Who Killed Scott Guy?

by Mike White

  At the same time, Greg King had only just received approval for funding from Legal Aid for a second counsel, Peter Coles. He’d also employed a private investigator, Paul Bass, to help with some inquiries, with no guarantee he would be reimbursed.

  The Scott Guy murder investigation was the most overwhelming King had faced in terms of detail and disclosure paperwork, but he was still reluctant to concede he was struggling with the magnitude of the case, or the weight of evidence seemingly stacked against Ewen Macdonald. ‘It’s not without its problems,’ he noted. ‘It would be much better if the arson and the damage to the property hadn’t happened. If that was the case I think their case would be very weak. Now, with it, they think their case is very strong.

  ‘The Crown say these incredibly stupid things that he’d done against Scott in the past are demonstrative of his hatred, his malice towards Scott and that, on one level, is quite powerful,’ he continued. ‘Whether it’s a sufficient link to say, I can be sure beyond reasonable doubt that he must therefore be the murderer—that’s the question. And frankly there will be some who think it’s enough, there will be some who think it’s suspicious but not enough, there will be some who think, “What the hell’s that got to do with the murder?” That’s just plain human dynamics.’

  Callum Boe was evidence that someone could do stupid and violent acts but wasn’t a murderer and, in King’s view, the case was a genuine whodunit. ‘And it’s unusual in that respect,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t have the usual features you associate with a strong police case. There are no eyewitnesses, there’s no confession, there’s no compelling forensic link. What it seeks to do is rely on motive. And that motive, from what I’ve seen, I believe is overstated and exaggerated, and everyone is reinterpreting it with hindsight.

  ‘One of the things I’m concerned about is the beat-up that always happens in trials whereby issues in the past assume huge significance. And you get people providing statements to show that there were all these things said at the time and done and it all stands to be reinterpreted retrospectively and can all look kind of horrible and sinister. But it’s not going to be easy, I know that. But it’s certainly not hopeless, not at all, not at all.’

  In cases like this, one of the first questions people would ask King—or want to ask him but realise it was tacky and tactless—was whether he thought his client was innocent. In Macdonald’s case, King’s reference point was the first time he met him. ‘He admitted absolutely all his actions in the other matters but denied absolutely his involvement in the murder. And until that position in any way shape or form changes, that’s the approach I start from,’ he said. ‘There seems to be this never-ending naivety about the role of defence lawyers—people really do despise us and think it’s just a game to us to win at all costs and to hell with anything else. They don’t understand our ethical responsibility—we cannot actively mislead or deceive the court.’

  King would never ask his clients if they were guilty or not but would explain to them the benefits of pleading guilty early and the tangible rewards they could receive for this at sentencing. ‘And in this case it prompted the reply, “I’m not guilty, I didn’t do it, I’m not going to plead guilty to it.” He was absolutely resolute.’

  In the seven months since Macdonald’s arrest, King had got to know his client well, having visited him in jail regularly. ‘And I like him a lot, but that doesn’t impact on how I do my job. I feel privileged that he’s put his faith and trust and literally his life in my hands. On one level that’s a very high privilege—like the surgeon who performs the operation that may or may not result in him dying. On the other hand it comes with a huge amount of responsibility. These things are hard work and they’re tiring and they’re stressful. But they’re what I do.’

  After two early preliminary and largely perfunctory court appearances, Macdonald didn’t appear before a judge until his trial in June 2012.

  But on 15 November 2011 there was a hearing about his case that would have a huge impact on the eventual outcome. Before Justice Simon France in Wellington’s High Court were two issues to be decided. The first was where Macdonald’s trial should be held—Palmerston North or Wellington. Normally trials are held in the area where the offences occur, and in this case the nearest High Court would have been Palmerston North. But such was the profile and discussion about Scott Guy’s murder, the defence felt there was little chance an impartial jury could be found within the Manawatu catchment. Details of Macdonald’s other crimes had been suppressed but even still, rumours about the murder, about Macdonald and about his other offences were rife. Shifting the trial to Wellington, King argued, meant jurors were less likely to have been exposed to such information, much of it completely wrong.

