Jan. 16
TEXAS:
A culture of murder----Fueled by drug trade, young men in some Dallas
neighborhoods find it easy to pull the trigger
Doris Ojeda dominated TV news last year when she was killed in a drive-by
shooting as she walked near her northwest Dallas home. Jose Lopez made
headlines because he was stabbed to death at his middle school.
But most of the 248 people who made Dallas one of the nation's deadliest
big cities last year died in obscurity. Many were almost industrial
byproducts of the city's drug trade.
In some ways that trade is a murder machine, according to police and
community leaders. And in some ways, that machine is on the move.
Drugs drive the machine. Flaring tempers, bad judgment and payback grease
its gears. Ordinary arguments become gunfights. Friends become enemies.
Apartment complexes become killing fields.
The drug trade draws customers from every race and economic group. But
overwhelmingly the city's homicide victims are young minority men. 4 out
of 5 homicide victims in 2004 were black or Latino. And about 1/2 of the
victims were black and Latino males under the age of 35 - even though that
group accounts for only about 22 % of Dallas' population. The killers are
often black and Latino, too.
"It's the combination of no jobs, no education and drugs that gets you
violence," said Pastor Ronald Wright, who runs a Pleasant Grove ministry.
He said violence saps the spirit of some neighborhoods so badly that they
become easier prey for drug dealers - and he argues that residents in more
affluent parts of town would never tolerate such high crime.
Police say they can solve crimes only with tips and testimony from
residents, who often fear retaliation if they speak out.
So far, minority neighborhoods have had the biggest stake in the battle
against death and drugs. 8 of the 9 most murder-prone police beats last
year lies in the southern half of the city. But deaths are not confined to
"minority" neighborhoods. As police squeeze drug dealers in one area, they
scuttle to another. As apartment complexes deteriorate, dealers can
colonize them within days.
Last fall, elements of Dallas' murder machine made the move from Pleasant
Grove, up Buckner Boulevard and into the Lake Highlands area. 6 men were
shot and killed. Another 6 were wounded.
A close look at those shootings shows how hard it can be for terrified
residents to fight back - and how huge an effort the city's beleaguered
Police Department must make to halt the violence once it takes hold of a
neighborhood.
"The drug business is a violent business," said Judge John Creuzot, Dallas
County's presiding felony criminal judge and manager of a drug court
program. "Power and respect is important. But lost in all that is a
complete absence of moral values that human life is important."
Last fall, there were three murders at the Autumn Ridge Apartments in 33
days, just a short walk away from $150,000 brick homes. The Lake Highlands
complex looks like countless others on the way to the interstate, the
suburbs and shopping malls. But trespassing, drug dealing, prostitution
and fights have troubled residents of Autumn Ridge and other complexes for
several years.
Corey Wooten, 24, known to his friends as "Kinfolk," was in an Autumn
Ridge courtyard after 8 p.m. Oct. 6 when someone came up behind him and
shot him several times.
He stumbled face-first into a concrete staircase leading to a 2nd-floor
apartment. A pair of headphones rested on his ears.
A neighbor heard it was over $5 or "something to do with a girl." But
police say Mr. Wooten's connection to drug dealers in Pleasant Grove made
him target enough for rival dealers who claim northeast Dallas as their
territory.
Four days later, Corey "Hook" Clark, 16, and Howard "Pee Wee" Simon, 19,
were gunned down across the parking lot from where Mr. Wooten fell. Mr.
Clark died, but Mr. Simon survived.
Corey Wooten's friends appeared to have made good on their threat. Police
believe the two slayings were retaliation.
"The guys from Pleasant Grove went to north Dallas. They got into it with
the north Dallas boys. [The north Dallas dealers] didn't want them out
there," said Shuntocqua Shine, a girlfriend of one of the suspects.
Here's how the deadly battle came to northeast Dallas:
Police pressure in Pleasant Grove and the search for new markets that
pushed some dealers to seek out other complexes near Buckner Boulevard.
The first stop was a cluster of complexes on Peavy Road in Far East
Dallas. There, they were frequently accused of trespassing. In July 2003,
a 26-year-old man was shot dead there. Michael "Icy Mike" Griggs,
Shuntocqua Shine's boyfriend and an accused Pleasant Grove dealer,
witnessed the murder.
