Head Shot

by Burl Barer

  “Oh, yes. He told me that he feared for his own life. In order to protect himself, he reacted in this manner,” said Tappin, referring to Paul St. Pierre’s shooting of John Achord. The doctor also testified that Paul told him that it was Andrew Webb who handed him the knife to stab Achord in the back.

  “Mr. St. Pierre was aware that the individual appeared to still be alive. To use his own words,” said Dr. Tappin, “there were gurgling sounds and he described to me in extremely sick terms what he saw of [the] brain coming out of the individual’s head, and sometimes he used terms which did not seem to really coincide with the pathologists’ findings. I’m aware of the fact that there was no brain damage to Mr. Achord from the gunshot. That’s why I’m saying his description of this whole thing to me, it seems almost as though he was experiencing some sort of visual hallucinations at the time. He spoke of brain coming out of the back of the individual’s head and so on. Then he was handed this knife and proceeded to finish him off.”

  “So Paul St. Pierre intended to kill Mr. Achord when he shot him?”

  “He intended to protect himself,” responded Tappin, “when he shot John Achord.” Hultman immediately pounced on the doctor’s use of “intended.”

  “So,” asked the prosecutor, a hint of triumph in his voice, “he intended to shoot him to protect himself?” Dr. Tappin remained unruffled, and quickly clarified his response. “Even though one can consider this an intent to protect oneself, the process was not a rational one. It was an instantaneous response to a delusion.”

  Hultman kept at it, repeatedly forming his question so that Tappin’s answer would confirm the prosecution’s use of, or definition of, “intend.” Another technique Hultman employed was to stop Tappin’s answers before the doctor was done answering, especially if the doctor was attempting to explain or clarify his response. Judge Steiner finally intervened. “You’re going to have to allow him time to answer,” admonished the judge, “or you’re going to send him off to Europe with a stutter!”

  “I object to the use of the word ‘intend,’ ” complained Murdach, noticing Hultman’s technique. Tappin, who also was becoming aggravated, spoke up. “I would not like to get involved in the semantics of the word ‘intend,’ or ‘intention.’ It is obvious from a layman’s standpoint that he intended to kill this person. From a psychiatric standpoint, we would avoid the use of the word ‘intention’ because it connotes that there was a rationally involved process that resulted in this killing.” The process was a disturbed one, insisted Tappin, not a rational one. Therefore, it was not a true intention because it was irrational, and “intention” is a rational process. “He is more prone,” said Tappin of Paul St. Pierre, “to attack in an aggressive way than the average individual.”

  “He’s dangerous, isn’t he?” Before Murdach could call out an objection, Dr. Tappin answered, “Oh, yes.” The trial screeched to a halt and Steiner excused the jury. David Murdach demanded a mistrial. Once again, the proceedings were precariously teetering on the brink of total collapse.

  The court had previously approved Murdach’s pretrial motion prohibiting any questions delving into Paul St. Pierre’s possible “future dangerousness.” In David Murdach’s estimation, Carl Hultman had breached the court order. “The prosecutor did breach the order,” he insisted forcefully. “Now the issue of present dangerousness is opened and the jury can speculate, ‘If he’s dangerous now, he’s going to be dangerous in the future.’ Mr. Hultman, perhaps cleverly, asked about present dangerousness to get into the issue of future dangerousness. A mistrial should be declared because of that.”

  “The state is not being ‘clever,’ ” said Hultman, “when it notices that Mr. Murdach brings out through his own examination of Dr. Tappin, over and over again, that his client is an individual who reacts with hostility toward people who, in reality, do not represent hostility toward him. He reacts with physical violence. I’m aware of the court’s ruling,” he argued, “and I didn’t ask any question that dealt with the future. I asked if he was dangerous—the answer is so obvious that it didn’t really need to be asked. I didn’t go into any future dangerousness.”

  “Don’t ask anybody a question,” Steiner warned Hultman, “that relates to the possible inference of future dangerousness.” The prosecutor said he hadn’t asked that “yet,” and Steiner expressed judicial concern. “There is a basis of alleged appeal with respect to any argument to the jury as to the dangerousness of the defendant or defendants. Stay away from future dangerousness and present dangerousness.”

