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Authors: Burl Barer

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Murdach basically defined and explained the legal rules and regulations regarding the various charges and jury instructions, building his argument that Paul St. Pierre may be guilty of something—some degree of assault and a major degree of irresponsibility—but he was not guilty of premeditated murder.
In the final analysis, Murdach appealed to the jurors' sense of duty—not a duty to find someone, anyone, guilty of murder, nor a duty to punish—a citizen's duty to uphold the high standards of American justice, due process of law, and the Bill of Rights of the United States Constitution. Murdach argued more in defense of the law than in defense of Paul St. Pierre.
Despite his professional and personable presentation, hearts remained untouched. No matter how well intentioned or solidly constructed, arguments invoking the shared civil religion of Americanism are notoriously ineffective. David Murdach's final argument was not the exception that proved the rule.
In his immediate rebuttal, Carl Hultman went for the jugular. “Are they guilty of first-degree aggravated murder, premeditated? Of course they are! Mr. Ladenburg, at the beginning of this trial, told you he was going to talk about three things: means, motive, and opportunity. Well, you didn't hear him talk about those three things in his closing argument!”
The prosecution addressed each of the three elements, starting with the means—“Paul St. Pierre's fighting knife. Paul St. Pierre, the man who bragged about the crime, bragged ‘we stabbed him in the back, cut his throat, and waited for him to die.' ”
The opportunity, defined by Hultman, was “three against one.” The St. Pierres had the courage to attack and kill a five-foot-tall, 109-pound individual, asserted the prosecution, “when they have someone else to help them—Andrew Webb.”
The motive, Hultman asserted, was nothing more or less than their cowardice. “What kind of man stands by and watches another man—a smaller, weaker man—slowly bleed to death?” Hultman never allowed jurors to forget that Paul and Christopher St. Pierre watched a helpless Damon Wells die without making any effort to save his life, alleviate his suffering, forestall his death, or ease his pain. Together with Andrew Webb, the St. Pierres experienced Damon Wells's demise with the same detachment as all other cold-blooded killers. The three men were completely severed from the event's emotional resonance, the devastation engendered by the crime, and the unavoidable implication that all three of them were, by their heartless participation in the tragic death of Damon Wells, devoid of morality, ethics, compassion, or humanity.
“Make a decision and give them justice,” insisted Carl Hultman, “the kind of thing they didn't give Damon Wells. Come back into the courtroom and tell this community you have done the right thing. You found them guilty for what they did: aggravated murder in the first degree and kidnapping in the first degree and assault in the second degree. Thank you.”
Carl Hultman's dynamic, insistent, relentless presentation of the horrific crime made an indelible impression upon the jury. After careful and serious deliberation over three days, the jury found Paul St. Pierre guilty of all charges, including first-degree aggravated murder—a death penalty offense.
Christopher St. Pierre was found guilty of kidnapping, assault, and felony murder—not a death penalty offense. Judge Stone, despite Hultman's arguments to the contrary, ruled that Christopher St. Pierre would serve his sentences concurrently rather than consecutively. Paul St. Pierre, unlike his little brother, now faced the possibility of hearing Judge Stone intone, “You shall be hanged by the neck until you are dead.”
 
 
Carl Hultman wanted Paul St. Pierre hanged, perhaps willing to provide the required rope if so requested. The law to which Hultman is dedicated, however, insists upon sentencing hearings when life or death hangs in the balance.
“In most cases, the jury has nothing to do with sentencing,” David Murdach later explained, “but when the death penalty looms as possible punishment, the jury considers and then decides whether the offender gets life in prison without parole, or death. In this state, the death sentence is carried out by either hanging or lethal injection.”
The hearing began April 29, 1985, with David Murdach asking that it be canceled immediately. The court should simply “go ahead and sentence life imprisonment,” said Murdach. Stone denied the motion, but assured both defense counsels that they would have extensive opportunities to present any mitigating circumstances—reasons why the jury should show mercy and spare Paul St. Pierre's life.
Before hearing Murdach's plea for mercy, extensive jury instructions were debated, revised, and read aloud when court reconvened. The first mitigating circumstance Murdach wanted considered was Paul St. Pierre's inadequate mental capacity. The second reason for mercy was the easily verified observation that Andrew Webb was incapable of telling the same story the same way twice. Murdach argued that the shifting words of Andrew Webb were a poor foundation for the death penalty.
