“Well, this shocking and horrific revelation—has that triggered an impulse to seek medical advice? To get an AIDS test? Even now, after all you’ve recently learned, have you had yourself tested for AIDS?”
“No.”
“No. Because you don’t believe it yourself, do you, Mrs. Kissel?”
She did not reply.
Toward the end of the afternoon, Chapman said, “You’ve told us so much about how your husband mistreated you. You’ve also cited instances where you say he used force to discipline your daughters. Are you trying to paint a picture of Robert Kissel as having been abusive to his children, too?”
“There were isolated times when he was very rough with the children. There were times when he would terrify me because I had no control of him. But I didn’t try to paint a picture of him. I—” She rose halfway out of her seat at the witness stand. “Do you hear me? I didn’t try to paint a picture of him! I still love him! Things happened! I stayed with him! I loved him! And I am not sitting here to paint a bad picture about him. He’s…he’s…he’s my husband!” She burst into tears again.
“We’ll take a short break now to allow Mrs. Kissel to compose herself,” Mr. Justice Lunn said.
She turned and spoke through her tears directly to the judge. “He’s my husband!…I still love him! If it weren’t for these things, I would still be with him…I still love him deeply…Oh, it’s so hard…”
The effectiveness of histrionic displays in a courtroom, like that of exclamation marks on a printed page, is inversely proportional to the frequency with which they are employed. Nancy’s trembling, sobbing, and anguished cries fell on increasingly blind eyes and deaf ears as her cross-examination continued throughout the week. Peter Chapman grew impatient. Mr. Justice Lunn was clearly unmoved. There seemed little sympathy in the gazes of the jurors. Chapman had seized control of the proceedings. His indefatigability, seasoned with ever more overt sarcasm, reduced Nancy’s answers to grist. He didn’t do Del Priore any favors, either.
“He was the man you loved. He was the man in your life.”
“He’s a person I had a relationship with.”
“You went to New York with your husband when he had back surgery only so you could secretly meet with Del Priore.”
“No.”
“You sneaked out behind your husband’s back while he lay on it.”
“Only for about half an hour.”
“A hundred and fifty-eight phone calls to Del Priore in September and October.”
“He continued to give support.”
“Del Priore lived in a trailer, right?”
“No. A stationary mobile home.”
“And you represented a potential gold mine to him, didn’t you, Mrs. Kissel?”
“No, not at all. He understood what my life was about—the struggle of accepting who I was. He accepted me as a person. He didn’t judge me by what I possessed. People assume people with money are so happy with their life. I’m tired of that.”
“Fifty-two calls in September. One hundred six calls in October. The pattern was you would tell him you could talk and he would call you back. He spent hours on the telephone with you; he spent thousands of U.S. dollars, which a resident of a trailer park could ill afford.”
“He worked.”
“I suggest, Mrs. Kissel, he considered it a good investment. The day you searched the internet for ‘sleeping pills…drug overdose and medication causing heart attack’ you spoke to Del Priore for more than three hours.”
“I never talked to him about drugs.”
“On the day you were prescribed Rohypnol by Dr. Dytham, you called him seven times, before and after seeing the doctor. What were those calls about, Mrs. Kissel?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You were on a shopping spree for drugs that week. And before and after every visit to a doctor to ask for drugs, you called Del Priore. Do you remember any of those calls, Mrs. Kissel?”
“I never told him I was getting pills.”
“You had ten tablets of Rohypnol provided on October twenty-third and twenty tablets of dextropropoxythene provided on the twenty-eighth—that’s ten pretty good nights of sleep. Then on thirtieth October, off you go to Dr. Fung and you end up with Lorivan, amitryptyline, and some more Stilnox. Three days after that, those three drugs end up in Robert Kissel’s stomach, along with the Rohypnol. In relation to those four drugs, Mrs. Kissel, how were you supposed to take them?”
“As directed.”
“All together?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, Robert Kissel seemed to have taken them all together on second November with two as an added bonus, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know.”
“You used the milk shake to conceal the drugs. And you didn’t bring the milk shakes to your husband and Mr. Tanzer. You used the girls because you knew Robert Kissel wouldn’t take it from you.”
“No. He continued eating with me. He continued drinking his scotch.”
“By November 2003, there was absolutely no way Robert Kissel was going to take a drink from you, Mrs. Kissel. But Mr. Tanzer’s visit suddenly presented you with an opportunity. You could tell the girls it would be fun to make milk shakes. You could put the drugs in the milk shakes. And you could ask the girls to deliver them.”
“No, no! That’s not what happened!”
“And later you delivered—from above—five accurate, fatal blows, grouped together. You were able to deliver those accurate blows because Robert Kissel was unable to defend himself, because you had rendered him defenseless by drugging him.”
“No! We had a horrible fight and he used a bat! He was telling me he was going to kill me with that bat. He kept repeating it and I defended myself from him. He was going to kill me and I fought for my life!”
“You just forgot to mention that to Dr. Dytham, thirty-six hours later. You forgot to mention this furious life-or-death struggle, which nobody heard.”
“I can’t remember that visit.”