The slaying brought a crackdown. Police increased patrols and undercover
work. New apartment managers evicted residents involved in crimes.
Mr. Griggs and his associates moved north again, where they clashed with
other dealers, resulting in the murders of Corey Wooten and Corey Clark. A
witness identified Mr. Griggs in a photographic lineup in the Clark
killing, but a grand jury cleared him. He declined to be interviewed.
Dallas' murder statistics for 2004 are being finalized and could change as
some deaths are ruled justifiable or if wounded victims die. The Dallas
Police Department reported Friday that the city had 244 murders in 2004.
But a Dallas Morning News analysis found 248 murders - an 11.2 % increase
over 2003.
The increase gives Dallas its highest toll since 1998 and the 2nd-highest
murder rate among the 9 cities with more than a million residents.
The rate - about 20 per 100,000 residents - is less than 1/2 that of
smaller cities such as Baltimore, Detroit and New Orleans. But among the
biggest cities, Dallas moved ahead of Chicago and closer to Philadelphia,
which had about 22 murders per 100,000 residents.
As in recent years, neighborhoods south of Fair Park, north of Bachman
Lake and in Old East Dallas were hit the hardest.
Whether it's dealers fighting for turf, users behind on their debt, or
someone high or absorbed by the lifestyle, drugs are a huge factor.
Each year, at least 125 murders are tied to drugs or a vaguely defined
category of "arguments," according to annual homicide unit reports. Dozens
more have motives that remain unknown.
"If there is a single common denominator in violent crime, it's going to
be the drug issue - issues of turf and drug dealers ripping each other
off," said Dallas Police Chief David Kunkle, who was sworn in seven months
ago.
Since then, he has moved administrative officers to the streets, focused
on tracking crime trends by computer, and helped convince the City Council
to hire 50 new police officers.
On Friday, he announced structural changes aimed at taking guns off the
streets, closing drug houses and shutting down open-air drug markets. His
goal: reducing murders in 2005 by 20 %.
Police say targeting drug activity would reduce murders and assaults as
well as robberies, car burglaries, auto thefts and prostitution.
The fall murder spree was unusual for an area that had drawn Texas
Instruments employees and young families attracted by the Richardson
school district. New developments with streets like Candlebrook Drive and
Rolling Rock Lane made it feel like a suburban enclave within the city.
Developers followed, building houses and thousands of apartment units.
Several of the murders bore witness to an odd juxtaposition. At Providence
Apartment Homes, an apartment that overlooked formerly well-maintained
tennis courts became a murder scene. At Bent Creek Apartments, a shooting
broke out in a parking lot divided by carports and lined with sculpted
shrubbery.
Drive into Bent Creek on Forest Lane near Audelia Road. Pass through the
mechanical gate. Turn right and follow the patchwork wooden fence, where
gaps that allowed people to cut through between complexes are repeatedly
covered up with boards.
Go to the back of the complex, where police and apartment managers say a
pushers' paradise thrived. The back parking lot dead-ends into woods,
allowing dealers a view of who's coming and going.
"It's a perfect complex for a drug dealer to set up," said Sgt. Jeffrey
Kaiser as he patrolled the complex as part of Operation Kitchen Sink.
Just minutes from Interstate 635, Bent Creek was convenient for customers
not only in Dallas but also in Garland and Richardson, Sgt. Kaiser said.
The dealers' clientele included customers from all walks of life.
The dealers' "good-eyes" perched in the front, watching the main gate,
sometimes alerting others over walkie-talkies. "Runners" transported money
and drugs through the breezeways between clients and dealers.
But these dealers were just middlemen in a larger Dallas drug trade. With
stash houses in Pleasant Grove and Oak Cliff, they were just providing
supply for demand.
The killing wasn't over after the shootings in Lake Highlands. On Oct. 12,
Louis Jackson and Victor Jimison were shot dead in Pleasant Grove. Once
again, protecting turf from an outsider or an argument involving drugs
could have been the motive. The Jackson and Jimison killings were Dallas
murders 190 and 191.
