by Burl Barer
William Griffies, the Pierce County prosecutor, expressed pleasure with the trial’s final outcome. When a jury decides either the death penalty or life in prison with no parole, he said, “You have obtained the ultimate deterrent—the defendant will never be able to offend again.” A strong advocate of the death penalty, Griffies acknowledged the higher costs of a death penalty case. “But that doesn’t mean that we should not have a death penalty. We definitely should. I think society wants it. Recent polls show, I think, seventy to eighty percent are in favor of the death penalty.”
On September 6, 1985, Judge D. Gary Steiner issued the formal sentencing of life in prison without parole. Griffies, as chief prosecutor, celebrated his office’s victory over Murdach and Ladenburg. The state won the verdicts, but Murdach and Ladenburg saved their clients’ necks. One week after the formal sentencing, September 11, everyone was back in the courtroom. The issue at hand was John Achord’s head.
September 11, 1985
The medical examiner’s office retained the head of John Achord and his clothing for over a year. The state asked that the head be turned over to either the funeral home or John Achord’s relatives, but David Murdach, after consulting his client, objected to any physical evidence being destroyed or moved from its current location.
The defense’s reasoning was neither complex nor unnecessarily adversarial. Dr. Cordova had performed an independent examination of the head and then testified for the defense. If the head and shirt were removed from evidence, and should something happen to Dr. Cordova, the defense would have neither witness nor evidence for another pathologist to examine.
Individuals unfamiliar with the American legal system may question the defense’s need for witnesses or evidence when the defendants were already convicted and sentenced. If the cases suffered from significant errors in legal procedure, erroneous rulings by the court, or violations of the United States Constitution, the convictions could be overturned, the defendant(s) freed, or new trials granted.
“The question is,” summarized the judge, “in the event of a new trial, how would you present defense testimony with respect to a pathological report?”
“That’s the problem,” confirmed Murdach. Ladenburg didn’t mind releasing the remains. “We only objected to the clothing being destroyed.”
The medical examiner’s office wanted both items removed from the freezer. If Murdach or Ladenburg wanted further examination of either item, “they can still have them done, but they ought to have them done right away and then the items can be removed, and the remains of John Achord can be properly taken care of.”
At length, after continued discussions of the freezer, the shirt, and Mr. Achord’s head, David Murdach turned cranky. “If the prosecutor’s office wants to destroy evidence,” he said heatedly, “they can do what they bloody want with these two items!” Murdach warned Hultman that such destruction could be contrary to his client’s rights.
“I think you’re missing the point, Dave,” said Carl Hultman. “We’re giving you the opportunity—”
“Let me finish,” Murdach’s voice slashed through Hultman’s attempted explanation. He then directly addressed the judge. “If he wants to do whatever he wants to do, he doesn’t have to seek this court’s permission. He doesn’t need your permission. He’s asking you to sanction his moves and I don’t think that’s appropriate.
“The way this thing is being presented to you,” stressed Murdach, “you would think that the freezer is eight inches by ten inches. I’ve been in the freezer! It is huge. They roll bodies into it. There’s no problem. That shirt is probably bundled up in some butcher paper in a corner of the freezer!”
Hultman, his patience exceeding that of his courtroom adversary, suggested that Murdach take a moment to actually read the medical examiner’s memo. The defense counsel snatched it up off the table.
“This memo states, ‘We’re extremely short of freezer space. We need to clean it out and make it available for body storage. Achord’s head and several items of clothing belonging to Mr. Achord are taking up that part.’ I know of no other item that they’re keeping other than the shirt. We don’t want the pants. If they have the pants, we don’t want them. We just want the shirt. That shirt with the stab wounds and the presence of blood!”
The judge swiveled his head toward Hultman’s corner and awaited the responsive volley. He didn’t have to wait long. “There isn’t any contest about the stab wounds—he’s got twelve stab wounds! The fact is that the evidence is there. The shirt has been available since June 19, 1984, and we’re now at September 11, 1985!” Hultman addressed his next comments to the court. “If defense counsel has any concept of representing his client, or that this is an issue that has some relevance to his client’s future representation, he ought to take steps now to do whatever else he thinks needs to be done on that shirt, and we’ll give him three or four weeks if necessary. But,” said the prosecutor sternly, “he is on notice that we want to get rid of it for the reasons stated by the medical examiner’s office.”
