The courtroom was suddenly so still that I was aware of the soft tapping of the court reporter’s fingers on the keys of her stenographic machine.
Findlay had the witness mark on the chart of Palmyra the exact location where she had found the bone. She put a circle on the lagoon shore about midway between Strawn and Cooper islands—a couple of hundred yards east of Jordan’s find.
She found the bone “washed up, close to the bushes,” as she was “looking on the ground for crabs.” When she picked it up, it was “very clean, with a little bit of green algae growing on it.” She immediately thought of the “case of the missing couple.”
She showed the bone to her friends and kept it for about three weeks before throwing it overboard where the Aquaholics was moored at the dolphins.
Findlay entered into evidence a diagram of the bone Eatinger had drawn for the defense several months earlier. Placing several pages from a book of human anatomy in front of the witness, Findlay asked if she could find anything that looked like the bone she had found.
“It was this bone,” she said, pointing to a picture of an adult humerus, the long bone of the upper arm that extends from the shoulder to the elbow.
On cross, Schroeder threw into question the witness’s credibility by getting Eatinger to admit she had at first thought she’d found a thighbone.
He then asked what had caused her to dispose of the bone if she had really thought, as she testified on direct examination, that it might pertain to the Palmyra murder case.
“It was rather grisly and uncomfortable for me to keep, and it kept getting in the way,” she explained lamely. “Every time I reached for something, the bone would be there.” She gave a fetching shudder.
Eatinger went on to say that although she had never told the authorities about her find, she had told a sailing friend, defense witness Richard Grigg, and he had immediately recruited her for the defense team.
NEXT, SEVERAL witnesses were called in an effort to discredit the testimony of prison snitch Al Ingman that Buck Walker told him he had killed the Grahams. Two half sisters of his each claimed Ingman introduced them to heroin at a young age, and labeled him “untruthful.”
The testimony began to sound like a broken record, perhaps diluting the defense effort by repetition. Ingman’s twenty-two-year-old niece, Tamee Cyphers, called him a “very untruthful, manipulative person.” When she was sixteen, she said, her uncle had taken her to an Arizona motel room and instructed her to have sex with his friend Terry Conner. She did, and remained with Conner for a year—until his 1981 arrest at the Torch Light Motel—and had his baby. A pathetic story, but not particularly germane.
Ingman’s stepmother was contemptuous. “Al has never been truthful. He has more or less lived in a fantasy world. He seemed to fantasize about what things would be, and lied about what they really were.”
Ruth Thomas, now in her forties, appeared next. Life on the run with lawbreakers followed by a prison stretch had taken a severe toll on the former social worker. Buck Walker’s ex-lover looked drawn, even gaunt. As she passed the defense table, she and Walker exchanged weak smiles. After being sworn in by the clerk, she looked again at the man who had upended her life, this time with sad eyes and no expression.
“Where do you reside, Ms. Thomas?” Partington asked.
“The federal correctional institution at Pleasanton [California],” she answered quietly.
Thomas explained that she had been arrested in 1983 for conspiracy to distribute heroin. She had been convicted the following year after Al Ingman testified against her. “He’s a liar,” she said softly.
Thomas reviewed her live-in relationship with Walker, which had lasted from July 1979 until mid-1981. Several times the judge had to ask her to speak up. The demure Thomas clearly took no pleasure in being the center of attention. She denied that Walker had ever been involved in smuggling drugs or guns.
Partington brought out that the FBI’s Hal Marshall had visited her in prison in early 1985 to recruit her to testify against Walker. “He said he could help me. I took that to mean that if I would testify to what he wanted me to, he’d help me get out of prison.”
“Did you understand him to be asking you to lie?” Partington asked.
“No. He didn’t ask me to lie. But I think if I had, I would be out of prison.”
Later that same afternoon, the defense called Terry Conner.
