OAKLAND, Calif. _ With his long hair pulled back, wearing an orange shirt and checkered pocket square, a polite smile usually on his face, defendant Max Harris took the stand in his own defense Monday.
As his defense attorney Tyler Smith began questioning him, Smith said, "We finally get to hear from you."
Harris, 29, is accused of 36 counts of involuntary manslaughter along with co-defendant Derick Almena, for 36 people who perished in the Ghost Ship warehouse fire Dec. 2, 2016.
Harris answered questions with Smith in an almost conversational tone, nodding in agreement at times and occasionally directing his attention to the jury seated to his immediate right.
Harris described himself as a vegan, practicing Buddhist but also a child of God, a jewelry maker and tattoo artist who would lend an ear or shoulder to cry on in disputes between residents at the Ghost Ship warehouse on 31st Avenue.
When he first visited the warehouse in October 2014, after having to abruptly leave his past living space because of a bed bug investigation, he called the space "amazing."
"I was almost awestruck," Harris said, talking about the artifacts and items throughout the space.
He paid $750 at first to live, not at the Ghost Ship, but an associated space two doors down, at 1313 31st Ave. Months later he moved into the Ghost Ship warehouse itself, and eventually paid $565 a month in rent.
Harris described the communal living environment on the stand _ how there were "no hard or fast rules," how the space was cleaned or how rent was collected. He himself eventually helped pool the rent from other residents in a can every month. Almena gave him the number to directly deposit the rent to a Wells Fargo account that belonged to the landlords, the Ng family. Harris described either riding his bicycle to the bank, or Almena would drive him, he said.
Eventually, Harris was doing so much "volunteer hours" such as cleaning at the warehouse and having a hard time paying his rent, that he was allowed to do "work trade." In exchange for doing chores or other work at the warehouse, Harris didn't have to pay rent. He said he was one of a handful of people who either got a discounted rent for this reason, or didn't have to pay at all.
His title of "creative director" or "executive director" of the warehouse was something he didn't take seriously at first. At an arts festival, Almena pulled him in when a group asked if they could hire their art collective. Almena introduced Harris as their "creative director" to chat with them.
"It was a surprise to me, but I kind of rolled with it," Harris said.
"I shrugged it off, but I also held onto it," he said.
He used the title in emails with the landlords, for example, interchanging between the "creative director" or "executive director" title, to "sound important," Harris said. He said if he would have used that title around the warehouse itself, his friends would have laughed at him.
The prosecution has alleged that Harris was second in command to Almena, even bringing in evidence that showed Harris boasting to others about managing the space. The prosecution also brought in evidence of Harris allegedly lying to police about anyone living at the warehouse.
But Smith's line of questioning Monday morning of his client seemed to deflect blame from Harris to others, such as to the landlords. The defense has shifted blame from both Harris and Almena and focused on the city itself, and the Ng family landlords.
Harris also described the electrical system in the warehouse, which they received from the auto shop next door. The power went out at least once a month, he said, even after the landlords hired Ben Cannon to do some electrical work for them. As previously reported by the Bay Area News Group, Cannon was unlicensed and hired for repairs, without city permits.
There were so many audience members in the courtroom during Harris' testimony Monday that the court opened an overflow room with a livestream of the witness stand.
