“The fact that the complaint doesn’t state when Ms. Yamura was killed, let alone that it was close in time to Mr. Hanson’s having been found in the house. Furthermore, the complaint alleges no specific motive for Mr. Hanson to have killed Ms. Yamura.”
Devlin heatedly argues the points, conceding that although the preliminary forensics—primarily the temperature of the body—point to a time of death many hours before David was captured fleeing the house, he was caught trying to clear the house of evidence. Devlin then claims that Hanson’s motive will undoubtedly become clear as additional facts are uncovered.
Magistrate Smick stops the argument and reminds Devlin and me that a preliminary arraignment is not the place to decide the merits. She sets bail at half a million dollars. I see David exhale with relief through the CCTV. It’s the first sound I’ve heard from him throughout the proceeding.
“Will you be waiving the preliminary hearing, Mr. McFarland?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Most experienced defense attorneys will opt for a preliminary hearing to learn details of the prosecution’s case. I don’t want a preliminary hearing for David because the result—that the court will find sufficient evidence to bind David over for trial—is a foregone conclusion. If we hold a public hearing, the details of the young woman’s death and David’s flight will wind up all over the media.
After the arraignment, I approach Devlin Walker in the hallway. “Murder one?” I say. “Really?”
Devlin looks down at me, his face set in stone. “Murder one, Mick. Really.”
“You can’t even put him in the house at the time of death. By your own admission, it was hours after the crime that the police saw him leaving.”
“Not leaving. Running away. After spending an undetermined amount of time trying to clean up his mess. As for his whereabouts at the time of death, if he wasn’t with the victim, where was he? If he has an alibi that can be corroborated, then this is all just a big misunderstanding, and I’ll drop the charges.”
“Do you really think there was premeditation? That he went into the house intending to kill her?”
“I don’t know whether he went there with a plan to kill her or whether he formulated that plan once he was alone with her. But you know as well as I that the period of premeditation can be very brief. That’s criminal law 101.” Walker pauses, then adds, “On the other hand, your client and the decedent could have gotten into a fight. He could have flown off the handle and pushed her down the stairs in a fit of rage. That would only be voluntary manslaughter. I could see that. Is your client thinking of coming clean, pleading out?”
“That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Your first-degree murder charge scares my client into admitting that he killed her in the heat of passion? A quick, easy win for the prosecution, and one step closer to becoming district attorney?”
Devlin flinches at my reference to his ambition. “Let’s not make this personal, Mick.”
“The defendant is a close friend of mine,” I answer, almost choking on the words. “I won’t be serving you any silver platters here. You want this one, you’re going to have to take it from us.”
Devlin leans into me. “That’s exactly what I’m paid to do.”
With that, he turns and walks away.
It takes two hours to arrange for David’s bail. We are set upon as soon as we leave the station house. Reporters surround David and me and follow us down the block like a swarm of yellow jackets. They jam microphones into our faces as we walk toward the car I have waiting outside.
“Did you kill her?”
“Were you having an affair?”
“Why did you try to hide evidence if you didn’t do it?”
Once we’re at the firm, I sit David in a conference room and tell Angie to get him some coffee. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell David.
I go into my office, sit behind the desk, take a breath.
But before I have time to think, Angie calls on my speakerphone. “Patti Cassidy from the Inquirer is on the line. She wants a quote.”
I sigh, say I’ll take it, and let Cassidy machine-gun questions at me. When she’s spent, I count to three and say, “Okay, Patti, here’s my statement. Mr. Hanson will cooperate fully with the police in the investigation into Ms. Yamura’s death. He’s as eager as everyone else for the real perpetrator to be apprehended and brought to justice.” Before Patti can attack me with a barrage of follow-up questions, I hang up. I hope she quotes me word for word. I want to convey to the reading public—i.e., the potential jurors—that David is cooperating and that the investigation is ongoing, implying that even the police aren’t sure they got the right guy. Bullshit, of course, but, hey.
I return to the conference room, tell David to go home. “We’ll meet again on Monday and discuss the case in detail. In the meantime, say nothing to anyone about the charges, or your guilt or innocence. Except to Marcie, of course.”
David’s face turns white at the mention of his wife’s name. “She’s visiting her sister in Los Angeles, with the boys.” He holds up his cell phone. “I just left a message with her brother-in-law. I told him to tell her I’d been arrested, but that it’s all a huge mistake and that she shouldn’t believe anything she hears.” David looks like he’s about to break. He looks down at his shoes, then back up at me. “This isn’t going to just go away, is it?”
“No. The DA’s going to push hard to convict you.”
“But I didn’t do it.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I say. “Once the DA charges someone, the prosecutors and police stop looking for another perp and work together as a conviction machine. I’ve been there. I know how it works. They won’t stop until they get a plea or a guilty verdict.”
I walk David through the firm’s reception area and watch him leave the office. “He already looks like a dead man walking,” I say to Angie.
She doesn’t answer me, but from the look on her face, I can tell what she’s thinking: He threw that poor girl down the steps; he deserves what he gets.
For the next hour, I create a computer file for the Hanson case and type in everything I know about it.
Angie calls me over the speakerphone. “Detective John Tredesco is calling on the Hanson case. Want me to say you’re not here?”
I think for a minute, then tell Angie I’ll take the call.
“Hello, Detective.”
“So I hear your client is eager to cooperate with the police,” Tredesco says snidely. “When can I expect to meet with him and take his statement?”
“Funny as ever, John.” Tredesco is known for having no sense of humor. At all.
There’s a pause at the other end of the line. “So you’re telling the press that Hanson is doing everything he can to help us out, but he’s not even going to meet with us? How is that helping our investigation?”
I smile. “By making sure that a jury isn’t bamboozled into finding Mr. Hanson guilty. He and I will, ultimately, free the police department and the DA up so you can find the real culprit.”
“So I guess that means you won’t agree to produce a DNA sample?”