by Mike White
‘It’s not just someone’s died in an accident—you’re talking about the big M—murder,’ King railed. ‘And you’re telling me there’s some doubt in your mind about when you first heard that Scott had been murdered?’
‘Yes,’ Asplin responded meekly.
More importantly, though, King pressed Asplin on when he learnt that Scott had been shot. David Berry, who found Scott’s body, believed his throat had been cut and this was what he reported to the police 111 controller. It wasn’t until later in the day, when police inspected the body more closely, that they concluded he had been shot.
At around 10 am, however, Asplin phoned his girlfriend, Emma Johansen, and told her Scott had been shot. He insists Matthew Ireland told him this when he returned to the cowshed that morning, but in his statements to police and in court, Ireland was adamant he didn’t. Ireland strongly repeated that he couldn’t have told Asplin that Scott had been shot because at that stage he’d heard his throat had been cut and it wasn’t until the following day he learnt it was a shooting.
King raised the question that the only way someone would know this early on the morning of the murder that Scott had been shot was if they had in fact been the killer. Asplin was adamant, however, that Ireland had told him the cause of death, saying stories of his throat being cut only filtered back to him several days later.
Other aspects of Asplin’s behaviour following Scott’s murder also came under scrutiny. The day before Scott’s funeral, Asplin was at the Ravensdown Fertiliser store in Feilding when he met Tony Jessop, who had done work on the Guy farm. When Jessop asked what Scott could have done to deserve being murdered, Asplin replied, ‘He’s really pissed a few people off.’ Asplin went on to say, ‘The one good thing that’s come out of this is that I’m back on the tractor where I belong,’ a comment that struck Jessop as so inappropriate he immediately told police about it.
It also emerged that the day after Scott was killed, Asplin was offered the farm machinery salesman’s job, but turned it down, saying he couldn’t leave the Guys in the lurch at such a time. He returned to the assistant manager’s role at Byreburn, supporting Macdonald and, after Macdonald was arrested, became temporary manager. He wanted to retain this position but Bryan Guy eventually employed someone else in the role.
King put it to Asplin that he was deeply unhappy at work, at a major career crossroads, had never liked Scott Guy and often spoken ill of him. And he reminded Asplin of the statement he’d made to police about his own role: ‘I was the boy and had to do as I was told.’ As Asplin became increasingly unsettled in the witness box, King suggested he was making up evidence on the spot to excuse his actions after Scott was killed.
‘I don’t believe so, no,’ replied Asplin.
King then returned to the issue of firearms. He made Asplin, a keen duck-shooter, confirm he owned a semi-automatic 12-gauge Benelli M1 Super 90 shotgun. Asplin’s weapon could fire several shots one after the other without reloading, whereas the farm shotgun could only fire two rounds at a time.
This detail related to a crucial piece of information from a witness who lived close to Scott Guy: that she had distinctly heard three shots in quick succession around the time Scott was killed. For that to be correct, the farm shotgun could not have been the weapon used because it had to be reloaded after two rounds. Only a semi-automatic weapon with a magazine, such as Asplin’s, could have fired three rounds in rapid sequence.
King also established that Asplin was aware of and had access to the brand of ammunition most likely used in the killing. In fact, he had twice collected several boxes of the Winchester Bushman number 5 ammunition for the farm.
During two appearances at the trial, Asplin was presented with a range of factors and acts that cast suspicion on him. Among these was the fact that on the morning Scott was killed both his girlfriend, Emma Johansen, and his sister and flatmate, Joanne Asplin, were away. Johansen was driving to a funeral in Hawke’s Bay and Joanne was in Auckland for work, and thus neither was able to vouch for his actions when he returned home. Moreover, Asplin could not explain why he had arrived at work early that morning—normally he arrived around 5.15 am but that morning he pulled into the drive just after 5 am. When he reached the workshop he parked in the space where Scott always did—even though it was clear Scott hadn’t yet arrived.
