Bones of Hilo

by Eric Redman

  Sovereignty & Reparations Condemns Racist Probe of Big Island Native Rights Group, Demands Investigation by Native Authorities

  Sovereignty & Reparations (S&R), Hawai‘i’s most active Native rights organization, today condemned a racist Hilo police investigation—led by Captain Teruo Tanaka and Detective Wong, without any Native Hawaiian supervision or participation—that unjustly seeks to blame Big Island activist and heiau preservation leader Peter Pukui for the alleged “homicide” of Ralph Fortunato, a colonialist real estate developer whose pillaging of sacred Hawaiian religious sites and denial of traditional hoa‘āina rights to ahupua‘a tenants Pukui has courageously organized Hawaiians throughout Kohala to resist.

  “Alleged homicide,” Tanaka said. “How can they say that?”

  “Maybe we’re looking at it wrong,” Kawika replied in disgust. “Maybe Fortunato planted the spear, cuffed his hands behind his back, got a running start and threw himself on it, then flopped over with it stuck in his chest.”

  “Doesn’t explain the divot,” said Tanaka.

  “Guys,” Carolyn admonished. “Cut it out. You’re missing what’s going on. They’re trying to make you targets. Racial targets. Both of you. Notice they use your full name, Terry, because it’s Japanese. Kawika they just call ‘Detective Wong.’”

  “We noticed,” Tanaka assured her.

  “And what’s this about Fortunato denying hoa‘āina rights to ahupua‘a tenants?” she asked. “You ever hear that before?”

  “Don’t even know what that is,” Kawika answered. “Do you, Terry?”

  Carolyn rolled her eyes. “Guys, you’ve really got to get ready for this meeting,” she said.

  “This is why we need you here,” Kawika said.

  Carolyn sighed, then leaned forward, arms on the table. Native Hawaiians whose families once lived in a particular subdistrict, or ahupua‘a, she explained, still retain rights to use the land, or ‘āina. “They can take plants and animals,” she said, “or use the land for cultural or religious purposes. That’s what S&R is talking about. The courts have upheld those rights, and in a Big Island real estate case too. So S&R is saying there’s more here than just a bulldozed heiau.”

  S&R demands that County authorities immediately remove the Tanaka-Wong cabal and empower a team of Native Hawaiians to investigate the case, including Tanaka’s and Wong’s baseless persecution of Peter Pukui.

  “Detective Wong has a miserable record of racial insensitivity,” declared S&R spokesperson Mele Kawena Smith. “He washed up in Hilo after being fired in Seattle, where he badly bungled a routine robbery investigation in that city’s International District and grossly offended ethnic minorities, precipitating a notorious civic crisis.”

  “Detective Wong has no business leading a homicide investigation anywhere,” Mele Kawena Smith insisted. “Much less should he lead an investigation among indigenous Hawaiian peoples.”

  Mele Kawena Smith pointed out that two Hawaiian residents of Waikoloa Village, Kai Malo and Joan Malo, have already died violently in the course of Detective Wong’s investigation. “These unnecessary deaths are squarely on Detective Wong’s head. He’s responsible. His crude blunders with ethnic Hawaiians can only compound this tragedy over and over until he is removed.”

  “Notice they never call her ‘Ms. Smith,’” Carolyn said. “They gotta get her Hawaiian names in there every time. I bet she was born ‘Mary Devine,’ not ‘Mele Kawena.’”

  Kawika shook his head and smiled appreciatively. “The ‘International District’ instead of ‘Chinatown,’” he said. “These guys are the first ones to get that right.”

  “They couldn’t call you a racist in Chinatown. Not someone named Wong.”

  “Didn’t slow folks down in Seattle,” Kawika said.

  After decades of tireless work on behalf of disadvantaged Hawaiians, Peter Pukui, who is descended from ancient lines of Hawaiian royalty and priests, last year organized Hui Heiau Hawai‘i (HHH), a grassroots association devoted to preservation of sacred Hawaiian temples and other religious sites. HHH immediately gained immense popularity and support among Native Hawaiians of all islands.

  “Carolyn actually is descended from Hawaiian royalty,” Kawika told Tanaka.

  “Yeah,” Carolyn said dismissively. “Like one part in sixty-four, one part in a hundred twenty-eight or two fifty-six. Something like that. But descendants of royalty take this professional Hawaiian stuff seriously. They think they’re the ones who’ve lost the most.”

