A Daughter's Deadly Deception

by Jeremy Grimaldi

  The Crown then proceeds in earnest: “On Monday, November 8, 2010, just after ten o’clock at night,” begins Assistant Crown Attorney Jennifer Halajian, her raspy voice projecting confidently throughout the room, “Three men entered the Pan home in Unionville, a quiet neighbourhood in Markham. They were in the house for less than twenty minutes. Bich and Hann Pan were left for dead. Bich Pan died. Hann Pan miraculously did not. I am going to talk to you this morning about our theory of what happened that night, and why. Yes, this case is about murder, the planned and deliberate murder of an innocent middle-aged woman and the attempted murder of her husband in their own home on a quiet Monday night in a quiet neighbourhood. Murder that was arranged and paid for by their daughter, Jennifer Pan, that woman there [pointing at Jennifer], the woman [you heard] on the 911 call.

  “But this case is also about love — love that a girl has for a boy, an obsessive, relentless love, and what she will do to keep him. Love that a father has for his daughter, and what he will do to protect her. Love that a mother has for her child, and what she will do to keep her safe. Love that led to what happened in the basement of an ordinary middle-class house.”

  With those simple words, what will be for some one of the most sensational trials in recent Canadian history, kicks off.

  “In order to understand what happened on November 8, 2010, you have to understand the history, what happened before that, the chronology of what led to that night,” Halajian continues. “Think of it like a map. Jennifer Pan’s father, Hann Pan, will testify using a Vietnamese interpreter. He’ll describe for you what he knew about their [Jennifer and Daniel’s] relationship and how he discovered it. He will tell you about the ultimatum he gave Jennifer Pan to either choose the family or Daniel Wong, and why he gave it. You’ll hear what steps he took to keep his daughter from Daniel Wong to protect her, imposing a strict curfew, wanting to know where she was if she left the house. He’ll tell you why he was so opposed to the relationship, and he will tell you that in the spring of 2010, Jennifer Pan’s lies started to unravel, lies that Hann Pan blamed on Daniel Wong. And so Hann Pan told his daughter that she will never be with Daniel Wong so long as he and his wife were alive. Jennifer Pan told police that this made her feel trapped. She deeply, bitterly resented it. It made her feel like a part of herself was dead.”

  The Crown’s version of events becomes clear to everyone. This is a story of resentment, love, betrayal, money and, of course, a daughter’s deadly deception. When the opening day comes to a close, photographers still have no photos to use for the next morning’s front page, since all the accused are in custody and are shuttled in and out of the courthouse under high security and in blacked-out cube vans. Unfortunately, the only option is to hassle Daniel’s family as they exits the courtroom, forcing Darwin, Daniel’s father, to throw his coat over his head, his mother to hide her face under her hood, and his brother to grimace at the unwanted attention. This is the last day that Daniel’s beloved mother, Evelyn, and one of his best friend, his brother, Richard, will attend, presumably because of the harassment. Darwin Wong, though, remains, attending each and every day until the bitter end, quietly taking in every last word said against and in defence of his son.

  Jennifer arrives in court each day appearing neat and clean despite her somewhat tired-looking wardrobe — she presumably has little or no access to new clothes, let alone any relatives who are willing to do her any favours. She walks gracefully into the courtroom each morning, posture as straight as an arrow, and sits down slowly. It is the way one might enter a room if wearing a gown, or as though an invisible, well-dressed man stands behind her, ready to push in her chair. Those mannerisms seem utterly incongruous with her shackled limbs. After her cuffs are removed, she rubs her tiny wrists.

  By the end of the trial, she appears to be on quite friendly terms with some of the guards, often exchanging small talk, Jennifer smiling, always pleasant and courteous. This behaviour bothers some people, but others perhaps respect the guards for treating the prisoners with a modicum of human decency.