  “In addition,” continued Murdach, unloading his second complaint, “the court has allowed the prosecutor to introduce all the evidence in the Damon Wells homicide.” By doing so, reasoned Murdach, Hultman was essentially asking the court and jury to try the Wells homicide case all over again. “If the motion for a mistrial is not granted, we ask that the evidence and testimony regarding the Damon Wells incident up to this point be stricken, and the jury admonished not to consider it.”

  “I have admitted it,” said Steiner of the Wells evidence, and ruled against a mistrial. “I don’t know whether that ruling is going to stand on appeal or not, but that’s the judgment of the court.”

  The state called Detective Robert Yerbury, who, as he did in the previous trial, began by answering essential questions of fact. “In the early morning hours of June nineteenth,” asked Hultman, “did you encounter Christopher St. Pierre?”

  Yerbury recounted the tale of St. Pierre’s final exit from Ericson’s, his cooperative revelations of evidence, guidance to grave sites, and the conditions under which Christopher St. Pierre gave his sworn statement.

  “We went over the conversations of the day and what had occurred. When the written statement was ultimately given by Chris, it was given by him verbalizing to a secretary who typed it as he spoke.” Detective Yerbury confirmed that the statement was not his own impression of the defendant’s words, but an accurate word-for-word statement typed while St. Pierre dictated.

  Carl Hultman handed Yerbury a copy of the statement, and asked him to identify it, then read it aloud. “ ‘I hereby make the following statement free and voluntary, ’ ” Robert Yerbury began, and the jury sat spellbound, growing progressively more repulsed by the ghoulish nature of St. Pierre’s nightmare narrative.

  Yerbury’s monologue remained uninterrupted through the murder of Wells and Achord, the decapitation, and attempts to destroy or hide evidence.

  “Now, Detective,” asked Carl Hultman, “did you obtain a search warrant for the residence of Tony Youso’s brother, Martin Youso, in order to determine if you could find the ax?”

  John Ladenburg quickly asked for the jury to be excused. He had a motion for the court’s consideration that, due to Hultman’s obvious testimonial trajectory, required an immediate ruling.

  “I believe the prosecutor intends to introduce the ax into evidence,” Ladenburg told Steiner. “We ask that the ax be excluded because it would be unduly inflammatory and prejudicial. The decapitation of John Achord is an established fact, and neither defense attorney disputes it. I see nothing the ax can add, other than a gruesome artifact in this case.”

  Steiner asked Hultman if the ax was necessary to prove the prosecution’s case. “We won’t know what is necessary to prove our case until the verdict is announced,” he replied. “This case involves the jury’s ability to fully interpret the deliberations and the totality with which Christopher St. Pierre joined in what Paul St. Pierre was doing. The evidence of what they did to the head of the victim relates to both of them.

  “The fact of the matter,” argued Carl Hultman, “is that murders are gruesome. This may be one of the more horrible crimes. Unfortunately, the defense isn’t going to be spared from some of the horror and gruesomeness they created.”

  “For the record,” interjected David Murdach, “we join in the objection. I would ask at this time that the prosecution be precluded from bringing any other instruments in connection with this case, nam
ely, the bucket which Mr. Hultman perhaps jokingly mentioned he was going to attempt to introduce. We can’t just have Mr. Hultman bring these items to court in a sack, and then bring them out one at a time and try to have them admitted as evidence... .”

  Murdach’s grab-bag scenario disturbed Judge Steiner. “Is it the prosecution’s intention to bring in the bucket,” he asked, “or anything else, so we know about it in advance?” The bucket wasn’t on the prosecution’s exhibits list, but Paul St. Pierre’s Gerber knife was. “I think anybody looking at it would see it is a dagger instrument which you can’t think of any other purpose it might have other than sticking it in humans,” said Hultman assertively. “I think it’s important to see that knife, and for the jurors to understand the depth of the stab wounds.” Steiner denied the photo of John Achord and the ax used to decapitate him, but allowed the alleged murder weapons. The jury was reseated, and the judge recited the following instruction: “Out-of-court statements by one of the St. Pierre brothers cannot be used as evidence against the other.”