By the end of his cross-examination King had posited possible motive, opportunity and means of killing Scott Guy. For Asplin, who had come to the trial expecting simply to give evidence about Scott and anything he’d seen or heard around the time of the murder, it was a deeply unsettling experience. When he finally left the stand, he glanced at the police, but as he walked past his accuser, King, he refused to make eye contact.
King, however, didn’t resile from his approach and attack on Asplin. Rather than actually accusing Asplin of being Scott’s killer, he was demonstrating how people other than Macdonald had strained relations with Scott and had the opportunity to kill him. Moreover, he illustrated that, just as police had done with Macdonald, actions and comments made after Scott’s death could so easily be reinterpreted in a negative light if desired. Simple and innocent events or interactions could take on a sinister hue if the starting point was the assumption that this person was actually the killer.
King’s essential message to the jury was that a circumstantial case could be made against Asplin and others just as easily as it had been made against Macdonald. Take away Macdonald’s past crimes against Scott and Kylee, and there was nothing that connected him with Scott’s death any more than anyone else.
But behind this argument was also the defence’s belief that Simon Asplin had simply not been properly investigated by police. Though police had interviewed him several times, they had only once visited his house. That consisted of a two-hour visit that included time to type up Asplin’s statement and take photos of some of his footwear. He was never read his rights, his shotgun was never taken for inspection, his possible ownership of dive boots never fully investigated. Some of those closest to him who had talked about his unhappiness with Scott were never formally interviewed.
Compared to others who police looked at very closely as suspects, Asplin seemed to have slipped their notice.
The first day of the trial was Ewen Macdonald’s 32nd birthday—his second in custody and a far cry from the family fun that used to accompany such occasions. While most described Macdonald as a quiet, almost dour man, in surroundings where he was comfortable he could be the joker. Photos show him at one birthday party sticking spoons on his nose and ears to entertain his kids.
That first day, 5 June, was also the 36th wedding anniversary of Bryan and Jo Guy, who could have scarcely imagined or organised a less romantic way to mark it. The following day Bryan entered the court to give evidence, the first of seven appearances—the most of anyone called by the prosecution. Shortish with wiry hair and thin-rimmed glasses, he wore tan shoes and a blue suit, a silver fern on his lapel signifying his pride in New Zealand. He hadn’t seen Macdonald, his son-in-law, for 14 months, since his arrest, though Macdonald had written to him once from prison. In the letter he asked Bryan and Jo to forgive him for not being honest and wrote that, in time, he hoped they could rebuild their relationship.
The revelations of Macdonald’s crimes had hit him like a tsunami, Bryan said, as he struggled to understand everything that had happened. Macdonald had become such an integral part of their family that Bryan and Jo treated him like one of their own children. While Macdonald was quiet, Bryan saw himself as a younger man in many of Macdonald’s characteristics and actions. Even Jo Guy acknowledged that Macdonald reminded her of Bryan in many ways: the ‘strong, silent type’, with a good work ethic. Ewen and Anna had got on reasonably well, Bryan felt, given the pressures of raising four young children, and he noted that Macdonald was a great father.
All of which made it harder to fathom his secret life that had now been exposed. ‘I thought it was all quite sad, really,’ he’d told police
, ‘and that he must have some sort of mental illness to do such things. It’s probably the only way I can reconcile it in my own mind, because it’s not the behaviour of the Ewen that we know.’
He’d never seen Macdonald get angry or frustrated. Despite Scott often complaining about Macdonald, Bryan said he’d never heard Ewen moaning about Scott. While there had been tensions following Scott’s outburst at the family meeting in 2008, ‘as far as I observed and was told there wasn’t any obvious friction between Ewen and Scott for what I think to be about 12 months before Scott’s death’.
In court, Bryan maintained his composure while recounting the events of 8 July 2010 after Macdonald called him to say something terrible had happened to Scott—how he raced to the farm, couldn’t find anyone and finally arrived at Scott’s driveway. But when describing walking towards where his son lay, he became teary, despite the considered questioning from Ben Vanderkolk. ‘All I wanted was to give him a hug,’ Bryan said.
