And what about Colleen’s physical condition? Bonnie had the strong white teeth and thick hair Colleen no longer had. By the testimony of the defense counsel’s own expert, Colleen wouldn’t have skeletal damage because, thank God, she was out of the box every day, did knee bends, could stretch or curl up in the box, was out cutting posts, and digging the hole; she was not immobile.
McGuire heaped scorn on Dr. Lunde’s testimony. He wouldn’t stoop to render an opinion on Hooker’s collection of publications, merely calling them “trashy.” He could claim little experience with cases involving sado-masochism, coercion, and slavery. And he’d testified that coercion couldn’t exist without captivity, yet he’d described that very circumstance in an article he’d written.
Dr. Lunde had said it was not reasonable for a person to believe in the Company, but, McGuire said, it was up to the jurors, not Dr. Lunde, to decide whether Colleen’s fear was reasonable.
The prosecutor mentioned The Story of O, and the defense attorney quickly objected, but was overruled. She drew numerous comparisons between Hooker’s favorite film and his treatment of his slave—life imitating art.
Hooker had a continuous plan, McGuire contended: A plan he began to formulate even in high school, a plan he’d shared with Elaine Corning, a plan to take sex slaves.
The defense attorney had contended that Hooker was “just a millworker” and that devising a plan and applying coercive techniques was beyond him. But it was evident, McGuire said, that Hooker had learned those techniques through his collection of magazines and publications. “He didn’t even have to read them,” she declared, “all he had to do was look at the pictures!”
The defense attorney claimed there was no corroboration for much of Colleen’s story. “Look at this courtroom,” McGuire demanded, gesturing toward the boxes and displays. “There are over one hundred and forty pieces of physical evidence to corroborate the testimonies of Colleen and Janice.”
“The only thing I’ve heard the defense counsel raise again and again is a seventy-six-minute phone call,” she scoffed. Dr. Hatcher had explained that the phone calls were a way for Colleen to confront her captor without fear of retaliation.
For a time, the prosecutor seemed to lose the thread of her summation. Countering the defense’s closing argument in a piecemeal fashion, her own deteriorated, and for several minutes she seemed to get caught up in random and sometimes trivial points.
Papendick listened, playing with a pen, while Hooker sat calmly at his side, rarely even glancing at the jury.
Switching to points of law, McGuire pointed out that the statute of limitations prevented her from charging Hooker with sexual assault crimes occurring before 1979, and commented that it was interesting that Hooker admitted to crimes occurring before that time.
While there was a three-year statute of limitations on the charge of kidnapping, McGuire explained, an exception existed if the kidnapping were continuous—in other words, as long as the person was detained by force or threats of force. Guilt on count one, she asserted, had already been proved beyond a reasonable doubt.
Launching into a long discussion of rape, she again reviewed the instructions for both the old and new laws. And she mentioned there needn’t be overt resistance, since rape was also committed if the victim submitted because of threats of great and immediate bodily harm.
“But what of resistance?” she asked rhetorically. After being “broken,” how could Colleen resist? How could she resist on a stretcher? How could she resist when tied to a frame? How could she resist when hung from the rafters of the shed?
Countering Papendick’s claim that Hooker believed Colleen loved him, and in good faith believed she had consented, McGuire asked, “How can a person who detains another person against their will believe they are consenting?”
The defendant didn’t want a consensual relationship, the prosecutor maintained; he already had that with Janice. But that wasn’t his fantasy. He wanted a woman who couldn’t say no.
“The defense attorney tried to make an issue out of the fact that Colleen had access to phones that we know were not bugged; but she didn’t know.” Papendick said Colleen had several opportunities to escape, but didn’t. The truth was that she did, but only when she could believe it was possible.
Hooker had even admitted that Colleen believed in the Company, that he’d made her sign the slavery contract, that she was his slave, that she was kept in the box. “Most of us have trouble imagining this happening,” McGuire said, coming to the end of her remarks. “It’s hard to imagine being hung, having a head box snapped over our heads.”
