August 28
TEXAS----impending execution
Execution nears amid queries----Attorneys say new evidence casts doubt on
Texas woman's guilt
The state of Texas is preparing to execute a black woman for the first
time since the Civil War amid last-minute assertions by defense lawyers
that new evidence suggests the woman was wrongly convicted.
Frances Newton, 40, has spent nearly 17 years on death row for the 1987
gunshot murders of her husband and 2 young children--a crime that
prosecutors in Houston said Newton committed to cash in on a $100,000
insurance policy.
Her execution by chemical injection is scheduled for Sept. 14.
But defense attorneys say a statement by the prosecutor bolsters their
claim that a gun police tied to Newton may not have been the murder
weapon.
Newton was convicted largely on the basis of ballistics tests that matched
a gun the police said she had hidden to slugs found in the victims'
bodies.
Her execution was scheduled for last year, but in December, Gov. Rick
Perry, in a rare move, granted Newton a stay for additional forensic
testing of the ballistics evidence and on a skirt Newton was wearing the
day of the murders.
Authorities had said they found gunshot residue on the skirt, but it could
not be retested because it had been contaminated while in police custody.
The ballistics tests again matched the gun to the murders.
But questions were raised after an interview prosecutor Roe Wilson,
assistant district attorney in Harris County, gave to a Dutch television
reporter. In the interview, Wilson said a second gun was found in the
apartment with the bodies--a statement she has since said was a
misstatement.
Wilson says now she intended to say "ammunition," not gun.
Lawyer David Dow of the University of Houston Law Center said in a
clemency petition filed this week that Wilson's mention of a 2nd gun
raises the possibility that authorities withheld evidence and that the gun
hidden by Newton was not connected to the murders.
"We do not know whether the police mixed up the 2 guns at all," the
petition states, "or, if they did, whether they did so intentionally or
maliciously."
Earlier this week, the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals rejected Newton's
latest challenge to her conviction and death sentence. In a response to
Newton's appeal, Wilson apologized for the "mistaken statement. . . . The
mistake was not intentional."
In an interview, Dow called Wilson's explanation of the interview
"absurd." He said: "She says gun 4 different times and the context is
clearly gun."
Moreover, Dow said the doubts that prompted the Texas Board of Pardons and
Paroles to recommend the stay of execution had only grown stronger in the
last year, particularly in light of a scandal at the police crime lab in
Houston, where evidence in scores of cases was mishandled.
Newton has said since her arrest that she is innocent.
And Dow said Newton might have been acquitted, and certainly could have
avoided a death sentence, had she been represented by a competent lawyer.
Her trial lawyer was once of Houston's most notorious.
In the clemency request, Dow acknowledges, "We cannot prove that Frances
Newton did not murder her husband, Adrian, and her two small children,
Alton and Farrah." But, he adds, "We can prove that, had Newton been
represented at trial by competent counsel, no reasonable juror could have
voted to convict her."
Newton contends she had taken a gun from the apartment and stashed it in
an abandoned home because her husband, who was a small-time drug dealer,
told her he was expecting trouble. In the clemency petition, Dow contends
that the insurance agent now says Newton came to her seeking car
insurance, not life insurance, and that Newton took out life insurance at
her urging.
The petition also states that a family member of Newton's now says that
when he was in jail in 1987 and 1988, a cellmate bragged of committing the
murders to collect on a drug debt.
Although police found a blood trail through the apartment, no blood was
found on Newton or on any of her clothes. Dow also said a timeline of the
night of the killings showed that, at best, Newton had only 20 minutes to
commit the murders, remove all traces of gunpowder from her hands, remove
blood from herself, her clothes and the gun, and drive away while leaving
no traces of evidence in her car. He also said she passed a lie-detector
test administered by police shortly after the murders.
(source: Chicago Tribune)
**********************
Advocates race against time----Volunteer group that wants to save death
row inmate Frances Newton cranks up efforts
The approach of Frances Newton's scheduled Sept. 14 execution has sparked
interest from a variety of sources.
Those who want to save her life have 2 1/2 weeks left.
"We're under a time deadline," local activist Gloria Rubac acknowledged
this week. "With Shaka Sankofa (Gary Graham, executed in 2000 after an
intense, high-profile campaign to spare his life) we worked for years and
years. We're contacting people who can help. Whether we get them or not,
we are going to proceed.
"We're doing stuff as fast as we can."
Newton, 40, faces lethal injection Sept. 14 for the murders in 1987 of her
husband and two children. As her attorneys press her case to appeals
judges and the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles, a volunteer group known
as the Committee to Free Frances Newton is anxiously trying to get a
high-profile person, such as actor Danny Glover, social activist Bianca
Jagger or the Rev. Jesse Jackson, to lend their name to the movement.
Rubac said the committee didn't start working on the case until late last
summer, when Newton's family approached members of the local anti-death
penalty movement. At the time, Newton faced a December execution date.
Gov. Rick Perry eventually granted her a short reprieve to have some
evidence retested.