Sgt. Larry Lewis of the homicide unit said detectives have two theories
about the Jackson killing, both of which could be true.
The 1st is that Michael James - the same man suspected in one of the fatal
shootings 2 days earlier in northeast Dallas - along with a man named
Demarcus "Hooty" Smith, 22, and others were trying to get Mr. Jackson to
help them rob another drug dealer. He refused, and an argument ensued.
The 2nd is that Mr. Jackson, 25, was simply a dealer crossing someone
else's turf.
"I heard from people who are scared to come forward that they heard Hooty
arguing with Louis and that Michael James pushed him out of the way and
shot Louis in the head," Steven Knight, 26, said in an interview at the
Dallas County jail.
Mr. Knight has been charged with capital murder in the case. He confessed
to police that he was involved, though not as a shooter. But he now denies
being there.
Such shootings, Mr. Knight said, are often over something minor.
"Somebody's making more money than the next person. Or somebody's got a
car with nice rims. Or one guy has a few female friends, and he may be
hated for that," he said.
Whatever the motive, once Mr. Jackson was dead, Victor Jimison had to go,
too. Homicide detectives say his friends feared he would betray them to
the police. As he attempted to run, they shot him multiple times,
including once in the head. He was 18.
Still, the bloody cycle was not complete.
Within an hour, "Hooty" Smith turned on his friend, Michael James.
Mr. James told police that Mr. Smith had shot at him multiple times,
striking him in the legs. A friend suggests that the shooting was revenge
for the Jackson killing. Mr. Smith "was tripping and saying, 'Why did you
kill my homeboy?' " - a reference to Mr. Jackson, the friend said.
"Hooty" Smith was subsequently arrested and charged with capital murder in
the Jackson and Jamison shootings.
Police also arrested Michael James. He has been charged with capital
murder in the Jackson and Jimison shootings as well as the Lake Highlands
murder of Corey Clark and the shooting of Howard "Pee Wee" Simon.
That drug pushers can be accused of killing someone on the north side of
Dallas one day and on the southern fringes the next highlights the
mobility of crime.
The murderous violence in the Lake Highlands-area apartments continued
well into November. One of the next homicide victims was Terry James
Irvin, who was shot at the Providence apartments on Nov. 20. He was the
city's 216th murder victim.
Police suspect Mr. Irvin - who is white and, at 44, older than the other
victims - made a 2 a.m. trip to buy drugs. But as he walked a dark
stairway, he apparently came upon a man robbing an apartment that
overlooked tennis courts.
Police believe the robber and perhaps another man opened fire. Four people
were hit, including Irvin.
"They shot him for no reason - nothing at all," said Bryan Jones, 26, a
local rapper known as "Mr. Pookie," who was also shot in the robbery.
In the early darkness, as the lights of police cars flashed across the
complex, Corey Whittaker stared in awe at the murder scene near his own
building in the complex.
"He was like, 'Man, did you see him hanging off the steps?' " said his
friend Tameka Smallwood.
Three days later, Mr. Whittaker, 24, suffered the same fate.
Police said 2 women knocked on the door of his apartment about 7:30 p.m.
Nov. 23. Shortly thereafter, he went outside and was shot. He became
murder victim No. 223.
"We suspect that probably may have been a setup to get him out of the
apartment," Sgt. Lewis said. Police found evidence of drug sales in the
apartment.
The motive remains unclear, as it does with many of last year's slayings.
For most of the residents of the three northeast Dallas apartment
complexes, violence had become almost background noise to their daily
lives.
"I hear sirens all the time, and when I hear them, I think, 'They must be
coming here,' " Jeffery Williams, who lives at the Providence complex,
said in early December. When he first moved in about 17 months ago, he
said he was surprised that the area was so crime-ridden. "But I guess
there's crime wherever you go these days," he said.
Help did arrive on Dec. 13, when Dallas police poured resources into the
Autumn Ridge, Bent Creek and Providence apartments, posting dozens of
officers around the clock in the complexes in an effort to deter drug
dealing and reseed the complexes with crime watch groups. They called it
Operation Kitchen Sink.
By the end of the monthlong sweep, police had netted 1,188 citations and
197 arrests, 50 for felonies. A tip from a Providence resident helped
solve one of the shootings.