“You can try it on,” she challenged the jurors. “Put that head box on for one minute and feel the terror—yet you know it’s only temporary; Colleen knew it was for real. Climb into that box and behold the perspective it contains, feel that box close in on you—even knowing that it isn’t locked. Multiply your fear by a thousand!”
In conclusion, McGuire said: “The state has proved the defendant guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. It is now your duty to apply the law to the facts and arrive at the only verdict possible: I ask you to find the defendant guilty on all counts.”
Closing arguments had gone on all day. It was nearly four P.M. when Judge Knight put on his spectacles and began to explain the instructions for evaluating evidence and judging testimony. As he read, the jury of eight women and four men appeared studious; several took notes.
The judge reviewed each count, defined “threat of great bodily harm”; “a deadly or dangerous weapon”; and “consent.” He further explained that it was also a defense if the defendant “reasonably and in good faith believed Colleen voluntarily consented.”
He explained that “reasonable doubt” must not be fanciful or imaginative, but must rest in the evidence.
He instructed the jurors that they were the sole judges of the believability of the witnesses and the weight to be given the testimony of each.
He advised that they should give the weight they deemed appropriate to the elements of detention and slavery.
He informed them that their decisions must be unanimous.
At the conclusion, the judge advised the jury to disregard anything that he had said or done and to form their own opinions. Further, they were not to discuss sentencing.
With all the necessary details taken care of, Judge Knight removed his glasses, the jury was put in the bailiff’s custody, and the wait began.
When deliberations started the next morning the commotion that had accompanied much of the trial slowed to a Sunday afternoon shuffle. The hallways were quiet, the courtroom was empty.
Unhappy about seeing her daughter only on weekends, McGuire had brought her down from Red Bluff. With her dark curls, Nicole was her mother in miniature, and she toddled up and down the corridors, collecting admirers.
At about four P.M., the jurors asked for the legal definitions of “duress” and “menace.” Both counsels were called; Papendick rushed over from the nearby apartment where he was staying; McGuire asked one of the journalists in the hall to babysit for a moment. The defendant was brought up from the jail, the jury filed in, and Judge Knight read legal definitions from the bench: “Duress: unlawful confinement of victim and property. Menace: violent threat of unlawful confinement of victim and property.”
Their questions answered, the jury filed back out and the courtroom emptied. A nonevent.
Afternoon slid toward evening and the jurors adjourned—some taking with them a gnawing fear that they were going to end up a hung jury.
The second day of jury deliberations, more media people, expectant of a verdict, lined the halls and filtered in and out of the courtroom. Judge Knight had decided to lift the ban on cameras for the verdict, and camerapersons negotiated angles with the bailiff and each other. With little to do but wait, newspeople argued about the case, the men tending to lean in Hooker’s favor, saying Colleen had stayed because she’d fallen in love, the women generally convinced that Hooker was
guilty.
The day dragged by with no news. The jurors broke for lunch. No verdict.
At two-thirty, word got out that the bailiff had gone to get the defendant and optimism rose. The prosecutor arrived and chatted with reporters in the hall, waiting for the defense attorney. The cameras in the court were readied. Papendick arrived, and the judge asked to see both counsels in chambers. After several minutes, Papendick came out smiling.
Hooker sat at the defense table, and the jury was brought in.
With everyone assembled, Judge Knight said that, going over the instructions, he had found an error. He reread count ten, changing the instruction slightly for penetration by a foreign object.3
The jury had no questions, and they were excused.
On his way out of the courtroom, Hooker smiled boyishly at the bailiff and said: “I know I’m going home tomorrow.”
The morning of October 31, the third day of deliberations, Mr. Hogan, the jury foreman, was the object of considerable speculation. He arrived wearing a tie.
