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Authors: Burl Barer

BOOK: Head Shot
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The proliferation of prostitution fueled accusations that police and vice lords were in bed together, and that the cops were accepting payoffs for protection. The American Social Hygiene Association declared Tacoma diseased, and the United States Army threatened to put the entire city of Tacoma “off-limits” to soldiers. Tacoma captured the title “America's #1 City for Sexually Transmitted Disease.” This dubious distinction was not easily overcome.
Tacoma was America's first major city to implement the city council–city manager form of local governance. This bold step directly attacked the roots of political and police corruption. On July 9, 1953, Chief Roy D. Kerr, an experienced officer with impeccable credentials, assumed office.
“That day marked the beginning of a new era for the Tacoma Police Department,” said Yerbury. “Chief Kerr was a true ‘professional' police chief, having previously served as chief of Topeka, Kansas, as well as a deputy sheriff and deputy U.S. marshal. He was also a graduate of the FBI National Academy.”
He put an end to graft and corruption, appointed the straitlaced John Hickey to head up the Morals Squad, and together they attacked vice throughout the city. Kerr also introduced the first classroom training for new recruits, revamped department forms, procedures, and policies. Gradually, Chief Kerr rebuilt the police department into a professional, modern agency.
“What made the Tacoma situation so unique is that it was the members of the police department, and not an outside investigation, who demanded the change that ushered in a new era for the police department and the city,” commented the second-generation Yerbury. “Today my son carries the same badge number that my dad carried. When he graduated from the state academy, Dad and I jointly pinned the badge on him. Of course, my dad is incredibly proud of him.”
The senior Mr. Yerbury, an eyewitness to his city's turbulent history, served twenty-seven years with the Tacoma Police Department. “Through thick and thin, even in the toughest times, we had a great police department, and we still do,” he said. “I was always proud to be on the Tacoma Police Department, and I loved the job. As for corruption, I never took a dishonest dime in my life, and I can name lots of other good cops who didn't get into that corruption at all. There were a few—that's a fact. They were into small deals—none of them were getting rich at it, I don't imagine. A few bad ones make even the good ones look bad—and that's a shame. There were plenty of good, honest cops—and those are the ones I remember and admire. Of course, folks around here are sensitive to Tacoma's old reputation, and that helps keep things on the up and up.”
The community's sensitivity amplified the importance and relevance of Judge Sauriol's strongly worded admonitions to the prosecutor's office against even the appearance of impropriety.
Sadly, His Honor's stern warnings against “flirting with disaster” were repeatedly violated. The next crises generated by an alleged act of questionable ethics involved a conversation between Chief Deputy Prosecutor Quinn-Brintnall and Paul St. Pierre's cocounsel, Jeffrey Gross. The St. Pierres and Andrew Webb all faced the death penalty if convicted of first-degree aggravated murder. There was, however, a way to avoid this. Quinn-Brintnall told Gross, “The first one through the door gets the deal.” The clear message inferred by Gross: “If your client doesn't want to die, your client should make a deal.” The first one “through the door,” in all truth, was Christopher St. Pierre. However, it was Andrew Webb who got the deal. Gross and Connelly, backed up by Christopher St. Pierre's lawyer, John Ladenburg, complained bitterly to the court and in the press.
“I recommended that no bargain be given to Andrew Webb,” insisted Quinn-Brintnall, countering this allegation. “I felt that Andrew Webb was a very dangerous individual and, for that reason, I would not bargain with him.” If there was going to be a deal cut with anyone, Quinn-Brintnall knew who shouldn't get it. “Neither Andrew Webb nor Paul St. Pierre would have been my choice,” she admitted. As for a race down the hall, Quinn-Brintnall confirmed there was a race—but not between defendants.
The reason for the race was a stipulation in Washington State law that would prevent the prosecutor from upgrading the charges against the defendants from first-degree murder to first-degree aggravated murder—a death penalty offense—if the accused filed notice to plead guilty to the original lesser charge.
“There was basically a race to the clerk's office door,” said Quinn-Brintnall, “between Larry Nichols and myself, and I think Tom Larkin representing Christopher St. Pierre at that time, and Ellsworth Connelly and Jeff Gross who were representing Paul St. Pierre at that time.”
Quinn-Brintnall filed her amended charges at 12:17
P.M.
on June 29. Larry Nichols, according to the clerk's office, filed the notice of intent to plead guilty as charged to murder one on behalf of Andrew Webb sometime between noon and 12:17
P.M.
After Webb won the race to the clerk's office, the result was the same as if he had indeed run to the prosecutor's office. The Pierce County prosecutor, Bill Griffies, and Assistant Deputy Prosecutor Carl Hultman negotiated an “agreement” with Larry Nichols on behalf of his client. Quinn-Brintnall was out of town during these negotiations.
The deal was supposedly clean and simple: the kidnapping and assault charges against Andrew Webb would vanish, as would any possibility of the death sentence. In exchange for his life and the possibility of parole, Webb would testify against Paul and Christopher St. Pierre.
“He was allowed to escape a possible death sentence by pleading guilty to the lesser charge of first-degree murder and turning state's evidence,” complained Ellsworth Connelly. “I don't think it is appropriate and I don't think it's right.”
“There is no ‘deal,' countered Prosecutor Bill Griffies. “He has the right to plead guilty. Andrew Webb feels that the time has come for him to tell the truth, and to testify and attempt to cleanse what he's done and that's what he's doing. He's doing it out of a sense of what he feels is right.”
“Webb's willingness to talk to police,” added Carl Hultman, “shows mitigating circumstances. Reports of a history of violence in the St. Pierre household do not.” The St. Pierres had no previous criminal records, Connelly pointed out, while Webb was convicted of assault in a case where he held a gun to a victim's mouth.