“What you have decided,” Murdach told the jurors, “is that Paul St. Pierre will die. The sentence of life in prison without possibility of parole is a sentence of death in prison. What could be a greater punishment than that? To convict Paul St. Pierre of the crime—which you did—you must have believed Andrew Webb's first version of the offense. What if his recantation is true? Do you want that nagging question over your head for the rest of your lives? Andrew Webb will be on parole someday; Paul St. Pierre will not [be].”
Murdach painted a terminally depressing word picture of St. Pierre's dreary prison future—a monotonous, downbeat existence occasionally punctuated by violent beatings or rape. A few jurors squirmed uncomfortably as Murdach continued his horrific depiction of life in the Washington State Penitentiary. This punishment was preferable to execution, Murdach insisted. “None of us get out of life alive,” he sagely stated. “To execute Paul, you would have to decide that he has no right to exist. Death is final. There is no appeal. What will Andrew Webb say five years from now? Or ten years from now?”
Carl Hultman countered Murdach's plea, and spoke against leniency. “I suggest, ladies and gentlemen, it's not whether his mother and father and brothers love him and not whether Patricia Wells would like to see a sentence of death that counts so much here. What counts is your judgment about what he did. You have someone you know is very capable and willing to kill, and who can express pride in doing so. Paul St. Pierre was the leader in this action of cold-blooded murder. He bragged about what he had done. He was proud of it. You have not heard that about anybody else in this case. He was proud of killing Damon Wells. He wanted the credit for cutting his throat.”
Hultman, without equivocation, apologies, or regrets, demanded death for Paul St. Pierre. After serious consultation, the jury sentenced him to life in prison without possibility of parole. Judge Stone's gavel signaled the proceeding's conclusion, but there was no sense of finality. Nothing was over except the life of Damon Wells.
Andrew Webb, Mark Perez, Tony Youso, Donald Marshall, Carl Hultman, John Ladenburg, David Murdach, and the St. Pierre brothers would, in less than ninety days, reunite in the Pierce County Courthouse to relive the nightmare of John Achord's death and decapitation.
PART THREE
Sixteen
“I still have nightmares of seeing my son without a head,” said a tearful Opal Bitney. “Rainy days, you think of your son lying out there. Beautiful days, you think of him. Cold days, you think about him out there without any shelter. I know it's only his earthly body, but I'm only his earthly mother, too. I still have those feelings.”
The feelings of outrage and animosity toward the St. Pierre brothers further intensified following their conviction in the Wells case. The Achord trial date was fast approaching, and finding twelve jurors untainted by press coverage and publicity was almost an insurmountable difficulty. Once again, a lengthy jury selection took place in King County rather than Pierce, following which the professional time and emotional energy of Murdach, Ladenburg, and Hultman were consumed with pretrial motions and rulings from the bench.
The jurors waited. Everyone waited. No one complained. Even in society's unrefined circles, impatience in matters of life or death is considered inappropriate. Among the pretrial motions was one intended to eliminate any mention of decapitation. Judge D. Gary Steiner denied the motion, but ruled in favor of David Murdach's motion that the prosecution could not ask witnesses, especially the medical experts, any questions about the “future dangerousness” of Paul St. Pierre. Such a judgment by a witness was considered prejudicial, and didn't relate directly to St. Pierre's guilt or innocence.
 
 
Thursday morning, July 18, 1985, was the first day of scheduled testimony, but the topic of testimony itself, and its proposed content, delayed the proceedings. “How much testimony should we bring out with respect to the murder of Damon Wells? I have to weigh that question,” commented Judge Steiner to the attorneys, “with respect to how much passion and prejudice will be generated by it. The admission of prior evidence concerning the prior murder may be in the area of passion and prejudice. It's a very difficult ruling.”
The defense argued against the jury knowing the defendants were convicted of murdering Damon Wells. It was, they insisted, a separate case, and it shouldn't be tried all over again as part of this new trial. Hearing all the horrid details would make it difficult for jurors to maintain any presumption of innocence, insisted the two defense attorneys.
Carl Hultman saw the two homicides as interwoven acts impossible to unravel one from the other. “Despite what Mr. Murdach and Mr. Ladenburg like to say, there are some very unique consistencies in these two homicides. There is consistency in the fact that the victims were both total strangers,” explained the prosecutor. “There is consistency in the fact that the crimes were committed initially as assaults in the home. There is consistency in the fact that the victims died of stab wounds in the back caused by Paul St. Pierre's Gerber knife. There is consistency in that both victims were transported to an identical site and buried within about ten to fifteen feet of each other.”
