CHAPTER FIFTEEN
That evening, every television news program reported the charges against Adrian and Colin. While the newsreaders described them, photographs of Adrian and Colin, and footage of the office buildings in which they worked, appeared on the screen.
I still felt depressed when I got to work the next morning. Fortunately, I had a big distraction. The brief from the Legal Aid Office in R v Tuan Ho sat on my desk. There were three white folders and a short covering letter from Clint Andersen. The letter followed the standard formula.
"The Legal Aid Office acts for Mr Tuan Ho who has been charged with murdering Mr Vincent Lee on 27 July last year. Counsel is instructed to advise and appear on behalf of Mr Ho at the trial of this matter."
The first document in the folders was the charge sheet. The next was a witness statement of Tuan Ho that Clint drafted after interviewing him in prison. After that came the "Prosecution Brief" served on Clint. It contained numerous witness statements, expert reports, crime scene photographs and DVDs in plastic sleeves.
After three hours of reading, I knew that Tuan Ho, now aged 25, was the son of Vietnamese refugees. His father abandoned his family soon after Tuan Ho was born. His mother worked menial jobs to support her three children and had little time for parenting. Tuan Ho left school at 13 and became one of the "dust of life" pushing heroin on the streets of western Sydney. At 15, he was convicted of trafficking and spent two years in a juvenile detention facility. While inside, he graduated from high school with surprisingly good grades. On his release, he went back to selling smack, and floated in and out of prison. However, he was never arrested for violent behaviour or trafficking a large quantity of drugs. He seemed to have started at the bottom of the drug trade and stayed there, a loser without viciousness.
The murder victim was a Chinese guy called Vincent Lee, who owned the Kam Fuk Restaurant in Cabramatta. He was no cleanskin. The prosecution brief included a police intelligence report which said that, according to "reliable information", he was a major importer and supplier of heroin. Indeed, he had two convictions for heroin trafficking and spent a total of eleven years behind bars. At least I could hint to the jurors that whoever killed Lee performed a social service. That might persuade them to cut my client some slack.
The prosecution's case was that, at 10.10 a.m. on Tuesday, 27 July, the previous year, Vincent Lee parked his Audi in the large car park behind the Kam Fuk Restaurant and entered his rear office. He was the first person to arrive. At 10.40 a.m., Tuan Ho parked his Toyota hatchback in the same car park, entered the office with a pistol and forced Lee to open his safe. He stole the contents, shot Lee dead and fled back to his car at 10.47 a.m.
A few hours later, a police scientific officer filmed the crime scene with a video camera. His 20-minute film was on a DVD in a plastic sleeve. I pushed the DVD into my computer and watched the film on the screen. Vincent Lee lay in a huge pool of blood, below an open wall safe. A toppled chair lay beside him.
The prosecution had two key pieces of evidence that implicated Tuan Ho. The first was footage from a CCTV camera mount behind the restaurant. It was on another DVD in a plastic sleeve. I pushed that DVD into my computer and watched the footage on the screen. It had a rolling date/time stamp in the bottom left-hand corner. It showed Vincent Lee enter the restaurant carrying a small carry bag at 10.10 a.m. Then Tuan Ho entered at 10.40 a.m. and hurriedly left at 10.47 a.m. His heavy duffle coat could have easily concealed a pistol and valuables stolen from the safe.
The other key piece of evidence implicating Tuan Ho was the discovery of the murder weapon in his apartment. A few hours after the murder, Homicide detectives and a restaurant employee watched the CCTV footage of the rear of the restaurant. The employee identified Tuan Ho and the detectives issued a warrant for his arrest.
Then Detective Inspector Hanrahan entered the scene. The next afternoon, he heard about the warrant and asked an informant where Tuan Ho lived. The informant gave him the address of an apartment in Canley Vale. Hanrahan and an offsider, Detective Sergeant Derek Mostyn, drove over to the apartment, bashed down the door and arrested Tuan Ho on suspicion of murder.
A couple of hours later, a police forensics unit searched the apartment and found a pistol wrapped in a cloth in the bottom of a wardrobe. Laboratory analysis showed it was the murder weapon and Tuan Ho's DNA was all over it.
In his witness statement, Tuan Ho claimed he was innocent. He claimed he once worked as a casual waiter at the Kam Fuk Restaurant. On the morning of the shooting, he visited Vincent Lee to ask for his old job back. He parked in the car park, strolled into Lee's office and found him lying on the floor, with several bullet holes in his chest and covered in blood. After confirming that Lee was dead, he feared he would be accused of killing him. So he dashed back to his car and drove off.
He also claimed Detectives Hanrahan and Mostyn planted the murder weapon in his apartment. After they arrested him there, Mostyn escorted him down to their parked car, but Hanrahan remained behind for about ten minutes. According to Tuan Ho, Hanrahan must have rubbed the pistol on the bed sheets to cover it with his DNA and planted it in the wardrobe.