Public displays
As the legal efforts continue, the volunteers are taking the case to the
court of public opinion. They held a protest Monday in downtown Houston
and plan to march in Austin today. Collectively, nearly 4,000 letters,
faxes and e-mails, overwhelmingly opposed to the execution, have already
landed in the governor's office.
But unlike some previous high-profile Texas cases - from Graham to
Clarence Brandley, who was freed from death row in 1990, to the media
frenzy surrounding Karla Faye Tucker's execution in 1998 - the Newton saga
has yet to capture much public attention.
"I don't know what it is, but this case doesn't appear to be attracting
the kind of passion," said Texas Southern University political scientist
Sanders Anderson. "In the case of Clarence Brandley, there were people
wearing T-shirts to junior high school saying 'Don't Let a Good Man Die.'
The (Newton) effort seems to be coming late and is smaller."
Newton was convicted of capital murder in the April 1987 slayings of her
husband, Adrian Newton, 23, and their children, Alton, 7, and Farrah, 21
months. Prosecutors argued money was a motive, showing that Newton had
purchased life insurance policies for herself, her husband and children
just 3 weeks before the killings.
Newton's defense centered on her husband's drug-dealing, suggesting he and
the children were killed over a drug debt.
Short notice
The Rev. Michael P. Williams was approached just a few months ago. He got
a note shortly before service one Sunday morning at Joy Tabernacle from
supporters wanting a chance to tell the congregation about the case.
Williams had never met Jewel Nelms, Newton's mother, or anyone else
affiliated with efforts to stop the approaching execution. In the privacy
of his study, he was persuaded to let the advocates address the
congregation and leave their literature.
"Who wouldn't hear a mother's plea? I think people were deeply moved by
the mother's appeal and sense that her daughter had not received justice,"
said Williams, who recalled that a large number of parishioners raised
their hands to get more information about the case. "There was a sense
that she deserved another trial."
Public demonstrations, especially when an inmate proclaims innocence, are
common in the anti-death penalty movement. In the case of Brandley, who
spent almost a decade on death row, they proved to be helpful. But the
marches, rallies and Hollywood celebrities weren't enough to save Graham a
decade later.
Modern technology
What the Newton activists lack in time, or profile, they are making up for
by using technology unavailable during those earlier efforts.
Homemade signs, massive phone lists and bullhorns were once the hallmarks
of their demonstrations. Today, Internet users can visit
www.freefrances.org to find flattering pictures of Newton, future public
events and information on how to donate money.
At Monday's midmorning vigil outside the Harris County Criminal Justice
Center, volunteers handed out color postcards addressed to the governor's
office. They also are promoting a DVD about the case that can be
purchased.
Activist Njeri Shakur recalled the campaign to save Graham.
Attracts newcomers
"All we had was our voices, and we were learning the fax machine. We were
relying on phone trees. It was a lot of footwork," she said. "Now, with a
simple e-mail, the message can be picked up and sent from country to
country. We are more sophisticated."
The movement also has attracted newcomers such as Nadine Morandi, whose
demonstration experience had been limited to a few war protests. Now, she
has handed out postcards at Miller Outdoor Theatre, and she plans to
attend the Austin rally today.
"We have so little time, we have to give it all the time we have," she
said. "It's important to let her know that people care about her."
"I'm a firm believer in the power of public opinion," said Massoud Nayeri,
another newcomer to the anti-death penalty movement. "It's like Cindy
Sheehan (of the ongoing anti-war protest in Crawford). She's speaking from
the heart for all mothers. We're doing the same for Frances."
(source: Houston Chronicle)
***************************
New death sentence----Massacre defendant gets death; Medrano supplied
weapons to killers
Flanked by defense attorneys and Hidalgo County sheriffs deputies, Rodolfo
"Kreeper" Medrano stood motionless when it was announced he would be
sentenced to death.
After more than 16 hours and 2 full days of deliberation, jurors decided
Saturday there was sufficient evidence to condemn the 26-year-old former
Tri-City Bomber to the maximum penalty.
However, in considering Medranos punishment prosecutors asked jurors to
answer three questions based on the evidence produced in trial. They had
to consider the probability of Medrano posing a continual threat to
society, if he anticipated that human life would be taken by his actions
and if there were any mitigating circumstances to warrant a life in prison
sentence instead of the death penalty.
Medrano, in hand and leg irons, and wearing a crisp blue button down and
khaki pants, looked over to family and friends, who sat quietly inside the
332nd courtroom and smiled as he was escorted out. Medranos supporters,
who stayed for every hour of deliberation, obeyed District Judge Mario
Ramirezs request to refrain from any emotional outburst once the sentence
was announced.
"I can certainly understand how the jury arrived at their verdict of
guilty, however, if there was a candidate that deserved a lesser sentence
of life in prison it would be Medrano," said lead defense attorney Hector
Villarreal, outside of the courtroom. "I feel the jury did their job and
certainly took a lot into consideration and they worked hard at it and Im
sure it was much more emotional to them. I do this for a living and it
still hurt me."
A jury found Medrano guilty of capital murder Thursday for providing lower
ranking Tri-City Bomber gang members SKS and AK-47 assault weapons used to
slay six men on Monte Cristo Road in Edinburg on Jan. 5, 2003. Medrano,
who ranked as a sergeant in the gang and was in charge of keeping the
gangs money and weapons, is the third of 13 indicted in the murders to be
convicted and sentenced to death.