When enough was too much, the judge made comment. “The court appreciates the courtesy and caution of the medical examiner and the prosecutor in presenting the matter to the court,” he said. “The court will order that the shirt not be destroyed, but be maintained in refrigeration for a period not to exceed thirty days to allow defense counsel, if they wish, any further examination. As for the head, just maintain it for a period of thirty days to allow further examination.”
“I see a problem here,” said John Ladenburg. “I think we’re going to have to ask for some chemical analysis of the shirt to protect our clients’ rights, and we may have an objection from the Department of Assigned Counsel paying for those tests when, in fact, no trial is scheduled in this matter.” The court kindly authorized payment of reasonable costs; the judge then looked down at the two silent St. Pierres, convicted killers whose only audible contribution to the afternoon’s proceedings was the occasional metallic clatter of waist chains, handcuffs, and leg irons.
Paul and Christopher St. Pierre, the court was informed, remained indefinite residents of the Pierce County Jail because The Department of Corrections refused to transport them to the state penitentiary, or other correctional facility, until the proper paperwork was completed.
“In this instance,” commented Hultman, “they’re pretty noneffective. Normally, these reports are prepared for the purpose of advising the parole board with respect to minimum term options.” For the St. Pierres, the minimum term was until death.
For Paul St. Pierre, gone were delusions of adequacy, let alone grandiosity. Violent outbursts and overt attempts at intimidation earned him only enforced isolation. St. Pierre’s mental and emotional condition deteriorated exponentially in twenty-four-hour segments. Strong in body, weak in mind, and life threatening in attitude, his mental illnesses manifested themselves in argumentative outbursts alternating with downward spirals of depression.
The impassioned courtroom discussions of his mental condition and possible future behavior were now irrelevant rhetoric reduced to officially stamped trial transcripts stored away in cardboard boxes somewhere in the Pierce County Courthouse. The best perceptions of medical experts converged on one inescapable reality: Paul St. Pierre’s future was all used up.
On Sunday, October 13, 1985, Paul St. Pierre entered the Intensive Management Program at the Washington State Corrections Center in Shelton, Washington. The term “intensive management” precisely describes this specialized unit’s purpose and function—every individual is closely monitored, and never alone, at least not longer than fifteen minutes. According to Veltry Johnson of the Corrections Department in the state capital, St. Pierre was under “close observation.”
On October 14, 1985, Paul St. Pierre committed another act of senseless violence. While there was never an official version of events released to the public, the predominant story is that St. Pierre shoved feces-filled toilet paper down his throat. For many, such beha
vior by Paul St. Pierre was not surprising.
The Mason County Medic 1 Team administered cardiopulmonary resuscitation, but their valiant efforts failed. Paul St. Pierre, transported by ambulance to Mason County General Hospital, was pronounced dead within the hour. His strange death, announced Veltry Johnson, had “the appearance of suicide.”
“I don’t believe he committed suicide,” commented Mark Ericson several years later. “You see, I think Paul could have handled life in jail. It was Chris that I was more worried about. I heard that Paul had marks on his body that the coroners overlooked. He supposedly beat up a guard, and that was the real reason that he was in that Intensive Management Unit.”
