Retired eye surgeon Philip Polkinghorne has pleaded not guilty to murdering wife Pauline Hanna in 2021.
The Crown alleges Polkinghorne, 71, strangled his wife and staged her death to look like a suicide at their Remuera home but the defence says there is no evidence of a homicide.
Polkinghorne’s three-hour police interview with Detective Ilona Walton was presented to the jury yesterday.
Steve Braunias is an award-winning New Zealand journalist, author, columnist and editor.
Polkinghorne talks. Up until Wednesday afternoon, the only time the High Court at Auckland has heard the voice of eye doctor Dr Philip Polkinghorne in his truly sensational murder trial (wealth, hookers, drugs, awhite Mercedes-Benz with the licence plate RETINA) was a recording of the 111 call he made on the morning of Easter Monday, April 5, 2021, to tell emergency services that his wife Pauline had hanged herself at their Remuera home.
Police quickly viewed Polkinghorne with suspicion, and slowly charged him with murder, 16 months later. His trial began last Monday. Since then the Crown has shovelled all sorts of pieces of circumstantial evidence at the feet of the jury of nine women and three men. A big strange pile of it was presented on Wednesday in the shape of Polkinghorne’s epic three-hour police interview at the College Hill copshop on the afternoon of his wife’s death.
He raved. He gabbled. He monologued. Some detectives maintain a cold silence, to provoke their suspect into filling the silence with incriminating yap; Detective Ilona Walton could barely get a word in edgeways. She didn’t need to manipulate Polkinghorne to open his mouth. He seldom shut his mouth.
Certainly the jury had already been made aware he was expressive. All of Wednesday in courtroom 11 was a series of fascinating glimpses into the character and behaviour of Polkinghorne. First in the witness box was his personal trainer Barry Payne. He made Polkinghorne feel the burn for 15 years at the CityFitness gym in Newmarket and had got to know him and really like him. “Philip was a knowledgeable, interesting man.” He admired Polkinghorne for his commitment to training. On the Friday before Pauline’s death, Polkinghorne sent him this excitable text on the way to the gym: “I am on fire. Intend to break every record.”
His next appointment was on Monday morning. He phoned Payne and told him Pauline was dead. Payne was devastated, and reached out to him two days later on April 7. This time Polkinghorne texted: “At the moment I can’t do anything but weep. I’m an absolute mess.”
Philip Polkinghorne is interviewed by Detective Ilona Walton on April 5, 2021, the day his wife Pauline Hanna died.
The next witness brought events forward to April 30. Detective Lisa Anderson said she went to the Mt Cook Lakeside Retreat and knocked on the door of the Matariki Room. Polkinghorne answered. He was in the room with Madison Ashton, a sex worker from Sydney.
What beautiful narrative segues the Crown achieved on Wednesday. Polkinghorne, April 7: an absolute mess. Polkinghorne, April 30: at a stunning South Island mountain with company.
The next two witnesses were two extraordinarily nosey neighbours on Auckland’s North Shore who shared their titillating tittle-tattle sightings throughout 2019 and 2020 of Polkinghorne going to visit a woman they described as – more beautiful seguing – a sex worker.
The nosey parkers were Rob Masters and Myra Riddington. They live in an apartment building in Northcote. Both gossiped about seeing Polkinghorne drive up in his Mercedes-Benz with the licence plate RETINA, and visit a woman in the apartment who was sometimes known as Rachel and other times as Alaria. He visited most Fridays, said Masters. Three or four times a week, said Riddington. Once he came wearing surgical scrubs, they agreed, and they also both reported that he sometimes came armed with champagne and “fancy boxes” containing lingerie.
Who were these two watchers on the Shore? “It sounds like Neighbourhood Watch is quite strong where you live,” observed Ron Mansfield KC, Polkinghorne’s lawyer. Masters said he used to be a policeman: it was just a habit to keep an eye on the citizenry. As for Riddington, she said she spent a lot of time in the garden, and couldn’t help but notice the goings-on of everyone around her. Mansfield has something like a PhD in sarcasm. “You must have a very beautiful garden,” he told the vigilant Riddington.
Among her many observations of Polkinghorne: “He’s a man who likes to stand out.”
Bearing gifts of champagne and lingerie, driving around in a Merc with the blaring plate RETINA and, at the police station in downtown College Hill on the afternoon his wife had died, talking up a storm, blathering for hours, jumping up at one point to mimic how he found Pauline’s body slumped forward on a chair – “You don’t have to do this,” Detective Walton said, but he didn’t listen. He was intent on performing it.
On their spacious wardrobe in the Remuera home: “Some might say excessive!” On the taste of French Earl Grey tea: “Isn’t it fantastic!” He talked about feeding the cats, boiling the kettle, toasting the toast … Yappy, wanting to express every little thing, at ease with his physical presence in the little room, he settled himself on the two-seater couch and spread his legs.
