson at her house.
“The prosecution will also concede that Mr. Hanson had a strong motive to cover up his involvement with Ms. Yamura that had nothing to do with murder. Mr. Hanson, a married man, was having an affair with Ms. Yamura. Now, I’m not going to ask you to excuse or forgive Mr. Hanson for his affair. Only his wife, Marcie, can do that. And she has, which is why she’s here today, supporting her husband.”
This is an important point for me to make to the jurors, especially the women. David was a rake. But he’s a good enough man that his wife was willing to forgive him for the affair and stand by his side.
“And although an affair is not and has never been proof of murder,” I continue, “it provides a man a powerful motive to hide evidence of his involvement with a woman.” I pause to let this sink in. “But Mr. Hanson also had a second reason to try to cover up his affair with Ms. Yamura, and you’ll hear this from one of the prosecution’s own witnesses, Edwin Hanson, the CEO of Hanson World Industries. Now, Edwin Hanson has no love for his half brother, but he will admit that at the time David Hanson discovered Jennifer’s body, David was on the verge of sewing up one of the largest international business deals in HWI’s history. A deal that would have brought thousands of jobs and countless millions of dollars to our city. A deal that would have propelled David into a position of high leadership at Hanson World Industries, despite the hatred of his jealous brother, Edwin. And Edwin Hanson will admit that any threat of scandal might have put the deal on ice. And, indeed, it has. This very complex, very fragile business arrangement that would have brought vast benefits to our city was stopped in its tracks the minute the district attorney jumped the gun and charged David Hanson with the murder of Jennifer Yamura.
“So it’s no wonder that David Hanson tried to clean the Addison Street house after he discovered his lover’s long-dead body, or that he tried to flee once the police arrived. But there is something at the very heart of this case that should—and will—cause every one of you to wonder. A gaping hole at the center of the prosecution’s theory that David Hanson was the one who killed Jennifer Yamura. I’m speaking of the 911 phone call. The call placed from a disposable, untraceable phone, a burner phone of the type used by drug dealers and other career criminals.
“The prosecutor glossed over it in his opening. He said that the police showed up at 1792 Addison Street in response to a call about a ‘disturbance.’ What Mr. Walker failed to tell you was that this phone call—and you will hear it for yourself on tape—demonstrates that someone other than David Hanson knew that David was in Jennifer’s house that night. That Jennifer Yamura was dead. And that someone was out to make very, very sure that the police arrived to catch David in the house with Jennifer’s body.”
Here I take some time to explain how the anonymous caller claimed to have heard people shouting and the sounds of things crashing—all of which was impossible, as Jennifer had been dead for hours.
“Who was this caller? And why was he so determined to have the police seize David as the prime suspect? Was it the real murderer? Or someone who knew the real murderer and sought to protect them by misdirecting the police? One of the corrupt police officers who wanted Yamura dead to stop her investigation? One of David Hanson’s many powerful enemies in the business world? Or was it a burglar Jennifer caught in the act of breaking into her home—maybe the same burglar who’d recently broken into other homes in her neighborhood? We’ll never know, because the police never followed up to find out. But he almost certainly was watching the house after killing Jennifer Yamura, which gave him the opportunity to blame it on David Hanson.”
I’m pouring it on thick now. And Devlin Walker could properly have objected at any number of points. But Devlin believes he’s holding all the cards. He’s letting me grandstand the way a tolerant parent lets a child throw a temper tantrum, knowing it will come to nothing.
“And then there’s the other gaping hole in the prosecution’s case. The complete absence of motive. I waited throughout the prosecutor’s opening statement to hear what the state had conjured up as Mr. Hanson’s supposed motive for killing Ms. Yamura. But it never came. There will be no witnesses testifying that Mr. Hanson and Ms. Yamura had a falling-out. No witnesses testifying that they were seen fighting or arguing, that their relationship was a volatile one rather than a smooth relationship of convenience. If the prosecutor’s opening speech accurately laid out the case he intends to prove, you will not hear one word speaking to any reason that Mr. Hanson would have wanted to kill Ms. Yamura.
“In the end, what you will be left with is this. First, that Jennifer Yamura was murdered. Everyone agrees to this. Second, that Mr. Hanson was having an affair with Ms. Yamura. Everyone agrees to this. And third, that Mr. Hanson’s attempt to clean the Addison Street house of all evidence of his presence and his attempt to flee when the police arrived was consistent with his wanting to hide the evidence of his affair with the victim.
