[Deathpenalty] death penalty news----TEXAS, S.C., FLA., TENN., OHIO

[Rick Halperin]

Sept. 29




TEXAS:

Texas officer who made headlines for his turban and beard killed in traffic 
stop ----Sandeep Singh Dhaliwal was one of the first to wear the traditional 
Sikh articles of faith as part of his uniform



A Texas police officer who made headlines for being one of the first to wear 
traditional articles of faith as part of his uniform was killed during a 
routine traffic stop on Friday

Sandeep Singh Dhaliwal, a sheriff’s deputy in Harris county, which includes 
Houston, died after a suspect appeared to ambush him and shoot him in the back 
of the head.

The alleged shooter, Robert Solis, 47, was arrested and charged with capital 
murder. Although it was not immediately clear what punishment prosecutors would 
seek, Texas is a death penalty state.

“I’m sad to share with you that we’ve lost one of our own,” Harris county 
sheriff Ed Gonzalez said on Twitter. Dhaliwal “was unable to recover from his 
injuries”, he said.

“There are no words to convey our sadness. Please keep his family and our 
agency in your prayers.”

Dhaliwal was shot about 12:45pm on Friday. Footage from a dashboard camera 
showed him having a conversation with the driver, then walking back toward his 
squad car. The driver’s door swung open and he ran up behind Dhaliwal and shot 
him, the Houston Chronicle reported.

Dhaliwal, 42, had worked at the sheriff’s office for 10 years, starting as a 
detention officer in his late 20s. He was promoted to a deputy in 2015. He had 
3 young children and was a practicing Sikh.

Dhaliwal made national headlines when he was granted permission to wear a 
turban and beard as part of his uniform in one of America’s largest sheriff’s 
offices.

“Sandeep was a trailblazer for the Sikh-American community,” Bobby Singh, 
south-east regional director for the Sikh American Legal Defense and Education 
Fund, said on Twitter.

“He served not just the Sikh community here in Houston with honor and dignity, 
but all of his community.”

Houston mayor Sylvester Turner called Dhaliwal “a bold and groundbreaking law 
enforcement officer in the eyes of our county, our state, our nation”. Texas 
senator Ted Cruz said the state was “mourning a hero”.

The turban is a traditional sign of faith for Sikh men, which typically covers 
uncut hair and is worn with a long beard. According to the Sikh Coalition, a 
civil rights group, a turban is “a public commitment to maintaining the values 
and ethics of the tradition, including service, compassion, and honesty”.

In 2012, Washington DC became the 1st major US police force to make explicit 
accommodations for Sikhs to preserve their appearance on duty. An estimated 
500,000 Sikhs live in the US as a whole.

Dhaliwal tried to fit into American culture when he was young by shaving his 
beard and removing his turban, he told India Abroad, an Indian-American news 
weekly. He was once told he could only mop floors because of his poor English, 
the outlet reported.

“I found it very insulting, and decided I will work overtime on my education 
and my English,” Dhaliwal said. He later started a trucking business, according 
to CBS.

Dhaliwal changed careers in his late 20s and took a “huge pay cut” to join the 
sheriff’s department, Gonzalez told India Abroad.

Permission to wear his articles of faith took time to wind through the 
department but was eventually made possible by a formal police department 
policy.

Dhaliwal said the permission to wear his turban and beard “was a very American 
thing to do. You can be a good American and you can practice freely your 
religion.”

According to India Abroad, the same day it was announced Dhaliwal could wear 
his articles of faith, he was given the day off. Instead, Dhaliwal went to 
work, to show his new uniform to his colleagues.

(source: The Guardian)








SOUTH CAROLINA:

After sentencing Tim Jones to death, jurors still shaken, haunted by child 
murders



3 months after one of South Carolina’s most bone-chilling trials — the death 
penalty case of a Lexington County father who killed his 5, young children — 
jurors remain haunted by what they saw and heard.

“I think about it every day,” said a 52-year-old woman with the initials, L.A., 
who served as an alternate juror until being excused near the trial’s end. 
“Many times during the trial, I went in the jurors’ bathroom and just wailed – 
cried my eyes out.”

Jurors have stayed silent since June 13, when they unanimously voted to put Tim 
Jones Jr. to death for the 2014 murders of his children in the family’s Red 
Bank home. They endured some of the most harrowing testimony ever uttered in a 
S.C. courtroom — testimony that left veteran police officers and news 
reporters, seated in the court room, blinking back tears and recoiling in 
horror at the parade of gruesome evidence.