  Each morning, from the comfortable wood-lined courtroom, the faint sound of slamming iron bars signals the impending arrival of the prisoners. A glimpse of the yellow institutional-style cinder-block walls can be seen in the brief moments when the guards open the door to usher them in. When Justice Boswell’s presence is announced, all rise. Jennifer takes it a step further, shooting up, alert like a soldier at arms upon his arrival and exodus, each time performing a deep and respectful bow from the waist.

  As the trial progresses, it becomes clear to the media just how few details about this girl’s life have made their way into the public realm before the trial. In other high-profile cases, information tends to leak out — photos and details about the suspect’s background might find their way into newspapers either through the victim’s or suspect’s families, or those with sources inside the police force. But not in this case. At the beginning of the trial, the public has seen only two indistinct pictures of Jennifer: one with her head bowed, the other a blurry image with her face partially obscured by a winter coat. Other than the names of the grade school and high school she attended, and the fact that she lived at home with few “marketable skills,” there has been little to report.

  To this day there are only a handful of pictures, and few of the people close to Jennifer or the others involved have spoken to the media. Jennifer herself, along with the other accused, repeatedly turns down the opportunity to be interviewed. The members of Jennifer’s family — most notably Hann and her brother Felix — and many other friends and relatives, similarly decline the chance to tell their sides of the story or to refute Jennifer’s statements, likely just wanting to put the trial behind them.

  As the Crown begins to reveal the shocking details about Jennifer’s lies, deceit, and wild imagination, it becomes clear that this mastermind’s alleged plot, organized with her boyfriend and his buddies, is only a fraction of the story. Behind this lies a shocking, bitingly ironic, and sometimes downright macabre story, one that truly is stranger than any Hollywood fiction.

  In its opening, the Crown lays bare the task before it: five people stand charged with first-degree murder and attempted murder, but one key detail is missing — there is no forensic evidence (often seen as an essential element in any police investigation). No DNA was found at the house; there are no recovered weapons and no bloody clothes. There is one witness, but he was shot in the head. And neither the lawyers nor the police have any true image of who actually pulled the trigger. Despite these shortcomings, the Crown forges ahead, hoping its organizational skills, cellphone evidence, and a meticulously devised plot line will be enough to land multiple convictions. As such, the Crown goes in with the theory that it doesn’t really matter who pulled the trigger — just planning the murders in tandem is enough to lock them all away for life.

  “I told you that three men entered the Pan home that night,” Halajian states tenaciously. “We know we don’t have all three of them here together today, but that doesn’t matter … and for the rest of this trial we will focus on these five only, and we will prove that each one of these people — Jennifer, Daniel, Lenford, Eric, and David — knowingly participated. That doesn’t mean they all pulled the trigger. They didn’t. But everyone here had a role. All of them took part in the planning. All of them participated. At least two of them — Jennifer and David — were inside the house when Hann and Bich Pan were shot. David had a gun. Eric Carty was at the house, but whether he was inside or not, we can’t say for sure. We know Daniel and Lenford were not there that night, but that doesn’t matter. They were all instrumental in putting the plan into motion and they helped Jennifer carry it out, knowing full well what they were doing.”

  14

  A Father Betrayed

  When it is finally time to call the Crown’s star witness, the courtroom becomes silent. This is the one person everyone has been waiting to see. Hann Pan quietly w
alks into the courtroom, guided by a court-appointed victim services member. All eyes are squarely focused on him: the man who survived the savage attack, only to believe that it is his own daughter who betrayed him — allegedly responsible for the death of his wife and the destruction of his family. It is this treachery that becomes central to the trial, resulting in lawyers dubbing the murder the “ultimate betrayal,” the cardinal “sin,” an act so awful it is a direct repudiation of one of the founding tenants of modern Western civilization — “honour thy father and thy mother.”