"The numbers look good," said Deputy Chief David Brown, who commanded the
operation.
Four days after the crackdown ended, Jeffery Williams said he was pleased
with the results.
"Police were out here every day, and there's not much about crime
anymore," he said. "I still hear sirens all the time, but it's up and down
the street, not in these apartments."
But like many residents at the complexes, he can only wonder whether the
added police presence will have a lasting impact.
And for the families of those killed, the sorrow lingers.
Janice Patterson Sanchell, whose son Tyson was murdered Nov. 8 at Autumn
Ridge, misses the calming voice of her son. He called her 10 minutes
before he was shot.
"He was laughing when he got off the phone," she said as she watched
Tyson's 6-year-old daughter. "Tyson was the only one who didn't talk back
to his stepdad and get in trouble at school. He would always do what mama
told him to do."
The Wooten family can't understand the killings, either.
"I don't think it gets easier," said Corteney Wooten, 23. "The devil works
in mysterious ways."
As experts struggle to explain such senseless violence, police and
community leaders are burdened with the task of turning things around.
"There's going to have to be zero tolerance for drug sales," said Thomas
Petee, co-editor of the journal Homicide Studies. "You're not going to
eliminate it. But you can get innovative with how you try to curtail that
kind of activity."
The plan Chief Kunkle announced Friday includes more undercover
surveillance and public pressure on suspected drug houses and stings
targeting the illegal gun trade.
Judge Creuzot believes breaking the cycle of violence must start earlier,
preferably when kids are in elementary school.
"These are often kids who are from broken homes and have a tough life and
have had to make their way on the streets," he said. "They grow up in jail
in the sense that they had to go see their fathers in jail."
Targeting crimes at apartment complexes, the City Council adopted an
ordinance in March that required owners and managers to post after-hours
emergency contacts, attend crime watch meetings and warn tenants that they
can be evicted if they or their guests commit a crime.
As the manager of Providence during the recent shootings, Loretta Perdue
was bewildered about how the complex grew so violent.
The management ran felony background checks on all residents and hired a
"courtesy officer" to roam the property every night, she said. But she,
too, said it doesn't stop felons from staying with friends and significant
others.
Dr. Michael Lindsey, a Dallas psychologist who has studied the issues of
race and crime, said residents of the complexes must recognize their
responsibility.
"You can't blame the system. That's an individual choice," he said.
But he also said there needs to be more community outreach.
Pleasant Grove activist Hellen Johnson is doing that kind of work.
Her group, Redirections Community Coalition, last week began offering GED
and vocational classes to "no- to low-income" adults on weeknights at 2
Pleasant Grove high schools.
"We have these grandmas who say, 'All he knows is to sling dope because
that's what I had to do and that's what his mother and father had to do,'
" Ms. Johnson said.
"I believe that if an individual does not have the desire to live a slum
life, they can overcome. It doesn't matter about their grandfather. I
believe it's something they have to be exposed to."
But Dallas has an uphill fight.
In the 1st 2 weeks of the year, there have been 11 homicides. All the
victims were black or Latino.
"How do you turn it around? It's about values," said Deputy Chief Alfredo
Saldaa, who oversees the homicide, robbery and assault units. "In these
cases, there's no respect for the value of life. At that moment, they
don't think about any consequences and resolve their problems by taking it
out on someone else. They don't realize it has a lasting impact on
families."
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Colliding egos and simmering rage play role in many slayings
Not all murders are linked to the drug trade. Often, violence erupts in
the battles of egos between young men who won't back down.
Consider the slaying of Donald "Pooh Bear" Miller, who was killed Nov. 14
in the back of Bent Creek.
Just before midnight, a birthday party was getting under way when
neighbors crashed it. One neighbor let ashes from his cigarette fall on
the carpet, and Mr. Miller's friend told him to pick them up. When the man
refused, an argument ensued.
The neighbor and friend left but returned with guns.
"I think it's more of a 'who's the baddest' issue," said a woman who was
at the party.
Police said they found about 20 rounds fired from both sides. Mr. Miller
was shot 3 times in the chest and died at the scene. 2 others were
wounded.