Over six feet tall, Conner, forty-one, had a shiny forehead framed by receding lank hair. Quick to present a boyish smile, he projected an astonishingly sunny disposition, considering that he was currently serving sentences totaling seventy years for separate bank-robbery convictions in Arizona, Utah, and Oklahoma, as well as a 1984 conviction for conspiracy to distribute heroin.
Conner had traveled under armed escort from his cell at Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary in Kansas to San Francisco in order to testify on behalf of his old friend Buck Walker. With a studied cool that seemed sadly juvenile, the two men gave each other half-waves as he passed the defense table.
Under Partington’s direction, Conner recalled serving time with Walker and Ingman at McNeil Island from 1978 to 1979. Walker did not trust Ingman, he said, and had never told any incriminating stories about events at Palmyra Island. “To the contrary,” Conner testified, Buck had denied killing the Grahams. “Buck told me he admired and respected those people on Palmyra. I have known Buck for a long time. I feel he has always been a man of his word, of high principles. To me, he has a lot of personal integrity,” Conner said unabashedly about the man with a five-page rap sheet.
When Partington concluded, Enoki moved slowly to the podium, a prowling jungle cat tensed to spring. After he brought out on cross that Buck Walker’s character witness had used six aliases in the past, he asked: “Did each of the bank robberies you were convicted of involve taking hostages?”
“It involved taking the bank manager to the bank, and emptying the vault out.”
“Involuntarily, I gather.”
“Yes. No one was ever hurt, though.”
“You used a weapon in each of those cases, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Conner’s voice had dropped a notch. His boyish grin faded.
Things did not improve when the prosecutor expanded on Conner’s checkered criminal history by noting that he and Walker had been arrested together in 1981 on the drug charge in Arizona. For the clincher, Enoki got Conner to admit that in April 1985 a hacksaw blade had been found in his Leavenworth cell.
“Mr. Conner, isn’t it true that you asked the defendant, Mr. Walker, to get you out of Leavenworth to testify here today?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it true that you wanted to use this opportunity to escape from prison?”
As if on cue, Conner looked at the jury, showed his upraised palms, and smiled that mischievous but endearing smile of his. “If I got the opportunity,” he said, shrugging.
The spectators laughed, as did the jury.
To almost no one’s surprise, the defense rested its case without calling Buck Walker to the stand.
JUNE 11, 1985
CLOSING ARGUMENTS in the Walker case began fourteen days after the jury had been selected. In the interim, fifty-two witnesses had been called to the stand—thirty-four by the prosecution, eighteen by the defense.
Enoki, in his familiar monotone, stressed two major prosecution themes: the Iola was unseaworthy, and Buck and Jennifer were out of food.
“Did they want to continue to eat fish, coconuts, crabs, and Runway Salad, when, just two hundred yards away, were the Grahams and the Sea Wind with ‘every provision known to man’?”
Enoki contended that Walker had the motive, the means (“He had a pistol, and he was not reluctant to use this weapon on the island”), and the opportunity to commit murder. In fact, he said, Walker was “one of only two people on earth who could have committed the murder.”
The prosecutor summarized the testimony of Sharon Jordan and several of the Governm
ent’s expert witnesses, saying that the evidence and scientific findings refuted the claim that Muff Graham might have died by drowning or in any other accidental way.
He cited the evidence of murder: the body had been in the container (the bones being found right next to the box; the abrasions on the skull from “coffin wear” the human protein in the blood on the cloth; the waxlike substance containing fatty acids and calcium salts of those acids, consistent with the decomposition product of human fat underwater); the skull had been burned, apparently while the flesh was still on it; sledgehammer-type blows causing several fractures to the bones, etc.
And, Enoki pointed out, there was considerable evidence that no drowning had occurred: the vaunted stability of the Zodiac; the placidity of the lagoon (“Even in storms, the lagoon only had waves of one foot by some estimations, two feet by the highest estimation”); the fact that the obstructions were located in shallow water, etc.