Testimony revealed Medrano lent his weapons to fellow gang members so that
they could steal a large amount of marijuana thought to be hidden at one
of the two homes on Monte Cristo Road. Medrano told police he did not know
the men would be killed until after the murders occurred. He told police
he was home watching movies with his wife the night of the murders.
Police found the six men shot several times in and outside 2 small homes.
The victims were half brothers Juan Delgado Jr., 32, and Juan Delgado III,
20; Jimmy Edward Almendariz, 22; brothers Jerry Eugene Hidalgo, 24, and
Ray Hidalgo, 30; and Ruben Rolando Castillo, 32.
Though prosecutors acknowledge Medrano was not present when the shootings
occurred, he was tried under Texass law of parties, which says a person is
criminally responsible for a crime committed by another if the person aids
or conspires with another to commit a felony.
Hidalgo County Assistant District Attorneys Cregg Thompson and Judith
Cantu argued Medrano could have reasonably anticipated his fellow gang
members would commit murder, because in his conspiracy to rob marijuana,
he lent high-powered assault weapons to help them carry out the offense.
The law of parties allowed jurors to give the death penalty if they
believe the defendant could have anticipated murder.
Cantu told jurors that Medrano had a prior criminal record, having been
convicted of theft, assault and possession of a controlled substance in
1997 and 1998.
He was also indicted with capital murder for the 2002 murders of 4 women
in Donna. Jurors heard from Hidalgo County Sheriff Investigator Juan
Sifuentes, who testified that he interviewed Medrano in relation to the
Donna case, where a jailed gang member ordered a hit on a woman who was to
testify against him. However, gang members killed the wrong women.
Investigators recovered several boxes of weapons owned by Medrano,
Sifuentes said.
Medrano told Sifuentes that he placed weapons throughout the Rio Grande
for "easy access" and that gang members used two of his weapons to kill
the women.
Previously, Medrano said he did not know about the planned hit, or that
his weapons were to be used, until after the shootings.
4 months later, Medrano gave his weapons to the same gang members to rob
marijuana from the Edinburg home, knowing that those gang members had used
his weapons to kill before. Therefore, Medrano could have reasonably
anticipated the loss of human life, Cantu said
"He knew his weapons were being used when he places the weapons in the
hands in his soldiers," she said.
Villarreal argued that Medrano changed since his arrest and had no
disciplinary problems during the 2 1/2 years he spent in the Hidalgo
County Jail.
Sheriffs Department Officer Juan Parra, a rehab counselor and aspiring
minister, testified that Medrano studied correspondence bible courses,
asked to be baptized in prison, and talked about his faith with other
prisoners. Medrano had no record of discipline and did not pose a future
threat, he said.
"My opinion is I think he would be productive in society. I dont see him
as a future danger," he said. "I heard other inmates tell me he has talked
to them and that theyve gotten a lot of good advice. Hes helped them out."
Parra and other pastors who ministered to him in jail said Medrano
appeared very sincere in his faith.
2 other men are already on death row in connection with the Edinburg
murders; Juan Raul Navarro Ramirez, 20, who police said participated in
the raid - and Humberto "Gallo" Garza, 31, the gang's captain who planned
the robbery and drove the men to the crime scene. Another man, Robert
"Bones" Gene Garza, 22, was indicted in the Edinburg murders and is also
on death row for the Donna shootings.
Jeffrey "Dragon" Juarez, 28, is the next man scheduled for trial, also in
the 332nd courtroom, and prosecutors have said he is the last case in
which they will seek the death penalty concerning the Edinburg killings.
In addition to Juarez, 5 others are awaiting separate trials in Hidalgo
County Jail and police are still looking for two others involved in the
case who are thought to be in Mexico: Ricardo "Rica" Cabello Martinez and
Juan "Perro" Nuez.
With trials involving the death penalty, defendants are automatically
given the right to appeal the jurors decision.
"Everything takes time and it (the death sentence) does not mean it's over
with," Villarreal said. "There will be little steps and a lot of them."
Villarreal says the appeal process could take up to 20 years.
In the meantime, Medrano will be transferred to a prison facility in
Huntsville and placed on death row.
(source: The Monitor)
**********************
For detectives, the job's murder----Staggering caseloads, language
barriers and long hours are tough on homicide unit
A smudge of lipstick. Fingernail clippings. A ghostly image on a video
surveillance tape.
Families of murder victims, prosecutors and jurors all expect Dallas
homicide detectives to use such clues to solve crimes.
But on the fifth floor of the Jack Evans Police Headquarters, where
detectives struggle to beat back one of the highest homicide rates in the
country, the cases seem like a daily avalanche.
Detectives face language barriers. They work long hours, and family
relations suffer. There are never enough of them. A Dallas Morning News
analysis shows that Dallas homicide detectives work up to 5 times as many
cases as in some comparable cities.
Despite these hardships, Dallas solves homicides at a rate consistently
above the national average. The price is high. 3 men quit their coveted
homicide detective jobs this year because of burnout.