Eventually questions turned to the farm shotgun, the weapon police believed had been used to murder Scott. Bryan acknowledged it had been broken down and kept in three pieces in the farm office, the fore end in a blue cabinet and the barrel and stock hidden behind it along with an ammunition belt. He also accepted he’d not told police this for nearly a year, instead telling them the pieces had been locked away in two safes in the garage and office behind Ewen and Anna’s house. Bryan had been using the shotgun to scare ducks and other birds from the silage because the automatic gas gun wasn’t working, and for ease of access hadn’t locked it away as was legally required.
As soon as he rejoined the rest of the family at 147 Aorangi Road after leaving Kylee’s house that morning, he’d checked the shotgun and put it and the ammunition back in the safes where they were supposed to be. A month later, when police asked him where the shotgun had been on the morning of the murder, he said it had been in the safes.
It wasn’t until 15 April the following year, a week after Macdonald’s arrest, that he admitted to police he’d lied, embarrassed by his failure to keep his firearms safely stored. ‘I knew that I’d done the wrong thing and didn’t want to admit it, I suppose.’ It was a humbling admission from someone who had been central to the police investigation and at the heart of keeping everyone together after the loss of first Scott and then Macdonald from their family. ‘I didn’t tell the truth and I guess you could say, well, that’s a lie . . . and I regret it.’ Bryan noted that when he checked on the shotgun after Scott’s murder, he was relieved to find it was exactly where he had left it, and nothing suggested it had been used in the meantime.
During the trial, Bryan was frequently brought back to what occurred that morning, several times recounting that first phone call from Macdonald. The call lasted 22 seconds. One of the only things he remembered about it, apart from the fact that something had happened to Scott and he’d better get out to the farm quickly, was Macdonald saying something about ‘his face’.
The Crown seized on this as evidence of Macdonald’s guilt. It argued that only the killer would have known where Scott had been shot. Macdonald had been stopped by police from approaching the body, and in the dim morning light couldn’t have seen clearly where the wound was from a distance of between 6 and 10 metres.
Later, Greg King put it to Bryan Guy that what Macdonald had probably said, as he blurted out that Scott had been in an accident, was that it was at ‘his place’. Macdonald had told Bryan to get out to the farm but Bryan didn’t recall him saying where to go—which was why he first drove to the milking shed and silage pit. Given that his overriding memory of the call was that Macdonald was virtually incomprehensible, King suggested it was fair to assume Macdonald had actually told him where to come but he’d simply misunderstood what had been said.
Bryan Guy agreed this was a possibility. And indeed it seems plausible, given that the major wound on Scott’s body wasn’t to his face, but his throat—which was why David Berry told the 111 operator that Scott’s throat had been cut. With both men emotional and shocked, it’s not unreasonable to believe that not everything was clearly spoken, heard or understood.
In addition, King noted that Bryan Guy hadn’t mentioned the ‘his face’ comment until after Macdonald was arrested—nine months after the confused conversation that shattered the lives of Bryan and all his family.
CHAPTER 10
Who said shot?
Understanding what was said in the chaotic and confused first minutes of that morning became a crucial argument at trial. More important than Bryan Guy’s recollection of Macdonald’s precise words were accusations Macdonald had told people Scott had been shot well before that was clarified or actually known.
The only people who’d seen Scott close up in the first hour were David Berry, who’d knelt over him; Bruce Johnstone, who’d walked up to the body but not touched it; police officers Neil Martin and Leanna Smith; and St John paramedic Robert Hiscox.
Apart from Berry’s instinctive assumption that Scott’s throat had been cut, nobody had a clear view on the actual cause of death. The mere fact Scott was dead was sufficient for most to absorb at that stage. That it obviously wasn’t something like a heart attack clearly suggested he had been murdered. But the exact means wasn’t the most immediate thing people needed to know or cope with right then.