  To prove their argument, Peter Coles organised for affidavits to be taken from a cross-section of community members around Feilding and Palmerston North, outlining what they’d heard about the case. They came from all walks of life—a hairdresser, a butcher, a motelier, a farmer, a security guard and an IT engineer, among others. Many already knew about the other crimes Macdonald had committed and admitted to. And many had also heard gossip about Macdonald that was totally at odds both with the facts established by the police and with their theory of what happened. The most common of these was that Macdonald and Callum Boe were in a gay relationship. This belief, dubbed the Brokeback Mountain rumour, had no truth to it, but became one of the most pervasive pieces of whispering about the case.

  Thus, the defence argued to Justice France at November’s preliminary hearing, Macdonald couldn’t get a fair trial in Palmerston North.

  The second issue to be resolved was which of the other crimes Macdonald had confessed to would be admissible at his trial. Trials are generally conducted without reference to a defendant’s previous convictions or misdemeanours. This is so the jury can concentrate on the charge in front of them without being prejudiced over whatever else the accused may have done. But in this case, some of the other crimes arguably had a clear connection with the murder. The arson and vandalism both appeared to have been directed at Scott and Kylee. And the Crown argued that the shooting of Craig Hocken’s stags was also evidence of Macdonald’s ability to use firearms at night without being detected.

  While the other crimes—the dumping of milk, the killing of the calves and burning down the old whare on the Sexton property—may have indicated Macdonald’s bad character, they weren’t actually related to the murder of Scott Guy in any way and thus would be prejudicial if the jury knew about them. In the end, even the Crown accepted this and the judge agreed they would remain suppressed until after Macdonald’s murder trial.

  Three days after the High Court hearing, Justice France ruled the trial would be shifted from Palmerston North to Wellington, to protect against jurors being influenced by what they may have already heard. The following day, the Manawatu Standard’s editor, Michael Cummings, agreed the province should relinquish further legal proceedings, writing: ‘It would be virtually impossible to find someone in Manawatu who has not heard someone else’s theory on the case or formulated their own . . . The time for rumour and innuendo has long since passed; it’s time for justice in whatever form it takes.’

  On a warm afternoon in February 2012, Feilding sweltered and slept. A few kids on scooters sped down hot asphalt pavements but little else seemed alive on the prosaically named North Street, South Street, East Street and West Street. Even the corn seemed too listless to bend with the wind.

  Not far out of town, on a rural block looking across to the Ruahine Range, Kerry Macdonald switched off his chainsaw and stood back, ears ringing and hands still shaking from several hours’ replenishing the family’s firewood supply. It was a burst of normality for the 55-year-old in what had been almost a year of upset and upheaval since his son’s arrest. ‘You could write a book about being thrust into this situation. About the emotions, dealing with family and friends, media, police, prisons. And it’s the highs and lows—the lows creep up on you
for no reason, with no warning. You can be driving home and all of a sudden you’re feeling like shit. And other days you’re cruising along nicely.

  ‘But you can never put it out of your mind. We went on holiday to America, all vast and new, to Florida for three weeks, borrowed a friend’s car and did 1500 miles, hunting, fishing—but you never forget about it.’

  Kerry said he and Marlene initially went into hyperdrive, trying to organise everything they should be doing for Ewen. ‘And you’re running round but not necessarily making the right decisions—you think you’re making the right decision for the crisis at the time but you’ve got to think ahead.’

  Throughout everything, they had received enormous support from family, friends and the community. Despite feeling everyone was looking at them and whispering, nobody had been vitriolic or tried to isolate or ostracise them. Often Kerry would collect the mail before he went to work, discover letters of support and find himself sitting in the kitchen crying, incredibly grateful that people had taken the time to write.

