What the jury didn’t hear at the Peter Khill murder trial
Video recording of Khill’s emotional statement to police ruled inadmissible
WITHIN HOURS of blasting a suspected truck thief twice with his shotgun, Peter Khill gave a statement to police.
It is, essentially, the same version of events he told a jury more than two years later from the witness stand. With one obvious difference.
In the packed courtroom during his second-degree murder trial this month, Khill, wearing a suit and tie, had tight control over his emotions. He spoke calmly and quietly. Even when aggressively cross-examined by the Crown attorney, Khill maintained his composure.
It was a marked contrast from the day of the homicide.
In the two-hour-and-22-minute video recording of Khill’s police statement, he is a sobbing wreck.
It makes one wonder what Khill’s state was when he ran out of his house into the dark to “neutralize the threat,” as he put it.
The jurors — who began their verdict deliberations Tuesday at 12:25 p.m. to determine if Khill is guilty of second-degree murder, guilty of manslaughter or not guilty — never saw that recording.
Justice Stephen Glithero ruled it inadmissible because he was not
convinced of the “voluntariness” of Khill’s statement.
The judge points to confusion around the charge laid — attempted murder before it was learned the victim was dead, then first-degree murder on the advice of an assistant Crown attorney, and finally second-degree after Khill talks — as perhaps pressuring him to speak, even against the advice of duty counsel, whom he contacted twice after his arrest.
Glithero, in his ruling on admissibility, notes Khill tried to assert his right to silence 17 times in the interview.
“The officer frequently, and skilfully, implied to the accused that if he chose to exercise his right to remain silent and did not explain why he shot the victim, it would be first-degree murder,” Glithero wrote. “If he did choose to explain why, it could be second-degree murder.”
ON FEB. 4, 2016, at 3 a.m. Khill, 26 at the time, woke to see what he believed was someone trying to steal his pickup truck from the driveway of his rural Binbrook home. (It seems from at least one of Glithero’s rulings that the judge also believed this was an attempted truck theft, as opposed to a plan to steal things from the truck.) Khill loaded his shotgun and went out the back door to confront the stranger.
That stranger was Jonathan Styres, 29, of Ohsweken.
Styres, a father of two, was beloved by his family and friends. But he also had his troubles.
He used drugs. Indeed, as toxicology reports would later show, he had trace amounts of cocaine, hydromorphone and weed in his system the night he died.
The Crown and defence agreed Styres was Indigenous and Khill is white.
Even before members of the jury pool squeezed into the courtroom on the first day of jury selection, race was playing a role at this trial.
Possible racial bias in the jury was a concern for Glithero, the Crown team of Steve O’Brien and James Nadel, and defence lawyer Jeffrey Manishen. Their trepidation stemmed from a similar case in Saskatchewan earlier this year where a white farmer named Gerald Stanley was acquitted of second-degree murder in the death of Colten Boushie, who was Indigenous.
“The prime minister of this country and also the minister of justice have weighed in on this,” Glithero said, acknowledging controversial comments by Justin Trudeau and Jody Wilson-Raybould suggesting the allwhite jury got it wrong in finding Stanley not guilty.
But while Boushie’s death played out in broad daylight, Styres was shot in the dark.
At Khill’s trial, racism wasn’t raised as an issue in the shooting itself. But it was an issue raised with potential jurors. The Crown made an application to “challenge for cause” and the defence agreed to that.
Together they crafted a question to be asked of jury candidates: “Would your ability to judge the evidence in this case without bias, prejudice or partiality, be affected by the fact that the deceased victim is an Indigenous person and the person charged with this crime is a white person?”
The seven men and five women selected for the jury all answered “no” to that question. It is unclear if any of the jurors are Indigenous.
Race was never mentioned during Khill’s interview by Hamilton Det. Troy Ashbaugh, an expert in interviewing.
The video starts at 10:36 a.m. and shows Khill — with longer hair and a beard then — wearing a white paper jumpsuit. His feet are bare. He sits in the corner of the small interview room at Central Station. A sandwich he’s been given sits untouched on a desk beside him. He holds a water bottle in his hands. His head is down.
He breaks down several times and cries. Sometimes in front of the detective and every time that he is left alone in the room.
“My observation,” the judge wrote, “is that the accused was crying, sobbing, hyperventilating, rubbing tears away, sniffling to the point of having to blow his nose several times, all of which in my observation appear to be genuine actions.”
Ashbaugh writes his name — Troy — on a whiteboard and says he is a sergeant in the homicide unit. When he later testifies at a voir dire into the admissibility of the statement, it is learned that nothing he does during the interview is accidental. His name on the board — he also writes the words “justice” and “defend” — as well as his friendly manner, the details he shares about his life, the timing of his exits and entrances, his help-me-help-you spiel are carefully calculated to make Khill talk.
Though he holds out for quite a while — “On advice of legal counsel, I’m going to remain silent” — Khill gradually relents.
Ashbaugh talks about Khill not being “dressed for the elements” when he confronted Styres.
“No comment,” Khill says. Then: “I was wearing boxers when I jumped out of bed ...” That’s the crack Ashbaugh needs to pry Khill’s story open.
