Ten Degrees of Reckoning (23 page)

“Does Judy want this? That’s my only concern. I’ll take the responsibility for the scrutiny it may bring,” Kerry replied.

“I found a letter Judy wrote to her friend Tim the day after she talked with you. Every single thing you told her she repeated to Tim. You affected her deeply. She was and is so grateful to you,” I said.

“Put in anything that will make Judy happy,” Kerry replied.

I had also been e-mailing Sergeant Dave Palmer, the Whangarei police officer in charge of the mission to search for the
Melinda Lee.
He had been very cooperative about answering all my questions, but after several e-mails I was quite confused. He had mentioned two people sitting or standing by the dinghy, and since I knew Judy was totally alone in Deep Water Cove, I asked if he meant the fishermen who arrived later. “No, no, we called the fishermen to come in when we couldn’t get closer because of the weather and the power cable,” he replied in his next e-mail. I e-mailed back and asked if I could meet with him in person on my next trip to New Zealand. Perhaps I wasn’t the one who was confused; perhaps it was the sergeant, I thought.

I’m glad I met him in person. There’s something about Dave Palmer that lends a sense of trust and reliability. I would want him on my side in any police matter. He’s also straightforward and thorough; he recalled everything down to the minute. I told him I was pleasantly surprised at his recall and articulate-ness. I explained my confusion at his mention of two people; it had muddled me up.

“So who were these two?” I finally asked.

“Her guardian angels,” Dave replied promptly. “And I saw them from the Cessna. I put it down to eyestrain in the formal report, but I saw them. They’re what caught my attention. In that weather, with those high winds, we were on a recovery mission—a recovery of bodies and salvage. No one could have survived. We expected to find the boat smashed up against the rocks of the headland of Cape Brett, perhaps.”

“I knew she was fortunate to have northeasterly winds,” I said.

“Yes,” Dave agreed. “The prevailing westerly winds would have sent Judy on a route farther and farther out to sea; the northeasterlies blew her into land. But instead of smashing her against those unwelcoming rocks, the current obligingly pushed the dinghy around the headland into protected waters. Judy lived because her guardian angels were guiding her in.”

“I believe you, Dave, and I’ll share this with Judy. Thank you for telling me. But do you want this part off the record? What about your credibility with your police colleagues? Do you prefer that I leave this out?” I asked.

“I’m a Christian man, Hester, and I’m completely convinced. I had to omit it from the official report, of course, but you can leave it in the book. I’m secure in what I saw.”

I told him about Kerry Rauber, with her vision of the collision and finding debris, sketching a diagram, and most of all seeing Annie. He was not surprised.

“I know Judy must have an iron will to have made it, and I respect all that she did to survive, but sometimes we get help,” Dave said. “The whole thing made a big impression on me. In the hundreds of search-and-rescue missions I’ve been involved in, I never before have followed up to see how the victim was doing. But in Judy’s case, I went to the hospital.”

Judy also made a big impression on Steve Simpson, one of the helicopter pilots, and he, too, went to see Judy at the hospital with his wife. They had children of a similar age, and the collision’s aftermath had a major impact on them both. He made a career change, with the support of his wife, because after all, “what were we waiting for?” When it became known that Judy had told her story, in detail, to the helicopter personnel, Steve was offered a huge sum of money by a magazine to repeat those details. He refused.

“It’s not my story,” Steve said.

In New Zealand, Judy began to envision a life for herself. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it would be easier than in the United States. The pace was too fast back home. With the imprint of the collision on her skull, her spine, and her psyche, she was certainly impaired. She was frustrated that she could no longer juggle ten tasks at a time, and even with her abundance of willpower and persistence, she realized she might never again be able to do so. But from the beginning, she had expectations of herself, and continued to add them to her daily lists.