  Two weeks after Ewen’s arrest, Kerry received an invitation to a reunion of staff from the old Borthwicks freezing works. Unsure of what his reception would be, he deliberated about going but eventually turned up. ‘And they shake your hand and pat you on the back and say, “Good on you,” and “We’re behind you,” or whatever other small talk springs to mind. But I was out on the landing having a cigar with a guy who I’d half-pie known at school and the works and he’s come from a family that’s had all sorts of troubles and he said to me, “Keep your head up, boy,” and that was the best piece of advice I’ve had all the way through.’

  Just as it would be to most parents, the suggestion their son was a murderer was incomprehensible to Kerry and Marlene. And while it’s fair to argue parents will be biased, it’s equally fair to suggest nobody knows their children as well as their mum and dad. Compounding their disbelief was the fact that Ewen had rarely caused them problems, even as a kid. ‘He was a sweet little boy,’ remembered Marlene. ‘He was a perfect little angel.’

  For his parents it was impossible to reconcile the tot on the rocking horse in the family photo album, the boy who’d snuggle up with them in bed in the mornings and the kid with freckles who’d always play up to the camera, with the man now in jail. ‘Ewen never got into trouble as a kid, we never had parents coming round to visit us because he’d done something,’ Kerry had told police after Ewen’s arrest. ‘Ewen was a very lively, friendly, happy kid growing up . . . he always had lots of friends.’

  But while they could staunchly deny he’d be a murderer, they had to accept he was an arsonist, a violent vandal and someone driven by revenge to commit reprehensible crimes. It all seemed so unpredictable and unimaginable, but they never believed he was a murderer. ‘I felt that it wasn’t him,’ Marlene said. ‘When you’re told that your son’s been arrested for murder, you think, oh my God—that’s just what it’s like. I might have had a little, maybe 2 per cent doubt, but it just wasn’t Ewen.’

  Kerry and Marlene met at a dance in Hunterville on New Year’s Eve, 1973. Marlene’s sister was going with her boyfriend so she tagged along. She was from Marton, Kerry was from Bulls. She was 16 and Kerry 17 and, as she remembers it, he just came up and started dancing with her. They were married in 1976 when Marlene was 18 and honeymooned on the West Coast. Knowing she was marrying a hunter, Marlene was careful not to schedule the wedding for duck-shooting season or deer-stalking’s roar. They settled back in Manawatu, Blair being born in 1978 and Ewen in 1980, when they were living in Feilding.

  Kerry worked in freezing works for nearly 20 years but in 1987 took a job at Palmerston North outdoors store Hunting & Fishing. Eventually he became a shareholder and until recently owned half the business. Marlene worked for various companies, was a teacher’s aide, and was office manager at the National Library’s Palmerston North branch.

  Given Kerry’s job and interest, both boys grew up used to hunting and firearms. In those days, nobody locked away guns and they would often just be put behind a door. From an early age Kerry would let the boys hold unloaded rifles and shotguns and pull the trigger, to get their curiosity out of their system. They had slug guns and a target set up on the fence down the end of the garden, to the occasional annoyance of their neighbour. Ewen was 10 when he got his first shotgun.

  The opening weekend of duck-shooting season quickly became sacred for the family’s men, and later Ewen would join Kerry on hunting trips with friends to Stewart Island. Kerry remembers once, when Ewen was hunting on his own, he shot two deer and carried them on his back for several hours on a rainy night before reaching camp because he knew they were running short of food.

  While Ewen sought a life outdoors and a career farming, Blair joined the police, graduating in 2001 and eventually becoming a detective in Wellington. While Kerry and Marlene describe their sons as very different, they stress they were always there for each other when needed. Ever since Ewen’s arrest, Blair had supported his brother and helped his parents navigate the often-mystifying legal process and protocol.

  An example was how police approached Ewen’s second court appearance. At his first appearance, the day after his arrest, the Macdonalds and Guys walked to court together in a show of unity. But before his next appearance, police asked the Guys not to go to court as it might suggest they were supporting Ewen. ‘That was one of their first dirty tricks,’ said Kerry. ‘I’ve never forgotten it.’