Enoki reminded the jury of Buck Walker’s long letter to Kit Muncey (which he had introduced earlier over defense objections) and contended that Walker had obviously written the letter well after his November 8, 1974, arrest (the envelope bore a Honolulu postmark of March 11, 1975), but backdated the letter to October 1974.
In the letter, “Mr. Walker has the audacity to explain to Mac’s sister that he was going to write all along,” Enoki fumed, “and that he had some salvage claim that he thought he might be filing on the vessel.”
Refuting the defense contention that the bones and container had washed ashore separately, Enoki noted that even the defense criminalist had conceded that “bones don’t float.” Also, the fact that the bones were found grouped together on the beach proved “they must have been held together, as a container or box would hold something together.” As further evidence that Muff had not washed ashore as a drowning victim, Enoki cited testimony Dr. Stephens had given that when flesh is on the body, rats or other rodents gnaw first of all around the orbital areas of the eyes and the nose. “Rats, of course, are not like humans. They don’t wipe away fingerprints, they don’t wipe away evidence. The evidence of gnawing marks around the eyes and nose area should have been there if Muff’s body had washed ashore from a drowning.” Instead, the rat gnawing was limited to the tibias, the larger bones of the lower legs.
Enoki bore down. “Innocent people don’t have to falsify evidence like disguising a boat, reregistering a boat, and fleeing from authorities by diving in the water and getting away. These are circumstances, the court will instruct you, which can be considered by you as consciousness of guilt.
“I ask you to return a verdict that reflects the true circumstances of this case, and that is that the defendant, Buck Walker, murdered Eleanor Graham.”
After a fifteen-minute recess, the jury returned to hear Partington’s final remarks.
The defense attorney started off defensively: “Jurors believe we lawyers talk too long, so I will endeavor to be brief, but I am sure you will find I have talked too long anyway and I apologize in advance.” And on dubious ground: “This is where we present the evidence most favorable to our side. I am not going to pretend to you that I am here to be objective. I am not. I am here to be a partisan for my client, to raise doubts.”
Sensibly, he conceded that Buck Walker was a boat thief. “Please understand that merely because he is a boat thief doesn’t mean he is a murderer. It’s a giant step from stealing a boat to killing someone.”
Partington predictably argued that the Iola was seaworthy and that Buck and Jennifer, though very low on food, could have survived on fish, crabs, and coconuts. He likened the alleged motive in this case to a poor person waiting for a rich aunt to die. “If the Government’s argument is carried to the extreme, when your Aunt Minnie dies unexpectedly and leaves you her millions, that’s evidence that you murdered her.” This analogy did not evoke nods of agreement from the jury. One lantern-jawed juror in the second row gave Partington a look that could freeze fire. The defense attorney went on to caution that motive alone should not be used to convict anyone.
His client left Hawaii and was fleeing from a drug charge, Partington continued, which accounted for many of Walker’s actions after the Grahams disappeared.
Partington valiantly tackled some of the most damaging scientific evidence. He suggested that the bones washed ashore separately from the container and had been buried in the sand for a long period of time. The sand and rocks caused the abrasions, he said, while the sun and perhaps also a campfire on the beach scorched the skull. It was in this setting that the fractures and gnawing of rodents occurred. If the abrading to the skull had taken place inside the container as the Government argued, he asked, why were there virtually no signs of abrasion to the inside walls of the box? As to the bone fractures: “There is nothing unusual about bones exposed over a period of years having some fractures.” Partington also noted that the waxlike substance in the box was also consistent with plant-life decomposition.
As to the burning on the skull that may have taken place years after death, “That means that somebody had to have tampered with these bones, and if that’s true, all of the Government’s scientific conclusions are suspect.”
