Justice Began in the Trunk of a Car

A True Story of Kidnapping: From Crime to Verdict

When I think of the trial, there are three words that stand out in my mind. A single question that was the backbone of the entire case. Are you Will? A simple question on a regular day, but this wasn’t a regular day for Hong. This was the day he escaped death.

I remember when I found the case on my desk. Armed carjacking, armed kidnapping, armed robbery, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, and so the list went on. There are times as a prosecutor when you forget that these files that are delivered to you each day, en masse, aren’t stories. They are real-life events. Ones that you are charged with obtaining justice for.

Hong owned a Chinese restaurant. Or his family did. He was the one in charge of the money bag at the end of each night. He had a routine that involved the same route, the same deposit, and the same drive home. Hong hadn’t been in the country for very long but was acclimating well. He thought this would just be another night. He never thought he would end up in the trunk of his own car, grasping at the strings of life.

All he saw was a gun. In his face. All he heard was yelling. He couldn’t make out the words. Before he knew it, the money bag was lost and he was stuffed into the trunk of his own car. Think about this for a moment. Because this is how crime is. Unexpected. Shocking. Unbelievable.

It was just another night. Hong was taking the money to deposit at the end of the night. And now he was cowering in the trunk of his own car, sure he was going to die. But somehow determined not to. He tried to stay calm but kept thinking that this wasn’t even possible. That it couldn’t be real.

When I first met Hong, a few months after the incident, he was still visibly shaken. Steadfast, but damaged. How does one come back from the expectation of death? And then doing so, how does one process the fact that they now have to be the main witness in a trial against the person who did it, in a country and system that does not use your first language.

Hong never wavered. He thought it was his duty to tell everyone what had happened. He worried more about the restaurant than about retribution. When he was in the trunk, clinging to strands of hope, he was worried about the restaurant.

The defendant had on a ski mask the whole time. Identity was an issue. It was surely going to be the defense. Which would have been a good one in the absence of other evidence. Like the money bag at the defendant’s house, still with the money in it. Like where the car ended up. And like the access, the defendant had to the knowledge of how the money was handled.

Hong never saw his face that day. But he had seen it before. And he knew his eyes and his voice. Are you Will? The dishwasher at their restaurant was Will. And Hong knew exactly who it was. During the trial and in closing argument, the defense attorney would harp on the fact that Hong never saw behind the ski mask that day. That was a valid point.

But he told the police he thought it was Will. He recognized his eyes and his mouth. And his voice. So they found Will. And when they found Will they found the money bag, with the money still in it. They found the car closeby. This is how a case gets put together, even in the face of an imperfect identification.

Hong was honest. He thought it was Will. He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure because he never saw behind the ski mask. But his hunch, based on his prior contact, is what led the police to the evidence. And this is why I never wavered in my belief that we had the right person.

They had a local restaurant. They didn’t know to run background checks on their employees. If they had, they may have found a couple of red flags on Will’s sheet. But they may have hired him anyway. The line wasn’t out the door for dishwashers.

It’s hard to comprehend, but that one decision almost cost Hong his life. And what it did cost him was hours locked in his own trunk. He never saw the defendant when he was initially carjacked and robbed because it was late. But they drove so long that it became light the next morning. And at some point, Will would open the trunk. And Hong would be paying attention.

The trunk opened and Hong looked right into his eyes and knew. Are you Will? He tried to run, but the trunk shut again. It had been hours. And Hong was not going to die without fighting for his life. So he waited. And waited. Until he could hear that no one was in the car anymore.

He didn’t scream. He didn’t bang the trunk from the inside. He thought about how to get out. And he started to work on getting his way into the backseat. He used whatever he could to find the way. Grasping. Digging. Poking. Pushing. Pulling. Until a ray of light shone through. Hong had found the light.

They had taken his clothes. We never found out who they were because the defendant never talked. The police could not locate or identify the collaborators. Just Will. And just Hong, naked in the trunk of his own car. Wondering what would happen if he ran out.