Since then, nine of the 18-member jury panel have spoken to The State Media Co. 
about their life-changing experience. The trial left some traumatized, some 
seeking counseling — and all of them bonded to one another in a way that’s hard 
for outsiders to understand. At least one juror now has a small tattoo 
memorializing the children, jurors said.

They did not want their names used for this article. Some feared retaliation 
from Jones’ allies, while others just wanted to be left alone for what was for 
them a shattering experience. The State has instead used their initials, 
nicknames and juror numbers.

Each was affected differently.

One juror, a University of South Carolina School of Medicine employee, said he 
only thinks about it “on occasion. It has not affected me as it has others.”

But most said the trial’s trauma has stayed with them. An alternate juror who 
is an Air Force veteran said repeated testimony from law enforcement officials 
about “the smell of death” from the Jones children’s decomposing bodies 
triggered flashbacks.

“I smelled death in Bosnia, and since then, I’ve had nightmares about it,” said 
the 50-year-old woman, who participated in unearthing mass war crimes graves in 
Bosnia. The testimony upset her so much, she went to the Dorn VA Medical Center 
for therapy with a counselor, she said.

The trial “brought it back like it was yesterday,” she said.

The jury’s leader, a 39-year-old Lexington County woman referred to as “Madam 
Foreperson” by the judge, was outwardly calm the whole trial.

But, “I got home with my family that loves me and broke down. My husband’s 
like, ’What are you doing? You don’t cry,’” Madam Foreperson said.

‘Secondary trauma’

The idea that jurors’ mental health can suffer by hearing horrific testimony is 
not new to Dawn McQuiston, a psychology professor at Wofford College in 
Spartanburg.

It is called “secondary trauma,” McQuiston said, meaning that people who sit on 
traumatic cases, such as those involving child killings, can need counseling 
themselves. Such stress is akin to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and can 
involve symptoms such as sudden crying, nightmares, anxiety and depression.

“The people typically selected for jurors — they’ve never seen or heard such 
graphic details before. You can only imagine the shock to their system,” 
McQuiston said.

Professional counselors can help traumatized jurors because they are trained to 
clarify issues and offer suggestions about how to deal with psychological 
distress, he said.

South Carolina has no state law mandating counseling services be offered to 
jurors in trials that deal with events like child murders. However, in federal 
courts in South Carolina, counseling can be offered by judges in traumatic 
cases free of charge.

After the jury’s death verdict, state Judge Eugene Griffith spent 40 minutes 
with them in the jury room, listening and thanking them for their service. He 
handed out brochures on where they could find counseling services, drawn up 
with help from Lexington County Sheriff Jay Koon, whose department routinely 
offers counseling to officers who undergo stressful situations.

Team 18

Jurors came to call themselves Team 18 — 12 jurors and six alternates. “Team” 
did not mean they all thought alike — it meant that alternates as well as the 
jurors were enduring a shared awful experience over long days, they said. Not 
until late in the trial, when the first phase finished and they prepared to 
deliberate on Jones’ guilt or innocence, did Judge Griffith tell them who was a 
juror and who was an alternate.

They were a cross-section of Lexington County, ranging in age from their 20s to 
their late 60s and pulled from ordinary walks of life. Most were white. They 
included a roofer, a minister, a University of South Carolina School of 
Medicine employee, a computer expert, three paralegals, office workers, a 
teacher and an Air Force veteran. Many had children; some had grandchildren.

Today, they remain united, supporting each other and keeping in touch through a 
group chat on their cellphones.

None were ready for what they heard.

Day after day, prosecutors aired gruesome evidence about how the children — 
“some of the most beautiful children you will ever see,” said a prosecutor — 
were murdered and how Jones planned to cut up their bodies and dissolve them in 
acid.

Meanwhile, defense lawyers presented days of testimony portraying Jones and his 
family as a stew of malignant dysfunctions, for generations rife with incest, 
madness, suicides, crime, domestic violence, religious fanaticism and alcohol 
and drug abuse. With that background, and his family genes, he was doomed to go 
mad and therefore was not responsible for his actions, defense lawyers said.

“There wasn’t a day when I didn’t drive home and say to myself, ‘I cannot 
believe I’m in the middle of this’,” said one juror, 67. “It was every day.”

Trial repeatedly stopped

Almost every day, trauma halted trial.