And the numbingly complex unsolved cases continue to mount:
- A male stripper who dances with his pet python is found shot dead
outside his home. Someone, possibly a jealous husband, had followed him
there.
- A mother of 3 is found floating in a lake, strangled. The case may hinge
on a $500,000 life insurance policy.
- A 19-year-old man and his buddy are found dead in a wooded area, their
bodies on fire. The grisly execution has the hallmarks of the feared
Mexican Zeta drug enforcers.
Can 1 detective handle 11 cases?
2 years ago, Charles Sherek reached a point in his career that many police
officers want and few achieve: He became a homicide detective.
He knew it would be tough, but found that in Dallas, the work can be
unforgiving.
"This is the hardest job I've ever had," the 40-year-old father of two
young children said days before he returned to patrol work.
For detectives, the job's murder
4 cases growing cold
"We're supposedly the ultimate among detectives, and we don't get the
resources we deserve," he said. "We're overworked and can't sleep. You
come to a point where you have to make a decision about what's important
in your life."
Dallas homicide detectives are laboring under a back-breaking pile of
cases - up to 5 times more new cases each year than detectives in some
comparable cities, an analysis by The Dallas Morning News shows.
Dallas had 244 murders last year, and each detective took on an average of
11 new cases. This differs sharply from Houston and New Orleans, which had
more murders last year, but whose much larger staffs took on only 4 and 6
new cases respectively.
Experts say the standard is 6.
"There's no way in hell that a detective can handle 11 new cases a year,"
said Vernon Geberth, author of Practical Homicide Investigation: Tactics,
Procedures and Forensic Techniques. "That's unacceptable by any stretch of
the imagination."
Murder is only part of the job. Last year, homicide detectives
investigated 1,473 cases, including what turned out to be natural or
unexplained deaths and suicides. Most of these cases did not require a
detective at the scene, but 533 did.
Detectives also carry over unsolved cases from past years - some veterans
have dozens.
"It's not a good job for a family man," said Senior Cpl. Sherek, who took
on 17 new cases his last full year in the unit. "You might be at a family
reunion and the pager goes off. You have to be willing to get moving."
And not just for crime scenes. Detectives must respond when they're needed
to interview a newly found suspect or witness.
"How do you tell a mom whose child has been murdered you don't have time
to do something?" said Cpl. Sherek.
Despite the workload, detectives posted a 65 % clearance (or solve) rate
in 2003, higher than the FBI's latest complete national average of 62 %.
Through July this year, Dallas has solved about 71 % of its cases.
That didn't come without a price. This year, Cpl. Sherek was 1 of 3 men
who gave up their coveted slots. One took a robbery assignment after being
hospitalized with chest pains.
"If we are abusing our officers, then we have to address that," said
Dallas Police Chief David Kunkle, who wants to cut murdersby 20 percent
this year. That would bring relief to detectives, but Chief Kunkle says he
struggles with how to balance the homicide unit's needs with the needs of
the rest of an understaffed department.
New demands
It's not uncommon for homicide detectives to work cases for up to 36 hours
straight, particularly when there are multiple bodies and multilingual
crime scenes.
Detectives must overcome witnesses who are skeptical, resentful or just
plain scared of the cops. Witnesses in drug and gang killings almost never
want to talk.
Mr. Geberth, a retired New York City homicide supervisor whose book is a
standard text for investigators, said advances in evidence collection have
created mountains more work for today's detectives.
Prosecutors know that cases are made or broken by advances such as DNA
testing. Jurors live a world where unrealistic TV shows make police work
look like magic.
"2 decades ago, people weren't aware of forensic evidence," Mr. Geberth
said. "Now they want a whole different level of investigation. CSI finds
prints on water. Perception is reality."
With new cases constantly rolling in, current and former detectives say,
older cases become less and less likely to be solved.
"It just sits there," said a former homicide detective. "You catch it when
you can. And the families call and want to know what's going on. To them,
theirs is the most important case. And it should be."
Media attention and family pressure sometimes spurs creative ways to keep
a case active.
Relatives of Doris Ojeda, the member of a restaurant family gunned down
last year as she and her husband walked near their northwest Dallas home,
have been vocal about the lack of progress in catching her killer.
After the family demanded that detectives broaden their focus beyond her
husband, the case was moved to the special investigations unit. That unit
was formed to investigate police shootings, but recently was tapped to
handle high-profile and cold cases.
"I wanted more time spent on it," said Lt. Mike Scoggins, who oversees the
homicide unit. "I could have left it with the [original detective] and had
him work more on it, but that would have shifted too much work to the
other detectives."
Dallas detectives have a long history of juggling high caseloads. When the
city had 500 murders in 1991, 22 detectives averaged 23 new cases that
year.
The crack cocaine explosion in the late '80s and early '90s led to better
staffing - by 1993, 13 detectives were added, bringing the total to 35.
They averaged 9 new cases each that year.
But as crime fell in the 1990s, the resource-strapped department poached
the ranks of all investigative units, including homicide.
Dallas had 22 detectives at the beginning of 2005. After filling vacancies
and adding 2 positions, there are now 26.
