The trial (and tribulations) of Dr Philip Polkinghorne - charged with the murder of his wife Pauline Hanna in August 2022 - was never going to be treated to a tidy, linear account by Steve Braunias, well-known and feted for the distinctive way he shapes and styles his writing: sensitive and blunt, lyrical and mundane, funny and deadly serious, mischievous and blameless, amiable and name-calling. The facts are there but, so too, are impressions. It's the impressionistic style that lingers.
Polkinghorne - Polky to Rings Beach friends where the couple enjoyed 'a five-bedroom summer house'- was an eye surgeon, increasing his sizeable income by establishing Auckland Eye (clinic) married to his second wife, Pauline who worked in a leading role at Counties Manukau Health Board and was heavily involved in the Covid-19 roll out. Responsible, stressful jobs cushioned by their 3 cats and their (curiously sterile, according to media photos) Remuera home with 'the lovely view of the golden pond of Orakei Basin' from where Polkinghorne made the 111 call: 'My wife's dead. She hung herself.' However, in the next 6 months many cats were let out of the bag; cue: the unexpected expose of sex, drugs and the rocky horror show of a marriage......it took the country by storm.
Polkinghorne's trial opened on on July 29 and he was declared not guilty some 2 months later. Braunias observed, monitored and reported on the 'epic, shockalicious trial....like none before in our island history' as he had so many trials previously. Indeed, the author missed the opening day of Polkinghorne's defence to appear at the Christchurch Word literary festival where he was interviewed about his (then) latest book, 'The Survivors', 'the final book in my trilogy of true-crime narratives' which, of course, it wasn't.
Braunias's observations of major and minor players are deft, sometimes languid and always entertaining:
* 'Justice Lang - who began the trial with a rocker's wild hair, got it cut, and ended the trial six weeks later with his silver hair once again gone everywhere'
* Ron Mansfield KC, representing Polkinghorne: 'His restless energy and high-strung nerves formed a kind of cone of tension around him in the courtroom..'
* Mansfield again: 'a street fighter with an awful honking voice straight out of the Canterbury flatlands of his hometown ...he wore too-tight suits and an amusing cap on his shaved head. With pale eyes, remote behind thick glasses, and little teeth that tore at the flesh of Gala apples every day in court...'
* Brian Dickey, Crown solicitor: he 'sloped into court like he'd just come in off a farm or fishing boat, chucked on a suit, and not had time to brush his hair. He wore an old raincoat'
* A trial follower: 'There was also a strange woman who kept to herself. She wore black skirts, black tights, Doc Martens and a backpack; she looked as though she were on her way to work'
* Madison: 'Only Madison Ashton looks like Madison Ashton. Even though there was something generic about her cosmetic maximisations- everything large, blown up - she had a natural and touching prettiness to her features. She wore leather pants and a tight blue top. Her nails were painted gold.'
And then there's Polkinghorne:
* Polkinghorne in court: '...he still had an extraordinariness about him. He had beautiful blue eyes and a mischievous smile. He looked like - okay all bald men look alike, and all short men are replicants - Dave Dobbyn. He was tiny, a furry little mouse, but without any mousiness; he took his place in the world with confidence'
* Aside from the defence and Crown's depiction of Polkinghorne '...there was the actual Polkinghorne .....his resting face set in an unfortunate expression of a dimwit, with his lower lip sticking out above a quite absent chin..'
* To his trainer, Polkinghorne texted: 'Hi, Barry. I am on fire. Intend to break every record...' According to Braunias: 'To the Crown, this was evidence of the bang and boost of methamphetamine. Bit it sounds exactly like Polkinghorne in his natural state -the braggart, motivated, up for it, wanting to revel in the performance and endurance of his body.'
* The author even manages a Kerouacian quote from 'On the Road' to describe Polkinghorne: 'the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles'
* And the socks, oh the socks: 'But Polkinghorne dared to wear his wild, wild heart on his feet every single day of his trial, in a never-repeated selection..... He wore his socks on his sleeve. His socks believed in him. His socks put one foot in front of another. His socks talked to him. They spoke in his voice, were chatty and jabbering- he wore circumlocutary socks'
His musings sometimes seem to wander off piste but provide a respite to the drama - both measured and theatrical - of the trial.
* The High Court of Auckland: opposite 'Old Government House, where Elizabeth Windsor stayed the night in 1953, as the newly crowned Queen of England. Ideally located for the application of English law, it's a fort of justice, an old pile of bricks spooked by the cries of the dead.
* 'Every morning of the 4-week Crown case, the hands of the university's filigreed clock were stuck at 12. It felt like an accurate commentary. Showdown at high noon or the chimes of midnight as the Crown's black-clad accusers....directed the slow, steady journey through the wastelands of death in Remuera.'
* '....Orakei Village, where an orange Porsche was leaving just as a white Tesla with the licence plate TOLD YOU was arriving. O garish Auckland!.....everyone hates Auckland, its flash and cash, its good life. Secretly though, they yearn for it'
There's TV programme featuring a protagonist, a consultant detective called Elspeth who dresses eccentrically in over-colourful clothes, bedecks herself with numerous tote bags and sports a winning smile and personality - on the surface unthreatening and hapless to the perpetrator - but, behind that facade there's a lot of smarts going on. Braunias seems to effect a similar, guileless talent: 'I got to quite like Dr Philip Polkinghorne', he remarks. He and 'Phil' chatted constantly. Braunias adds: 'the point of my conversational ingratiations was to size him up. Polkinghorne wasn't the malignant sex dwarf as characterised by the Crown but multi- faceted - liked by his staff, his trainer, his friends at the beach. But, behold, the other side of Pauline's husband ('the love of my life') who could 'put his hands around her neck in a rage and threatened, 'I can do this any time I want.' Polkinghorne may not have murdered his wife but his treatment of her was killing her anyway.
Books about compelling past events, if well told, always have the power to fascinate: 'The Crewe Murders' (Kirsty Johnston and James Hollings) and 'Entitled' (Andrew Lownie) in their methodical, chronicling of events provide a co-ordinated assemblage only seen or heard about in a piecemeal fashion by the public. It's the same with 'Polkinghorne', with Braunias adding his off-beat style to the substance. 5 stars