  For the innately private Hann, it is not only the drama in the courtroom, which is packed with reporters, but the speculation and intense public interest in him and his family’s life that remains so foreign to him. His discomfort during those first few moments as he ventures to the stand to face the destiny he believes his daughter chose for him is palpable. In the days that follow, he wears an open-collared black shirt and black ill-fitting dress pants that hang tenuously on his small hips. The small, bespectacled man — shorter than his eldest daughter by at least an inch, maybe two — lowers his gaze and excuses himself as he passes in front of the benches full of people, many wondering what is going through his mind at that very moment. Perhaps in response to all the prying eyes, some full of pity, others judgment, Hann raises his head and meets their gaze. Those in attendance, many expecting a man racked with pain from his injuries, don’t see him wince even once in discomfort. Rather, most are thrown off by his unscarred face and healthy appearance. He seems physically unhindered by the two bullets that left him in a coma for several days. Hann, who is sixty years old at the start of the trial, doesn’t have one grey hair on his head, his bangs covering much of his forehead. Although his face is unblemished, he later admits that his mind, heart, body, and soul remain anguished from the attack and the emotional scars he suffered after his family was torn apart.

  But his composure in the courtroom betrays little of this. When Hann finally takes the stand, he does so with his head held high. His steely gaze only momentarily meets that of his daughter, who breaks into tears occasionally when the details of that night are discussed.

  Hann shows an utter lack of outward emotion during what one can only assume are some of the most emotionally taxing moments of his life. The only noticeable sign of grief is perhaps his constant blinking, which grows pronounced during the particularly tough testimony. At his side on the stand is a Vietnamese interpreter — this despite the fact that he conducted many of his police interviews without the assistance of one. The use of the interpreter causes some confusion at times: Hann understands much of what is asked of him and often answers in broken English; other times he waits and uses the interpreter’s services. Eventually, Justice Boswell advises him to answer only in Vietnamese.

  Testimony through an interpreter is bad news for any reporter. By their very nature, translators tend to drain all the implied meaning from the speaker’s voice, obliterating a person’s individuality, tone, and choice of vocabulary. Instead of emotionally heightened testimony full of disdain, shame, anger, and pride, translators sap all of the substance from an individual’s words, making even the most fascinating testimony seem almost mundane. There’s no reading between the lines with interpreters.

  Hann’s answers are short and to the point. Despite the fervour that courses through the spectators in the courtroom, his words deliver a sort of resigned reality, the details of which he has grappled with for years since his wife was killed.

  Hann recounts how, just months before the murder, he all but fulfilled his life’s work. He and his wife, who immigrated to Canada decades before, finally paid off their $600,000 home and accrued a substantial amount of money in the bank, coming a long way since buying their first home in Scarborough. In what becomes a central detail in the trial, he explains how he and his wife took out $170,000 life insurance policies on their lives. Should they die, the money and their estate would be split fifty/fifty between their children, Jennifer and Felix. That would not only include their home, but the cars and other valuables — in total, about $500,000 each. He explains that when the policies were taken out, he and his wife sat down with their children and detailed how the money would be divvied up. A policy was also taken out on Jennifer, with Felix as the beneficiary.

  Crown attorney Michelle Rumble quickly moves Hann on to Jennifer’s educational career. He describes how, although he never attended his daughter’s high school or university graduations, she spent a significant amount of time describing to him how her education was playing out. “She told the family she was admitted to Ryerson [University], and a few months after that she left the home and came back in the evening,” he says. “My wife said if she kept on like that it would be hard for her, so Jennifer said she shared a room with a friend in downtown Toronto. My daughter said that to become a pharmacist, she needed to be admitted to [the University of Toronto] and she told me she was admitted. So many times I wanted to ask about my daughter’s studying, but my wife said, ‘Don’t interfere.’” Hann then recounts how he once drove his daughter to her best friend Topaz’s apartment where she claimed to have been staying for years. “It was very dark and there was no parking spot, so she showed me the house [where they lived] on the third floor,” he says, noting he didn’t see where his daughter went after she exited the car. “There was no parking spot, so I had to leave.”

