Janel "Jaycee" Miller
05-09-2024, 08:31 PM
Hi everyone.
I alluded to these articles in a different thread about an arson and the subsequent murders of Jill and Julie Hansen. One of the articles is very long, so I thought a new thread might be more appropriate.
That long article, which is an interview with Donny Hansen, follows. I will post the articles with his attorney and the district attorney who tried him separately.
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Donny Hansen Speaks Out
Cleared Murder Suspect Shares His Side of the Story
Times-Standard (of Eureka, California), July 10, 1988
By Rhona Pialorsi, Times-Standard City News Editor
EUREKA – Three days after he was acquitted of murdering his 16-year-old twin sisters, Donny Hansen carried a bouquet of flowers to their graves.
Hansen stared down at the tombstones and touched them. He struggled with a tangle of raw emotions ranging from grief, hatred and rage to gratitude that he himself had been spared the gas chamber or a living death in prison.
For the first time since his arrest on Dec. 1, 1986, the 22-year-old Fortuna man was not “double murder suspect Donald Lee Hansen,” but the bereaved older brother of Jill and Julie Hansen, two pretty, churchgoing teenagers from the eastern Humboldt County town of Willow Creek.
It took an Oakland jury slightly over six hours June 16 to find Hansen innocent of a Nov. 15, 1986, shooting and arson that left Jill Hansen dead, Julie critically wounded and the family home gutted.
Julie survived one month at Arcata’s Mad River Hospital, only to die when an intravenous tube separated and an air bubble entered her heart.
Hansen was also accused of the attempted murders of Betty Hansen, his mother, and Hans Hansen, the stepfather would had raised him from the age of 3.
Prosecutors claimed the younger Hansen splashed gallons of gasoline around the trailer in an attempt to set a fatal Blaze.
When Hansen spoke with the “Times-Standard” just days after his release from an Alameda County Jail, he was still trying to cope with the sudden shock of freedom.
“One day, you're the worst thing that ever walked on the planet,” he said. “The next day they say, ‘OK, you can go.’ I was charged with two murders, with two attempted murders, with murdering two young girls. How much worse can it get?”
Although he is now a free man, Hansen and his remaining family have been forever scarred by what happened that November morning, and by the events that followed.
Many people, including the stepfather who raised him, still believe Hansen is a cold-blooded killer – an honor student turned bad who tried to murder his family so he could inherit enough cash to buy a flashy new Corvette.
His mother has fluctuated in her beliefs about whether her only son was capable of such a brutal crime.
Hansen blames law enforcement investigators, who immediately targeted him as the killer, for the way his parents feel.
“It was just incredible what they put my family through -- my mom, and Hans too,” he said.
“I went through a time when my mother hated me,” he said. “Here was the person I love most in the world and she hated me. So I told myself, ‘my mother doesn't love me, so I don't love my mother.’ I had to play head games.
“Jill and Julie are physically dead,” he said, “but the other four members of our family died in a way. I sometimes wonder if Jill and Julie aren't better off.
Contented family
Looking back on the Hansens’ life up until the fire. It's incomprehensible that a seemingly ordinary happy existence could have twisted into such a nightmare.
Betty and Hans married when Hansen was 3 and his sister, Becky, was 7. The twins were born when Hansen was 4. The family moved from Fortuna to Willow Creek in 1971.
“I was just a normal kid growing up in a small town,” Hansen said.
During his childhood Hansen had only a casual relationship with his natural father.
It was Hans he called dad although he refers to him now by name.
Hans owns a profitable logging supply company in Willow Creek. The family attended church regularly, was well-known or respected. When Jill contracted leukemia, a disease she fought for years, the community responded with an outpouring of love.
Hansen attended high school at Canyonville Bible Academy in Canyonville, Ore., “not because I was in trouble or anything,” he said, “but because my parents wanted me to.” In 1983 he graduated with honors, earning nearly straight A's.
After graduation Hansen enrolled at Humboldt State University for a year. He didn't do well and dropped out. At the time of the shootings and arson he was attending College of the Redwoods, drawing unemployment and living with his maternal grandmother in Fortuna.
Hansen often drove to Willow Creek to be with his family. He frequently spent the night there, sleeping on the couch.
Nov. 15, 1986, started out as a normal visit.
“I got over there at about 10 p.m.,” he said. “I was late getting there because I had mowed my Grandma Johnnie’s lawn. My sister Becky had made a four-layer dessert for my birthday the week before, so I took it over to Willow Creek so the rest of the family could eat it.”
When Hansen got there, Jill and her boyfriend were watching television; Julie was in her bedroom on the phone.
“Mom and Hans were in the bedroom getting ready to go to Santa Rosa the next week – they were packing. We watched Joan Rivers, then everybody went to bed.”