At ten-thirty, the jury asked to see the exhibits, and the court was cleared of journalists and cameras. The jurors spent about ten minutes going over items they had viewed for weeks but hadn’t touched.4
Lunchtime came and went and with still no hint of a verdict. Then, at two P.M., court was reconvened, and Judge Knight announced that he’d received two notes from the jury.
The jury was brought in and seated. Camera tripods bristled behind the railing, and followers of the trial seemed to lean forward in their seats, eager for some news.
The first note was a technical question on count ten.
The second note from the jury jolted the courtroom: “If we are a hung jury on one or more counts, how do we decide?”
Judge Knight explained that each count was separate. If they couldn’t reach a unanimous decision, they would be hung on that particular count only, as each count is a distinct offense.
One juror, Mrs. King, took notes, then spoke up and thanked the judge.
The jury filed out and the waiting resumed.
Frustrated journalists spilled out into the hall, making bad jokes about a “hung” jury. Papendick walked over and stood alone at a window toward one end of the hall, smoking and gazing out at Redwood City. McGuire conversed with a spike-haired, orange-jacketed sketch artist who sat painting watercolors into her morning’s work.
About forty-five minutes later, Crystal Davis, the court clerk, came out into the hall to tell the attorneys, “It won’t be long now.”
The crowd hustled back into the courtroom, and Judge Knight came in to quiet them. “Let me tell you what’s happening,” he said. The jury had sent him a note saying they’d reached a verdict, but were hung on one count. He said he intended to bring them in to see “just how hung they are—and if it’s truly hung.”
Cameron Hooker was brought in, the attorneys took their places, and the jurors resumed their seats in the jury box.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the judge said, “the bailiff has informed me that you are hung on one count. I don’t want you to tell me the number of the count, or the number of votes for guilty or not guilty, but I want to know the numerical count.”
Mr. Hogan replied that the jury was hung six to six.
“Is there any chance of resolving it?”
“No, Your Honor.”
Judge Knight said the alternate juror would be called, and when she arrived, the verdict would be read.
Again, the players in this drama dispersed. The judge and jury disappeared. Hooker was taken out. Both counsels left.
Meanwhile, with the verdict at hand, more people filed into the courtroom, bringing more television cameras, more photographic equipment. All the seats filled, and the noise level rose. The atmosphere was almost festive.
Mrs. Sater, the alternate juror, arrived in a proper white suit.
This was it.
The players reassembled. Papendick and McGuire took their seats, both apparently nervous. The bailiff brought in Cameron Hooker, and a hush fell across the courtroom.
At three twenty-five the jury took their seats in the jury box, and Judge Knight addressed the foreman: “Mr. Hogan, I’ve been informed you’ve reached a verdict.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The bailiff carried a stack of verdict forms over to the court clerk, Crystal Davis, who stood and read: “Count one: guilty of kidnapping. Special allegation [of having used a knife], true. Count two: guilty of rape. . . . Count three: guilty of rape. . . . Count four: guilty. . . .” Over and over, the court heard the word guilty. Cameron Hooker had been found guilty of ten felony counts.5 The eighth count6 was hung.
Hooker, as usual, showed no emotion.
With the verdict in, Judge Knight ventured to make some extraordinary comments from the bench. After thanking the jury, he said: “I want to particularly commend you for having the intelligence to reject the testimony of Dr. Donald Lunde, the defense psychiatrist. I think witnesses like that are a real menace to the criminal justice system. They come in here posing as objective scientists, when, in fact, they are nothing but paid advocates.” Jaws dropped, but the judge continued, “I’m happy that you had the good sense to see through him, because one Dan White case is enough.”
Further, Judge Knight said: “I would like to say that I know what a terrible emotional strain it must have been for all of you to go through this. Looking back on it, you can say that in a way it’s a happy ending, because faith and love—and I mean Colleen Stan’s faith in God and her love of her family—did triumph over evil. You have done justice, and I certainly agree with your verdict.”