  Fortunato illegally destroyed one of Hawai‘i’s most important cultural treasures, a heiau built by Kamehameha the Great in the path of a lava flow, where offerings were made to Pele, Goddess of Fire, to save ancient fishponds on which the common people depended for sustenance. Pele spared the ponds, which foreign developers have now expropriated to serve as quaint attractions for pampered rich tourists at an ultra-luxurious South Kohala resort.

  “Fortunato’s proposed Kohala Kea Loa resort is a monstrosity,” S&R’s Mele Kawena Smith stated. “It desecrates Native lands and cultural resources. It violates the rights of ahupua’a tenants. The developers do not even have valid title to the land. If someone did resist Fortunato in self-defense of Native rights and culture, then that person deserves our understanding and sympathy, at the very least.”

  “Self-defense?” Tanaka asked. “We meet with these people, they’re going to tell us someone killed Fortunato in self-defense?”

  “I doubt it,” Carolyn said. “That’s for public consumption—alleged homicide, remember? They claim self-defense includes protecting Hawaiian culture against racism, colonialism—all that—and that it’s okay to ‘self-defend’ against the ‘dominant culture.’ But I don’t think any of them would actually kill someone. Anyway, don’t forget this other thing: ‘The developers do not even have valid title to the land.’ Is that something specific, you think? Or just the notion that no foreigners can legitimately hold title to land in Hawai‘i?”

  Kawika shrugged. “Don’t know for sure,” he said. “But that Murphy couple I told you about last night? The ones from California? That’s why they’re suing KKL, we heard.” He didn’t say more or look at Tanaka. He didn’t want to invite mention of Patience Quinn right now.

  “Carolyn, you can see Kawika’s right—we really do need you for this meeting,” Tanaka said.

  “But I’m so close to these folks,” Carolyn complained, “even though I’m mad at them for this.” She waved the press release. “Otherwise, I’m pretty much one of them, really. I’d definitely be okay with Hawaiian sovereignty. It’s just too late.”

  Tanaka’s assistant, interrupting, poked her head through the doorway. “They’re here,” she said.

  “Show them in,” Tanaka told her cheerfully. “Tell ’em the Tanaka-Wong cabal will see them now.”

  The S&R delegation consisted of five people. Awkward moments passed while extra chairs were brought in. No one shook hands. Then Tanaka began.

  “I’m Captain Teruo Tanaka. This is Detective Kawika Wong. And this is Carolyn Ka‘aukai, an expert in Hawaiian history and culture who is assisting us in this investigation.”

  Two S&R representatives nodded. Three did not. All appeared surprised by Carolyn’s presence.

  “I agreed to meet for three reasons,” Tanaka continued. “First, you asked. That’s all you needed to do. Second, you’re going to apologize to Detective Wong. You don’t need to apologize to me. I’ve been treated worse by tougher folks than you.”

  The S&R representatives glared.

  “Third, our team has work to do. We’re conducting a murder investigation. We don’t judge the victim. We don’t judge the killer—we just catch him. We believe you have relevant information. We do not request—we require—that you provide that information. If you withhold evidence or conceal a fugitive, you will face harsh penalties. Trust me on that.”

  Then Tanaka added more gently, “You wish to help Peter Pukui. So do we.”

  Looks of disbelief�
��fading to cynicism—appeared on all five S&R faces.

  “Mr. Pukui is not currently a suspect,” Tanaka explained. “He is a person of interest. You can help him by persuading him to come forward. If he’s innocent, we’ll establish that quickly. If he does not come forward, we will hunt him down. When we hunt people down, innocent or guilty, sometimes they get hurt. That is not something any of us wish for Mr. Pukui. Consider this carefully as you introduce yourselves and apologize to Detective Wong. Then we can begin.”

  A tall and rather gaunt woman, wearing some sort of ocher cloth wrap, spoke first. “I am Mele Kawena Smith,” she said. “I’m S&R’s orator. This is our attorney, Mr. Ted Pohano. Ted will speak for us today. And these are three of our members who are here as observers. Keoni Ana, Mataio Kēkuanāo‘a, and Iona Pi‘ikoi.”

  Carolyn looked startled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “What are those names again?”