Jill asked to sleep in Julie's room that night because Julie had a television. Hansen lay on the couch and watched MTV, eventually falling asleep.
The inferno
It was shorty after 3 a.m. when the chaos erupted.
“I woke up in hell,” Hansen said, “and it never ended.”
He remembers waking to a loud noise, vaguely recalls a shadowy figure in the house, remembers becoming aware of the smoke and flames. He saw Julie fall down in the hallway in front of him.
“I didn't realize she had been shot,” he said. “I just scooped her up from behind and carried her out. I think I even dropped her on the deck. I didn't know she was hurt.”
“I was screaming and yelling,” he said.
A neighbor of the Hansens testified that he woke to yelling. He watched out his window as Julie staggered down the deck steps and made her way across the street, whimpering softly.
Clutching the six-inch shotgun wound in her lower abdomen. Julie fell in a mud puddle and lay there until neighbors and later medical technicians found her.
During their son's trial, Betty and Hans told a story of horror about the next minutes and hours of that morning.
Hans, frantic, grabbed a fire extinguisher from the broom closet and shot it off. He wondered why the flames sprang back as soon as the foam knocked them down. On his way out the door, he saw a gas can lying on the floor.
Betty used the phone in Hans’ shop to call the Willow Creek Volunteer Fire Department and firefighters soon arrived on the scene. Donny and Hans had been frantically shooting off fire extinguishers in a futile effort to battle the roaring flames engulfing their home.
Hans was clad only in his undershorts; his stepson in a pair of Levis no shirt, a pair of socks.
“It was just incredible,” Hansen said. “I can't tell you. I felt so helpless; I just wanted to go back inside that trailer.”
Jill was still in the blazing mobile home.
In the first chaotic moments, no one in the family saw Julie lying across the street. Eventually, she was taken by ambulance to Mad River Hospital in Arcata.
In the ambulance, she told the doctor that Hansen helped her out of the trailer. But when she died a month later, Julie believed her brother was a murderer.
Julie underwent extensive surgery later that morning to repair virtually every organ in her lower abdomen. She had been shot at such close range that the surgeon found the “wad” of the shell inside her.
As the surgeon worked, Hans and Betty and a growing crowd of friends waited at the hospital. They had left Donny in Willow Creek at the smoldering trailer. He was to wait for word on Jill.
By then, sheriff's investigators had joined firemen at the scene, which was obviously an arson. They soon discovered Jill's charred body in the kitchen of the razed mobile home.
An autopsy later revealed Jill had been shot twice with a shotgun. One shell tore off her lower right arm; the other ripped through her right thigh. But the shotgun wounds didn't kill her – she died from smoke asphyxiation.
Fond recollections
Hansen said his Jill was “perfect.”
“Jill, she was the one who had leukemia,” he said. “It really tears me up, the memory of Jill. She went through hell with loss of hair, spinal taps. It doesn't seem fair that she had to die that way. If you had to pick someone who went through so much and never became negative, she was the most perfect person I ever knew.”
“I don't mean to say that I love Jill more than Julie,” he said. “Julie was special in her own way. The way Julie hated me before she died. That's the kind of stuff that I can push me that can push me to the limit.”
In the two weeks between the fire and his arrest, Hansen visited Julie several times before deputies barred him from her hospital room.
“She was never afraid of me, never acted negatively,” he said. “But she hated me when she died – Becky (his older sister) told me.”
“It's the toughest thing I have to live with,” he said. “People say Julie is in heaven now and knows the truth, but I'm not a religious person, so that doesn't help me much.”
Julie made several statements to investigators, but when she died, they were ruled inadmissible as trial evidence. Hansen believes investigators influenced her during their questioning, leading her to believe she was the man who pulled the trigger.
By the time of Jill's funeral five days after the fire, Hansen had been questioned several times by sheriff's detectives. He knew he was a suspect. But he attended the funeral, and his name is listed in Jill's obituary as a survivor. When
Julie died Dec. 19, 1986, Hansen was behind bars and charged with murder. The district attorney, after conferring with members of Hansen’s family, asked for the death penalty.
A likely suspect?
Hansen acknowledges there was reason to initially suspect him.
In essence, the district attorney proved that Hansen bought 12-gauge shotgun shells the night before the murder. Two days before the shooting he bought five gallons of gasoline in a can. That same day he obtained the gun used to shoot Jill and Julie.
After the fire, Hansen hid the shotgun in Hans’ shops. He lied to investigators about doing that.
Through trial testimony, two possible motives were introduced.
Betty testified that the relationship between her and Hansen had deteriorated after he graduated from high school. His family was displeased, for example, because he had sold a car that Betty and Hans bought him and purchased an older Corvette that gave him nothing but trouble.
Hansen shook his head when recalling his mother's testimony that their relationship had soured.