Cities larger and smaller than Dallas seem to be doing a better job of
providing staff to meet caseload.
With about the same population as Dallas, San Diego has nearly the same
number of homicide detectives at 24. But they investigate about 1/4 of the
number of homicides - 62 in 2004.
Instead of about a dozen, each San Diego detective on average has 3 new
cases a year.
Dallas Police Assistant Chief Ron Waldrop, commander over all specialized
criminal investigations, cautions against simple comparisons between
cities.
"It's about the dynamics in a city," he said. "How willing is the
population to cooperate with detectives, is there a language barrier, what
is the number of drug killings? ... You have to ask, have all the
appropriate resources been available to detectives?"
Too often, that answer is no.
The homicide unit's 18 unmarked cars are mostly clunkers. Police records
show that they are among those with the highest mileage in the department.
Cars are often in the repair shop or in constant use, so some detectives
resort to driving "pound puppies" - impounded cars belonging to members of
the public.
"If you have unreliable vehicles, going into some of the neighborhoods our
detectives have to go to, that's a concern," said Deputy Chief Alfredo
Saldana of the crimes against persons division.
Only the 2 detectives on call at night get take-home cars.
Detectives say they must scrounge for tape recorders.
Investigators were only recently told that their cell phone bills would be
paid - after a foundation pledged $15 million to bolster police resources.
In San Diego, detectives all have take-home cars, access to city-paid
cellphones, and far fewer complaints about resources.
"It's the Cadillac of homicide teams," said Lt. Kevin Rooney. "It's rare
that a case doesn't get the full complement. We're pretty lucky."
The payoff? Last year, San Diego detectives cleared 90 % of their cases.
Making changes
Until help arrives, Dallas homicide commanders have tweaked the unit's
practices to comply with a department-wide call for more accountability.
Changes include:
- Cracking down on paperwork. Detectives now constantly keep bulging case
files up to date so that any detective can follow a tip.
- Expanding the Hispanic Homicide Response Team. Formed last year, the
team's members are available at all hours to translate.
- Requiring detectives to share intelligence and database resources with
other units - such as robbery and narcotics.
- Relying on the expertise of two former narcotics investigators recently
reassigned to homicide to help tackle Dallas' huge load of drug-related
homicides.
But detectives are really pinning their hopes on getting more help.
Homicide supervisors have asked for four new detectives.
"If you have more homicides, you should have more homicide detectives,"
said Chief Kunkle.
HOW DALLAS STACKS UP
Among these cities, detectives in the Dallas Police Department have the
highest caseloads but maintain a respectable clearance rate for homicides.
The national average for clearing homicide cases is 62 %.
City/police dept. Population Homicides % Cleared Detectives Caseloads*
Dallas 1,208,318 244 61 22 11
Phoenix 1,388,416 208 43 27 8
Atlanta 423,019 112 71 18 6
New Orleans 469,032 265 65 45 6
Houston 2,009,690 275 59 65 4
San Antonio 1,214,725 95 63 25 4
San Diego 1,266,753 62 90 24 3
San Jose 898,349 25 96 12 2
Austin 672,011 26 81 12 2
DEFINING CASELOAD
The national standard for determining a homicide detective's caseload is
not based on the actual number of cases the detective has at one time.
Instead, it is based on the number of new cases received in one year.
Here's why:
In most cities, a detective keeps cases for as long as his time in the
homicide unit might last. So an officer who becomes a homicide detective
in 1985 might be working several dozen cases that remain unsolved year
after year. On the other hand, an officer new to the unit might have only
a handful of cases unsolved at the end of his 1st year.
In some cities, such as New Orleans, cases that are more than a year old
automatically go to a cold cases unit. There are, for example, 6
detectives in New Orleans actively pursuing 168 cold cases.
In Dallas, detectives keep their own cases unless commanders find some
special reason to move them to the special investigations unit - such as
the high-profile homicides of Doris Ojeda and Oscar Sanchez. This unit
handles Dallas cold cases.
Homicide detectives also handle cases that turn out not to be murders.
These include suicides, natural deaths, justifiable homicides and police
shootings - all of which, in the beginning, may look suspicious.
* Caseloads are based on 2004 numbers unless otherwise noted. The 62 %
national average for clearing cases is based on 2003 data, the latest
available from the FBI. Other numbers are from individual police
departments. Where possible, detectives who handle cold cases are not
included in the national comparisons. Clearance rates are calculated using
the national standard: The total number of new homicides in a year is
divided by the number of solved cases. Some of the solved cases, however,
can be from prior years.
(sources: Dallas Morning News research by staff writer Jason Trahan;
police departments; FBI's Uniform Crime Reports)
********************************************
More than 200 people are murdered each year in Dallas. Loved ones are gone
forever. Families want answers. Here are a handful of recent cases Dallas
homicide detectives say they are having a tough time cracking. They asked
Staff Writer Jason Trahan to share the details in case someone can help.
Tony Conway's job made men jealous. He may have done it too well. Mr.
