Day 6 of the decreasingly newsworthy coronial inquest into the death of Pauline Hanna, set down for a fortnight but already a day behind, was devoted to the questioning of police who were greeted at an Ōrākei house on the Easter Monday morning of April 5, 2021, by a small man who is now a large folkloric creature in New Zealand life, Dr Philip Polkinghorne. His wife was dead. He said she had died by suicide. He had a mysterious cut on his forehead. Police found methamphetamine throughout the house. He was accused of murder at an extremely newsworthy trial at the High Court of Auckland in 2024, and found not guilty of murder. Pauline’s death is now a matter for the coroner.
I was the sole hack in court on Monday. No one else bothered last Thursday, either. But Friday was full press: a posse of hacks rode in to argue their case that they needed to film Polkinghorne when he gives evidence on Tuesday. They will all return tomorrow with bells on and sirens screaming. I might have to sleep overnight in the windowless cell of the Newmarket courtroom to secure my seat on the press bench.
Polkinghorne did not give evidence at his trial. His kindly lawyer Ron Mansfield advised him against it. He knew that the Crown’s cross-examination would degenerate into a long, thrilling rake of muck, about sex (Polkinghorne seemingly liked hookers, a lot), drugs (he allegedly liked methamphetamine, a lot), and his general freewheeling gangsta lifestyle that was at odds with his role as a respected medical professional living among the Tory straights of Remuera. But he has elected to sit in the witness box at the coronial inquiry. It will be his first chance to have his say in open court.
The function of Coroner Tania Tetitaha is to establish the cause of death. She will operate on the balance of probabilities. The police theory is that Polkinghorne killed his wife in a meth-fuelled rage, and then scampered around the house in the middle of the night to fix her in the grotesque pose of a suicide. Polkinghorne says he was pottering around the kitchen making tea and toast for breakfast when he walked to another part of the house and found her dead. He called 111 at 8.06am.
Constable Danielle Gear gave evidence in court on Monday from video link. She is now policing in Queensland and the coroner envied her the better weather. She talked about coming to the Ōrākei home and noticing a bloodied cut on Polkinghorne’s forehead. “It was like a scratch, a bruise, a mark, a graze. I think the best way to describe it is that it was like a long scratch.” The police theory is that it was a sign of a struggle.
Constable Jonathan Hurn also appeared on videolink. No one envied the fact he is now policing in Papanui, Christchurch. His face filled the screen and he looked like every NZ police officer between c1975-1995 ie he wore a big manly moustache. He talked about Pauline’s body. “Her feet were facing the door and her head was by the stairs. There was a pillow beneath her head.” The police theory is that Polkinghorne killed her in her bedroom, and took her body downstairs.
The jury heard all of this at the 2024 trial. Their verdict is a reminder of the distinct possibility that the real and actual grotesquery of the whole case is that Polkinghorne was falsely accused, and the police, the Crown, and an oh-my-God-this-is-gold media conspired to fix a grieving widower in an eternal season in Hell. “His personal life has been stripped bare,” said another of his lawyers, Michael Timmins, in court on Friday, in his unsuccessful submission to prevent the media filming Polkinghorne when he gives evidence tomorrow. Coroner Tetitaha permitted filming in her oral judgment on Monday afternoon. More of his life, then, will be stripped bare, on film, leading the news hours, cut up into little online video-content entertainments all day long.
Polkinghorne will begin by giving evidence in chief to Ron Mansfield. The Coroner has confined the inquiry to the 24 hours before Pauline’s death, and Polkinghorne can talk about her final weekend that Easter—a session at the gym, taking junk to the tip, lamb shanks for dinner. Mansfield will likely also ask about her work emails. He argued in the 2024 trial that work stress pushed Pauline over the edge. In his opening statement at the coronial inquiry, he said, “It’s sad, it’s distressing, and I have no doubt it’s hard for some people to accept that she took her own life.” Last week he tried to introduce a new bundle of evidence about the extent of her work emails, but it went down like a cup of cold sick (which resemble the vomitously gruesome health drinks that Mansfield swigs in court) with the Coroner. “I’m not interested in her work stress,” she scolded Mansfield. “I’m more interested in what happened to this woman that night. Save it for your closing.”
Polkinghorne may or may not have something else to say on the subject of what drove his wife to death. The couple got their Covid shots that weekend. He might want to expostulate on the consequences.
He “might”, he “may or may not”—everything is open when Polkinghorne sits his tiny frame in the witness box. No one knows what he’s going to say. It’s a step into the unknown. It’s an uncharted sea. The media will be leaning forward, drooliciously. The public gallery will be all ears, including the Greek chorus of women (and Peter of Howick) who have steadfastly followed the case at trial and now at the inquiry, their numbers bolstered last week by the return of Lois of Ponsonby, who jumped ship to come to court—she was on a cruise ship but returned early. Right now the ship is passing the coast of Peru. It cannot compete with the prospect of Polkinghorne giving evidence in a second-floor courtroom in Newmarket between Chinese food joints Little ShunDe and Little Panda, which has 19 panda toys, some in hanging cages.
His evidence in chief is the first act. The second act is the one we’ve all been waiting for. Coroner Tetitaha put it very concisely on Monday, when she said, “This is the first time his evidence will be tested by cross-examination.” Crown solicitor Alysha McClintock is about to face one of the great tests of her career. She wears an amazing range of jackets, many jackets, and she will have questions, many questions.
She might want to ask about the supplies of methamphetamine in the house, including the point-bag that police found beneath a towel on the bathroom floor after he had a shower at his home on the afternoon of Pauline’s death. He pleaded guilty to possession. Was he a raving P freak?
She might want to ask about his relationship with Madison Ashton, who has given a statement that will be read at the inquiry later this week. She says Polkinghorne told her that his marriage was over, and they would live together in Sydney. The police theory is that he killed Pauline to be with her. Was he in love and/or obsessed with Madison?
She might want to ask about what he was doing on the phone the night Pauline died. He put it on airplane mode at 1.11am, and was actively using Whats App, Notes, and videos until 2.42am. The contents are unknown. He unlocked his phone at 6.46am for other unknown activities until 7.03am. Why had he put it on airplane mode, why did he delete all his activities, who was he WhatsApping, what sort of stuff was he watching, and how is it that the only sleep he got that night seems to be four hours?
She might want to ask about the scratch on his head, the bedclothes flung on the floor and the Ottoman dumped on its side in Pauline’s bedroom, the frantic gabbling at the College Hill police station that afternoon—the very first question she might ask, just to put it on the record, just to set the tone, just to establish the contempt he is held in by police and the Crown, is the very first question everyone asks: Did you kill your wife?