Judge Steiner ruled that the jury could hear it all, or perhaps some or most. Until there was additional research into some remaining, nagging legal questions, neither defense counsel wanted to give an opening statement. “I'll call on each of you after Mr. Hultman is finished. Are you ready to go with two or three witnesses to consume the morning?”
“I have five witnesses scheduled for this morning,” replied Hultman, who listed them off in order of appearance. “And then, if we have time, Detective Yerbury or Parkhurst depending on the court's wishes.”
“Yerbury is going to be on the stand for two or three or four or five hours, and I think the witnesses you've named will consume the morning,” stated the judge before asking an important question directed neither to the defense nor the prosecution. “Can we bring the jury out in five minutes?” The trial would commence, Judge Steiner was told, when the television cameras were ready.
 
 
“The television is here now,” said the judge, “it's the ruling of this court that the defendants are not to be photographed, and the jurors are not to be photographed. The ruling now is that only the opening statement will be photographed, and I'm going to remind the witnesses that they have the right to not be photographed. Are you ready for the jury?” Everyone was ready.
“Welcome to Tacoma. I'm glad you all made it this morning. Ladies and gentlemen, we're now going to begin opening statement on behalf of the state of Washington, Mr. Carl Hultman.”
Establishing a direct connection between the murder of John Achord and that of Damon Wells, Hultman recounted the entire tragic scenario. Beginning with the February 22, 1984, beer bust, fistfight, bathroom beating, and Salmon Beach murder of Damon Wells, he easily transitioned to Achord's demise and decapitation.
“That's a sordid story,” said Hultman, “and it's a terribly ugly crime. Once you have examined this evidence and considered it as a whole, I don't think there's any question but that you will find these defendants guilty as charged.”
The purpose of opening statements is to prepare the jury for what they will see and hear as evidence. Hultman, in a clear and orderly fashion, provided jurors a concise preview of the first day's witnesses and anticipated testimony. John Achord's mother, Opal Bitney, would identify her son, tell of his disappearance, and then Officer David McNutt of the Tacoma Police would affirm the official Missing Persons report.
“Mark Perez will testify to you,” stated Hultman, “how he was told that John Achord had been killed. He was simply told that Achord had been shot in self-defense, no mention of stab wounds. Gordon Gibson will be called, an ex-convict who, while in jail, had a conversation with Paul St. Pierre. He will tell what Paul told him about what he did to John Achord, and why he did it.” As the state's last witness for the trial's first day, Hultman would call Tony Youso to share the disturbing details of Achord's head being tossed into the Puyallup River.
“On Monday, we'll resume this case,” Hultman continued, “with Detective Yerbury, and then pathologist Dr. Lacsina.” The state succinctly encapsulated Lacsina's testimony. “It is his opinion that John Achord died as a result of stab wounds ... the head wound was more a wound to the jaw.”
“As I say,” Hultman concluded, “once you have heard the testimony and evidence, you will have no doubt that the defendants are guilty as charged. Thank you.”
Ladenburg and Murdach, as previously agreed, reserved their opening statements for another time; the prosecution called their first witness—Mrs. Opal Bitney, the married mother of five boys, the youngest being John Achord. Soon after taking the witness stand, Mrs. Bitney handed Carl Hultman her son's photograph. “When was that picture taken?” he asked.
“It was made for my Mother's Day present in 1984,” she answered softly, “six days before he disappeared.” The state offered the photo as Plaintiff's Exhibit #1, and Judge Steiner asked if there were any objections. If there were, neither Murdach nor Ladenburg were going to make them in front of the jury, the victim's mother, and in such close proximity to Mrs. Bitney's heartbreaking mention of Mother's Day.
“No,” answered David Murdach, “we'll reserve our objections to be heard outside the presence of jury.” The court reserved ruling. “Don't show it to the jury,” said Steiner, and Hultman set the photograph aside.
Mrs. Bitney ended her brief testimony by insisting that John Achord didn't use illegal drugs. As she stepped down from the stand, the judge kindly asked her to wait out in the hall for a few minutes. Somewhat mystified, Bitney complied. Steiner sent the jury out as well, and David Murdach approached the bench.