Scott’s sister, Nikki Guy, lived just up the road in a farm cottage near the milking shed. After completing a degree in agribusiness and applied science at Massey University she had worked in Auckland for a clothing company, then in 2001 taken a farm consultant’s job in Taranaki. But she returned home in July 2004 when her mother suggested opening a clothes store, Reve. In 2010 she was elected to Palmerston North City Council.
Nikki said she was told of Scott’s death in a phone call from her mother, Jo, at 8.06 am as she was getting ready for work. Her immediate thought was that Scott must have died in his sleep or from something natural, never imagining he’d been gunned down. She quickly finished dressing and was at the cordon within minutes. Several other people were there, she remembered, including her mother, David Berry and Ewen Macdonald, Kylee’s friend Jo Moss, her husband Evan, and their son Sam’s partner.
At some stage, Nikki recalled David Berry saying Scott had been stabbed, and she remembered Macdonald contradicting him, saying, ‘No, he was shot.’ So adamant was Macdonald, Nikki said, that when Berry repeated what he’d seen, Macdonald again sought to correct him.
She immediately thought it was strange, and wondered how Macdonald would have known, given it was Berry who’d discovered her brother. As Nikki described it, it seemed a telling indictment on Macdonald—having knowledge of how Scott was killed before it had been ascertained. This was a key plank in the prosecution’s case, and they repeated the fact that only the murderer could have known how Scott died, insisting it was a damning slip by Macdonald.
But crucially, the man who Macdonald allegedly argued with over the manner of death, David Berry, said Macdonald never made such a comment. As he remembered events, it was one of Kylee’s friends, or maybe her sister, he thought, who had insisted Scott was shot. The whole conversation had taken place behind him and he hadn’t even turned round to see who it was, let alone enter into an argument with them as Nikki suggested. He stated he didn’t know who the person was and added that he didn’t think Macdonald was even there when the comment was made.
Greg King cast further doubt on Nikki’s memory when he pointed out that the first time she’d mentioned overhearing this conversation with Berry was after Macdonald’s arrest—more than nine months later. In fact, her earliest statement noted nothing about Macdonald’s conduct that gave her cause for concern.
Nobody else, other than Nikki, testified that Macdonald had mentioned in the initial hours that Scott had been shot, despite him talking to many people. Nobody else waiting at the cordon recalled the conversation Nikki insisted took place. Bryan Guy didn’t remember Macdonald telling him Scott had been shot, despite talking to him
twice before he arrived at the cordon. He felt it was only when he reached the scene—which Macdonald had left by then—that he got the impression Scott had been shot, and thought it might have been Bruce Johnstone who mentioned it.
In a police statement from June 2011, Bryan says that when he rang his wife, Jo, to break the news, he told her he thought Scott had been shot. Bryan said that later that morning he definitely knew there was a possibility Scott had been shot, because he immediately locked away the farm shotgun and the ammunition when he arrived back at the farm office.
Matthew Ireland, who Macdonald also spoke to, said he didn’t know Scott was shot until the following day. Simon Asplin, who did know very early that morning that Scott was shot, claimed he’d heard it from Matthew Ireland—not Macdonald, who had phoned him from the cordon.
Jo Guy, in a statement to police after Macdonald was arrested, did recall discussing whether Scott had been shot. But she said she raised it with Macdonald when she arrived at the police cordon—suggesting she’d already heard it from someone else. When she asked Macdonald if Scott had been shot, he twice replied that he didn’t know but Jo believed he then said, ‘I think so.’ It seems most likely she heard her son had been shot from Bryan, who’d mentioned it in his initial phone call to her—before she arrived at the scene and talked with Macdonald.
Callum Guy had been phoned by Macdonald at 8.06 am and told Scott had been in an accident. They spoke for a minute but Macdonald never mentioned Scott being shot, according to Callum. It wasn’t until he arrived at 147 Aorangi Road that his mother or Nikki told him how Scott died.