She set up a studio for quilting and creative arts, first at Ian’s Natural Wood Creations, and later at a bush-clad quarry site, Northland Craft Trust. Working with artists and craftspeople slowed down her heart rate. Still, the second year was worse than the first. She didn’t have the distractions or rounds of numerous medical appointments. She wasn’t traveling from the hospital in Whangarei to Tutukaka to Los Angeles to Tacoma to San Francisco, and then back to New Zealand. She didn’t have “adult supervision.” She wasn’t cloaked in shock. The second year she had become aware of not only the magnitude but also the permanence of her loss.

April 28, 1997

Dr. ______ not impressed with me. Put me back on the maximum dosage of meds. He basically said I look terrible and I’ve lost more weight. Oh well, gotta get myself in a better mood, got the first Swing Dance Class tonight. I’ll go to the gym first and treadmill off this stress.

At least in New Zealand, the variation in language, driving on the other side of the road, or learning to whip up a good pavlova kept her engaged and attentive. More important, in New Zealand she had no history or traditions of her own. She could walk down new paths without any reminders of her family, following in the footprints of kindly strangers who made every effort to give her a sense of belonging.

It was August 1997, and the civil suit was delayed by yet another motion from the defendants. Judy’s attorneys had urged her to return to California, but she was depressed and anxious about the lawsuit, and wanted to be in Tutukaka. She begged for a reprieve, and promised to communicate by fax and telephone. She enjoyed the physical rehabilitation at the gym in Whangarei and received a lot of encouragement there. She wanted to remain in New Zealand at least until the second anniversary of the collision.

Judy loved her workouts and physiotherapy at the gym, although she was aware that the trainers were sometimes exasperated when she forgot the routines from one day to the next. The gym was where she listened to music and gave her thoughts a rest. The gym was where she saw some progress in healing her injured body. One day she noticed a stranger, an Asian man in a suit, watching her. It was unusual for anyone to be in a suit at the gym, and he definitely wasn’t working out, just watching. Judy asked at the desk, but no, the staff didn’t know him. He had just come in and purchased a visitor’s membership for a month.

Judy, who was used to having her identity protected, was shaken. Only one time, when she was coming out of a supply store, had someone pointed and said, “That’s her. The lady from the collision.” Sometimes, when she was engaged in a business transaction at the bank or the grocery store, the teller or the clerk would quietly add, “We’re so glad you’re here,” or “It’s nice that you’ve remained with us.” She always felt safe, and she had slipped into complacency. But she still couldn’t understand the man’s presence at the gym.

Judy rushed back to the cottage and called her attorney in San Francisco. He wasn’t surprised she was being watched. He told her it may have been going on for quite some time. She asked him, “Why would they do that?”

“They might simply be gathering information about you, about your physical and emotional status, your activities,” he said. He wasn’t concerned they would physically harm her, but he did not want her harassed, and they discussed protection orders.

Judy told her psychiatrist in Whangarei that she was being stalked. She asked him if he thought she was becoming more aware of life around her, or if they were becoming more blatant.

“It’s possible it’s deliberate, Judith. They want to cause you distress and tip the emotional balance, so you won’t pursue action against them. You can’t avoid them in a small town. You have to leave. They will succeed in unbalancing you in short order.”

“But my lawyer has told me not to return to the United States, either. He has asked for a restraining order, but feels that I’ll be vulnerable until the next step in the legal process. He wants me to go somewhere neutral, but where?”

“Try to have some family or friends meet you overseas. But leave, Judith.”

She was able to make suitable arrangements, but Judy was distraught that she had to leave New Zealand. How could she not love a country that showed her the face of empathy? One newspaper columnist, summarizing the outpouring of feelings of many New Zealanders during the investigation, ended a piece with, “You are not alone. We feel your pain. We will try to find those who hurt you.”

It was a stunning lack of humanity on the part of the shipping company. The ship had rammed her and abandoned her, and now agents of those who had hurt her had come ashore. Shadowing her could easily unravel Judy’s hard-fought but fragile emotional stability. Conceivably, this might shut down her desire for litigation. She had to leave her refuge, Aotearoa, the land of the long white cloud.

Twenty

Trials and Mediations

THE MEDIATION PROCESS LEADING UP TO A TRIAL WAS just as protracted as the South Korean investigation, but the Pan Ocean Shipping Company had not counted on Judy’s stubborn and prideful nature.