“I thought Mom and I got along good,” he said. “I guess people see things differently.”
Later in the trial, Betty Hansen took the stand to say she did not believe her son was capable of murder.
A Eureka auto mechanic testified that Hansen told him he had put a deposit down a new Corvette and that he was going to be coming into some money – in the “six-figure” range.
But the investigators could find no auto dealership where Hansen had placed a deposit on a Corvette and he had told none of his friends about planning to come in for money.
As for the shotgun, he says he didn't plan to have it in the back of his Ford Torino that night.
Hansen and his friend Jack Wright often went target shooting. On the Wednesday before the fire, they had gone shooting out at Samoa beach. Hansen normally used his grandfather's gun for target practice, but it was not working properly and Wright offered that day to get his own stepfather's gun. Hansen said he offered to return the gun after target practice, an offer Wright confirmed when he testified.
“That gun was forgotten in my car,” Hansen said. ”I offered to take it back to Jack's house.”
As for the purchase of the shotgun shells, “I bought them because they were in the store,” he said. “I also bought a David Lee Roth tape – what did that mean? I bought a pack of Trident gum – What did that mean?”
Although the killer or killers had easy access to the cans of gas around Hans’ shop, the gun had to be removed from Hansen's car, not an easy feat if it were locked.
“I'm not so sure that it was locked,” he said. “I always locked my Corvette but I never locked the Torino – it was a piece of junk.”
After the fire, he said, he saw the gun was in a different position than it had been the night before.
“I kind of had an idea that Julie had been shot; I just panicked,” he said. He took the gun and hid it in a corner in Hans’ shop. Detectives found it the next day. He later lied about hiding the gun.
Later the same day that he and Wright went shooting, Hansen bought gas in a can at a Willow Creek gas station. He says he filled the can rather than his car because the “fill spout” on his car was bent.
And he notes that while at the gas station he introduced to the man he introduced himself to the man ahead of him as “Donny Hansen, Hans Hansen's boy.” If he was planning a murder it wouldn’t have been wise to needlessly call attention to himself, he said.
Hansen said he's amazed by the suggestion he committed the crimes for money.
“How do I profit from the inheritance by killing Jill and Julie?” he said. “If I was going to kill someone, I’d have killed mom and Hans."
According to Hans’ and Betty's will, if they died, Donny would only receive $500 a month or $5,000 a year, while the other children would have received their money in lump sums.
Although Hansen would have been handed a substantial chunk of insurance money If the twins and his parents died, Hans testified that the children believed the insurance benefits would have been dispersed according to the stipulation of the will.
“There was never a motive,” Hansen said. “it wasn't money. It wasn't that I hated Jill and Julie, it wasn't that I was crazy.”
“I've never hit anyone. I've never assaulted anyone,” he said. “I never hit Jill and Julie. Then to say I shot them with a shotgun from 10 feet away – that's a pretty big jump to me.”
“I couldn't understand how anyone could think I did this,” he said. “I love my mom more than anything else in this world. So it's not only about Jill and Julie, but how could anyone think I hate my mom that much?”
Anger lingers
He is bitter towards investigators for the way he was treated, but more so for the way they dealt with his family.
“The thing I find hard to believe is how they turned my family against me,” Donny said.
“When I was arrested, my mother was there, and she said to (the arresting detective), ‘I feel sorry for Donny, I don't know if he did this.’ (The detective) said ‘Anytime you feel sorry for Donny, I have some pictures of your daughter to show you.’
“The only pictures he had were of Jill all burned up in the trailer,” Donny said. “What kind of man would show a mother pictures of her burned-up daughter?”
He tries to understand why his family believed who was the perpetrator.
“My family had never dealt with the police before,” he said. And above all else, they wanted an answer for Jill and Julie's deaths, even if the answer was ‘your son did it.’”
After the trial, Betty Hansen said law enforcement officials told her repeatedly that she had to accept that her son was the killer.
During hearings that led to a change of venue in the case, Hansen heard Hans and Hans’ father, Charlie Hansen, testify that they believe he killed Jill and Julie.
And, after the verdict came in, Hans was quoted in a Willow Creek newspaper as saying it is “kinda hard to digest the hard fact that someone I believe is responsible for killing my two daughters is now running loose.”
“I don't care about Charlie,” Hansen said, “but it tore me up about Hans. He was always a good friend and I'll never understand why he gave up on me so easy. I'll never understand.”
Hansen said he's also learned some hard lessons about police interrogation.
“I never used to understand how they'd get innocent people to confess, but now I do,” he said. “They'll hammer you they'll hammer on you so long you’ll say anything.”
He questions why investigators failed the follow up leads that pointed away from his involvement.