One day, a juror began to sob when prosecutors showed the jury photos of black 
garbage bags containing the decomposed bodies of the children, tossed in an 
Alabama woods by Jones.

Another time, the dead children’s mother, Amber Kyzer, erupted in anguished 
shrieks as she testified about the last letter she wrote her daughter.

Still another time, prosecutor Rick Hubbard was showing the jury one of the 
dead children’s favorite dolls, Woody from the movie “Toy Story.” The doll had 
been ripped to shreds by an enraged Jones to torture 6-year-old Nahtahn, 
prosecutors said.

As the doll was passed to the jury, its prerecorded voice, activated by 
still-live batteries, chirped, “Boy, am I glad to see you!”

Jurors flinched. Judge Griffith sent them out.

Jurors later said it was like getting a message from Nahtahn, whom previous 
testimony had described as loving his Woody doll more than anything.

The judge also recessed trial after FBI agent David Mackey played an audio tape 
of Jones describing the step-by-step executions of his children, beginning with 
how he killed Nahtahn first by making him do military-type exercises to the 
point of fatal exhaustion. Then, Jones said he strangled the other four, using 
a belt to kill the youngest two last because their necks were too small. As he 
choked Merah, 8, to death, her last words were, “Daddy, I love you.”

Teachers and a former principal of Saxe Gotha Elementary School, where Nahtahn, 
Eli and Merah attended, testified how Nahtahn was behind academically and was 
so pleased to graduate at the end of the school year. But neither of the 
child’s parents came to his kindergarten graduation.

“It broke all of our hearts. ... I remember going home the day of that 
testimony, and I cried all the way home,” one juror said. “I was so upset 
because that child (Nahtahn) didn’t have anybody because nobody was there. He 
didn’t have anybody.”

Another juror said, “Those teachers were more parents to these kids than the 
people who gave them life.”

Another piece of evidence that broke jurors’ hearts was a video of Jones 
picking up his children from an afterschool program just hours before he 
murdered them.

In that video, Jones’ daughter, Merah, runs to her father and says, “Daddy, are 
you feeling better?”

How they coped

Jurors were under orders not to discuss the trial as it went on. Not with their 
families. Not with each other.

That was frustrating, jurors said. They could not talk about the one thing they 
had in common – the horror unfolding before their eyes.

To relieve the pressure, some jurors during breaks went in the bathroom 
adjoining the jury room and closed the door.

“You could hear them sobbing through the walls,” one juror said. “And after 
some testimony, walking back to the jury room, you’re teared – you’re teared.”

Jurors told each other about their personal lives. They stayed away from 
politics.

“You take a group of strangers, and you put them in a room for 6 weeks, we had 
to share things… . That was one of the ways we got to know each other,” said 
the juror who works at USC School of Medicine.

Jurors passed time during breaks by peering out the fourth-floor courthouse 
jury room windows. They saw little dramas: a man taking off his shirt in the 
parking lot getting ready to fight, traffic going the wrong way down a 1-way 
street and a couple getting married in the courthouse courtyard.

“We cheered when the groom kissed the bride,” said Madam Foreperson. “All 18 of 
us had our hands pressed against the windows when we saw them get married. It 
was like ‘Yay, something nice happened.’ ”

They gave each other nicknames: Sparkles, Blondie, Polka Dot — referring to 
fellow jurors’ hair color and clothing. They dubbed Prosecutor Hubbard “House” 
because his square-jawed looks resembled actor Hugh Laurie, who plays the 
doctor House on TV. They noticed when he wore cowboy boots.

Bestowing nicknames was an emotional survival tactic, said alternate juror, 
L.A. “We took this very seriously. We did not want this thing overturned.”

Madam Foreperson said she found comfort on getting home each night, even though 
she couldn’t talk about the trial. “Therapy for me was going home and hugging 
my kids.”

Looking out the windows was all part of “anything not to talk about the case,” 
one juror said.

Court officials did what they could to ease the burden.

Judge Griffith let the jury go by 5:30 or so each day so some jurors could pick 
up their children. He decided not to hold court on Saturdays, which judges 
sometimes do in long trials. He praised the news media for its accurate 
accounts of the trial.

Lexington County Clerk of Court Lisa Comer made sure the jurors had coffee, 
fruit, soft drinks (one juror liked Coke Zero) and muffins when they arrived 
each morning. A pack of plainclothes SLED agents convoyed the jurors to lunch 
each day to places like Lizard’s Thicket, Hudson’s Smokehouse Barbecue, Cribb’s 
Sandwich Shop and Groucho’s Deli, calling ahead to make sure jurors would have 
a place to eat away from other customers.