Roy Kissler also doesn’t believe the “suicide by toilet paper” allegations. “I just have never heard of anybody committing suicide that way. To my understanding, I thought he got into a physical conflict with a guard right after he got up there. He was in solitary at that point in time. There’s something weird about his death. He was in solitary lockup by himself while they did their evaluation, so he’s not in any of the other population. The guards are the only ones that I think have access to him. So much of what we hear is rumor and hearsay. Even the stories we all know about Paul get confused and changed. For example,” Kissler explained, “there was a guy named Mikey Green. And Paul showed him the corpse of a black guy that he had shot out in Spanaway, in a mobile home. Had him in the back room. Blanket over the corpse. And Mike was there and Paul said, ‘Come on. I want to show you something.’ Shows it to him and said, ‘Tell anybody about it and that’s what you’re going to look like.’ That just messed with the kid’s head big time. Then one day I hear the story being told, except it isn’t about Paul and Green, it’s about Paul and someone else. Not that it’s a big difference, but which of the two stories of the same event are true? I mean, that’s what the big deal was about the statements during the trials—which statement, which version, is true? Or, which parts are true? So I really doubt if I’ve heard the whole story of everything that Paul St. Pierre did in his short, sad life. Just in what I’ve heard, there is the possibility of at least a half a dozen murders. Even with all that—even him being a murderer and out of his mind—and despite me having thought of putting a bullet in him myself at one point, it was still a tragedy for his family when he died, especially to die in a gross way like that.”
Paul St. Pierre’s funeral was both traditionally reverent and understandably uncomfortable. Mark Ericson, Chris St. Pierre’s former employer, attended the somber event. “I didn’t stay long. I went to the funeral out of respect for Mr. and Mrs. St. Pierre. Were it not for them, I wouldn’t have gone. Chris was there, escorted and handcuffed, to pay his last respects. I hadn’t seen him since that morning when he walked out of my shop to talk to the cops. We didn’t talk at the funeral. What would we say? ‘How’s it goin’? ‘Whatcha been up to?’ The whole thing was heartbreaking and uncomfortable. When it comes to lives destroyed, there is no way you can put a price on it, no way at all.”
The estimated price of Paul St. Pierre’s lifetime incarceration was $800,000. The Department of Corrections arrived at this impressive figure by the following formula: $43 a day, or approximately $16,000 a year, for an estimated fifty years. His death, commented several sardonic sidewalk pundits, saved the taxpayers a significant sum.
Money was never a consideration during the trials for either the defense or the prosecution. “We don’t think the community would want us to temper our decisions based on how much a case is going to cost,” said Chief Prosecutor Griffies. “We don’t barter that way. We don’t allow the defense to hold the cost of prosecution over us to force us to lessen the charges.”
Twenty-one
Paul St. Pierre’s death aborted his appeal, but Chris St. Pierre’s appeal moved ahead. On June 17, 1986, John Ladenburg requested the court appoint a cocounsel to assist him in the appeal’s preparation. “The appearance of fairness,” said Ladenburg, “may be violated if cocounsel is not appointed.” Fairness became a serious consideration, recalled newsman Chet Rogers, “because John Ladenburg had officially become a candidate for Pierce County prosecuting attorney. He was running against Bill Griffies in the next election.” The court appointed Bertha Fitzer as cocounsel on July 21, 1986.
In the first week of November 1986, Bill Griffies was voted out of the prosecutor’s office. Chief Deputy Prosecutor Chris Quinn-Brintnall and Carl Hultman now worked under Chief Prosecutor John Ladenburg. Christopher St. Pierre understood the problem of having the chief prosecuting attorney involved with his appeal and strongly requested that John Ladenburg no longer be involved. The Pierce County Prosecutor’s Office agreed.
“I probably wouldn’t have handled the appeal personally even if I hadn’t won the election,” Ladenburg later commented. “At that point in my career, I wasn’t doing many appeals. The excellent defense attorney Bertha Fitzer was first assigned as cocounsel; then she assumed full representation. She appealed Chris St. Pierre’s conviction to the state supreme court.”
Although there was a precise time frame for filing the appeal, the appellate court allowed Fitzer an added measure of grace. “That’s because I was pregnant with my son,” recalled Fitzer. “That’s one reason I remember it so well.”