For example, two Willow Creek teenagers were seen in the vicinity of the Hansen trailer shortly after the fire. One of them, Tim Williams, reportedly had the ashes on his coat.
William's uncle, a sheriff's deputy, talked to his nephew after a neighbor reported seeing the ashes on the coat, but never mentioned that discussion in his police report.
In addition, Williams testified that he and his friend were at a nearby sawmill that night, playing a game in which they hid from the mill workers.
The sawmill owner testified that the mill was closed at night.
“I don't want to point the finger at anyone, because I was accused without proof,” Hansen said. But he feels investigators should consider the teenagers’ activities “avenues to be explored.”
At the trial, neighbors said that within a few minutes of hearing two shotgun blasts they heard a car squeal away from the area.
“(Investigators) didn't want to check that out,” Hansen said.
And Department of Justice investigators found Hansen's palm print on the gun, but the print was in a white residue, indicating he had carried it after he used the fire extinguisher. That would fit with his hiding of the gun, to which he admits.
The state investigator testified that a Humboldt County sheriff's detective told him not to check the gun and the live shell inside for other possible prints. That examination could have cleared him, Hansen said.
The tough months
Hansen spent 18 months in jail, most of it in Humboldt County. He was transferred to an Alameda County jail after the trial was moved to Oakland on a change of venue.
While behind bars, he lost 40 pounds and gained an ulcer.
“Jail was hell,” he said. “I never had a good day in jail.”
“I didn't see how I could ever be convicted,” he said, “but if I had been I would have taken the death penalty. It would have been better than spending my life in prison.”
“Every day, I thought about the gas chamber,” he said. “I tried not to but how could I not? I guess that's why I have hard feelings for Terry Farmer. The man who tried to kill me.”
“I'm not a religious person,” he said, “but there were times I go to bed at night and pray, ‘God don't let me wake up in the morning.’ I wouldn't have killed myself though, because I'm not a quitter, and I wanted people to know the truth. I wanted my family to know the truth.”
While he was in jail, Hansen was sustained by the family and friends who supported him. He grew close to his natural father. In fact, he plans to change his last name back to Stewart, his father's name.
“My real dad was one of the few people who stood behind me,” Hansen said. “Without His love and support…maybe that's what kept me going.”
He listed the family and friends he wanted to thank: the Cyphers family, Grant Anderson, his aunts, Mary and Georgeanne.
“There was the investigator, Rich Muha, (Deputy Public Defender) Alan Chalfee and most of all (attorney) Bill Bragg,” Donny said. “He saved my life just the same as somebody saved me from a heart attack. If somebody asked me, would you get Bailey or Belli, I'd say ‘no, I'd get Bill Bragg.’”
The verdict
The night before the verdict came in, Hansen “stayed up all night thinking about it,” then was asleep the next day when someone woke him to say the jury was already back with its decision.
“I looked at each one of them as they came in and none of them would look me in the eye,” he said. “I leaned back in my chair and thought, ‘my God, I’m through.’ Then when the first one said ‘not guilty,’I can't tell you how good that made me feel.”
The whole experience made him a little more cynical, “but it also softened me,” he said.
“If there was anything positive, it was that I learned a lot about life and what's important and what isn't. The most important thing in the world is having a family and friends that love you. Without the family and friends that did support me, I wouldn't have made it.”
As for the future, he has hope.
I think I'll be happy one day,” he said. “I'm not happy now. It's not that I'm manic depressive; there are some things I'm happy about. If I could see justice done, that would make me happy – not only that the real killers were caught, but about what happened in this case. What happened to my family that was a crime – a real crime.”
Hansen hopes that someday he and Hans can be friends.
“I know it will never be the way it was,” he said. “But I hope the day will come when we can talk about Jill and Julie and remember the good things and not be sad.”
He said he'll probably never return to the hometown where he grew up, and where many of his former friends and neighbors believe he is a murderer turned loose.
“I don't think I'll ever go back to Willow Creek,” he said. “Not because I fear anybody – what can they do? Shoot me? Big deal. It's because when I go back I expect to see things the way they were when I was growing up, and they aren't.”
One day while he was in jail, Hansen went to Willow Creek with Bragg and some deputies.
“The trailer was gone, the grass was all grown up around the doorsteps because nobody cared, the swimming pool was all green with moss because there were no kids there to swim there anymore.”
“It had to be one of the worst days of my life.”
He also intends to stay out of Humboldt County, and will probably live in the Bay Area.
“I think I just need to go away,” he said. “I could live here if I wanted to; I don't care what people think. But I've got friends down there. I've got I'll get a job, go back to school, maybe write a book.”
Although he hasn't decided yet on a career. He's considering becoming an attorney – “someone who could influence people's lives like Bill Bragg influenced mine.”
In the meantime, Hansen believes law enforcement officials have a duty to further investigate his sister's murders.
