‘What were you thinking about Mr Kim?’
‘Well, at that stage, not that much. He was just this guy who’d been trying to attack me and he’d now had his leg broken, which was unfortunate, and I was sorry about that, but people were there to look after him, the ambulance was there, and it was going to be what it was going to be. I had no idea then that the injuries were going to be anything like as severe as they proved to be.’
‘Are you taking any responsibility for what happened?’
He said, ‘I totally accept that I didn’t act as well in those few seconds as I could have. Absolutely. But at the same time, people do need to be reminded I was being attacked by this guy. I felt under extreme threat.’
‘You fucked up, didn’t you?’
‘I think I did, yeah. Absolutely.’
‘What is your genuine level of remorse?’
‘Oh, high,’ he said. ‘It’s terrible what’s happened to Mr Kim. Absolutely terrible. Who would wish that on anyone?’
Even now, after everything, his account lacked genuine remorse. Kim, an ‘angry man’, was ‘bellowing’, his injuries were ‘unfortunate’, and let it be known poor Hallwright was ‘under attack’. I asked if he went to the studio afterwards, and played on Issie’s song. ‘Yes. I was a bit shaky, though.’ The song, a sad, pretty ballad, is titled ‘Pendulum’.
4
Panic on the streets of Auckland. Scooting out of his Saab (‘a gay convertible’, in Whaleoil’s parlance) to take on a complete stranger, opening the driver’s door and giving him a piece of his mind, then scooting back to his car because the idea has formed in his mind that the man had a gun — if that’s what happened, then Hallwright fucked up and freaked out, spooked by an angry Asian driver, deciding on the option of fight and then switching it to flight, blundering this way and that on Mt Eden Road, finally oblivious to the fact he’d just run someone over as he left the scene of the crime.
He was plainly incandescent, but was it with rage, or fear? What was he playing at, going over to Kim and opening the driver’s door? What was that bullshit with thinking Kim was reaching for a gun? Was it cowardice that drove him out of his wits?
But what about Kim’s actions? According to Hallwright, Kim was furious as he leaned on the horn at the lights, wouldn’t let it go and kept honking after the lights changed; screeching to a halt in the middle of the road was bound to give Hallwright the creeps, or at least make him apprehensive; and what was on Kim’s mind when he approached Hallwright’s car, banging on the bonnet, then coming around to the driver’s side?
Who’s the bad guy, Hallwright or Kim?
‘He try murder me!’ shouted Kim. He did a fair bit of shouting when I interviewed him at a warehouse in East Tamaki. It was his workplace and his home. He slept in a room on the upstairs mezzanine; four pairs of socks were hung out to dry on the staircase, a bowl and a pair of chopsticks were in the downstairs sink. The warehouse was stocked with crates of Coke, Dr Pepper, Chupa Chups.
Kim, 60, had a large face and a wide, compact body. He was in bad shape. He could barely walk. He rolled up his pants; there were metal rods in one lower leg, and ugly, livid skin grafts on the other lower leg.
He started complaining about an incompetent surgeon, and then complained about a Fijian nurse with a needle. His English was hard to follow. He giggled, flew into rages, shouted, spoke sadly about his parents — they died when he was very young, and he left school at 10. He became a civil engineer, and worked in Saudi Arabia and Papua New Guinea. His wife left him when he was surveying in Indonesia. He came to Auckland 15 years ago, and was renting in Mt Eden with a new partner at the time of the accident.
‘She gone,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t like me any more. She say, “You got a stupid leg.” I say okay. I just left. I never took anything, no moneys, nothing. Because I’m a Christian. My God always protects me. He always helps me. He gives me all the things.’
He mentioned he was a Christian several more times. I asked him which church he attended. ‘I don’t know name,’ he said.
He told his story about what happened on Wednesday, 8 September 2010. Hallwright was at the lights, he pulled up behind him. ‘The light changed to green but he never move. He sit there with lady. The lady looks like 30, 35. She’s very sexy. Looks very sexy. Other cars, they shout at him and they make horn. WAAH! WAAH! At the time my horn is broken. It not work. It not me. In car behind me, there’s a Kiwi young guy. Oh, he’s very, very crazy, very angry, honking the horn. WAAH! WAAH! Hallwright turn and look at me and he give me the finger! I say, “No me! I never make that honk! Please, just go!”’
He said Hallwright finally drove through the lights, and then braked to a halt on Mt Eden Road. ‘He came out from his car. He came to me. He open my door, and smash it shut. BAM!’
I asked if he reached into his glovebox. He said, ‘What?’ I asked again. He shook his head, and continued his story.
‘At this time I’m angry. Before, I’m not angry. So I come out my car. I go to his car. When I standing in front of his car, he start driving. Drive over me! Not stop!