  The implication is clear. Jennifer never went in; instead, she travelled to Daniel’s home in Ajax.

  Hann says that, just prior to Jennifer being caught in her lies, she would stay home Thursday and Friday nights before leaving again on Saturday afternoon for what she told him was volunteer work experience helping ill children, and how his wife would transfer money into her account when she needed it. Hann felt the wool was being pulled over his eyes with regard to Jennifer’s life outside his home for years. But he remained mum about his suspicions until one day when he had enough. “I was frustrated and concerned something was not right,” he tells the court before explaining how he felt after he found out she deceived him. “Because our efforts had been focused on her attending school, and she did not, and [she] lived with another person. My wife cried…. I told [Jennifer] to sever that relationship and return to school. She accepted and said she would return to school.”

  Some of her movements were curtailed at this point. However, before long, Jennifer was caught in further lies and Hann exploded with rage, drawing a red line at the front door of his home. “I said from now on you have no right to use the car and [you must] stay home,” he says. “There was no trust in me and I wanted my daughter to go back to school. I wanted her to have a certain level of education and a future. There are two options,” he told her. “You stay home and go to school. The second choice is you go with Daniel and never come back.”

  Jennifer made her decision and was finally accepted into Scarborough’s Centennial College where she was to start attending classes in January 2011. About eighteen months after the argument, Hann says, he believed the challenges had ended. He believed the relationship with Daniel was over. “At that moment I saw that my family was very happy,” he later tells the court. Oh, how blind he was.

  Jennifer Pan in happier times.

  From the very beginning, the proceedings don’t look very promising for Jennifer’s case and, as time goes by, they only get worse. The Crown consists of a pair of acutely prepared and clinical attorneys. Assistant Crown attorneys Michelle Rumble and Jennifer Halajian have constructed a sturdy case, erecting it like a wall, brick by brick, over the first few months of the trial. To ensure its impenetrability, they rarely deviate from the script they’ve worked so long to develop. Halajian, the brusquer of the two, seems more comfortable asking technical questions of cellphone experts, unconcerned with endearing herself to the jury. Her laser-sharp focus, especially when it comes to the massive data dumps, proves useful in compiling the information, but also in questioning those providing te
chnical testimony. She means business, rarely relinquishing her determination to succeed, whether in the courtroom or in the hallway afterward. Rumble is the gentler of the two, with a softer, though equally scientific and determined touch. As such, it is Halajian who commandeers the dramatic opening; it is Rumble who tries to ingratiate the jury to the Crown’s side, casting few aspersions during her three-day closing, setting herself apart from the rest of the male-dominated courtroom.

  The only deviation from their premeditated style comes during cross-examination when Rob Scott takes the reins. Although he does little of the heavy lifting beforehand, it is he who Rumble and Halajian trust to manipulate the cross, meaning neither will have to deal with the negativity of brash confrontation or the improvisational attacks a cross-examinations can so often descend into. It is Scott who is quick on his toes, relishing his saucy role of the snide courtroom accuser who gets to face down Jennifer. But before Jennifer can even make it up to the stand, each witness heaps the weight of ever more evidence on her and the other defendants. The presumption (or interpretation) that quickly develops becomes crystal clear to the jury — Jennifer is not to be trusted, perhaps the central tenet for any accused hoping to avoid a conviction.

  This is bad news for her co-accused. In this trial the fates of Daniel, David, Eric, and Lenford are inextricably linked to Jennifer’s. Sure, Peter Bawden, and by extension David Mylvaganam, will later try to fight the impending tidal wave of negative sentiment against Jennifer, but it is of little use — it becomes clear: as goes Jennifer, so will go the others.

  The only aspect of Hann’s Crown testimony that might work in Jennifer’s favour is how much time Jennifer had on her hands in the lead-up to the murder. After all, this young woman spent the seven months prior to the home invasion largely shut behind closed doors — hearkening back to Slade’s questioning of Jennifer during her second interview: “What did you do all day?”