“I was found innocent,” he said.
I alluded to these articles in a different thread about an arson and the subsequent murders of Jill and Julie Hansen. One of the articles is very long, so I thought a new thread might be more appropriate.
That long article, which is an interview with Donny Hansen, follows. I will post the articles with his attorney and the district attorney who tried him separately.
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Donny Hansen Speaks Out
Cleared Murder Suspect Shares His Side of the Story
Times-Standard (of Eureka, California), July 10, 1988
By Rhona Pialorsi, Times-Standard City News Editor
EUREKA – Three days after he was acquitted of murdering his 16-year-old twin sisters, Donny Hansen carried a bouquet of flowers to their graves.
Hansen stared down at the tombstones and touched them. He struggled with a tangle of raw emotions ranging from grief, hatred and rage to gratitude that he himself had been spared the gas chamber or a living death in prison.
For the first time since his arrest on Dec. 1, 1986, the 22-year-old Fortuna man was not “double murder suspect Donald Lee Hansen,” but the bereaved older brother of Jill and Julie Hansen, two pretty, churchgoing teenagers from the eastern Humboldt County town of Willow Creek.
It took an Oakland jury slightly over six hours June 16 to find Hansen innocent of a Nov. 15, 1986, shooting and arson that left Jill Hansen dead, Julie critically wounded and the family home gutted.
Julie survived one month at Arcata’s Mad River Hospital, only to die when an intravenous tube separated and an air bubble entered her heart.
Hansen was also accused of the attempted murders of Betty Hansen, his mother, and Hans Hansen, the stepfather would had raised him from the age of 3.
Prosecutors claimed the younger Hansen splashed gallons of gasoline around the trailer in an attempt to set a fatal Blaze.
When Hansen spoke with the “Times-Standard” just days after his release from an Alameda County Jail, he was still trying to cope with the sudden shock of freedom.
“One day, you're the worst thing that ever walked on the planet,” he said. “The next day they say, ‘OK, you can go.’ I was charged with two murders, with two attempted murders, with murdering two young girls. How much worse can it get?”
Although he is now a free man, Hansen and his remaining family have been forever scarred by what happened that November morning, and by the events that followed.
Many people, including the stepfather who raised him, still believe Hansen is a cold-blooded killer – an honor student turned bad who tried to murder his family so he could inherit enough cash to buy a flashy new Corvette.
His mother has fluctuated in her beliefs about whether her only son was capable of such a brutal crime.
Hansen blames law enforcement investigators, who immediately targeted him as the killer, for the way his parents feel.
“It was just incredible what they put my family through -- my mom, and Hans too,” he said.
“I went through a time when my mother hated me,” he said. “Here was the person I love most in the world and she hated me. So I told myself, ‘my mother doesn't love me, so I don't love my mother.’ I had to play head games.
“Jill and Julie are physically dead,” he said, “but the other four members of our family died in a way. I sometimes wonder if Jill and Julie aren't better off.
Contented family
Looking back on the Hansens’ life up until the fire. It's incomprehensible that a seemingly ordinary happy existence could have twisted into such a nightmare.
Betty and Hans married when Hansen was 3 and his sister, Becky, was 7. The twins were born when Hansen was 4. The family moved from Fortuna to Willow Creek in 1971.
“I was just a normal kid growing up in a small town,” Hansen said.
During his childhood Hansen had only a casual relationship with his natural father.
It was Hans he called dad although he refers to him now by name.
Hans owns a profitable logging supply company in Willow Creek. The family attended church regularly, was well-known or respected. When Jill contracted leukemia, a disease she fought for years, the community responded with an outpouring of love.
Hansen attended high school at Canyonville Bible Academy in Canyonville, Ore., “not because I was in trouble or anything,” he said, “but because my parents wanted me to.” In 1983 he graduated with honors, earning nearly straight A's.
After graduation Hansen enrolled at Humboldt State University for a year. He didn't do well and dropped out. At the time of the shootings and arson he was attending College of the Redwoods, drawing unemployment and living with his maternal grandmother in Fortuna.
Hansen often drove to Willow Creek to be with his family. He frequently spent the night there, sleeping on the couch.
Nov. 15, 1986, started out as a normal visit.
“I got over there at about 10 p.m.,” he said. “I was late getting there because I had mowed my Grandma Johnnie’s lawn. My sister Becky had made a four-layer dessert for my birthday the week before, so I took it over to Willow Creek so the rest of the family could eat it.”
When Hansen got there, Jill and her boyfriend were watching television; Julie was in her bedroom on the phone.
“Mom and Hans were in the bedroom getting ready to go to Santa Rosa the next week – they were packing. We watched Joan Rivers, then everybody went to bed.”