  Anna told the Macdonalds what the police had done and Marlene was so shocked she asked Blair if this could be true. He confirmed it did happen. ‘The police have a system where they deal with the victims,’ Kerry said. ‘And we sort of feel like we’re victims—but we’re not—we’re just the parents of the accused.’

  Their first opportunity to see Ewen was eight days after his arrest, but it was a fortnight later that they had a chance to speak to him privately. Marlene bluntly fronted her son. ‘Look me in the eye and tell me, did you do it?’ she asked.

  ‘No, Mum, I didn’t,’ he replied, his voice strong and adamant.

  Over the following months they came back to the same point many times and Ewen repeatedly insisted he was innocent. And, as parents, they were convinced they could tell when their son was lying to them. ‘I’m positive he didn’t do it,’ said Marlene. ‘All the other horrible things, yes, but the big one—no. It’s just not him.’

  ‘You’d see it eventually,’ added Kerry. ‘You may not on the first meeting or the second—but eventually there would be a little hint somewhere, something would show.’

  But what about the other crimes? Surely those things must have made them doubt how well they knew their son?

  ‘We’ve thrashed all that to death,’ said Kerry, who’d spent months and dozens of prison visits trying to understand what had gone on. ‘The way I rationalise it is they’re two reasonably good kids and when they put them together it’s like baking soda and vinegar, or gunpowder—just erupted. It’s just really two larrikins, him and his mate, out being larrikins. When the two get together they lead each other astray.’

  Marlene would often say to her son, ‘“If only you hadn’t done those things, if only, Ewen.” And he’d just look at me and say, “Hindsight’s a good thing, Mum.” When you ask him why he did it, he just says, “Cos we could.” And then he said to me, “But Mum, I felt sick straight after and I knew I’d done wrong.” And I said, “So why did you do it?” And he said, “Cos I thought I was bulletproof and could get away with it.”’

  The Macdonalds had never tried to excuse the property attacks carried out by their son and Callum Boe. ‘But it’s a big jump from burning something down to pulling a trigger,’ said Kerry.

  While all Ewen’s friends and family had stuck by him after his arrest, none believing he could have murdered Scott, it was his parents who had been his closest and strongest support, constantly trying to keep his spirits up. ‘Oh, I think he’s probably shitting himself quietly,’ said Kerry as the trial loom
ed. ‘Ewen will be looking more negative than I am. When I talk to him I try and be positive, but Ewen’s Ewen and I’m me.’

  The toughest time for them all was in late January 2012, when a friend arrived one Friday afternoon and asked if they’d heard the news. ‘She looked like death and we actually thought someone had died,’ Kerry said. ‘And then she said Anna and her son were having an affair.’

  The next morning Kerry went to see Anna and asked if Ewen knew. He didn’t, even though the relationship had been going on for four months. Anna said she was going to visit and tell Ewen on Sunday and had then planned to tell Kerry and Marlene. ‘And I just said to her, “Well, visiting’s for an hour—your news won’t last an hour so you go in and then we’ll go in afterwards and pick up the pieces.”’

  That afternoon Kerry rang the prison, got hold of the manager of Ewen’s unit, told him what was going to happen and asked if they could use a private interview room. When they arrived at Manawatu Prison, Anna went in to see Ewen while Kerry and Marlene waited outside. From where they sat they could see the monitor screens in the adjacent control room and watched Anna talking to Ewen, telling him their marriage was over.

  After 25 minutes, Anna left and Kerry and Marlene went in, to find Ewen surprisingly calm. Prison guards gave them an extra 15 minutes to spend with him. Despite appearing to cope with the news, and despite the split being something Ewen must have always contemplated was possible, he didn’t find it easy to come to terms with another dramatic change in his life. After Greg King visited him several days later, he wrote to Peter Coles, ‘Poor old Ewen is in a bit of a sad space at present but is focused on the trial.’

  For his parents, it was just something else they had to deal with. As Kerry said, ‘More shit, another day.’

  Sitting in his prison cell, Ewen Macdonald had plenty of time to reflect on what had occurred and what he’d done. For the first month he’d slept a lot of the time, exhausted from the past nine months of managing the farm without Scott.