I rose and paced around. It was suspicious that two drug squad detectives turned up to arrested a murder suspect. Further, I knew Hanrahan had no inhibitions about planting incriminating evidence.
However, just because Hanrahan was a dirty bastard did not mean he acted improperly this time. Further, he had no obvious motive to frame Tuan Ho. Indeed, the only possible motive was that he or his offsider shot Vincent Lee and they decided to make Tuan Ho the bunny. That was the only way they could have acquired the murder weapon before planting it in the wardrobe. However, that scenario was highly improbable. Further, even if it was true, my chance of proving it was zilch.
My excitement about appearing in my first murder trial was fast evaporating. When Clint Andersen offered me this brief, he was obviously displaying a morbid sense of humour.
I picked up the phone and called Clint at the Legal Aid Office. When he came on the line, I said: "Brad here. I've read the Tuan Ho brief."
"What do you think?"
"I think our client is going to hit the canvas. Hanrahan is a crook. But that doesn't mean he's done something dodgy this time. And, even if he has, I don't see how we prove that."
"I agree. It looks pretty grim. But you might come up with something."
"What? I don't exactly have a great track record against Hanrahan."
"You should have more faith in yourself."
"I don't because he shattered it. Anyway, is there any chance the prosecution will reduce the charge to manslaughter if our client pleads guilty?"
"No sign it will. But that's irrelevant. Our client won't plead guilty. He maintains he's innocent. Very stubborn."
"With his record, a judge will give him 20-plus."
"He knows that."
"OK. He's in Silverwater, right?"
"Yes. When do you want to go and see him?"
"Day after tomorrow?"
"Fine. I'll ring the gaol and make an appointment."
"Good. What's he like?"
"Rather sweet, actually, for a drug dealer. Doesn't look like he'd shoot someone three times. But I've learnt that murderers come in all shapes and sizes. That's one of the things that makes this job fascinating."
The Floor's reader, Helen Lawson, had said she wanted to tag along if I appeared in an interesting trial. Surely, a murder trial fitted the bill. I said to Clint: "Oh, just one last thing: the reader on my Floor wants to do some of her criminal reading with me. Can she tag along with me during the trial? She won't sit at the bar table, of course - she'll just be observing."
Clint said: "Of course she can, as long as she understands she's just an observer."
"She will. You won't even have to buy her lunch."
"Music to my ears."
I hung up and strolled along to the reader's room. I opened the door of a room about the size of a pantry and found Helen sitting at
a tiny desk piled high with white folders, typing on a laptop.
I said: "Aren't you worried about an avalanche?"
She looked up. "Hi. It's a bit precarious, isn't it? I've been briefed in a big trade practices matter. The hearing will start sometime next year and run for about six months."
I thought about how much money she would make and almost winced. "Congratulations. How did you get the brief?"
"Derek Hoogland recommended me to his instructing solicitor. He's got two other juniors."
I wasn't surprised. When her father was at the Bar, he sent lots of work in Hoogland's direction. Now Hoogland was repaying that debt via the daughter. That was the cycle of life at the Bar.
I said: "It'll probably settle."
"Oh, really? Why?"
"Most commercial cases do. Both sides spend a fortune preparing for the hearing and then decide they can't afford to lose. Anyway, have you done your ten days of criminal reading yet?"
"Nope. Only a few days."
"Good, then I'm about to offer you the chance of a lifetime."
"What?"
"I've got a murder trial in about a month. You can observe that, if you want."
Her eyes widened. "Murder?"
"Yep, the Big M, or 'mudder' as they say in Scottish crime shows."
"Wow. Have you ever done one before?"
"Nope, we'll both be learning on the job."
"OK. You going to win it?" Her enthusiasm was rather infectious.
"Highly unlikely. I'm just hoping to finish a close second."
She giggled. "When's the hearing?"
I gave her the dates. She flipped through a diary which, I noted, had many dates crossed out. She was doing well. "Yes, yes, I'm available."
"Good. Welcome aboard. The client's in gaol right now. My instructing solicitor and I are popping out to see him the day after tomorrow. You can come along too if you want - it'll count as a day of criminal reading."
She grimaced. "I wish I could. But I've got a hearing that day, in the Local Court, about the colour of a dividing fence."
"The colour?"
"Yes. The neighbours have been fighting over it for years. One paints it one colour and, the next day, the other paints it another."
"Can't they sit down and sort this out."
"There was a mediation a few months ago. I hear they almost agreed on a colour, but it was not to be."
I reflected sadly that she would probably earn more for appearing for a lunatic at a Local Court hearing than I would get for defending Tuan Ho in a murder trial. "If people weren't mad, we wouldn't have a job. Good luck."
"Thanks. But I'll definitely be available for the murder trial."
"Good. The brief's on my desk if you want to glance through it."
"I will."
I realised, to my surprise, that she really meant that.