  “Keoni Ana, Mataio Kēkuanāo‘a, and Iona Pi‘ikoi.”

  Carolyn wrote on a yellow pad, then showed it to Kawika and Tanaka, as if helping them understand the spelling. But what she’d written was “FAKE NAMES.”

  Ted Pohano, the lawyer, looked prosperous and formal in glasses and a business suit. Nothing about his features suggested he was Hawaiian. He cleared his throat and smiled. “Detective Wong,” he began, “please accept our apology for anything in our press release that may offend you. And please do not take it personally. We meant nothing personal—the press release is purely political. We hope you understand.”

  The lawyer waited for Kawika’s reaction. So did Tanaka and Carolyn. The silence lengthened uncomfortably. Finally Tanaka broke it. “Perhaps you could explain.”

  “Certainly,” Pohano replied. “Our organization’s objectives are real. We demand that Hawaii be restored to its status as a sovereign nation—allied with but independent of the United States—and we demand reparations for Hawaiian people. We’re serious. However, we’re also realists. We can’t achieve success overnight. We have to raise consciousness first. The press release is a consciousness-raising tool. It has nothing to do with Detective Wong personally, or with our purpose here today. To reach Native Hawaiians—also haoles and others—we need publicity. Sadly, too, we have to compete with other Hawaiian cultural groups for members and funds—make a splash sometimes. So again, we meant nothing personal. It was, as I said, purely political.”

  What happened next caught Kawika by surprise. Something seismic, some column of molten lava surging upward, shook Carolyn. Pele seized her, then erupted furiously.

  “Nothing personal?” she shouted. “Are you crazy? You make Kawika the target of the worst kind of racial hatred, and it’s nothing personal? What if some whacked-out kanaka takes a shot at him? Would a bullet in Kawika be purely political, you think?”

  She was standing now, leaning angrily across the table at Pohano, supporting herself on her hands, with fingers spread, as if she were about to launch herself at his throat. Kawika and Tanaka each leapt up and grabbed one of her arms.

  “Let’s take a break,” Tanaka suggested. “Will you excuse us?” He led Carolyn and Kawika out the door and down the hall.

  Five minutes later the police team returned, with Carolyn somewhat subdued but still looking angry.

  “Ms. Ka‘aukai is a Native Hawaiian,” Kawika said, when everyone sat down again. “She’s not a police professional, but she is descended from Hawaiian royalty. I’m a Hawaiian too. We understand our history—Carolyn in particular understands it—and we know the injustices Hawaiians have suffered. We can sympathize with some of your political views, but—obviously—not with your press release. I’ve heard your apology. Now let’s move on.”

  “Thank you,” Pohano said. “We agree. Let’s move on.”

  Turning to the three S&R representatives who hadn’t spoken, Kawika asked, “Which one of you is Keoni Ana?” They looked at one another in confusion, then at Mele Kawena Smith and their lawyer.

  “What is this, Detective?” Pohano demanded. “These individuals are here as observers, not participants.”

  “But their names aren’t real,” Carolyn said. “They’re names of historic figures, people who’ve been dead a hundred years. We know who they are: the Hawaiians who helped draw up the Great Māhele, the division of the lands back in 1848.”

  The visitors looked surprised. “Captain Tanaka and I are just policemen,” Kawika explained, “but as I said, Ms. Ka‘aukai is an expert in Hawaiian history.”

  Pohano smiled. “Let me explain,” he said, recovering smoothly. “Our members face intimidation, reprisals. We try to protect them. Where, as here, their real names don’t matter, we may substitute names of other Hawaiians—ancestors, if you will. Members of our ‘ohana, our extended family.”

  The police team sat silently, waiting.

  “We picked these names for a reason,” Pohano added. “Ms. Ka‘aukai put her finger on it: the Māhele. We’re here to talk about the Great Māhele. It matters to your investigation.”

  Carolyn smiled—or perhaps grimaced—in vindication.

  “We’re going to talk about the Māhele?” she repeated, just to make sure.

  “Among other things,” said Pohano. He cleared his throat and set a legal pad on the table. “Here’s what we came to tell you,” he began, glancing at his notes. “We don’t know where to find Peter Pukui. We reject any notion that he’s a fugitive from justice. However, we’re prepared to try to find him. We think that will take about a week.”

