Yocom: The prosecution rests

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David Yocom built a reputation as a scrapper who hates to lose a fight - whether in the courtroom or the political arena.

Yocom prosecuted nearly 300 cases, 17 of them murders, during the 1970s. They included a kidnapping conviction for Ted Bundy and a murder conviction for polygamist leader Ervil LeBaron, who ordered assassinations carried out by what Yocom termed the "cult of killer wives."

"He was a darn good prosecutor - the best in the state when he was doing it," says deputy Salt Lake County attorney Robert Stott. "The guy was fearless. He didn't back down from anybody, not even judges."

Later, as Salt Lake County district attorney, Yocom sparred with the County Council over the budget and directed civil litigation for the county, while still making tough calls in criminal matters - like whether to pursue the death penalty in a case or prosecute the county mayor.

But after 42 years in the criminal justice profession, including an unprecedented four terms as D.A., Yocom is retiring.

"It's been the best job of my life," Yocom says. "It's been a wonderful job. I've never wanted anything more than to be the D.A."

A fighter - but fair

In a job that invites criticism and Monday-morning quarterbacking, Yocom says he has few regrets.

"I've always tried to do the right thing," he says. "Sometimes it's obvious. Sometimes it's not popular from a public standpoint."

Marty Verhoef, Yocom's former law partner and the current director of the D.A.'s criminal division, summed up Yocom's career in one word: Integrity.

"That's what stands out in my mind," Verhoef said. "Honesty and doing the right thing for the right reason - and what's best for the county and his constituents. It pervades everything he does."

Though some have criticized Yocom for holding grudges, Verhoef claims Yocom simply values loyalty - to the office and to the profession.

Yocom says the notion that he has a memory like an elephant for holding a grudge surfaced during his successful 1986 run for county attorney.

But he disputes the charge. As an example, he points to prosecutor Michael Christensen, who ran against him.

Following the election, Yocom, a Democrat, reassigned Christensen, a Republican, from adult crimes to the juvenile division.

But Christensen - who still works for the office as a supervisor - says he doesn't fault Yocom for the transfer, acknowledging he probably would have done the same to Yocom.

"A lot of people criticized him for moving me out to juvie, but I think it added 10 years to my life and made my career more enjoyable," says Christensen.

Third District Judge Glenn Iwasaki has worked with, for and against Yocom during prior incarnations as a prosecutor and defense attorney.

"He was fair in how he treated you, both as opposing counsel and as a person," Iwasaki said. "I have nothing but the greatest respect for him."

In court, Yocom was a brawler defense lawyers came to respect.

"Anytime you had [to go against] Yocom, you knew you were going to have a knock-down, drag-out fight," says attorney Stephen McCaughey.

Yocom admits he doesn't like to lose.

"I'm competitive," he says. "I was involved in sports as a youngster. I had a brother who was very athletic, but I wasn't gifted with all the talents he had, so I had to try a little bit harder.

"I didn't want to be a loser and that competitive instinct carried over to my courtroom demeanor, as well as my political approach and the battles I had with county commissions and councils and everything else that happens in the civil arena of this job."

Controlling the courtroom

Yocom grew up in the Salt Lake Valley and graduated from Granite High School in 1956. He attended Dixie College for a year, earned a business degree at the University of Utah, then a law degree from the U. in 1965.

After graduation, Yocom worked for an insurance company, teamed with two defense attorneys and also worked solo.

In 1969, he began prosecuting felonies for the D.A.'s office.

In those days before training seminars became routine for attorneys, Yocom said prosecutors literally learned by "trial and error."

At one point, Yocom racked up six trial losses in a row.

"I was ready to resign, but [then-County Attorney] Jay Banks wouldn't let me," he says. "He told me to get out there and do it again."

Yocom credits Banks, who later became a judge, with teaching him "courtroom control."

"When you walk in the courtroom, it's your courtroom." Yocom says. "You're the prosecutor, you're in charge, you're going to do it your way, and you can't let anybody wrestle that control away from you.

"If you let the defense attorney take the show away from you, or you let the judge be the focal point, you're going to lose."

Yocom says he was often accused by defense lawyers of walking a fine line between what was proper and improper during closing arguments.

"I'd go right up to it [that line] but never cross it," he says, adding that he was never reversed by the Utah Supreme Court for anything he said to a jury. "You have to be forceful, but not be unethical."

Yocom said he also learned from his seven-year stint as a defense attorney, from 1979 to 1986, during which he helped defend Joseph Paul Franklin, who was convicted in 1981 of capital murder for shooting two black joggers in Liberty Park and sentenced to life in prison.

"I really did appreciate more the job of the defense attorney in a death penalty case, and how much pressure there is on the attorney, especially the difficult cases where you don't have a lot to work with," Yocom said.

John Hill, a former defense attorney who is now executive director of Salt Lake Legal Defenders, faced off with Yocom in the 70s and early 80s.

"We were vigorous, ardent adversaries for many years, and we went to war often during that time," Hill said.

He said most of the cases were "pretty serious - capital murder, rape, and at a time when the death penalty was being imposed quite regularly."

But during late-night vigils waiting for jury verdicts, Hill and Yocom became good friends as they wiled away the hours pitching coins.

Hill says he came to respect Yocom's ability to "do the right thing."

"The public has been the beneficiary of a very wise man, who has made a huge number of great decisions," Hill says.

Tough decisions

One of Yocom's first major decisions as county attorney was to approve a plea deal for master forger and killer Mark Hofmann.

Charged with capital murder for killing two people with homemade pipebombs in 1985, Hofmann got life in prison.

Yocom says he was convinced a jury would not give Hofmann the death penalty because of his lack of any prior criminal record. He continues to deny the speculation that the plea was fashioned to avoid a trial that might embarrass high ranking leaders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, who were duped by Hofmann.

In exchange, Hofmann gave investigators an "extensive debriefing" about how he created his forgeries, which included numerous fake historic Mormon church documents.

"I think there's thousands of his forgeries still floating around out there," said Yocom.

His most controversial case in recent years involved the decision in 2004 to prosecute then-Salt Lake County Mayor Nancy Workman, a Republican, on charges of misusing public funds.

Acquitted by a jury in February 2005, the verdict came too late for Workman, who had dropped from the election after losing the support of her party.

Yocom is unapologetic.

"She took herself down," he says. "We just followed the evidence, and it led right to her. . . . You can't sweep it under the table when you see wrong-doing."

To avoid the appearance of a politically motivated prosecution, Yocom asked a panel of three county attorneys from other counties to decide if there was sufficient evidence to prosecute Workman. He also appointed a special prosecutor to try the case.