“I never wanted to start any fight in my life,” Khill says a few minutes later. “Having said that, I think justice is important.”
And eventually: “I’m going to put a lot of trust into you, Troy. And I don’t trust too many people . ... When I got up to the truck, I saw a gentleman with the door open and half his body into the truck.”
Khill says he shouted, “Hey! Hands up!” The stranger turned around very quickly and his hands “went out.”
“It was so dark, but from what I could see in the darkness there seemed to be some kind of weapon . ... Right there I felt threatened. I thought my life was in danger and my girlfriend’s life was in danger . ... There was a very real chance I could lose my life if I don’t act.”
Khill tells Ashbaugh that what he thought was a gun in Styres’ hands may, in fact, have been a screwdriver.
When he is finished his statement, a visibly drained Khill is escorted out of the interview. He is about to step out when he turns back to grab the box of tissues.
“Just in case,” he says.
Other things the jury didn’t hear:
Media
THE FIRST MEDIA issue began just minutes into the trial’s first day when the Crown began showing crime scene photos. The images were displayed on small screens that the jury and lawyers could see, but not on the large courtroom screen for the rest of the observers.
Media approached Crown attorney Steve O’Brien to ask for the large screens to be turned on. He refused, saying doing so would be disrespectful to the Styres family.
At that moment, a member of the Styres family approached O’Brien and asked for the pictures to be shown on the big screen because the family wanted to see all the evidence.
The Crown acquiesced and from then on, the large screen was used.
On Day 3, Glithero said he did not want to give the media a recording of the 911 call made from the shooting scene.
But the media already had it. The recording had been played for the jury and entered as an exhibit, making it a matter of public record. At the media’s request, the Crown had already disseminated a copy.
The 911 call was the single most important piece of evidence at the trial.
Glithero said broadcasting the recording “provides the community entertainment for the night.” He added: “Some exhibits are disseminated freely, some aren’t.”
He ordered CHCH reporter Britt Dixon to come forward. (He singled her out because she was handed the recording to share with the other media.)
Dixon said she was “shocked” this was an issue, because the recording was a matter of public record. Glithero told her: “Get over your shock.” He then said, “I fully understand and support freedom of the press,” but expressed concern for Khill’s wife who placed the 911 call.
“This lady was quite stressed listening to it all again,” he said. “It is a matter of taste.”
He asked the lawyers for their positions.
“We’re mindful of the need of the media to have access to an open court system,” said prosecutor O’Brien, explaining why he did not oppose the release. “This is a murder trial.”
Manishen, Khill’s lawyer, noted that while the “events are very stressful for my client and the witness,” to try to block the media’s access to a public exhibit would be futile.
“The principle of freedom of the press has been recognized,” Manishen said. “And the principle of public access in significant.”
The media disseminated the 911 recording for the public to hear.
Afterward, Debra Styres, Jonathan’s mother, said she was appalled at how “rude” Glithero was to the media. “I want the public to know everything.”
Criminal record
MANISHEN SOUGHT permission from the judge to introduce Styres’ criminal record at the trial. He wanted to show his history made it more likely that he raised his arms in a threatening manner to Khill.
On March 22, 2013, Styres pleaded guilty to dangerous driving and failing to stop for police. Police tried to stop him because they suspected he was in a stolen vehicle. A high-speed chase occurred, before Styres ditched the car and ran.
Styres was also charged with assaulting a correctional officer at the Toronto South Detention Centre. It was alleged Styres grabbed the officer’s boot and tried to knock him over during a scuffle over contraband drugs. The charge was withdrawn by the Crown.
At the time of his death, Styres had outstanding charges related to theft and possession of motor vehicles, possession of stolen automotive equipment and two counts of beach of probation.
Glithero ruled Styres’ criminal past was not admissible because it did not involve violence and, in the case of the driving incident, shows he actually ran when confronted.
Similar cases
COMPARISONS have been made between this case and the Colten Boushie trial in Saskatchewan. But there is another case that also has similarities and one rather astonishing irony.
In March 1983, Karl Staats, 20, was shot and killed when he went to a Flamborough home after his car broke down shortly after midnight.
Staats was a music student at Fanshawe College and the son of Six Nations elected chief Wellington Staats.
He and a friend were at the drive-in that night and had been drinking. On the way home, they stopped the car to relieve themselves, then couldn’t get the vehicle started again.
Staats sought help at the farmhouse of Tobias Soares, a 47-yearold father of six originally from Portugal.
The Crown argued Staats was shot on the front porch of the house. The defence said Staats tried to push his way into the house and then the gun went off by accident. During deliberations, the jury came back to ask questions about self-defence.
Soares was convicted of second-degree murder, but that was overturned on appeal and a new trial took place. At his second trial, Soares was found guilty of manslaughter.
The irony? The Crown attorney who successfully prosecuted Soares at the first trial was Jeffrey Manishen, the same lawyer now defending Peter Khill.
His head is down. He breaks down several times and cries. Sometimes in front of the detective and every time that he is left alone in the room.