The judge wished the jury a Happy Halloween,7 and court was adjourned.
Moved and deeply relieved, Deputy DA McGuire had tears in her eyes. She looked over at one of the jurors, Mrs. Rhodes, and saw that she was teary-eyed too, then noticed that most of the women jurors’ eyes were moist. Some stepped from the jury box to give the prosecutor a farewell hug. Out in the hall, others were besieged by reporters scrambling for quotes.
A few shied away, others, finally able to talk to faces that had become familiar during the long course of the trial, were accommodating:
Mrs. King told of climbing into the box: “I didn’t believe that someone could turn around in it.” She tried it; she could. “It was a scary feeling,” she said. “I have an inordinate fear of the dark, anyway.”
Mrs. Slattery, the graphics designer whose husband was a psychologist, said Dr. Hatcher “very definitely pulled a lot of it together as far as the state of mind of the victim.” Asked about Dr. Lunde’s contention that Colleen had fallen in love, she responded, “Well, a different kind of love, like an abused child, seeking attention and affection after being abused.”
“What made the victim convincing?” someone asked.
She replied: “Her deadness, her stillness.”
In the courtroom, Christine McGuire was meanwhile calling Colleen Stan with the news.
Reporters crowded around as the call went through and McGuire told her: “The jury just came back with the verdict. Guilty on ten counts! Do you have any comment for the press?”
Colleen replied: “Praise the Lord, justice is done!”
EPILOGUE
The sentencing of Cameron Michael Hooker was scheduled for nine A.M., November 22, in the court of the Honorable Clarence B. Knight.
It was a sunny, breezy day. The cast from the Hooker trial reassembled in the eighth floor courtroom, with a slightly effervescent feeling of reunion. Several of the jurors sat behind the railing. (Unusual—jurors rarely choose to attend sentencings, yet seven had come to Hooker’s.)
Cameron Hooker was brought in wearing the orange jumpsuit issued to convicts. His mother sat just behind him.
Colleen Stan entered the room for the first time since her testimony. She and her attorney sat just in front of the railing, near Christine McGuire. Colleen seemed tense.
Court was called to order and Judge Knight ascend
ed the bench. The first order of business jolted the courtroom: The judge addressed Defense Attorney Rolland Papendick’s eleventh-hour motion to disqualify him.
Papendick claimed Knight had been prejudiced against Hooker, basing his claim principally on statements he said the judge had made in chambers or in the hallway (such as, that Hooker would have felt at home with the Spanish Inquisition, that Hitler would have liked the defendant, and that the “most sadistic thing” Hooker ever did was force Papendick to try this case).
Judge Knight, plainly affronted, told Papendick that he believed comments made in chambers were confidential, and rather hotly denied making any reference to Hitler or the Spanish Inquisition. He concluded that any remarks made outside the presence of the jury “had no effect whatever on my position as judge.” The motion was denied.
A few technical matters were considered, then Hooker’s sentencing was at hand.
According to state law, the victim has an opportunity to make a statement, and Colleen asked her attorney to read one on her behalf. Barrett stood and read a long, eloquent plea, asking that Hooker be locked away as long as possible, so that what happened to Colleen Stan would never happen to anyone else.
When she resumed her seat, all turned toward the judge expecting that he would pronounce the sentence.
Judge Knight obliged: “I consider this defendant the most dangerous psychopath that I have ever dealt with, in that he is the opposite of what he seems. He will be a danger to women as long as he is alive, and I intend to sentence the maximum possible.” Citing Hooker’s “pattern of violent conduct,” and “high degree of cruelty and callousness,” Judge Knight sentenced him to consecutive sentences for the sex crimes, totalling sixty years. He then imposed indeterminate sentences of one to twenty-five years for the kidnap, plus a five-to-ten-year sentence for the use of a knife. If the California Board of Corrections chose to apply the full terms, Hooker would serve a maximum sentence of one hundred four years.
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