  The instruction’s timing was perfectly appropriate. Hultman next requested Detective Yerbury to read aloud selected excerpts from the sworn statement of Paul St. Pierre. While Yerbury intoned the elder St. Pierre brother’s confessional narrative, David Murdach’s mind was preoccupied by the possibility that the use of his client’s statement, considering the circumstances under which it was obtained, might still be improper despite the court ruling in favor of its admission into evidence.

  Deputy Prosecutor Chris Quinn-Brintnall, Murdach recalled, had been recently subjected to an investigation by the Washington State Bar Association, the impetus being that she granted permission for Yerbury and Price to take Paul St. Pierre’s statement without informing his lawyer. If the investigation determined that there were legal violations beyond, or including, ethical violations, the entire statement could be tossed out, and the jury advised to forget all about it. Prior to today’s testimony, Murdach requested full disclosure of the material Quinn-Brintnall provided the Bar Association for their investigation. So far, nothing had been delivered.

  Yerbury’s disquieting testimony, followed by further “Isn’t it true that ...” questions from each defense counsel, concluded in synchronicity with Judge Steiner’s quick glance at the courtroom clock. The timepiece confirmed high noon in Pierce County. When court reconvened following lunch, Hultman moved his witnesses along with swift precision. First up, Identification Technician Douglas Walker explained how police recovered Paul St. Pierre’s hidden .45-caliber handgun; then Sergeant Parkhurst took the stand to confirm quickly Walker’s testimony. As a prelude to Medical Examiner Emanuel Lacsina’s testimony, Parkhurst recounted the successful recovery of Achord’s head from the Puyallup River. Dr. Lacsina’s imperative, authoritative, and disturbingly detailed discussion of John Achord’s autopsy consumed the rest of the day.

  “The decapitated body of John Achord demonstrated the presence of ten stab wounds to the back of the chest and the abdomen. These were all deep stab wounds. In addition,” testified Lacsina, “there were two superficial stab wounds at the back of the neck. The deepest wound was approximately five inches. All of the stab wounds inflicted on the body of John Achord were all inflicted while he was still alive.” The jury heard in no uncertain terms that John Achord died because of the stab wounds, not the bullet wound. During cross-examination by David Murdach, Lacsina acknowledged that a gunshot’s concussion could be fatal. A wound such as Achord’s, he further confirmed, could possibly cause death if left unattended.

  The prosecution’s case neared completion. There were four brief testimonies scheduled for the morning of July 23; then the state would rest. “I doubt Hultman got much rest the night of July twenty-second,” said news commentator Chet Rogers. “The anticipation of his first witness’s testimony probably had him tossing and turning. I bet he met the milkman at the door.” That was no milkman on Pierce County’s porch the following morn, and the distinctive clanking sound came not from quarts of milk and pints of cream, but from leg irons, waist chains, and handcuffs restraining Hultman’s first scheduled witness—Mr. Andrew K. Webb.

  Seventeen

  When the state called Andrew Webb to the witness stand, John Ladenburg and David Murdach, much to their professional credit, didn’t crack a smile. Despite their courtesy and restraint, Hultman knew that his boss’s bargain with the uncooperative and recalcitrant Mr. Webb was the laughingstock of Tacoma’s legal community.

  Andrew Webb, called as a witness on behalf of the plaintiff, once again refused to testify. The court ordered him to answer questions; Andrew Webb steadfastly remained silent. “That’s all the state has,” said Hultman wearily.

  “Your Honor,” commented John Ladenburg, “I suppose we could ask this witness a number of questions for a long time. I suppose I won’t have any more success than Mr. Hultman. If the state will concede that he will not answer my questions, I think we can save a lot of time.”

  “Are you going to refuse to answer any and all questions regarding either one of those incidents?” Hultman asked, and Webb answered in the affirmative. “I concede,” said the prosecutor.

  David Murdach expressed gratitude for the concession, but had one question of his own for Mr. Webb. “Do you remember when you and I met in the Pierce County Jail in December of 1984?” To Carl Hultman’s dismay, Andrew Webb gave reply. Murdach continued, and attempted asking if Webb recalled telling him that the suggestion to dispose of Achord’s body was made the day after the murder. Murdach became tongue-tied; the question was incomprehensible.