The Dallas police homicide unit classifies such murders in a vague
category called "argument/conflict." These are arguments not easily
definable by drugs or domestic disputes.
Sometimes it just takes feelings of disrespect and a gun at hand.
A gunshot fills the gap where speech leaves off.
"It's a conversation using the weapon as a substitute for adequate
language. The gun is a way of saying how ticked I am. Then you've spoken
very loudly," said Dr. Michael Lindsey, a Dallas psychologist and lawyer
who has studied the over-representation of ethnic minorities in the Dallas
County juvenile justice system.
Some community leaders blame a lack of alternatives available for youths
who live in poverty.
"It's based on economics," said City Council member Elba Garcia. "When you
have some of these neighborhoods that are poor and you have a kid who can
make $400 a week, it can become a way of living, a way of surviving."
Pent-up frustration with economics and unequal educational and housing
situations all add up to the disproportionate amount of black-on-black
crime, said Dr. Lindsey, who was appointed to the Dallas County child
welfare board by Commissioner John Wiley Price.
"A disempowered individual or group, when exposed to a set of life
experiences that highlights for them their have-not status, that
individual doesn't try to confront what is causing that deprivation, but
sort of lashes out at the closest thing to them," he said.
So anger over a store clerk treating someone like a criminal might make
that person less likely to back down when someone challenges their respect
back in their neighborhood, Dr. Lindsey said.
(source for both: Dallas Morning News)
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2 suspects still sought in Edinburg massacre
The assailants left Edinburg police with a bloody enigma on Jan. 5, 2003,
when they stormed into the two homes on Monte Cristo Road firing bullets
that killed 6 men.
Now commonly called the Edinburg massacre, the brutal slaying befuddled
police for weeks before a tip snowballed into the arrest of 11 suspected
Tri-City Bomber gang members, who allegedly either committed, ordered or
planned the murders. Two years later, two charged in the murders sit on
death row, and the other nine await trial in the Hidalgo County Jail.
But the case is far from closed. Two charged in the case Ricardo "Rica"
Martinez and Juan Miguel "Perro" Nuez - have managed to elude law
enforcement for the past 2 years.
The men face capital murder charges for their alleged roles in the raid on
2915 E. Monte Cristo Road, where police found the bodies of Jimmy Edward
Almendariz, 22; brothers Jerry Eugene Hidalgo, 24, and Ray Hidalgo, 30;
brothers Juan Delgado Jr., 32, and Juan Delgado III, 20; and Ruben Rolando
Castillo, 32, in and around the 2 small homes.
Capital murder is a charge levied for killing more than one person at a
time or for a murder committed during the course of another crime. In a
capital murder case, prosecutors seek either a sentence of life in prison
or the death penalty.
Police theorize the men organized a pseudo-cop assault believing the
victims - who had ties to the rival gang Texas Chicano Brothers held a
large amount of marijuana.
The shooters left the mother of the Hidalgo brothers, Rosie Gutierrez,
tied to her bed in the larger home. She told police masked men armed with
assault weapons entered her home and demanded drugs.
Beyond the statements of those charged, police have little information on
the pair, but believe both are in Mexico.
In fact, Chief Quirino Muoz said police know little about Ricardo
Martinez, also called "Enrique" or "Chuy."
They believe he may have lived in Donna and may have gang-related tattoos.
Gang members from Donna often tattoo the words "Ghost town" on their
bodies, which represents that city.
Ricardo Martinez is also charged in the murders of 4 Donna women in 2002,
reportedly ordered by a jailed TCB leader in retaliation for testimony
against him. The Hidalgo County Sheriffs department listed his name as
Ricardo Cabello Martinez Gonzalez and says he is 23.
Robert "Bones" Gene Garza, 21, was sentenced to death row for the Donna
murders and is charged in the Edinburg Massacre, gave police a written
statement implicating Martinez in the Donna slayings. A 3rd man Rodolfo
"Creeper" Medrano, 25, is also facing charges for both murders.
Reynosa police arrested Martinezs brother Manuel Garcia Martinez in
connection with the shooting death of Robert Torres, 21, in 2002 in Donna.