Conway, 32, was gunned down just after 2:30 a.m. as he was arriving at his
east Oak Cliff home after a night working at Club Suavemente. He was a
stripper at the raucous, rough-and-tumble joint on West Mockingbird Lane
where several people have been killed after arguments in the parking lot.
Mr. Conway billed himself as "Gigolo," a buff ladies man who for the last
decade wowed crowds of tipsy women at birthday, bachelorette and divorce
parties.
4 cases growing cold
His partner and chief gimmick was a 10-foot Burmese python named
"Strangler," which featured prominently in his advertisements. "Baby, you
can't claim me, tame me or change me - just love me," one pamphlet
declared.
It wasn't just a slogan. Before he died on May 9, 2004, he fathered five
children - all sons - by different women. Shortly after his funeral,
another young mother came forward, another son in tow.
"He wasn't a one-woman man," said Christine Melton, his 74-year-old
grandmother. She and his mother once attended one of his strip shows.
"When he came out, those women were just a-jumping and going," she said,
laughing. "He didn't do the whole thing for us. I told him, 'I know you do
more than this.' ... I know he let his hair down when we left."
Stripping was not his first career choice, but it was one he embraced when
child support payments begin piling up, his family said. He had been a
cook and hairstylist, and once owned a dance club for teens.
"Everything he touched, it blossomed," said Jean Alexander, his mother.
Mr. Conway had just pulled up in front of his house and was talking to a
woman he knew in another car when a GMC Yukon appeared with two men
inside. A man got out and told the woman to leave, pulling out a gun. She
drove up the street and called 911, saying Mr. Conway was about to be
robbed.
Mr. Conway seemed to know the men and turned his back to get his python
out of the trunk of his Lexus. He had just popped the latch when shots
rang out. The men fled in the SUV.
His family says $900 in cash and jewelry was taken, but police don't
believe robbery was the motive. Investigators say Mr. Conway's occupation
made him unpopular with certain people, namely husbands and boyfriends of
women for whom he performed.
"He appears to have been an innocent victim," said Sgt. Gary Kirkpatrick,
adding that Mr. Conway had no known drug or criminal ties. "He was a
social person."
"He had the jealousy problem from the time he was young," said Mr.
Conway's mother. "In high school, he drew people because his magnetism was
so strong. He was so sweet."
She said that even though it has been more than a year since his death,
her grief has not waned.
"I'm still numb," she said. "It's like I wake up every day with a knotted
stomach. He's steady on my mind, who did it and why."
Aside from the grandchildren, Mrs. Alexander and her family are also left
with another reminder of Tony.
"He's gotten bigger since Tony got killed," she said, glancing at a photo
of the huge snake coiled in an oversized terrarium.
"I just wish he could talk."
MATTHEW GEISSLER and BRANDON GALLEGOS
About a month before his body was found burned beyond recognition in his
Chevrolet Tahoe in a remote section of Dallas, Laredo teenager Matthew
Geissler finally told his father that he was in trouble.
The 19-year-old admitted what his family suspected for some time - he had
been running drugs.
"I told him that these people would kill him," said his father, Richard
Geissler of Laredo. "He said he was 18 and 'You can't tell me what to do.'
"
The 60-year-old knows the perils of the drug trade: He says he was
convicted on federal charges for dealing marijuana years ago.
"Sometimes I think I should have turned him in," said Mr. Geissler. "He'd
be in jail, but at least he'd be alive. That's part of my guilt."
Despite the leads his father supplied, Dallas police have not been able to
figure out who was behind the deaths of Mr. Geissler and his best friend,
Brandon Gallegos, also 19.
The men were found shot to death Sept. 28, 2004, on Sargent Road in
Dallas' Cadillac Heights area. Their bodies were so badly burned that it
took about a month for DNA tests to confirm their identities.
Mr. Geissler feels sure that a drug deal went bad.
"In the hippy dippy days, you lost a load and they'd give you another,"
said Mr. Geissler. "These days, it's the thug life. You lose a nickel and
you're history."
Mr. Geissler had been a talented freestyle rapper and spraypaint artist.
But after he dropped out of high school in 2003, he ended up in Dallas.
His clothes got flashy, he began to travel and his friends became fast.
"I got a call from him in New York once," said his sister Rebecca. "He got
into the game. It was like he was walking on water. He got in with the
wrong people. He saw the good life that it could bring."
Days before the slayings, Mr. Gallegos, a father who played football for a
semi-pro team in Laredo with hopes of playing college ball in Mexico, took
a bus to Dallas to join Mr. Geissler on his birthday, Sept. 24.
"He felt bad because his friend was going to be alone," said Brandon's
mother, Ruth Gallegos. She said she had no idea Mr. Geissler was a drug
dealer.
"I didn't know if Brandon knew, but he's the type to think, 'This person
is my friend,' " she said. "I didn't think he would take chances, with the
second child on the way."
Ms. Gallegos said she stayed in constant contact with her son throughout
his Dallas stay. They last spoke on the phone about 2 hours before the
bodies were found.
"He said 'We're loading up our stuff and we're coming home,'" Ms. Gallegos
said. "I laid down to take a nap, and woke up at 5 p.m. I burned up those
cellphones all night. At 3:20 a.m., the police knocked on my door. I
knew."