Her brief on behalf of Christopher St. Pierre cited numerous reasons why his convictions should be overturned, and/or a new trial granted. “Chris St. Pierre did not murder either of the two victims,” stated Fitzer factually. “Nonetheless, based on the statements of Andrew Webb, who pled guilty and then refused to testify, Chris St. Pierre must spend the remainder of his life in prison. His brother Paul also gave statements to the police. Admission of these statements assured that Chris St. Pierre would be convicted. Yet, Chris had no opportunity to test the truthfulness of these statements by cross-examination. Because admission of these statements violated Chris St. Pierre’s right to confront witnesses against him, and for other reasons, Chris St. Pierre’s convictions must be reversed.”
Among the other reasons cited for consideration by the state supreme court were:
1. Violation of his right to a speedy trial.
2. The improper refusal to sever his case from Paul St. Pierre’s.
3. Appearing before the jurors in leg irons tainted his right to an impartial jury.
4. Admission of Andrew Webb’s plea-bargain statement was improper.
5. Admission of Paul St. Pierre’s statement was improper.
6. The prosecutor’s conduct, before and during the trials, was reprehensible and improper.
7. Evidence of the decapitation of John Achord, which occurred days after the murder, should not have been admitted.
8. Evidence relating to the manner in which Damon Wells was killed was not admissible against Chris St. Pierre.
9. The spectator outburst of “Bullshit!” during his testimony denied him a fair trial.
1 0 . The judge should not have allowed the prosecutor to amend the information in a capital case immediately prior to the case going to the jury.
11. There was not sufficient evidence to convict Chris St. Pierre of aggravated murder.
“Chris St. Pierre, Paul St. Pierre, and Andrew Webb were the only three people present when Damon Wells and John Achord were killed,” said Fitzer. “Each gave statements about the events, but only Chris St. Pierre chose to testify.” In doing so, St. Pierre was subjected to rigorous cross-examination by Carl Hultman. Neither Andrew Webb nor Paul St. Pierre’s testimony—the sworn statement—were subject to cross-examination.
The United States Constitution provides that “in all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right ... to be confronted with the witnesses against him.” The constitution of Washington State contains an equivalent, and perhaps stronger statement: “The accused shall have the right to meet the witnesses against him face-to-face.”
“One cannot imagine a more explicit requirement than face-to-face confrontation,” noted Fitzer. This requirement as
sures three fundamental safeguards: one, it insures that the witness will give his statement under oath; two, it forces the witness to submit to cross-examination; three, cross-examination permits the jury to observe the demeanor of the witness, thus aiding in assessing his credibility.
Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of the Wells and Achord trials, in Fitzer’s opinion, was the behavior of the Pierce County Prosecutor’s Office. “Repeatedly publicizing the case, baiting the witness, making sarcastic comments during the defendant’s cross-examination, commenting on the defendant’s right to remain silent, and drawing from evidence in the Wells trial to prejudice the jury in the Achord trial” were among reasons Fitzer cited in requesting the supreme court’s intervention.
“Hultman, and his former boss, William Griffies,” she said to the state supreme court, “seem to measure their devotion to duty, like the prowess of the savage, by the number of their victims. This attitude is not only unseemly in a prosecutor, it is impermissible.”
The Washington State Supreme Court upheld Chris St. Pierre’s conviction for the murder of Damon Wells. “Admitting the statements from Paul St. Pierre and Andrew Webb did not deny Christopher St. Pierre his Sixth Amendment right of confrontation,” wrote the supreme court, “since Christopher St. Pierre’s own statements established his guilt for this crime.”
Judge Waldo F. Stone, the man who had presided over the Wells trial, was perfectly pleased with the court’s decision. “Nothing has occurred in the last five years to alter my previous recommendation of life in prison without parole. The defendant participated in two brutal murders. The only mitigating factor was the fact that the defendant’s brother was the prime instigator and this defendant played more of a follower role.”
On July 26, 1989, the Washington State Supreme Court ruled in favor of Christopher St. Pierre, reversing his conviction in the murder of John Achord. “Andrew Webb’s statement pertaining to Christopher’s alleged involvement in the slaying of John Achord did not have sufficient indicia of reliability,” wrote the supreme court, “and its admission in that case improperly denied Christopher St. Pierre his Sixth Amendment right to confrontation. The conviction for aggravated murder is reversed.”