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Changing Hawaii
WHAT is it about the ongoing trial of Byran Uyesugi that makes it so compelling and particularly troubling? I've been asking myself this question since May 15, when legal proceedings commenced against the man charged with fatally shooting seven of his Xerox Hawaii co-workers in November 1999. Sitting in on
Uyesugi murder trial
It was the worst multiple killing in the history of the state. Seven Oahu residents -- all of them fathers, dedicated employees and fun-loving family types -- were killed in the supposed sanctity of their workplace. Their loved ones never got to say goodbye.
All of that, of course, was terrible. But there was something else making this incident uniquely dark for me, although I couldn't quite pinpoint the reason. Until last Friday.
My enlightenment came over a serving of cold buckwheat noodles at the Japanese restaurant across the street. I had decided to lunch alone to reflect on my experience the morning before, when I sat in on the Uyesugi trial.
The courtroom of Judge Marie Milks was much smaller than how it looked on TV, with only three short rows of benches on either side of the aisle.
In the gallery -- seated directly behind the prosecutors -- were the wives of the slain men, the victim's advocate who always accompanies the widows, and interested spectators.
Behind the defendant and his attorneys were the sheriff, the media and Uyesugi's aunt and uncle. The couple kept their eyes closed most of the time, and had their heads bowed or faced toward the wall.
The jurors ran the gamut from young to seniors, but were predominantly middle-aged. Its members were either Caucasian or Asian, with one or two who appeared part-Polynesian.
On the witness stand Thursday morning was Dr. Kanthi von Guenthner, the city's first deputy medical examiner, who performed the autopsies on Ron Kawamae, Jason Balatico, Melvin Lee and Peter Mark.
For each she described how many times he was shot, the injuries inflicted by the bullets and the cause of death.
Her most chilling observation was that of the Xerox crime scene. As she surveyed the carnage of the two blood-stained rooms, Dr. von Guenthner recalled the victims' pagers beeping and their cellular phones ringing, continuously breaking the morbid silence.
Every page, every cellular call attempting to get through to the seven Xerox employees screamed out the same urgent message, "I heard about the shootings! Are you all right?"
Their non-response was telling.
GRIMACING at the remembrance of that haunting testimony, I snapped back to the present and perused the other patrons in the restaurant, which featured a shoji-door motif and soft shamisen music.
The diners were chatting and eating and enjoying their Japanese lunches. And that's when I noticed: They were all Japanese just like me -- and Byran Uyesugi.
When the revelation hit, it was painful and unrelenting. I immediately reflected on the Japanese concept of "haji" -- that doing something wrong in society brought shame not only on the culprits, but on their families and the entire Japanese community.
Which is why the defendant's uncle and aunt now sit in a courtroom with eyes closed and heads bowed.
It's why I get upset whenever Uyesugi, insane or not, smiles and appears nonchalant during his murder trial, now entering its third week.
The "haji" hurts.
Xerox killings
Diane Yukihiro Chang's column runs Monday and Friday.
She can be reached by phone at 525-8607, via e-mail at
dchang@starbulletin.com, or by fax at 523-7863.