  “I don’t even understand that question,” said Webb. The court suggested a mini-conference between Webb and his attorney, Larry Nichols. Following his lawyer’s advice, Webb relapsed into silence.

  Delaying the unavoidable argument for Webb’s plea-bargain statement being admitted as evidence, Hultman called Tacoma Police identification technicians to the stand for quick testimony regarding evidence recovery and identification.

  The state’s final witness and most effective testimony would be Detective Robert Yerbury reading aloud from Webb’s elaborate, damning plea-bargain statement. The defense fought against it, citing Webb’s unreliability, history of mental and behavioral problems, and the self-serving nature of the statement itself. Murdach and Ladenburg also argued that Webb’s refusal to cooperate with the prosecution didn’t mean that Mr. Webb was “unavailable.” None of these arguments were new to Hultman. He staunchly defended the prosecution’s position, utilizing the unique nature of the case, Webb’s self-incriminating confession, and various legal precedents as his primary armaments against Ladenburg’s and Murdach’s combined assault.

  “I think it is a difficult, difficult decision,” said Judge Steiner. “It’s one I have great difficulty making. My ruling is the same. He is unavailable. It’s against penal interest. It is reasonably trustworthy. There are indicia of reliability. There are corroborating circumstances and evidence. My ruling is the same as Judge Stone’s.”

  “I’m going to rest when Detective Yerbury is done,” stated Hultman. “But I have one other matter.” He then reoffered the portrait of John Achord as a plaintiff’s exhibit. “It is the only picture that the jury would have in any fashion that depicts John Achord. The photograph isn’t gruesome. It simply shows the jury that there was a victim here, a pleasant human being.” The motion was denied, as the photo was not necessary to prove Achord was a human being, nor was it required to prove death or the cause of death.

  The state called Detective Robert Yerbury who read aloud admitted murderer Andrew Webb’s judiciously edited plea-bargain statement. Yerbury’s deadpan recitation invested Webb’s disturbing narrative of death and dementia with an eerie, perhaps accurate, aura of cold, unemotional distance.

  Immediately following Yerbury, the state rested. Then John Ladenburg injected the proceedings with a renewed sense of live drama. “We move for the court to dismiss the case against Chris St. Pierre,” announce
d Ladenburg, who had every reason to so move, and solid reasoning behind the motion.

  Carl Hultman looked to his left, then to his right, as if anticipating the arrival of divine intervention. He turned expectantly to Judge Steiner, silently entreating against immediate irrevocable judicial acquiescence. Ladenburg, however, wasn’t done speaking. He’d made the motion, and in two short, well-pitched sentences, he could knock the proverbial ball out of the park. Christopher St. Pierre, already sentenced to life in the Wells case, couldn’t slide home, but he could stay far afield of the hangman’s noose.

  “All of the stuff we’ve heard,” said Ladenburg emphatically, “all of it gets down to one thing: Andrew Webb’s statement that was just read by Detective Yerbury. There is no evidence! There is nothing in this statement or anybody else’s statement that proves the charge beyond a reasonable doubt! Hence, we move for dismissal of the case against Christopher St. Pierre.”

  “Motion denied,” said the judge. Then, after a momentary pause, Steiner prompted the well-prepared attorney to present his official opening statement.

  “I’m going to give you an overview of what we expect to prove in this case,” Ladenburg began. “As in all criminal cases, part is proven through witnesses, part is proven through direct evidence, and part of it is evidentiary things that may be read to you, or documents given to you. At the end, we’ll give a closing statement and try to make you see what we see in the evidence to convince you, hopefully, of what the evidence shows.”

  The previous trial revealed Carl Hultman’s portrayal of the St. Pierre brothers as two men acting in concert, even referring to them as “one” as if they were mirror-image twins of evil. Ladenburg knew his first challenge was to firmly establish the individual identity of Chris St. Pierre, and the singular nature of the charges against him. “The individuals are not the same, and you’re not to look at them the same,” he said. “When I speak, I only speak as to what is being shown or proven to you in regard to Chris St. Pierre.