CHAPTER 52
Judge Narita gazed out over the gallery and said firmly, “Is there anyone protecting and serving our island today?”
He was referring to the dark blue uniforms overflowing the courtroom. More silent witnesses than I could count, none of them cheering on our side, the side of right.
“This is not Aloha Stadium,” Narita continued. “If you would like to support your fallen comrade, you may do so with a select group of representatives, no more than six, I’d say. Having a gallery full of law enforcement may not be grounds for reversal on appeal, but I do believe it hinders the defendant’s chance of receiving a fair trial. So before I call the jury in, I would ask that all but six uniformed police officers leave. You have three minutes to decide amongst yourselves which six that will be. If there are more than six officers remaining after those three minutes, I will clear the courtroom. Your three minutes begin now.”
Narita rapped the gavel, and behind us, chaos ensued.
I took the unexpected free time to turn to my client. I leaned toward him and said, “I apologize for my behavior yesterday. Sometimes I take the role of devil’s advocate a bit too seriously.”
Turi nodded. “No worries, Mistah C.” With his good eye, he glanced back toward the gallery, at the dozens of cops, any one of whom would gladly have put a bullet into his skull. “I just ask you one favor, yeah?”
“Anything.”
“If I get convicted and go to prison, brah, I need you to take care of Mindy and my keiki, eh? Specially if something happen to me on the inside.”
I bowed my head. “You can count on it, Turi. But I have a much different outcome in mind.”
Fifteen minutes later the jury was seated, and I had called the next defense witness. Detective John Tatupu sat in the witness stand just as he had in my last two homicide trials, only this time he was my witness, a witness for the defense.
“Good morning, Detective.”
“Counselor.”
I didn’t waste any time. I walked the detective through his long, winding career with the Honolulu Police Department, slowing only to focus on his years in Homicide and his abrupt transfer earlier this year to Auto Theft.
Then together, cop and defense attorney, we entered the abyss.
Tatupu testified at length to what he had witnessed over the past several years within the department. He had discovered drugs and money recovered from raids missing from the evidence locker. Observed officers within several divisions, including the Narcotics Intelligence Unit, receive envelopes filled with cash from businesspeople and known drug dealers. Overheard plans for off-duty officers to carry contraband to the islands from Mexico and the US mainland. He had seen officers offer prostitutes, drug dealers, even perpetrators of domestic violence, leniency in exchange for sexual favors.
Tatupu testified that he had taken his complaints first to Internal Affairs then to Chief of Police Patrick McClusky but received no satisfaction. He’d been warned by more than one officer to mind his business or risk losing his badge, or worse.
I repeatedly glanced in the direction of the prosecution table. Throughout my direct examination of John Tatupu, Dapper Don had plenty of opportunities to rise and object, on the grounds of hearsay in particular. But instead of rising and offering objections, Dapper Don sat riveted, listening to Tatupu as he set the entire Honolulu Police Department on fire.
“Let’s turn specifically to the Narcotics Intelligence Unit,” I said. “Did you know Detective Kanoa Bristol personally?”
“I did.”
“Did you ever witness Detective Bristol engage in any of the illicit behaviors you mentioned earlier?”
“I did. In May of 2007, I witnessed Detective Bristol accept an envelope filled with what looked like large bills from a known ice dealer in Makaha.”
“How did you happen to be in Makaha during that time?”
“I was investigating a fatal stabbing at the apartment complex in which this known drug dealer lived.”
“Did you confront Detective Bristol following this transaction?”
“I did not.”
“Why not?”
“Because by this time I had already witnessed similar events take place and I had brought these issues to both Internal Affairs and Chief McClusky, and I was essentially told by each to mind my own business and stick to investigating homicides. And I had already been physically threatened by a member of the Narcotics Intelligence Unit.”
“You were threatened by whom specifically?”
“Detective Ray Irvine.”
Tatupu went on to say that he witnessed Detective Bristol accept cash again in March and December of 2008, July of 2009, and February and November of 2010. In July of 2011, Tatupu witnessed Bristol receiving oral sex from a known prostitute in a parked motor vehicle on Monsarrat Avenue across from the zoo.
When Tatupu said this, Bristol’s wife, Dana, stood up, cursed at the witness, and exited the courtroom.
During Tatupu’s testimony, I watched the twelve jurors and three alternates. They seemed jaded, and I feared the gravity of what the detective was testifying to wasn’t getting through. We had started the trial with raw violence, and now they were hearing about envelopes and blow jobs and Internal Affairs investigations that never happened. I needed to turn the dial, return them to the world of gunshots and bullet holes and dead bodies.
“In your capacity as a detective in the Homicide division,” I said, “did you ever investigate the murder of anyone associated with a gang known to compete with the syndicate known as the Masonet Organization?”
“All the time.”
Never ask a question you don’t already know the answer to, Kevin.
“During any such investigation did you ever suspect members of the Honolulu Police Department, including the officers of the Narcotics Intelligence Unit, to be involved?”
Tatupu took a deep breath, then repeated, “All the time.”
At that moment I revered John Tatupu even more for staying on the job all these years. I couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult it must have been for him investigating homicides on this island. I instantly forgave him his mistakes in the Gianforte investigation and fully understood his reluctance to testify here at the trial of Turi Ahina. John Tatupu was an extraordinary man, but a man just the same. A man once charged with the impossible task of solving the most heinous of crimes on an island gripped by corruption.
How, I wondered, do you begin to solve murders, how do you begin to control violence, when all the usual suspects wear guns and badges and dark blue uniforms, and every witness you discover is determined to remain deathly silent?