One theory is that the Zetas, a group begun by men who were originally
Mexican military commandos and some of whom are now working for drug
traffickers, may have played a role in the deaths because of the
execution-style shootings and the fire. No direct evidence exists, police
said.
Rebecca Geissler said what is nearly as bad as not knowing who killed her
brother is the fact that they were on bad terms when he died.
"I was going to call him and wish him a happy birthday, but I thought I'd
talk to him when he came down here," she said. "Now I'll never be able to
do that."
PIETRO EUSTACHIO and ARTURO MEZA
Pietro Eustachio points to a blank space on a wall of clippings and old
photos in the foyer of his family restaurant. A picture of his only son
used to hang there.
"Everybody loved my son," he said. "I had to take it down. I started
crying every time I saw it."
Only months earlier, Mr. Eustachio, 67, had planned to turn over his
locally famous Pietro's Italian Restaurant to 30-year-old Pete Jr. But
before that happened, police one afternoon received a garbled 911 call
from a cellphone owned by Pete. After a two-hour delay because of
difficulty tracking the signal, police found him dead at his Far East
Dallas house.
Also killed was his roommate, Arturo Meza, 29, a former employee at
Pietro's. One man had cuts on his fingers from trying to fight off his
attackers. Both men had been stabbed in the neck.
6 months after the Feb. 24 attacks, investigators have more questions than
answers.
Most of the unknowns swirl around Mr. Meza, who police and acquaintances
believe was targeted because of drug connections. Investigators found a
small amount of methamphetamine in the house in the 8400 block of Capriola
Lane. Mr. Meza was arrested on drug charges and for unlawfully carrying a
weapon in 1995.
Police also say there was no forced entry, indicating someone allowed the
attackers inside. Both bodies were in Mr. Meza's upstairs room.
"Whatever the roommate did caused the people to come over," said Sgt. Ross
Salverino.
Mr. Meza's family said police are flat wrong about him being targeted.
"Arturo didn't have to sell drugs because he had a good job," said his
sister Lilia Garcia. She said he installed car stereos and window tinting
for a living. "They were both good people. We don't know why they were
after them."
Mr. Eustachio said he'd been pressing his son to kick Mr. Meza out for
years because of his shady associations. "He didn't want to put him in the
street," Mr. Eustachio said.
Mr. Meza and Pete Jr. were best friends from grade school. In 2003, Mr.
Meza moved in after Pete Jr.'s girlfriend left with their son. Lorena
Hernandez said Pete Jr., her former boyfriend, knew about his friend's
connections. "The word was around," she said.
Witnesses typically aren't forthcoming in drug-related killings, Sgt.
Salverino said. "There are enough people around who probably know
something, but it's been difficult getting any information," he said.
Ms. Hernandez said that with no one in custody, she is at a loss about how
to tell her son, Pietro Eustachio III - now 4 - the truth about his
father's death.
"I tell him his dad is at work," the mother said, exasperation in her
voice. "If someone were arrested, it would be easier. We would know who to
blame, you know?"
JESSICA QUACH
Police believe that a half-million-dollar life insurance policy could be
the key to the death of a 32-year-old Cambodian mother slain last summer.
A fisherman spotted the body of Jessica Quach in Lake Ray Hubbard in
Rowlett the morning of July 5, 2004. She had been strangled.
When detectives questioned her husband, Ty Quach, at the couple's Far
North Dallas apartment, he reported last seeing her the night before.
About 8:30 p.m., he and his wife, their three children and a relative's
boyfriend struck out for Garland to see a Fourth of July fireworks
display.
But at the last minute, Mr. Quach told detectives, his wife asked to be
dropped off at a convenience store near their apartment in the 12300 block
of Plano Road, saying she wanted to hang out with friends.
Mr. Quach said he obliged, but halfway to Garland, he grew suspicious. He
later told Dallas police - who have jurisdiction over crimes occurring on
Lake Ray Hubbard - that he went back to the store to search for Mrs.
Quach. Detective Tim Harshbarger said Mr. Quach told him he suspected she
was seeing someone.
But when investigators seized the store's surveillance tape, they could
find no one searching for the woman.
When Mr. Quach - who has a criminal record - realized police suspected
him, he quit talking to detectives and hired an attorney.
He later sued his insurance company after it refused to pay out a $500,000
policy on his wife. That company argues in court documents that Mr. Quach
is a suspect and cannot yet receive the money.
His attorney, Tom Pappas, said police only suspect Mr. Quach because he
has a criminal history.
"I didn't get any hint from anyone in the family that they didn't have a
good relationship," he said. "It's hard to cooperate with detectives who
won't look at anyone else."
According to an FBI affidavit, Mr. Quach was accused of trying to hire a
hit man in 1999 to kill a man and his girlfriend in Dallas County. The
documents allege that Mr. Quach said he was asked by people in New York to
arrange the killings as revenge for the targets' cooperation with law
enforcement authorities in investigating drug cases.
He told the informant that the New York contacts wanted the hits to look
like a home invasion, the document says. "Once they were bound, they were
to have their throats cut," the affidavit says Mr. Quach told an
informant.
