CHAPTER 38

The time had come in Turi Ahina’s case to move from investigation to trial preparation. The investigation wouldn’t truly end until the verdict was read, but our trial date was coming up fast, with jury selection scheduled to begin in early October.

So Jake and I sat in the conference room staring blankly at a table blanketed with filled legal pads, photographs, pleadings, motions, police and autopsy reports, witness statements, copies of the Hawaii Penal Code and the Hawaii Rules of Evidence, and a single birth certificate from the Department of Health.

By now I was eating Percocet as if they were Tic Tacs, but they didn’t alleviate the ferocious pain at the base of my neck. So I started adding ibuprofen, and before I knew it I’d developed a peptic ulcer and needed to include Nexium, Zantac, and Prilosec to my daily regimen of pills.

“Hoshi’s preparing the subpoenas,” I told Jake. “We’ll have Flan serve them next week.”

“How about pretrial motions?” Jake said.

I shrugged. “There’s no confession. The only issue is the gun used to kill Kanoa Bristol. That’s coming in, and we don’t care if it does. No prints, no gunshot residue on Turi’s hands or clothes. Dapper Don can’t introduce the fact that this weapon was the same weapon that killed Alika Kapua. Judge Narita would throw him out of court. Besides, there’s no proof Turi was the one who shot Alika Kapua three years ago.”

“Unless you testify.”

I stared at Jake, suddenly struck with what I hoped was an irrational fear. What if, after this trial—after we admitted that the weapon used to kill Kanoa Bristol belonged to Turi—the prosecutor’s office came back and obtained an indictment against Turi for the murder of Alika Kapua?

It was as though Jake read my mind. “You sure your ‘choice of evils’ strategy is the way to go in this case, son?”

Since justification was not considered an affirmative defense in Hawaii, I wouldn’t need to disclose our intention to use it before trial. Thus, neither Narita nor Watanabe knew it was coming. Which also meant I had time to change strategies if necessary.

Jake voiced his reasons for such a change: “As you said, there were no prints on the gun, no gunshot residue. You have one witness, a seventy-two-year-old woman, who claims she saw an obese man scampering away in the dark following gunshots. I don’t doubt for a minute you could shred her like a piece of paper on cross-examination. And that’s really all they got on our man.”

“Except a dead officer,” I said. “And no one else for us to point to.”

Jake shrugged. “Dapper Don would still have a hell of a tough time proving his case beyond a reasonable doubt. Hell, Narita might grant our motion to dismiss after Dapper Don finishes his case-in-chief. The evidence simply doesn’t support a conviction.”

“And what about the Honolulu Police Department?” As soon as I said it I regretted it.

“You know as well as I do, that’s not our problem. You can’t use Turi as a pawn to prove police corruption.”

My eyes narrowed. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

Jake shook his head. “Not unless you’ve grown a conscience since the Erin Simms trial and are suddenly more concerned with exposing the truth than winning an acquittal.”

“And what if I know I can do both?”

“Know is an awfully strong word for a trial attorney. You can’t predict what twelve idiots in a jury box will do any more than you can predict what voters will do four years from now in the next election.”

I released my breath, unaware until then that I’d been holding it. “This is beginning to sound as though we’re playing role reversal, Jake.”

He winked at me. “Maybe we are.”