By Lee Cataluna
Advertiser Columnist

John Nu'uhiwa is the kind of man who thinks in imagery and speaks in metaphor.

When asked how his oldest daughter, Johnnie, came to play the harp, he explains, "I asked her to learn because I'm a diver."

And that's all he says, as though the connection between the two were obvious. He speaks this way and trusts that you'll understand the sound of the harp reminded him of what it's like to be under water, with the fish darting around and the seaweed swaying.

When John Nu'uhiwa speaks of the darkest day in his 69 years on this earth, he describes a sudden wind that blew like a harbinger over his family's Kalihi home. "There was this big wind that seemed like it was going to blow everything away," he says, "I never forgot that."

That was when it happened.

Lehua and John Nu'uhiwa remember daughter Johnnie as a talented woman on the brink of seeing her teenage daughter graduate. Then Johnnie would become a teacher, build her dream house. But all that was not to be. Bruce Asato • The Honolulu Advertiser

That was Jan. 6, 1996.

Johnnie Nu'uhiwa was 43 years old, a renowned harpist at the Royal Waikoloan hotel, an enthusiastic athlete, a stunning beauty and mom to a teenage girl. The Nu'uhiwas have picture after picture of lovely Johnnie, her curved harp resting along her collarbone, her graceful hands flying like birds over the strings, a look of peace and joy on her face.

In many ways, Johnnie Nu'uhiwa was entering the best time of her life. She had a piece of property in West Hawai'i where she hoped to build her dream house, her daughter, Marcie, was just about to graduate from high school, and she was very close to her goal of becoming a schoolteacher. A week after Johnnie Nu'uhiwa died, her teaching certificate arrived in the mail.

"She was tops," says John. "She was classic."

He looks across to the yellow-plumeria tree, as if seeing Johnnie there in the yard where she grew up with four brothers and sisters. He struggles to sum up the admiration he had for the woman his little girl had become; then he gives her the highest compliment a father can give his daughter: "She had a good head, that one."

When John Nu'uhiwa speaks of his Johnnie's murder, he never mentions any of the horrible details of her death by the hands of a stranger, though he keeps a file of newspaper clippings that include descriptions of her battered body being found at Keawaiki beach. John excused himself from the courtroom whenever there was any testimony about Johnnie's injuries. He almost never speaks the name of the man convicted of Johnnie's murder, not even his last name, not even something oblique like "that guy." Sometimes, John even refers to Johnnie's death as "the accident." But in his heart, he knows his girl suffered.

The first trial ended in August of 1997. Mark Wade Dunse was convicted of murder in the second degree. Prosecutors decided to seek an enhanced sentence under a new state law that allowed for life in prison without the possibility of parole for murders that were particularly heinous and cruel. Prior to that law, the maximum sentence for murder in the second degree included the possibility of parole.

But there was a problem with the new law. The Hawai'i Supreme Court found that the Legislature failed to properly define "heinous and cruel."

"Actually," explains Edythe Maeda of the Kona Office of the Prosecuting Attorney, "the Supreme Court judges said that all murders are heinous and cruel and what we had to prove to get the enhanced sentencing was that the victim suffered unnecessary torture and the defendant intended to cause unnecessary torture more than what is needed to kill a person."

A number of Hawai'i murder cases were affected, including the case against Dunse. His conviction stood, but he would have to be sentenced again. Prosecutors had to go back to the Nu'uhiwa family and ask if they wanted to try again for a life sentence without parole. It would involve calling all the witnesses back, seating a new jury, and recounting a most horrific crime. The Nu'uhiwas decided they were willing to go through it again.

Said John, "You've got to remember, in order to forgive — otherwise, you don't know what you're forgiving."

"Having to go to this trial a second time, you can tell it affected them, but they never complained," said Maeda, who is with the Kona prosecutor's office victim/witness program. "They never, ever — even during the first trial — they never spoke a harsh word about anybody, including the defendant. We deal with a lot of victim's families and, I tell you, this family is totally unreal."

Last month, a second jury again found the murder to be heinous and cruel and thus subject to enhanced sentencing. A few weeks ago, John Nu'uhiwa got a letter from the prosecutor informing him of the new sentencing date: Aug. 28.

Because of the enhanced sentencing, the judge has no leeway. Dunse will get life in prison without the possibility of parole.

This upcoming day in court, more than all the others since his daughter's death, will be the hardest for John. For the first time, he is being asked to address the court.

The letter from the prosecutor contains a sentence that John has read over and over again: It says: "Your input is very important for the judge to learn how the crime has affected you."

He has tried his best to write down his thoughts. He has pages of scribbled notes. He has asked the advice of friends and family.

"In the car, late at night, every spare minute, I'm looking at this, thinking about this," he says.

"How do you measure a life?" he asks. "You could fill a whole book on this."

Still, he finds he simply doesn't have the words.

John has a recording made by a singer named Eddie Ku that he plays on a small Sony cassette player. Johnnie's harp can be heard in the background on some of the songs. John's big hands cradle the black plastic player as the music plays. The sound is distorted by the small speaker, but he's hearing it not so much with his ears but in his memories. His foot taps along the bar of his wheelchair. There is no talking when Johnnie plays. Everyone sits still and listens.

The only thoughts that come to him as he prepares his speech for court are thoughts of gratitude.

"First, and always," he says, "mahalo to God. My family and I know that God is in control."

Then he thinks of the people who were there for his Johnnie in the end: the Fire Department personnel who recovered her body, the police who conducted the investigation, the pathologist and forensic scientist who testified in the trial.

"The witnesses, I felt so sorry for them," he says. "Some of the police officers who came back again after six years, they had retired from the force already. But they came back."

He can list some of the things he lost when Johnnie died. She had promised to always take care of her parents, and so one thing they lost was a caregiver. He lost his will to work. After what he calls "44 loyal years" at Hawaiian Electric, he retired when Johnnie died. He knows that the stress has affected his health and his struggles with Caisson disease. But all those things don't even form a proper start for what he wants to say.

When Aug. 28 comes and his name is called in that Kona courtroom, John Nu'uhiwa will try his best to speak from his heart. He wants the court to know that his family has found some sort of peace, though there will never be an end to the pain. He wants people to know he has appreciated their acts of kindness through all this. He wants to thank all the professionals involved for doing their jobs with integrity.

But for his deepest wish, there is no veiled way to say it.

"Most of all," he says, "I want my Johnnie."

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at 535-8172 or lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com.