Manuel Martinez is also a suspected TCB member and was Donnas police No. 1
wanted fugitive until his arrest, and they are still awaiting his
extradition, Donna Sgt. Rick Suarez said. But collaborating with Mexico on
the arrest of Ricardo Martinez is more difficult because if a jury finds
Martinez guilty of capital murder, he will face the death penalty, which
is illegal in Mexico.
Nuez, 29, is also thought to be in Mexico. Police obtained a copy of a
photo of Nuez, but his eyes are shut.
Det. Robert Alvarez investigated the Edinburg massacre and has testified
in court cases as a gang expert. He said police have information that Nuez
may be hiding in Vera Cruz, Mexico.
Police have only loosely identified the roles each of the men charged
played in the slayings.
Alvarez said the Ricardo Martinez and Nuez might have been 2 of the
assailants.
"Our information was they were on the ground," he said. "They might have
actually fired weapons."
Alvarez said both are "armed and dangerous."
"They are on the run now so (they) are even more dangerous," he said.
Last month, a jury sentenced Juan Raul Navarro Ramirez, 20, to death for
two counts of capital murder, after a nearly two-month trial in Judge Noe
Gonzalezs 370th state District Court. Ramirezs additional capital murder
count included charges for attempted robbery and participation in a
criminal street gang.
In the same courtroom, the trial for Humberto "Gallo" Garza, 30, is set to
begin in February. In an affidavit, police identified Humberto Garza and
Juan "Juanon" Arturo Villarreal Cordova, 35, as the "leaders of a
conspiracy" that planned the attack.
Jeffrey "Dragon" Juarez, 29, of Pharr, who police say heads the gangs
military-style chain of command, is also charged. However, at the time of
murders, Juarez was living in Sugarland, near Houston. Police say he
ordered the raid.
Pharr police arrested Juarez in July 2003 during a routine traffic stop.
Also awaiting separate capital murder trials in Hidalgo County Jail for
their role in the Edinburg massacre are Marcial Mata Bocanegra, 27;
Roberto "Robbie" Cantu, 25; Salvador "Little Sal" Solis, 27; Jorge
Norberto "Choche" Martinez, 39; and Reymundo "Kito" Sauceda, 29.
(source: The Monitor)
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Man pleads guilty to murdering 3 children
David Elliott Penton escaped the death penalty when he admitted to killing
3 north Texas girls in the late 1980s last week.
Penton, 47, had been previously serving a life sentence in Ohio for the
murder of another young child when he was extradited in 2003 to face the
charges in Texas.
According to Collin County District Attorney John Roach, by pleading
guilty to murdering the 3 young Dallas-area girls, Penton waived all
rights to file any motion for a new trial and waived all appeals in the
murder cases of Christ Meeks, Roxann Reyes and Christie Diane Proctor.
Christi's father, Mike, wasn't too happy with case's resolution.
"My reaction is mixed," Meeks said. "Do I think they have the right man -
yes and no.
"I feel like I have a right to be mad - I felt like we had all been lied
to by Greg Davis."
Meeks, along with his 2 former wives, one Christi's mother and a
step-mother to Christi before she disappeared, decided to walk out of the
conference room when they found out about Penton's plea bargain, he said.
"What threw all of us is last Thursday, when Davis walked in and said he
didn't think he could win the case - we thought we were there for
something that had to do with the jury selection."
Meeks said, court fees aside, he could not understand why Penton would
plea guilty to three counts of murder, especially if the defense could
present circumstantial evidence that could lead to the prosecution losing
Roxanne Reyes case - the case attorneys told the families would be the
best to try.
"I just don't know what to believe," Meeks said. "I'm just going to try
and make sense of this for myself, I would like to know in my heart that
that man will never hurt another," he said.
Meeks said one way he will try to find closure is to review the Collin
County case file and all memos, since it is public record now.
Meeks said he feels regret for walking out of the conference last
Thursday, especially since by that act, he found he lost his right to face
Penton - although he said he didn't feel he or his 2 ex-wives could take
the emotional strain of sitting in that room any longer.
"For the last 20 years - since Jan. 19, 1985 --- I've been told this, this
and that - but I've never been allowed to see anything.