“The ‘mitigating circumstances' for Webb is that he won the footrace to the prosecuting attorney's office and literally saved his neck,” said Connelly, “when he was the one who used the knife.”
Griffies acknowledged that he considered Webb's “willingness to testify” against the St. Pierre brothers “a mitigating factor in itself. We have got to be practical.” He further explained that if there is no evidence to support a murder charge, and one member of the group of offenders is willing to testify against the others, then the prosecution would have its evidence. “It is not unusual at all,” said Griffies. “It is something that becomes necessary, and it is something that is done routinely in murder cases.”
The St. Pierres immediately moved to strike the death penalty, charging misconduct by the prosecutor in selecting which defendants would face a possible death sentence. They also requested that the trial be moved out of Pierce County. The court reserved ruling on the death penalty issue, but granted the change of venue. Under intense press scrutiny and local interest, the case against the St. Pierre brothers began.
Tony Youso was the second one through the door, but there was no one racing against him. Attorney Karl Haught told the court that Youso participated out of fear for his life, and his client readily admitted tossing the cement-encased head of John Achord into the Puyallup River. Charged as an accomplice in both homicides, he pleaded guilty to tampering with physical evidence. Youso received a one-year deferred, and forty-seven days in the county jail. Having served almost forty days, Youso was released within a week. As part of his plea-bargain agreement, he would testify against his former housemates.
Beginning September 20, prospective jurors in Pacific County were individually questioned in the privacy of Judge Sauriol's chambers. “I know you're a little bit nervous about that type of procedure,” said the judge, “but these questions are not designed to pry into your private or personal affairs or to embarrass you. All three of these lawyers are professionals, and very good ones. The purpose of this is to secure and to determine that the case is tried before an impartial jury.
“The prosecuting attorney has filed a notice of intention to seek the death penalty in this case,” Sauriol reminded the potential jurors, and detailed the degree of their sequestration. “You will not be able to have any communication with anyone other than yourselves, and you will not be able to discuss this case or any of the evidence until the case is finally submitted to you.” There would be no calls back home; they would be bused to Tacoma and kept in a hotel until everything was over. “You will be virtually out of touch with members of your family. That is virtually what sequestration means.” With that, the individual questioning began.
Chief Prosecutor Bill Griffies personally took charge of this high-profile case, with Assistant Deputy Prosecutor Carl Hultman acting as his aide. During the jury selection process, Griffies asked several potential jurors if they would give the death penalty to the St. Pierres even though Andrew Webb avoided it by cooperating with the prosecution. Any juror acknowledging reluctance in the matter was immediately excused. The defense strongly objected, insisting that the prosecution's line of questioning was inappropriate and illegal. “They are making the challenge,” said Ladenburg, “that the jurors are unwilling to follow the court's instructions.”
“Essentially,” John Ladenburg later elaborated, “Griffies was asking them, ‘If you find these guys guilty, will you hang them?' You just can't do that. It is not legal at all.” So intense was the objection, and the argument given in its support, the prosecution took the objection seriously, looked closer into the applicable policies, and recognized their error.
“The defense counsel were correct in their objection,” Hultman finally acknowledged. “We were prejudging some of the issues of the case.” When the situation's perilous nature was realized, Chief Prosecutor Bill Griffies quietly withdrew from direct participation.
“I walked into the courtroom one morning,” recalled John Ladenburg, “and saw Carl Hultman sitting by himself, and he seemed upset. I asked him where Griffies was. He told me that Bill wasn't going to be there. I knew right then something was up. Sure enough, poor Carl was left alone to face both the embarrassment and the uphill task of arguing against a mistrial. I felt sorry for Carl that day, I really did.”
Hultman valiantly argued for devising a remedial strategy that would satisfy legal requirements while still excluding the same proposed jurors. “It is the state's belief that this error can be sufficiently cured,” he suggested. “Simply bring back those jurors and excuse them all over again. This time they would be properly excused,” Hultman told the court, “and the trial can proceed.”
The prosecutor's office also offered up some of their remaining jury challenges in appeasement. Ellsworth Connelly remained quiescent; John Ladenburg never quavered.
“Paul St. Pierre would object to that procedure,” said Connelly. “I just want to be on the record as having objected to that procedure,” added Ladenburg. The defenses' objection fell upon sympathetic ears. Judge Sauriol, already aggravated by the prosecution's previous borderline behavior, gave Chief Prosecutor Bill Griffies another stern lacing. “Should a similar incident occur again,” he snapped, “the attorney who caused it would be held personally responsible for the cost to taxpayers of the aborted proceedings.”
The trial was over and everything was back to square one. “At that point,” recalled John Ladenburg, “there was really only one thing we defense attorneys could do that made sense to all of us—we went out to lunch.”
Paul and Christopher St. Pierre's attorneys commiserated over sandwiches and coffee.
“Ellsworth Connelly ran against William Griffies in the previous election,” recalled Ladenburg. “Connelly was considered the front-runner, and was favored by the local Bar Association.” As the election approached, Connelly, because of his prestigious endorsements, extensive experience in the prosecutor's office, and strong name familiarity, was far ahead in the polls. When Election Day drew near, he was targeted for what some considered a “smear campaign” in the press. Griffies won the Pierce County election, but not Pierce County's hearts.
“He was not the predetermined choice,” acknowledged attorney Ben Bettridge, Pierce County's 1985 Republican party chairman at that time. “I think a lot of people wanted him to fail and I think a lot are angry because he hasn't. It's hard to argue with results.”
The results lauded by Bettridge were, for many residents, insufficient. Corrections officers openly complained of too many plea agreements, and several police officers, while complimenting the efforts of Hultman and Quinn-Brintnall, said that the prosecutor's office was “giving our cases away.”

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