He had made headway and could see that he could make his way into the backseat now. But he had seen the gun. He didn’t know if Will would be standing there. He didn’t know if this move would cause his death. But he didn’t care. The fear of waiting longer overrode the fear of death.

So, he pushed. And got into the backseat. He opened the back door and ran free down the street. Naked. But free. Free from impending death. Free from the trunk of his own car. Free from the nightmare that started hours ago. He wouldn’t stop until he reached a gas station. He called 911 immediately. The police responded quickly.

I remember asking Hong how he felt when he was trapped in the trunk of his car. Sure, I wanted to know, but at the time, I wanted to see how it would sound to the jury. And that makes me feel a little vacant. I wonder if I was always like that when I did the job.

Was this armed carjacking, armed kidnapping, armed robbery, aggravated assault with a deadly weapon just another day at the office for me? In some ways it was. But in others, it wasn’t. Because here it is, almost 20 years later and I still think about Hong. And how he willed his way back to life. And I hope I would have the courage to do the same

It wasn’t an easy trial. But it wasn’t hard either. I had many more cards than the appointed special public defender. All they had was the classic defense, “It wasn’t me.” I had Hong. And evidence. But nothing is ever a sure thing in the justice system. And just because you think someone deserves justice doesn’t mean they are going to get it.

Hong testified. The officers and detectives testified. A ballistics specialist testified about the gun. A crime scene tech about the money bag. The defense did not present any evidence, nor did the defendant choose to testify, as was his right.

When I sat down after my rebuttal closing argument, I felt good about the case. But I wasn’t the one locked in a trunk, waiting for one beam of light to signify the possibility of a future. I wanted to win for Hong. To get him justice. But the funny thing about justice is that it never feels as good as you would think.

Will deserved to go to prison. These crimes were horrendous and could have been much worse. But there was something inside of me that always wondered how Will got to this point. And what made him decide, on that day, to commit this slew of crimes against someone who gave him a job. I’ll never know the answer to those questions. And neither will Hong. But Hong did get something out of this ordeal in the end.

Will was found guilty on all counts. The jury didn’t deliberate very long. When you watch verdicts on television or in the movies, you tend to think that it’s a big deal. But most days, it’s not. When the jury came back with a verdict there was no one in the courtroom other than my fellow prosecutors who always came to support me.

Hong wasn’t there. He was working at his restaurant. And there was nobody there for Will. Facing multiple first-degree felonies and an impending verdict and there was no one there for him. Just a defense attorney appointed to him by the State who would go home without another thought. And honestly, he did his best.

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. And so on and so on. No yells. No gasps. No smiles. No frowns. I sat, stoic as always. And Will sat, unemotional. Blank. The defense attorney didn’t blink. The judge didn’t show anything. We were all used to this. No one was surprised. This is justice.

When I called Hong, his reaction was slight. “Ok,” he said. “Thank you.” That’s all. Back to work. He never asked me what the sentence was, but I had told him if Will was found guilty it wasn’t likely he would ever see him again. And he wouldn’t. Neither would I.

Will was sentenced to life. He’s been there since late 1999 after he was picked up on these charges and held without bond. He was 19 when he was sentenced to life in prison. And here I am. 20 years later, wondering if it all makes sense. Wondering if this true story of kidnapping: from crime to verdict actually happened.

It did. I did my job. Hong got justice. Hong deserved justice. And as much as you celebrate winning a serious case as a prosecutor, you still have perspective. And perspective tells me that more people could be put in Will’s position than we think. It’s not always black and white. And in the justice system, sometimes it is actually about black and white.

I was a cog in that machine for more than seven years. I always did things ethically and morally for the good of society as a whole, but looking back, it’s hard to imagine that I was always right. It’s hard to imagine that I had that much power. To do the work that would end up putting someone in prison for their entire life.

I’m glad I don’t do it anymore. I’m glad I was there for Hong. I’m honored for the role I played in the justice system over those years, but I know it wasn’t perfect. On that day in 1999, justice began in the trunk of a car. And on this day in 2019, I still think about Hong and how he willed his way to that justice. But I also still think about Will and how he ended up where he is.

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