Concerning Galatea Eatinger’s testimony: “We know from the remains recovered [by Sharon Jordan] that the bone found by Miss Eatinger could not have come from Mrs. Graham, because that would make three humeri. And we all know we only have two arms each. Therefore, that bone would have to come from Mac Graham. What does that tell you? Mac Graham is not in the second missing box at the bottom of the lagoon. Mac Graham is scattered about the lagoon, consistent with a drowning, or shark attack.
“The Government is suggesting that the defense is relying on a Zodiac accident to explain what happened to the Grahams. No, we are not. What we are saying is how can it be said beyond a reasonable doubt that the Grahams did not fall victim to a boating accident or shark attack?”
After arguing that no murder at all had been committed, Partington switched gears and proposed that if one had, Jennifer Jenkins alone could have been the killer.
“She was the navigator on the trip to Palmyra. Obviously, she is not empty-headed, as celestial navigation requires skill. When the arrest was made at the Ala Wai, Jenkins ran like crazy. We know that Walker had at least two other reasons to run. He had stolen the boat, and he was a fugitive from a federal drug charge. But Jenkins wasn’t a fugitive from anything. Yet, she fled. Why?
“Mr. Shoemaker testified he heard female voices over the radio. So, apparently, Jenkins was permitted on the boat. If you ask me, that is rather strong evidence that if there was an opportunity to commit a murder on the Sea Wind, only defendant Jenkins had the opportunity, because, according to the Government, Walker would never have been permitted aboard.”
Describing Al Ingman as a “paid Judas, the ultimate con artist,” considered by his own family to be a liar and manipulator, Partington told the jurors, “If you doubt that Al Ingman is telling the truth, the Government’s case comes apart like a house of cards.
“If the Government wants to prove a murder, they are going to have to do a lot better than they have done during this trial. Thank you.”
It had not been a very stirring summation.
After a lunch recess, Enoki had his last chance to speak to the jury and give each nail a final tap. In a brief and confident rebuttal, the prosecutor reminded the jury that the Government did not have to solve all elements of the mystery. “We are not required to prove such things as what precise means were used to kill Mrs. Graham, what was done with her remains after she was killed, or any number of other things Mr. Partington has rattled off. All the prosecution is required to do is prove that Mr. Walker killed her with malice aforethought and premeditation.”
Responding to Partington’s contention that no murder had been committed, the prosecutor said: “Sharon Jordan’s unrefuted and unforgettable testimony alone is worth at least ten experts. She was there, and she told you what she saw. It looked exactly li
ke the bones had come out of the box.
“Look at the wristwatch she found on the lid of the container,” Enoki said, holding up the rusty watch for the jury to see. “There is not much remaining of it and no one has identified it as being Muff Graham’s. But you can see that the part not completely encrusted with rust is a silver-colored metallic watchband. If you will look at exhibit 8A, the picture of the Grahams on the Sea Wind at Palmyra, you will see that on her left wrist there appears to be a silver-colored band remarkably like this silver watchband.”
In any event, Enoki argued, proving Muff was murdered “did not hinge on the Government’s proving the bones were in the box.” For instance, he said, was not Muff set afire while flesh was still on her body? “Wouldn’t that be enough for you to conclude, in conjunction with the other evidence in this case, that Muff had been murdered?”
WITH THE testimony and arguments concluded, Judge King read aloud pages of instructions the law required him to recite to the jury before it began deliberating. He droned on for almost half an hour. At one point, like a fatigued grad student working in his carrel, Buck Walker took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes, then went back to following along on his copy of the instructions.
At 2:57 P.M., the judge told the jury, “You have the case.” He informed the relieved jurors they would not be sequestered at night. He suggested they proceed to the jury room and work for a few hours, then come back for an hour or two after the Government treated them to dinner. He also advised them to make no commitments for the next couple of days and to plan to report to court each morning and deliberate throughout the day and into the early evening until they reached a verdict.
The first business at hand for any jury is the selection of a foreman or forewoman. The Walker jury chose gray-haired Charles Simmonds, a veteran of two previous juries.