"In the law's eyes it is over - I guess I need it to be over in mine."
Roach said his office achieved the goal it set out for itself when it took
on the cases.
"We have permanently removed and separated a predator from the rest of
us," Roach said. "This is not the first time nor will it be the last, that
the resources of my office have been deployed to ensure such a result."
Penton is serving a life sentence and a consecutive indeterminate sentence
in Ohio and will be returned to Ohio to serve out those sentences, Roach
said.
Penton will likely serve out the rest of his life in an Ohio prison, for
killing a 9-year-old girl in Columbus in 1988, as he will not be eligible
for release until 2027. If released in Ohio, Penton will be returned to
Texas to serve out 3 consecutive life sentences.
In the weeks leading up to the trial, new evidence came to light that may
have created reasonable doubt in jurors mind as to the guilt of Penton,
prosecutors said.
Apparently the defense had employment records for Penton that placed him
in Ohio, and not in Texas, at the time of the murders.
Davis, Collin County assistant district attorney said that though the
evidence was circumstantial, if admissible it may have caused at least 1
juror to hesitate about whether in fact he was guilty.
"I have no doubt that if David Penton were found guilty in these cases he
would've received the death penalty, the risk really was on the guilt
portion of this case," Davis said. "I thought the records were significant
enough that they would pose a risk to a guilty verdict."
Tamela Lopez, the mother of Roxanne Reyes, who now lives in Minford, Ohio,
said she was able to speak with Penton and heard him describe the murders.
"He had no remorse, he killed our children, but he also killed us," she
said. "He destroyed their lives and he also destroyed our lives. And were
the ones paying."
Even though she wishes Penton had gone to trial and received the death
penalty because Lopez said there was no way she would lose.
"Because god knows what he did and he will be punished," she said. "I know
he's not going to go through the pain my daughter went through, but he's
going to go through pain."
Gregg Gibbs, defense attorney for Penton, said he was pleased with the
outcome of the case and the decisions made by the district attorney's
office.
"He knew realistically he was never going to be a free man, we just wanted
to save his life," said Gibbs. "David is very ready to get out of the
Collin County Jail, I know he is glad this is over, this brings closure to
the family and to the client."
Meeks disappeared during a game of hide-and-seek outside her apartment in
Mesquite Jan.19, 1985 and was found dead months later at Lake Texoma.
Reyes was taken from her apartment complex in Garland Nov. 3, 1987 while
playing outside with a friend and Proctor was taken by Penton Feb. 15,
1986 and was found in a field in Plano in 1988.
(source: The McKinney Messenger)
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Homicide victims' families find comfort in group
The 1st time Kristi Butts thumbed through a newly developed roll of photos
after it happened, something was missing.
She shuffled through the pictures again. Then she figured it out: Missing
was the image of her son, Justin Edward Grant, who had been murdered at
age 18 just 2 months earlier in November 2003.
"You finally come to a realization that this is it he's really dead,"
Butts said.
Butts found comfort in a Waco support group for the loved ones of homicide
victims that meets twice a month.
In some ways, dealing with a loss to murder is like dealing with other
deaths the grief, loneliness, regret and painful reminders that invoke
bittersweet memories.
But family members of homicide victims said there are also differences.
The death is sudden and unpredictable. The victim is often too young to
die. Homicides are normally followed by trying legal proceedings. And then
there's the memory, if only imagined, of a loved one lost in an act of
terrible violence.
"There's no amount of reading a book or talking to a professional that can
equal having a heart-to-heart with someone who's been there, and that's
what the group is about," said David Davis, director of counseling for the
Advocacy Center for Crime Victims and Children.
The center organized the group in early summer with the Waco Police
Department's Victim Services unit. The center hosts the group's meetings
on the 1st and 3rd Mondays of each month at its office at 2323 Columbus
Ave.
Group organizers said about 5 people show up to each meeting, although 40
people are on their mailing list.
"There are a lot of people out there who have nobody," Butts said.
"They're scared they're going to have to go and talk, or scared of sharing
their feelings. If they want to just sit back in the corner, they can."