“The account you gave to Dr. Dytham is significantly different from the account you’ve given here as evidence. As well as depicting a different version of events without mention of a life-or-death struggle or a dead husband, there’s not a single reference in that report to you having any difficulty recalling events.”
“I didn’t know then that I was suffering from memory loss.”
“At seven forty-one a.m. on November third, you called Del Priore and talked for twenty-four minutes. By that time, you didn’t need a sympathetic ear about an abusive husband. What did you talk about in that call, Mrs. Kissel?”
“We always spoke about a lot of issues.”
“Did you tell Del Priore that you had solved the problem with your husband?”
“I can’t remember that call.”
“Your claim of memory loss is a lie, isn’t it, Mrs. Kissel? What Dr. Dytham’s report records is an attempt by you to embark on a process of deception, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not. I don’t have a memory of that day, nor the visit.”
“But you did have a memory on November fourth. That’s your problem, isn’t it, Mrs. Kissel?”
“No. I don’t know what happened to me after that night. I still don’t know. It’s a part of my life that’s been taken from me.”
“The person who has had a part of his life taken from him is Robert Kissel—because you killed him.”
It was 4:30 p.m. Chapman indicated to the judge that he’d reached a point suitable for overnight adjournment.
Suddenly, Nancy screamed her loudest scream yet: “He was going to kill me; he was going to kill me! Oh God, he was going to kill me!” She laid her head on her arms on the lectern of the witness stand and shook convulsively and wailed.
“Thank you, Mrs. Kissel,” Mr. Justice Lunn said drily. “Please return to the dock.”
32. AUGUST 13–SEPTEMBER 1
TROPICAL STORM SANVU, THE FIRST OF THE SEASON, BLEW into the So
uth China Sea on the morning of August 12, the day Nancy ended her testimony. Sanvu intensified into a severe tropical storm the next day and made landfall near Shantou in Guangdong province, 187 miles north of Hong Kong. Sanvu’s outer rainbands inundated the island with almost six inches of rain.
Nancy viewed the rain from her new cell in the maximum security Tai Lam Centre for Women. At the close of proceedings on August 12, Chapman had asked for a conference in chambers. There, he argued that Nancy’s accusations against her husband and her claims of memory loss were clearly lies and that someone capable of such deliberate falsification must be considered a flight risk. Mr. Justice Lunn concurred, revoked Nancy’s bail (out of the presence of the jury and with orders that the press not report her change of status), and remanded her to Tai Lam. She left court that day—after the jury had been dismissed, so as not to prejudice them—not with her mother, but handcuffed and shackled and surrounded by guards.
From Tai Lam, she wrote to Michael Del Priore:
Thursday, August 18, 19:40
Hello my love…I don’t know where to even start…I finished my eight days of giving testimony on the 12th of August…and the judge immediately revoked bail…and tonight, believe it or not, is the first pen and paper I’ve received…
It’s been raining here so I’ve really been able to feel you—I love the rain—especially now—it has this magical way of bringing me right to you…My Baby…my love…my Michael…I pray that you can feel me…feel me loving you, needing you. I want so desperately to come to you…to come home to you to be in your arms again—to touch you, smell you—take all of you in…
We’re another day closer, you know, another day closer—that’s what I say out loud every day when I wake up…
As a trough of low pressure edged toward the south China coast on August 19, almost eight inches of rain drenched Hong Kong as the wind felled a banyan tree that had stood in Central for more than a hundred years.
Hi my love…I’m back from court—long day…and guess what…it’s pouring outside so your right next to me…I love the sounds—the wind—everything about the rain…
Today you and I went to our favorite local diner…we go every Wednesday…same booth in the corner so we can sit together side by side…everyone working there knows us…knows our table—so they hold it every Wednesday—no menus…and always a slice of pie is put aside for you…we take a walk after we eat and hold hands…when we get home we get ready for bed…you help me get undressed…we’re making love to one another…so beautifully…
We’re another day closer my love…one day we’ll wake up and this nightmare will be over and once more you’ll be able to look into my eyes and see them loving you…tonight we can fall asleep together listening to the rain…make love to me Michael…hold me in your arms until I fall asleep…don’t let go…
The storm battered Hong Kong even harder the next day. As winds grew stronger, the weather service issued an amber rainstorm warning, a strong monsoon signal, a landslip warning, a thunderstorm warning, and a special announcement on flooding in the New Territories. Almost twelve inches of rain fell, causing widespread flooding and more than a hundred landslides.
Good morning Beautiful—how was your night? Mine was wonderful with you by my side…it continues to rain…actually it’s pouring…even better…I feel you so strongly when it’s raining like this…
I love the way you touch me…something so new to me…that’s why I have this incredible need to be touched by you…something I’ve fought against throughout my marriage…always associating touch with pain and humiliation…
I know it must be so hard for you when I talk about my marriage and my past experiences but I have this need to tell you because of how you changed my life…I struggle constantly to get closer to you…struggling to feel you flowing through me…I can’t seem to get enough…a sense of peace and trust from a man for the first time…
In the Court of First Instance, the trial was winding down. Doctors Fung and Dytham testified. Ira and Ryan testified. And Nancy’s friends from Parkview, the Aberdeen Marina Club, and the Hong Kong International School testified.
