THREE KEY FACTS
Steve Braunias is an award-winning New Zealand journalist, author, columnist and editor.
This column incorrectly named a witness who was a neighbour of Polkinghorne in the Coromandel as “Simon Foote”. The witness’ name is “Dominic Simon Foote”.
OPINION
Polkinghorne, who always put his patients first and waived his surgeon’s fee when they couldn’t afford to pay him to save them from blindness; Polkinghorne, a brilliant ophthalmologist who trained at likely the world’s best eye hospital, in London, and was regarded as world-class over a long career performing his exquisitely delicate art on the retina; Polkinghorne, who earned the compliment all men savour: “A good guy.” Another side, then, finally began to emerge in favour of Dr Philip Polkinghorne, accused of murdering his wife, as the defence got to work on Monday, the opening day of the sixth week in the High Court trial in Auckland that has fascinated and appalled the nation.
On day one of the trial, Crown prosecutor Alysha McClintock had summoned the frightened, tremulous spirit of the Victorian age when she told the jury in her opening address: “He was a sex fiend!” The smelling salts were passed from house to house to revive menfolk and womenfolk, who immediately feared Polkinghorne was a rotter, capable of anything. Over the past five weeks, we have heard much of the 71-year-old eye surgeon’s fondness for sex workers (particularly Madison Ashton, who he seemed to be plotting to run away with and share a love-nest with her adorable Chihuahuas) and much was also made of his keen taste for methamphetamine. In short, the cops and the Crown painted him up as a mess.
Smoke and mirrors, the defence has always maintained; it argues that his smoking of methamphetamine and the many reflections the Crown has held up of Polkinghorne’s sex life only amount to a distraction, a stupid sniggering commentary of no value or connection to the death of Pauline Hanna, 63, on April 5, 2021, at the couple’s home in the National Party-voting zone of Remuera. “She hanged herself,” Polkinghorne told 111. “She hanged herself,” Polkinghorne’s lawyer, Ron Mansfield, KC, repeated on Friday when he escaped from his courtroom bench and stood right in front of the jury’s faces.
One of the first things we learn in adversity is who our friends aren’t. The ones who run for cover, who lack that useful thing known as a spine. The other kind of friend – loyal, faithful – appeared in courtroom 11 on Monday. “His patients loved him,” said Sharon Jenkins, who worked with Polkinghorne as a receptionist at Auckland Eye. “A good guy,” said another former colleague, Leonie Darlington. Jillian Blake worked with him for 27 years: “He always had the patients’ best interests at heart … I really enjoyed working with him … Cheeky … Dedicated … Always very supportive.”
Crown prosecutor Brian Dickey tried reversing the good old reliable car of scandalous behaviour out of the garage and taking it for a spin when he shouted at another ex-colleague, who has name suppression, about Polkinghorne’s drug use. “It’s irresponsible and reckless, isn’t it,” Dickey howled, “to be taking methamphetamine as a surgeon?” The man acknowledged it would certainly be the case if a surgeon was operating while on methamphetamine. Dickey’s shaggy hair has really grown out these past five weeks; he seems to be conforming to the old courtroom tradition of not cutting your hair in a trial. Much more of this and he will end up looking like that hirsute Auckland ragamuffin, the late One Dread.
The good reports of Polkinghorne’s character, meanwhile, kept on coming. His investment adviser,Tony Glucina, who appeared wearing a really beautiful suit – Crane Brothers if I’m not mistaken – raised his eyebrows at Polkinghorne in the Kiwi gesture of mateship when he took his seat in the witness box, and smiled at him on the way out. In between he gave him a glowing reference, and talked fondly of scoffing a three-course dinner at the Polkinghorne summer house in Coromandel not long before Pauline died. “Quite a flamboyant guy,” he said. “Interesting person to talk to, always cracking a few jokes.” But, he said, Hanna didn’t eat a single bite at that dinner, and talked about how stressed she was at work.
The golden weather of Coromandel summers was brought back to courtroom 11 again when Dominic Simon Foote was called as a witness. He was a neighbour of Polkinghorne at Rings Beach and had got to know him really well over the years: “He was great. Kind, generous. Fantastic to my kids. Yeah. Great neighbour.” Never saw him raise his voice, never saw him behave in a controlling or dismissive way towards Hanna. Walked around sometimes with a comically large glass of wine. Loved fishing and diving. Funny as hell. Always in bed at 9.30pm.
Dickey seized on the bedtime in his cross-exam. “How could you know that?” Foote seemed to be the kind of permanently relaxed Kiwi joker who shrugs off all challenges. He replied, “He was like that for two decades. Even on New Year’s Eve.” Dickey stuck his hands in his pockets, and sat down.
Polkinghorne smiled when witnesses remembered funny things he had said and done. One of his sons sat in the front row of the public gallery for support. Maybe the best moment of the day was when Mansfield asked Foote what he called Polkinghorne all those summers and long weekends they spent together at the horseshoe bay in Coromandel. “Polky,” he answered, with a grin. That affectionate nickname was last heard in the trial about four weeks ago. Since then he has been held up by the Crown as treacherous and murderous. But on Monday, Polky was back: kind, generous, funny Polky: flamboyant, wildly expressive Polky: Polky, a good guy.
The Herald will be covering the case in a daily podcast, Accused: The Polkinghorne Trial. You can follow the podcast at iHeartRadio, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, through The Front Page feed, or wherever you get your podcasts.
Those living in neighbouring properties were made to leave as the fire took hold.