“Family members from both the St. Pierre and Achord families will be sitting here in the courtroom,” said Murdach. “And there has been a problem generated in this case which you may not be aware of. There have been threatening phone calls between the St. Pierres and the Achords, and vice versa. I don't think it is appropriate under those circumstances for any witness who testifies in this case to be seated back in the courtroom—I think every witness should be excluded if they are not going to be called upon.” By excluding every witness from the courtroom, not allowing Mrs. Bitney to attend the trial would not be “unfair treatment.”
Neither Hultman nor Judge Steiner found merit in Murdach's entreaty. “Mrs. Bitney has been under enormous pressure since her son disappeared,” remarked Carl Hultman. “I think she should be entitled to sit through the proceedings.”
“This is a public courtroom,” Judge Steiner said sternly, “and anyone who wants to come has a right to be here. This lady has a right to observe.” Changing the subject, the judge inquired about objections to Achord's photograph. Did they want to hash that out now or at noon? “Noon,” replied Murdach. The jury returned, and Carl Hultman elicited exceptionally short testimony from Tacoma Police officers confirming Achord's official Missing Persons report.
With the overture and preamble of the prosecution's case behind him, Carl Hultman could now begin building toward his intended climax of guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. The first player in the state's orchestrated exposition was twenty-three-year-old Mark Perez.
 
 
“I object!” It was Hultman raising his voice, interrupting David Murdach's cross-examination of Mark Perez. Under Hultman's direct examination, Perez testified about the post-gunshot admonition from Andrew Webb that he should stay in his room, and the corresponding invitation from Paul St. Pierre to come take a look at what was in the dining room. He also gave testimony about the cut-up carpet, and recounted virtually everything found in his statement to the Tacoma Police.
The question to which Hultman objected concerned Perez's experience with LSD, a powerful psychedelic drug. The judge overruled Hultman, and Perez replied, “In my lifetime, I've tried it.”
“You've sold LSD to Paul, haven't you?” Murdach's question brought another, more forceful objection from the prosecution. The jury was temporarily excused while Judge Steiner asked questions of his own.
“This question is part of your defense, right? Your defense is that your client had LSD and he must have gotten it from somewhere. Is that right?” Defense counsel confirmed; the prosecution continued objecting.
“You're asking,” said Hultman to Murdach, “Mr. Perez to answer a question that has Fifth Amendment strings attached to it that I can't advise him about, and I don't think the court can, either. He needs independent counsel. Whether he sold LSD to Paul St. Pierre sometime in the past is not relevant to this case.”
“You can ask Mr. Perez, ‘Do you know whether Paul has used LSD?' ” advised the judge, “but don't ask him whether he sold it. Now, let's bring the jury in.”
“Wait.” Murdach wasn't done. He wanted more from Perez than Steiner would allow. “I think I'm entitled to ask whether he or his girlfriend sold LSD to Paul that night. Mr. Perez can figure out his Fifth Amendment rights for himself. We have a right to ask.”
The court always has an obligation of protection—protecting the witness's rights. Steiner advised Perez of his right to remain silent, and the right to have an attorney. Hultman and Murdach continued arguing until they were firmly interrupted, but not by Judge Steiner. The man verbally breaking through was Mark Perez.
“I don't like being here as well as anybody else does,” stated Perez emphatically, “and if he has a question he wants to ask pertaining to this particular night, I'll just let him ask it. I don't want to postpone it any longer than it has been.”
“All right,” said the judge, “let's bring out the jury.”
Mark Perez answered Murdach's drug-related question, revealing that Paul St. Pierre often purchased his LSD via Perez's ex-girlfriend's cousin. That individual, in turn, had procured it from someone else. On the night of the Rush concert, Andrew Webb, Paul St. Pierre, and Cory Cunningham planned to share five hits. Although they asked Perez to supply the drug, he was bedridden with an ear infection. “I didn't go to the concert,” recalled Perez, “and Rush was my favorite band.”
The prosecution's next witness was Gordon Gibson, formerly incarcerated with the St. Pierres, who recounted Paul's explanation for killing John Achord: “He was a jerk.” Furthermore, recalled Gibson, “he didn't say they buried him or anything; he just said he cut off the guy's head, put it in a bucket, and threw it into the Puyallup River.”
Gibson, after assuring everyone that he received no special benefits in exchange for his testimony, stepped down. The jury went to lunch, and Carl Hultman requested special considerations for his next witness—the man who tossed John Achord's head into the river.

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