Parkview neighbor Nancy Nassberg recalled an occasion at the club when Rob had spoken sharply to Nancy about letting the children run wild. She said Nancy wanted to let the children express themselves and have fun, while Rob demanded good behavior.
Nassberg also recounted asking Nancy why she was wearing sunglasses indoors in February 1999. Nancy had moved the glasses to reveal a bruise around her right eye and had said, “Rough sex.”
Another neighbor recalled seeing a bruise around Nancy’s right eye sometime in 2002, while a friend from HKIS remembered seeing a bruised right eye in October 2003. Everyone said Nancy had always been friendly and cheerful. No one said they’d ever heard her complain about being abused, but as neighbor Geertruida Samra said, that wasn’t surprising, given that “the expatriate community in Parkview was very gossipy.”
The last witness called by the defense was Bernard Pasco, the computer forensic expert who had discovered Rob’s use of search terms such as “wife is a bitch,” “twinks,” and “gay anal sex in Taiwan.”
Pasco testified that he’d used NetAnalysis and EnCase Forensic software to examine the Kissels’ computers. He said the two programs enabled him to determine exactly what search terms had been entered at a given time on a given date, what results had been obtained, and which sites the user had then visited.
He said Nancy’s lawyers had told him to explore the time period between January 2002 and November 2003. They’d given him a list of keywords to search for. These “focused primarily on the homosexual area,” Pasco said.
He’d examined both Rob’s laptop and the family desktop and had discovered extensive activity in “the homosexual area” on both computers on April 4 and 5, 2003, just after Nancy and the children had left for the United States and just before Rob traveled to Taiwan.
On cross-examination, Chapman asked Pasco to estimate the total number of hours Rob had spent searching for and viewing gay and pornographic Web sites during the twenty-two months covered by his investigation.
An hour and a half on April 4, Pasco said, and an hour and a half on April 5.
“And that’s it?” Chapman asked. “A total of three hours over two days?” Had that really been the extent of Rob’s exploration of “the homosexual area” of the Internet?
That was all he’d been able to document, Pasco said: three hours over two days during a period of twenty-two months.
Good morning Beautiful—how was your night? Mine was wonderful with you by my side…I want to write a book about my life…abuse-wise…so many women are afraid to come forward—that’s what I want to write about—my denial for so many years…my choice to stay in the marriage as long as I did…the reasons…I want to help women who feel trapped…I was sort of feeling like God chose me to be a spokesperson to speak for women in trouble…
No one believes that shitty things happen to women driving a Mercedes and living the life of luxury…I always blamed myself for what I allowed to have happen…I was so weak…but on the outside portrayed what I knew everyone wanted to see—great life, great marriage, etc…bullshit really…and then came you…
I still haven’t been able to remember everything about that night and I don’t know if it will ever come back…it’s incredibly unsettling having to sit through weeks of prosecution witnesses that say things about me during that week—all of which I have absolutely no memory of so I can’t even say whether it is true or not…
Other than Nancy’s testimony, the linchpin of Alexander King’s presentation was the baseball bat that Simon Clarke had found on the bedroom floor and kept in his office until the trial was well under way. Specifically, the barrister wanted to persuade the jury that an indentation on the base of the lead ornament had been caused not by Rob’s skull, but by the barrel of the bat—the implication being that Nancy had used the ornament to defend herself against Rob
’s murderous attack. It was a case, in other words, of “If the bat fits, you must acquit.”
Good morning Beautiful how was your night…mine was so wonderful with you by my side…we’re another day closer…today should be a good day for us…we have a very strong case with this new evidence of the baseball bat and statue…it’s the best thing to close with…showing the jury that the baseball bat caused the statue to be curved—it is our entire case really…
The prosecution, however, called two rebuttal witnesses: DNA expert Dr. Pang Chi-ming and forensic expert Wong Koon-hung. Pang testified that the only DNA found on the bat was that of an unidentified female—not Nancy, but possibly Min. This indicated that Rob had not been gripping and swinging the bat on the night of November 2, 2003, Pang said.
“You would agree, would you not, that not everyone that touches the end of the baseball bat will leave human DNA material that is detectable by testing?” King asked.
“If I touch this microphone with my finger, it’s possible my human material will not be left on it. But if I held it tightly, and moved it around, I don’t believe that my human material would not be left on it.”
Having made it harder to conclude beyond a reasonable doubt that Rob had handled the bat on the night he was killed, Peter Chapman asked Wong if the bat had caused the dent in the ornament. It was “doubtful” Wong said. He then drove a stake through the heart of the defense linchpin by stating, “It’s conclusive that the piece of metal had not been struck with the baseball bat with significant force.”
After seventy-seven days, the presentation of evidence was concluded.
I just want this over with…I can’t take it anymore…I wanna soak in a bubble bath…a hot bath…I’m sorry I blew my chance that day…but too much of my self-stuff was in the way…I know it’s ridiculous but when you spend years of someone telling you how horrible your body looks…well…I still can’t shake it—and I’m not sure I ever will…
Never Enough Page 24