He received 4 years' probation and completed it in February.
Mr. Pappas said that despite Mr. Quach's record, police are looking at the
wrong man. Instead, he said, police should focus on a man whom Mrs. Quach
accused of rape a month before she died.
Mrs. Quach accused a business associate of sexually assaulting her. The
man also knew her husband, who owed him a large debt, police said. She
later asked that detectives drop the matter.
GOT A TIP?
Phone the Dallas police homicide unit at 214-671-3661.
Call Dallas Crime Stoppers at 214-373-TIPS. It could earn you a $1,000
reward
(source for both: Dallas Morning News)
*****************************
DA is staying historical course
District Attorney Susan Reed will make Bexar County history again if she
is re-elected next year.
In 1986, Reed was the 1st woman elected in Bexar County to a criminal
district court bench. In 1998, she became the 1st woman elected as
district attorney in the county.
If voters side with Reed in 2006, she will be the 1st Bexar district
attorney handed a 3rd term in more than 50 years. That may not seem like a
big deal unless you consider the turnover that has marked the county's top
prosecutor job.
Research by former District Attorney and retired District Judge Jim Barlow
shows that other Bexar prosecutors have served multiple terms but none
since the 1940s.
While DAs in other Texas counties routinely rack up lengthy tenures, the
position has changed hands frequently in modern Bexar County.
According to Barlow's research, nobody held the office more than 4 years
in the 1950s. Ted Butler held the post from 1969 to 1977, but he left the
post to accept an appointment to a district judge post. Barlow made the
same jump in 1969 after running the district attorney's office for 6
years.
Then the political troubles for the office began. Bill White was appointed
to replace Butler in 1977, but voters dumped him in his second appearance
on the ballot and elected Sam Millsap in 1982.
Millsap lasted one term, losing to Fred Rodriguez in 1986. Steve Hilbig,
the 1st Republican to hold the position in modern times, ousted Rodriguez
4 years later.
Hilbig was re-elected once, but he opted to seek a judicial post rather
than a third term as district attorney. Hilbig's defeat in that 1998
judicial race demonstrated political weakness that likely would have cost
him the DA position if he had sought another term.
Reed said last week that she "absolutely" intends to seek re-election, and
the Republican prosecutor already has about $150,000 in her campaign
treasury. 4 years ago, Reed drew a Libertarian foe, but no Democrat
challenged her. She netted more than 86 % of the vote.
"We had kind of a string of turmoil here," Reed noted of her predecessors.
But she intends to break the tradition. "I like doing this, so I'm going
to for certain run again," she added.
Reed, the judge of a criminal district court for 12 years before running
for district attorney, has had other opportunities that she is reluctant
to specify, and people frequently ask her about her next step.
"It's as though there is some ladder that you've got to go up," she said.
"I figure I'm at the top where I am here, and I'm so happy doing it."
Reed's tenure has been marked by innovation on several fronts.
Zones targeted with court orders that prohibit gang members from
associating with each other inside boundaries marred by gang activity were
her idea.
And a few years ago, Reed prosecuted the mother of a man who shot his wife
and a police officer. The mother, who knew of her son's violent
tendencies, had informed the man his wife was trying to leave him.
Reed has wielded her office's clout to fight against fraud of the elderly,
and she has beefed up prosecution and investigation of white-collar crime.
Her office also has prosecuted 17 public officials, a perilous task that
has left other district attorneys politically battered and bruised.
In an interview about her job, Reed repeatedly credited her staff and
teamwork for the accomplishments. The DA's office has 155 attorneys and a
staff totaling 350 employees.
Reed has kept partisanship out of her office, a path she signaled when she
hired Democrat Michael Bernard to be her top assistant.
Anything can happen in politics, but at the moment, Reed looks tough to
beat.
(source: San Antonio Express-News)
**********************
Man says he feared for life in Rivas' apartment -- Witness tells of being
robbed at knifepoint
A man who testified Friday in the sentencing phase of Maria Raquel Rivas
said he dove through her apartment window to save his life just two weeks
after James Timothy Haynes was fatally stabbed in the same place.
"I really didn't want to wait around to see what they were going to do,"
said Larry Wright, a witness for the prosecution.
The 26-year-old was one of 26 witnesses who testified in the capital
murder trial's proceedings Friday.
Wright said he picked Rivas up because he was looking for oral sex and she
took him back to her apartment in the 2500 block of West Broadway Street.
He said she left him alone for a minute then returned followed by a man
holding a large kitchen knife.
"She told me to empty my pockets," Wright said, adding they took his
pickup and several other items.
Haynes, 44, was found dead in his vehicle in the 2400 block of West
Broadway. Leonard Ray Haskins, 21, already has been sentenced to life in
prison on capital murder. Prosecutors have said Rivas, who was convicted
on Wednesday, supplied Haskins with the knife that killed Haynes and that
she was a co-conspirator in the crime.
Others who testified for the prosecution included Bernard Styles Jr., who
said Rivas and a man robbed him at knifepoint as he gave them both a ride
in his vehicle in February 2001.
(source: Corpus Christi Caller-Times)