Judy, on the other hand, did not realize the impact post-traumatic stress disorder would have on her attentiveness as she dealt with endless motions, depositions, appeals, and delays. Her fury at having to be the one to seek justice, after all the evidence proved her case, mobilized her throughout the proceedings. It was a turbulent and wretched time for her.

Initially, Tim Rooney sat with Judy through many of her meetings with the attorneys, where she became easily agitated. He offered her support and advice, and she trusted him implicitly. But he was unraveling, too. He had so carefully tended to Judy at his house day and night, and had resisted thinking about his own sense of loss, but his depression was resurfacing. Mike’s brother John stepped in to take Tim’s place. Judy’s prodigious memory gave her the ability to repeat all the details, even when her heart wasn’t in it, and John Sleavin helped Judy consciously maintain some level of detachment during the particularly bleak periods. One of those bleak reckonings occurred when her attorney declared that Judy would have to decide on a monetary figure.

“What amount exactly could compensate? They’ve taken away my family, and they have taken away all my dreams for my family.”

Revenge and justice are not opposite sides of the same coin. Judy had no interest in revenge. Here is what she was fighting for: An apology. A review and revision of procedures on the
Pan Grace.
More accountability by Pan Ocean Shipping Company. The attention of Pan Ocean’s third-tier insurance company, Lloyd’s of London, so they would have stringent requirements before they would underwrite policies. Monetary funds to provide a legacy for her family in the form of a foundation to promote safety at sea for all mariners. Monetary funds to pay her legal fees and her medical bills.

Here is what she really wanted: Mike, Ben, and Annie.

On August 27, 1996, plaintiff Judith Sleavin filed her complaint in the United States District Court for the Northern District of California. The complaint alleged the following causes of action: maritime negligence, negligent infliction of emotional distress, intentional infliction of emotional distress, intentional failure to rescue, negligent failure to rescue, wrongful death, pre-death pain and suffering, and property damage.

Depositions of the crew members of the
Pan Grace
were taken over a ten-day period in November 1996 in Seoul, and Judy’s deposition was taken over a three-day period in December 1996 in San Francisco.

The attorneys for the Pan Ocean Shipping Company asked for a mediation, and then another.
Nothing was accomplished; their offers to settle the case amounted to a sum that would not even cover Judy’s expenses. She returned to New Zealand after the mediation sessions to regain her strength. She wrote to her attorney, telling him she would not pay for another mediation until something reasonable to negotiate was presented in writing by the defendants. She added that the initial two meetings were not a waste of time: they had given Judy the opportunity to understand that Pan Ocean was willing to use tactics to interrupt, postpone, and suspend proceedings, in an attempt to wear her down.

The defendants filed several motions to have the case dismissed,
on the basis that the
Melinda Lee
was an unseaworthy vessel, and that its crew, not the crew of
Pan Grace,
was to blame for any alleged collision or injuries. Judy’s attorney filed arguments in return, pointing out the findings of blame attributed to the
Pan Grace
by the South Korean authorities. The defendants’ motions to dismiss were denied.

The defendants filed a motion to have the venue changed to a Korean court.
A trial in South Korea would be Pan Ocean’s last opportunity to exert political control over the proceedings. Judy’s attorneys produced affidavits from the psychiatrists who had evaluated or treated her. They all agreed that she would come to a harmful emotional state if the venue were changed. In Judy’s affidavit, she said, in part, “I feel totally incapable of participating in a proceeding in Korea. I do not speak or understand the language. The anger and resentment I feel toward Pan Ocean and its employees are beyond description.” Eventually that motion was denied.

The defendants filed a motion to exclude all punitive damages under the Death on the High Seas Act (DOHSA).
This would reduce the amount of money awarded to a mere fraction of what Judy had asked. That motion was granted. The United States District Court held that such damages were not recoverable under maritime law, and the defendants’ motion should prevail. The Circuit Court of Appeals refused to hear an interlocutory appeal of this issue.