Sheree Levi, of Waco, lost her son Robert Earle Levi Jr. when he was shot
and killed at age 25 in April 2001. She said it's her free time, when
she's not working or taking care of grandchildren, that she finds most
difficult.
Levi said the group meetings have given her a chance to express her
feelings about homicide and the loss of her son.
"It's not going to bring them back, but it helps you to talk, to get it
out, because to let it build in and not talk about it, I feel like that
really will make you very depressed," she said.
Levi's recent experience watching the trial of her son's assailant, who
was sentenced to life in prison, gave her an opportunity to help Butts,
who was preparing for the trial of her son's killer.
That trial ended this week when Michael Lee Stout, 23, was convicted of
murder and sentenced to life in prison.
Levi said there are elements of a trial that can catch the victim's family
off-guard, like unexpected recesses, the presence of the accused person
and his family and comments made by the defense attorney.
"Just knowing that Sheree (Levi) already has been through this, that
helped me tremendously," Butts said. "You can hear an attorney tell you,
you can hear a counselor tell you, but somebody who's been through it
helps you know how it's going to feel on the inside."
Evelyn Duffey, of Bellmead, said its hard to escape the sadness of
homicide when reports of murder are in the news every day. She lost her
son Thomas Williams, age 20, in a shooting in November 1997.
"We know we're not alone, but we feel alone because that's your loved
one," she said.
The survivors of homicide say closure and a return to normalcy are distant
goals, if not impossible.
Butts, who developed a Web site called Survivors of Murdered Loved Ones
www.somlo.org said people set themselves up for failure when they say that
it will get easier.
"You have to learn to live differently," Butts said. "And then once you
learn to live differently, you have to accept that you're living
differently."
(source: Waco Tribune-Herald)
*************************
Convicted child killer back in court----Riveras retardation proceedings to
extend into April
Another round of legal battles is expected in the death sentence appeal of
convicted child-killer Jose Alfredo Rivera.
At Fridays hearing U.S. District Court Judge Andrew Hanen heard the
testimony of psychologists to determine if the court needs to appoint its
own expert or technical advisor regarding Riveras mental capacity. Hanen
did not rule on appointing an adviser but set another round of legal
proceedings that will extend the case through at least April.
Hanen set a Feb. 11 deadline for defense attorneys to add any supplements
to the case and a March 18 deadline for prosecutors to respond. Defense
will then have until April 15 to answer prosecutors response.
The judge inherited the case from U.S. District Judge Filemon Vela, who
died in April 2004 before he could make a ruling in the case.
According to Brownsville Herald archives, Rivera, 41, received the death
penalty in May 1994 for the murder of 3-year-old Luis Daniel Blanco at
Brownsvilles Lincoln Park.
Riveras girlfriend Veronica Zavala lured the boy to the park.
Once there, Zavala and Rivera binged on cocaine and had sex in front of
the boy.
The couple then molested the 3-year-old and strangled him with the
waistband of his underwear.
The boys body was found the next day floating in a nearby resaca.
Rivera and Zavala were convicted.
Zavala received life in prison and Rivera was scheduled to be executed
Aug. 6, 2003.
But he received a last-minute reprieve based on claims of mental
retardation.
A 2002 U.S. Supreme Court ruling said that mentally retarded individuals
cannot be executed.
Riveras appeal has since remained tied up in the courts with the last
hearing held in January 2004.
In court Friday, attorneys from both sides of the appeal cross-examined
each others expert witnesses to determine the validity of their findings.
At the center of the debate are English-language tests that were given to
Rivera to determine his mental capacity.
Prosecutors contend that Rivera is primarily a Spanish speaker and that
the English-language tests lowered his IQ score.
Defense attorneys said Rivera is fluent in English and received an IQ
score below 70, which indicates that he is mentally retarded.
In a brief filed last year, prosecutors said Rivera received prior IQ
scores of 80, 92 and 85.
Rivera appeared in court dressed in street clothes, but handcuffed and
shackled and flanked by 2 guards.
He did not use the services of an interpreter to listen to the
proceedings.
A woman who only identified herself as Riveras sister said she and her
sister came to court to support him and let him know he was not alone.
"We still love him," she said in Spanish. "He's our brother."
(source: The Brownsville Herald)