Jill asked to sleep in Julie's room that night because Julie had a television. Hansen lay on the couch and watched MTV, eventually falling asleep.
The inferno
It was shorty after 3 a.m. when the chaos erupted.
“I woke up in hell,” Hansen said, “and it never ended.”
He remembers waking to a loud noise, vaguely recalls a shadowy figure in the house, remembers becoming aware of the smoke and flames. He saw Julie fall down in the hallway in front of him.
“I didn't realize she had been shot,” he said. “I just scooped her up from behind and carried her out. I think I even dropped her on the deck. I didn't know she was hurt.”
“I was screaming and yelling,” he said.
A neighbor of the Hansens testified that he woke to yelling. He watched out his window as Julie staggered down the deck steps and made her way across the street, whimpering softly.
Clutching the six-inch shotgun wound in her lower abdomen. Julie fell in a mud puddle and lay there until neighbors and later medical technicians found her.
During their son's trial, Betty and Hans told a story of horror about the next minutes and hours of that morning.
Hans, frantic, grabbed a fire extinguisher from the broom closet and shot it off. He wondered why the flames sprang back as soon as the foam knocked them down. On his way out the door, he saw a gas can lying on the floor.
Betty used the phone in Hans’ shop to call the Willow Creek Volunteer Fire Department and firefighters soon arrived on the scene. Donny and Hans had been frantically shooting off fire extinguishers in a futile effort to battle the roaring flames engulfing their home.
Hans was clad only in his undershorts; his stepson in a pair of Levis no shirt, a pair of socks.
“It was just incredible,” Hansen said. “I can't tell you. I felt so helpless; I just wanted to go back inside that trailer.”
Jill was still in the blazing mobile home.
In the first chaotic moments, no one in the family saw Julie lying across the street. Eventually, she was taken by ambulance to Mad River Hospital in Arcata.
In the ambulance, she told the doctor that Hansen helped her out of the trailer. But when she died a month later, Julie believed her brother was a murderer.
Julie underwent extensive surgery later that morning to repair virtually every organ in her lower abdomen. She had been shot at such close range that the surgeon found the “wad” of the shell inside her.
As the surgeon worked, Hans and Betty and a growing crowd of friends waited at the hospital. They had left Donny in Willow Creek at the smoldering trailer. He was to wait for word on Jill.
By then, sheriff's investigators had joined firemen at the scene, which was obviously an arson. They soon discovered Jill's charred body in the kitchen of the razed mobile home.
An autopsy later revealed Jill had been shot twice with a shotgun. One shell tore off her lower right arm; the other ripped through her right thigh. But the shotgun wounds didn't kill her – she died from smoke asphyxiation.
Fond recollections
Hansen said his Jill was “perfect.”
“Jill, she was the one who had leukemia,” he said. “It really tears me up, the memory of Jill. She went through hell with loss of hair, spinal taps. It doesn't seem fair that she had to die that way. If you had to pick someone who went through so much and never became negative, she was the most perfect person I ever knew.”
“I don't mean to say that I love Jill more than Julie,” he said. “Julie was special in her own way. The way Julie hated me before she died. That's the kind of stuff that I can push me that can push me to the limit.”
In the two weeks between the fire and his arrest, Hansen visited Julie several times before deputies barred him from her hospital room.
“She was never afraid of me, never acted negatively,” he said. “But she hated me when she died – Becky (his older sister) told me.”
“It's the toughest thing I have to live with,” he said. “People say Julie is in heaven now and knows the truth, but I'm not a religious person, so that doesn't help me much.”
Julie made several statements to investigators, but when she died, they were ruled inadmissible as trial evidence. Hansen believes investigators influenced her during their questioning, leading her to believe she was the man who pulled the trigger.
By the time of Jill's funeral five days after the fire, Hansen had been questioned several times by sheriff's detectives. He knew he was a suspect. But he attended the funeral, and his name is listed in Jill's obituary as a survivor. When
Julie died Dec. 19, 1986, Hansen was behind bars and charged with murder. The district attorney, after conferring with members of Hansen’s family, asked for the death penalty.
A likely suspect?
Hansen acknowledges there was reason to initially suspect him.
In essence, the district attorney proved that Hansen bought 12-gauge shotgun shells the night before the murder. Two days before the shooting he bought five gallons of gasoline in a can. That same day he obtained the gun used to shoot Jill and Julie.
After the fire, Hansen hid the shotgun in Hans’ shops. He lied to investigators about doing that.
Through trial testimony, two possible motives were introduced.
Betty testified that the relationship between her and Hansen had deteriorated after he graduated from high school. His family was displeased, for example, because he had sold a car that Betty and Hans bought him and purchased an older Corvette that gave him nothing but trouble.
Hansen shook his head when recalling his mother's testimony that their relationship had soured.