  Pohano paused and looked up at Kawika, who snorted in disgust.

  “A week?” he said. “Let me guess: you have suggestions to help us pass the time.”

  “Exactly,” Pohano replied. “We have information—new leads to investigate. It’s in our interest that you catch the killer and bring him to justice. We don’t want Mr. Pukui blamed for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  “So you agree there’s been a crime—not just an alleged crime?” Kawika asked.

  “Of course,” Pohano acknowledged, refusing to be baited. “But we’re not shedding tears for Mr. Fortunato. He broke the law in at least three respects. Any of those could provide a motive for murder. You’re focused just on destruction of the heiau—and on the wrong part of that. The heiau’s destruction was illegal—”

  “Although he did have a permit,” Kawika interrupted.

  “He did. But he got the permit by bribing a public official here in Hilo. After the University team confirmed the heiau’s authenticity, Mr. Fortunato decided to challenge that conclusion. He hired a contract archeology firm to write a second report, one that would support his permit. The public official accepted that second report and granted the permit.”

  “And the bribe?” Kawika asked.

  “The official who granted the permit is a secret partner in the firm that wrote the second report. He recommended his own firm to Mr. Fortunato, who promised to pay the firm an unusually large sum. But once Mr. Fortunato had his permit, he refused to pay them. He was, after all, a crook.”

  “You think he was killed for double-crossing this guy?”

  “It’s possible,” said Pohano. “The guy’s a very tough local. Bingo Palapala—great name, probably not the one he was born with. He’s got a racket going. It includes some supposedly respectable PhD bone-diggers—people with a lot to lose. They must’ve hated being double-crossed. Also, Mr. Fortunato probably threatened to expose them when they demanded payment, wouldn’t you guess?”

  Kawika and Tanaka exchanged glances. “You’re talking a major public corruption case,” Tanaka said. “If this is true.”

  “I know you’re skeptical. But you should be skeptical about someone getting permits to bulldoze a heiau. I mean, c’mon. Kamehameha built it. Without bribes, no one’s going to let you bulldoze it. You agree, Ms. Ka‘aukai?”

  “I’d have to see the consultants’ report,” she replied. “I doubt they said, ‘Here’s a heiau built by Kamehameha the Great; it has no significance, so go ahead and bulld
oze it.’”

  “Fair enough,” said Pohano. “Read the two reports, compare them. Decide for yourselves. But remember, the private one was procured by fraud. The University’s wasn’t.”

  “That’s one crime out of three,” Kawika noted. “What’s next?”

  “Next,” Pohano went on, “we’ve got the denial of rights to ahupua‘a tenants. The law is arcane, but perhaps Ms. Ka‘aukai explained it?” Kawika nodded. “Good. Well, the tenants wanted to hunt wild pigs and goats. Mr. Fortunato said the tenants weren’t legitimate—that they couldn’t trace their rights back. And Mr. Fortunato claimed they’d have no right to hunt the pigs and goats anyway, because the pigs and goats aren’t indigenous. They’re descended from ones Captain Vancouver gave Kamehameha. Finally, Mr. Fortunato claimed that even legitimate tenants couldn’t hunt with rifles or bows, because they aren’t traditional. He said they’d have to use old Hawaiian spears—javelins.”

  The unspoken suggestion hung in the air: someone did use a javelin.

  “The dispute grew heated,” Pohano added. “But of course it isn’t really about hunting.”

  “Because no one would want to play golf or buy a home in the middle of a bunch of hunters?” Carolyn suggested.

  “Exactly, Ms. Ka‘aukai. The resort can’t sell much real estate or get financed if the hunting rights are established.”

  “Who are these hunters?” Kawika asked.

  “We don’t know them all,” Pohano said. “They formed a group in Waimea. It includes some Waimea police officers.”

  “You live here, you know the man.” Tommy’s words came unbidden to Kawika’s thoughts.

  Pohano continued, “By the way, I also represent Peter Pukui’s group on destruction of the heiau. We’re challenging the permit. Not for bribery—we couldn’t touch that without betraying our sources, putting them in danger. No, strictly on procedural grounds: lack of notice, defects in the record, arbitrary and capricious action—that sort of thing.”

  Pohano must have seen the suspicion in Kawika’s eyes. He quickly added, “You wonder why we’d challenge the permit after the heiau’s already destroyed?”