OFF THE WIRE
Steve Mayes
oregonlive.com
William Birhanzl insisted on wearing his jail uniform while representing himself in Clackamas County Circuit Court. "I want the jury to know I'm in jail, where I can't meet with anybody," he said.
William Birhanzl's boiling hatred of an Oregon City municipal judge peaked late last summer when he paid an ex-con on a Harley Davidson $1,000 to shatter Daniel Woram's elbows and smash his ribs. As the biker -- actually an undercover police officer -- rode off, cops swarmed Birhanzl's car and arrested him.
Birhanzl's raging sense of injustice bubbled up again this month when his case came to trial in Clackamas County Circuit Court.
Rather than trust the outcome to a court-appointed defense attorney, Birhanzl, a self-styled legal expert, represented himself. The trial was a must-see for lawyers and courthouse employees, drawn by Birhanzl's reputation for confrontation and his willingness to breach legal decorum.
They were not disappointed.
The jury would hear a story about crimes motivated by obsession, anger and revenge, said lead prosecutor Scott Healy, who presented a methodical case. Police testimony would be vividly highlighted by tape recordings of Birhanzl speaking gleefully about his desire to see Woram writhe in pain.
Birhanzl frequently interrupted or argued with Circuit Judge Jeffery S. Jones and intentionally wore his inmate uniform as a protest. "I want the jury to know I'm in jail, where I can't meet with anybody," he said
Birhanzl said his constitutional right to due process had been violated. "I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you go to prison ... and we trade places ... whether you like that or not, sir," he scolded Jones.
On the third day of trial, Birhanzl demanded the case be halted. His heart was not pumping enough oxygen to his heart and brain, he said. "That affects my ability to focus and concentrate."
Jones ruled against him. Birhanzl refused to participate and demanded to be returned to jail. And the trial went on -- two prosecutors versus an empty chair.
Extremely rare
It is highly uncommon for a defendant to be removed from the courtroom in the middle of a trial. But a trial continuing with no one representing the defense is extremely rare.
Margie Paris, former head of the University of Oregon Law School, said she had never heard of that happening. "You have a prosecutor and no defense. That would concern me greatly," said Paris, who continues to teach criminal law at the school.
Birhanzl had cross-examined Woram, the first prosecution's first witness, when he called for the trial to halt. That left Jones with a few options: retry the case, temporarily stop the trial and appoint stand-by counsel or let the trial continue, as Jones did.
The evidence against Birhanzl was strong and -- with no one to represent him -- the result was predictable. The case ended last week with a jury unanimously finding him guilty on all eight charges, including attempted assault, conspiricy to commit assault and soliciting someone to commit the crime.
Birhanzl will be sentenced March 12. He almost certainly will go to prison for several years.
A local legend
View full sizeWilliam BirhanzlHe also can be intimidating.
After Birhanzl acted threateningly toward City Hall employees in 2010, Oregon City adopted an exclusion ordinance to bar disruptive people from city buildings.
Birhanzl had run-ins with prosecutors and judges over the years, but his clashes with Woram stood above the others.
The fuse was lit in 2009 when Woram, part-time Oregon City municipal court judge, sentenced Birhanzl to four months in jail for contempt of court during court proceedings. Woram, who is also a defense attorney, obtained a permanent restraining order against Birhanzl in 2010. He said Birhanzl confronted him in public, made threatening gestures and trespassed at his office.
"Sometimes you're all smiles. Sometimes you're a madman," Woram told Birhanzl, who questioned him at the restraining order hearing. "I don't know what your issues are, but you put me in fear, and I don't want anything to do with you."
Revenge
Birhanzl and Woram were set for another showdown in September, when Birhanzl was scheduled for trial on a charge of trespassing at Woram's law office.
In late August, Birhanzl told a roommate, Billy Ray Grubbs, he wanted Woram dead. He talked about shooting Woram, cutting off his fingers or having him thrown out a window while Birhanzl watched from a distance.
He asked Grubbs --who served time in federal prison for bank robbery in the 1980s -- to help him find a hitman. Grubbs met several outlaw bikers in prison and, Birhanzl believed, still had criminal contacts.
Grubbs, however, had long ago turned to Jesus and away from crime. He immediately told police about Birhanzl's plans, and they set up a sting operation. Grubbs and Birhanzl would meet the phony thug at a freeway rest stop near Wilsonville.
Gladstone police Sgt. Mike Boyd, an avid motorcyclist, played the role of the hitman and rode his Harley Davidson to the meeting. He dressed like the movie version of a bad-news biker.
Grubbs introduced Boyd as the son of a hitman. "He was trained from a baby," Grubbs said.
Birhanzl decided against killing Woram. "I can't sue him if he's gone," he said during the taped conversation. Birhanzl made it clear what he wanted as he handed Boyd a $1,000 down payment: Two broken arms and some busted ribs.
Take a Louisville slugger, and aim for the elbows, Birhanzl said. "Ball joints don't heal very good."
Birhanzl looked forward to hearing about the assault and later seeing Woram in court, struggling with pain.
"I suppose I'll hear about it tomorrow," Birhanzl said.
"There'll be a big article in the paper," Grubbs promised.
-- Steve Mayes