“I thought Mom and I got along good,” he said. “I guess people see things differently.”
Later in the trial, Betty Hansen took the stand to say she did not believe her son was capable of murder.
A Eureka auto mechanic testified that Hansen told him he had put a deposit down a new Corvette and that he was going to be coming into some money – in the “six-figure” range.
But the investigators could find no auto dealership where Hansen had placed a deposit on a Corvette and he had told none of his friends about planning to come in for money.
As for the shotgun, he says he didn't plan to have it in the back of his Ford Torino that night.
Hansen and his friend Jack Wright often went target shooting. On the Wednesday before the fire, they had gone shooting out at Samoa beach. Hansen normally used his grandfather's gun for target practice, but it was not working properly and Wright offered that day to get his own stepfather's gun. Hansen said he offered to return the gun after target practice, an offer Wright confirmed when he testified.
“That gun was forgotten in my car,” Hansen said. ”I offered to take it back to Jack's house.”
As for the purchase of the shotgun shells, “I bought them because they were in the store,” he said. “I also bought a David Lee Roth tape – what did that mean? I bought a pack of Trident gum – What did that mean?”
Although the killer or killers had easy access to the cans of gas around Hans’ shop, the gun had to be removed from Hansen's car, not an easy feat if it were locked.
“I'm not so sure that it was locked,” he said. “I always locked my Corvette but I never locked the Torino – it was a piece of junk.”
After the fire, he said, he saw the gun was in a different position than it had been the night before.
“I kind of had an idea that Julie had been shot; I just panicked,” he said. He took the gun and hid it in a corner in Hans’ shop. Detectives found it the next day. He later lied about hiding the gun.
Later the same day that he and Wright went shooting, Hansen bought gas in a can at a Willow Creek gas station. He says he filled the can rather than his car because the “fill spout” on his car was bent.
And he notes that while at the gas station he introduced to the man he introduced himself to the man ahead of him as “Donny Hansen, Hans Hansen's boy.” If he was planning a murder it wouldn’t have been wise to needlessly call attention to himself, he said.
Hansen said he's amazed by the suggestion he committed the crimes for money.
“How do I profit from the inheritance by killing Jill and Julie?” he said. “If I was going to kill someone, I’d have killed mom and Hans."
According to Hans’ and Betty's will, if they died, Donny would only receive $500 a month or $5,000 a year, while the other children would have received their money in lump sums.
Although Hansen would have been handed a substantial chunk of insurance money If the twins and his parents died, Hans testified that the children believed the insurance benefits would have been dispersed according to the stipulation of the will.
“There was never a motive,” Hansen said. “it wasn't money. It wasn't that I hated Jill and Julie, it wasn't that I was crazy.”
“I've never hit anyone. I've never assaulted anyone,” he said. “I never hit Jill and Julie. Then to say I shot them with a shotgun from 10 feet away – that's a pretty big jump to me.”
“I couldn't understand how anyone could think I did this,” he said. “I love my mom more than anything else in this world. So it's not only about Jill and Julie, but how could anyone think I hate my mom that much?”
Anger lingers
He is bitter towards investigators for the way he was treated, but more so for the way they dealt with his family.
“The thing I find hard to believe is how they turned my family against me,” Donny said.
“When I was arrested, my mother was there, and she said to (the arresting detective), ‘I feel sorry for Donny, I don't know if he did this.’ (The detective) said ‘Anytime you feel sorry for Donny, I have some pictures of your daughter to show you.’
“The only pictures he had were of Jill all burned up in the trailer,” Donny said. “What kind of man would show a mother pictures of her burned-up daughter?”
He tries to understand why his family believed who was the perpetrator.
“My family had never dealt with the police before,” he said. And above all else, they wanted an answer for Jill and Julie's deaths, even if the answer was ‘your son did it.’”
After the trial, Betty Hansen said law enforcement officials told her repeatedly that she had to accept that her son was the killer.
During hearings that led to a change of venue in the case, Hansen heard Hans and Hans’ father, Charlie Hansen, testify that they believe he killed Jill and Julie.
And, after the verdict came in, Hans was quoted in a Willow Creek newspaper as saying it is “kinda hard to digest the hard fact that someone I believe is responsible for killing my two daughters is now running loose.”
“I don't care about Charlie,” Hansen said, “but it tore me up about Hans. He was always a good friend and I'll never understand why he gave up on me so easy. I'll never understand.”
Hansen said he's also learned some hard lessons about police interrogation.
“I never used to understand how they'd get innocent people to confess, but now I do,” he said. “They'll hammer you they'll hammer on you so long you’ll say anything.”
He questions why investigators failed the follow up leads that pointed away from his involvement.
For example, two Willow Creek teenagers were seen in the vicinity of the Hansen trailer shortly after the fire. One of them, Tim Williams, reportedly had the ashes on his coat.