“The prosecution has a heavy burden. But it’s their burden. Never lose sight of that. Equally important, know that only your acquittal of David Hanson will allow the police to find the real killer of Jennifer Yamura.” I turn toward the Yamura family. “And that her family will get the justice they deserve.”
Jennifer’s father looks into my eyes, his own eyes filled with turmoil and pain. I hold Mr. Yamura’s gaze for a moment, then turn back to the jury, say thank you, and take my seat.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse about myself than I do right now.
27
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 12, CONTINUED
Judge Henry recesses for lunch. During the break, my team and I gather around the defense table.
“I think you gave the jury some things to think about,” Alexander Ginsberg says. “But it’s going to be an uphill battle.”
“It was a good opening, Mick. Thank you.” Marcie’s smiling, but her eyes remain sharp, steely.
She’s watching me like a hawk. Me and everyone else. I was right to plant Ginsberg next to her, to whisper doubts in her ear as the case moves forward. Worry her.
An hour later, everyone is back in their seats. Devlin’s first witness is Tim Kujowski. With only three years on the force, Kujowski is the youngest of the officers involved in the investigation. He looks sharp in his crisp blue uniform and buzz-cut blond hair. A Boy Scout.
Devlin quickly runs Kujowski through the preliminaries—how long he’s been on the force, what district he works out of, what time he reported to duty. Then he gets to the meat.
“Did there come a time that night when you received a call from dispatch telling you and your partner to investigate a possible disturbance at 1792 Addison Street?”
“It was about 11:30. Officer Pancetti and I were close by, so it only took a couple of minutes to get to the address.”
“And what did you observe when you got out of the patrol car? What did you and Officer Pancetti do?”
“The lights were on. I could hear a vacuum cleaner running. I went up the steps and knocked on the door. The vacuum kept going, so I knocked harder. The vacuum stopped, and whoever was inside told us to hold on. We waited a minute, and the door still didn’t open, so Officer Pancetti told me to go around back. I jogged to Eighteenth, took a right, and then took a right down Waverly, which is the little street behind Addison. I got to 1792 just in time to see a tall man bolt out the back door. He saw me and sped up as he ran down Waverly. He was pretty fast, but I caught up and tackled him.”
Devlin pauses to let the jury take in the picture painted by Kujowski. “And is the man you saw running out the back door here in the courtroom?”
“Yes, sir. He’s sitting right there.” The patrolman looks at our table and points at David.
“Let the record reflect,” Walker says, “that the witness has identified the defendant.”
“No doubt about it,” says Kujowski.
“Please tell us what happened next,” Devlin asks.
“Well,
I cuffed him. Then I helped him up and took him to the back of the house. As I was walking the defendant, I called Officer Pancetti on my radio and told him to come to the back. So I’m standing there with the defendant, and he says, ‘This isn’t what it looks like,’ and I say, ‘Yeah? What does it look like?’ and he just kind of looks away and clams up. Officer Pancetti arrives and sees the door is open, so he goes inside. He comes out a minute later, tells me there’s a dead girl in the house and I should call for backup. Then he goes back inside.”
At the first mention of the “dead girl,” I see some of the jurors glance at David and me. They’re looking to see how he reacts to the testimony, see if they can spot signs of guilt or innocence. I’ve instructed David to keep a poker face throughout the trial. Even the slightest reaction can be misread by a juror as proof of guilt.
Devlin continues with Kujowski for another forty minutes, going from the arrival of backup to secure the house to the handoff of David Hanson to Detectives Tredesco and Cook.
Now it’s my turn.
“So, if I heard you right, Officer Kujowski, the very first thing Mr. Hanson said to you was that it wasn’t what it looked like?”
“That’s correct.”
“Nothing that would have amounted to any sort of admission?”
“Uh . . .”
“He didn’t say ‘I couldn’t help myself,’ or ‘She came at me,’ or ‘I can’t believe I did it,’ or anything like that?”
“He didn’t choose to incriminate himself, that’s correct.”
I smile. Devlin has coached the young patrolman well.
“I’m sorry, what did you say? That he didn’t choose to incriminate himself?”
“That’s correct.”
“Come on, Officer Kujowski. This isn’t the first time you’ve arrested someone at a crime scene, is it?”
A Criminal Defense Page 24