William's uncle, a sheriff's deputy, talked to his nephew after a neighbor reported seeing the ashes on the coat, but never mentioned that discussion in his police report.
In addition, Williams testified that he and his friend were at a nearby sawmill that night, playing a game in which they hid from the mill workers.
The sawmill owner testified that the mill was closed at night.
“I don't want to point the finger at anyone, because I was accused without proof,” Hansen said. But he feels investigators should consider the teenagers’ activities “avenues to be explored.”
At the trial, neighbors said that within a few minutes of hearing two shotgun blasts they heard a car squeal away from the area.
“(Investigators) didn't want to check that out,” Hansen said.
And Department of Justice investigators found Hansen's palm print on the gun, but the print was in a white residue, indicating he had carried it after he used the fire extinguisher. That would fit with his hiding of the gun, to which he admits.
The state investigator testified that a Humboldt County sheriff's detective told him not to check the gun and the live shell inside for other possible prints. That examination could have cleared him, Hansen said.
The tough months
Hansen spent 18 months in jail, most of it in Humboldt County. He was transferred to an Alameda County jail after the trial was moved to Oakland on a change of venue.
While behind bars, he lost 40 pounds and gained an ulcer.
“Jail was hell,” he said. “I never had a good day in jail.”
“I didn't see how I could ever be convicted,” he said, “but if I had been I would have taken the death penalty. It would have been better than spending my life in prison.”
“Every day, I thought about the gas chamber,” he said. “I tried not to but how could I not? I guess that's why I have hard feelings for Terry Farmer. The man who tried to kill me.”
“I'm not a religious person,” he said, “but there were times I go to bed at night and pray, ‘God don't let me wake up in the morning.’ I wouldn't have killed myself though, because I'm not a quitter, and I wanted people to know the truth. I wanted my family to know the truth.”
While he was in jail, Hansen was sustained by the family and friends who supported him. He grew close to his natural father. In fact, he plans to change his last name back to Stewart, his father's name.
“My real dad was one of the few people who stood behind me,” Hansen said. “Without His love and support…maybe that's what kept me going.”
He listed the family and friends he wanted to thank: the Cyphers family, Grant Anderson, his aunts, Mary and Georgeanne.
“There was the investigator, Rich Muha, (Deputy Public Defender) Alan Chalfee and most of all (attorney) Bill Bragg,” Donny said. “He saved my life just the same as somebody saved me from a heart attack. If somebody asked me, would you get Bailey or Belli, I'd say ‘no, I'd get Bill Bragg.’”
The verdict
The night before the verdict came in, Hansen “stayed up all night thinking about it,” then was asleep the next day when someone woke him to say the jury was already back with its decision.
“I looked at each one of them as they came in and none of them would look me in the eye,” he said. “I leaned back in my chair and thought, ‘my God, I’m through.’ Then when the first one said ‘not guilty,’I can't tell you how good that made me feel.”
The whole experience made him a little more cynical, “but it also softened me,” he said.
“If there was anything positive, it was that I learned a lot about life and what's important and what isn't. The most important thing in the world is having a family and friends that love you. Without the family and friends that did support me, I wouldn't have made it.”
As for the future, he has hope.
I think I'll be happy one day,” he said. “I'm not happy now. It's not that I'm manic depressive; there are some things I'm happy about. If I could see justice done, that would make me happy – not only that the real killers were caught, but about what happened in this case. What happened to my family that was a crime – a real crime.”
Hansen hopes that someday he and Hans can be friends.
“I know it will never be the way it was,” he said. “But I hope the day will come when we can talk about Jill and Julie and remember the good things and not be sad.”
He said he'll probably never return to the hometown where he grew up, and where many of his former friends and neighbors believe he is a murderer turned loose.
“I don't think I'll ever go back to Willow Creek,” he said. “Not because I fear anybody – what can they do? Shoot me? Big deal. It's because when I go back I expect to see things the way they were when I was growing up, and they aren't.”
One day while he was in jail, Hansen went to Willow Creek with Bragg and some deputies.
“The trailer was gone, the grass was all grown up around the doorsteps because nobody cared, the swimming pool was all green with moss because there were no kids there to swim there anymore.”
“It had to be one of the worst days of my life.”
He also intends to stay out of Humboldt County, and will probably live in the Bay Area.
“I think I just need to go away,” he said. “I could live here if I wanted to; I don't care what people think. But I've got friends down there. I've got I'll get a job, go back to school, maybe write a book.”
Although he hasn't decided yet on a career. He's considering becoming an attorney – “someone who could influence people's lives like Bill Bragg influenced mine.”
In the meantime, Hansen believes law enforcement officials have a duty to further investigate his sister's murders.
“I was found innocent,” he said.