“You could see them wearing emotion on their faces,” Comer said. “I could come 
down to my office and talk to my chief deputy about the trial. I could cry. I 
could vent. They couldn’t talk about it.”

Comer also secured a parking area in a garage under the courthouse so they 
could use a private courthouse elevator without worrying about being accosted.

Now and then, jurors would tell themselves, “We’ve got to be strong.”

Once, after Judge Griffith sent them from the courtroom when a juror began 
crying, other jurors told their shaken colleague to “suck it up if you want to 
stay on the jury.” She did.

“The last thing anybody wanted was a mistrial, which would cause a retrial. In 
the end, if we didn’t do it, somebody else was going to do it,” Juror 272 said.

Some jurors were suffering. One because she had to skip regular medical 
treatments to relieve pain. Others worried about finances since they weren’t 
being paid or had to start working weekends.

“There were people on the jury living paycheck to paycheck. Fifteen dollars a 
day (a juror’s daily stipend) doesn’t go very far. Some employers weren’t 
paying them,” said one juror in her 60s, who is a homemaker. “There were single 
parents and young men with families – it was a hardship.”

Despite financial stress and time away from family, jurors said they realized 
it was their duty to serve and they didn’t shirk it. Still, some said it was 
ironic that while the court deems jury duty vitally important, jury pay doesn’t 
begin to compensate for the financial stress some underwent.

One juror remains angry at the family and societal safety nets that failed the 
Jones children.

“Our village should be ashamed of itself,” she said.

This juror, a middle-aged woman, said she remains “outraged” at trial evidence 
showing so many people – teachers, neighbors, Jones’ family, the S.C. 
Department of Social Services – knew the five children were in danger but 
failed to take decisive action that would have saved the children’s lives.

“I still remember their names. Merah was 8, Eli was 7, Nahtahn was 6, Gabriel 
was 2, Abigail – or Elaine – was 1,” said the juror, uttering each name with 
great sadness.

Was a trial necessary?

There didn’t have to be a death penalty trial. A jury didn’t need to be chosen.

Jones’ attorneys had repeatedly filed motions saying Jones would plead guilty 
in return for multiple life-without-parole sentences.

Had there been a guilty plea, there would have been no trial, no jury. Not 
nearly as many details about the crime and Jones would have been made public.

But to 11th Circuit Solicitor Rick Hubbard, allowing Jones to plead guilty 
would have been a travesty. Hubbard, a assistant prosecutor for 23 years who 
was elected chief 11th Circuit solicitor, or chief prosecutor in 2016, has 
participated in numerous murder and death penalty trials.

“If this wasn’t the case for the death penalty, we don’t need a death penalty,” 
Hubbard told The State after the trial. He and his team of prosecutors studied 
the case for 5 years.

“We came to the conclusion, ‘My God, this is just wickedness’.” Hubbard said. 
“Nothing compares with the murder of 5 kids.”

His decision meant jurors would hear every detail. The prosecution would 
present a case for death, and that would be countered by the defense trying to 
convince at least one juror to vote for life. All it would take for Jones to 
receive a life sentence would be for 1 juror to vote no to death.

“You can’t present this case without presenting the horror,” Hubbard said.

“Who do those children have? That’s us. As prosecutors, we represent the state, 
but we also speak on behalf of the victims. The trial was the opportunity to 
let their voices be heard,” Hubbard said.

If Jones had gotten a life sentence, Hubbard said, “as much as I might 
disagree, I would have known that the people in this community heard this case, 
heard it fully, and I can live with what a jury does.

“For me, I could not live with a decision not to seek the death penalty.”

In his last argument to the jury, Hubbard took just 25 minutes. Looking the 
jurors in the eyes, he slowly repeated , “A child should feel safe in his 
father’s arms.”

That line, jurors said, resonated with them.

These days, Hubbard keeps a new Woody doll on a shelf in his office.

“It kind of became the image of the case for us. We knew it all started with 
Nahtahn, and that was his doll, and it meant so much to him. And the doll kind 
of represents all the children,“ Hubbard said. It represents the good part of 
their short lives, ”when they were alive, and when they were happy, and why we 
fought so hard in this case.”

Defense lawyers were deeply affected too. They had spent years learning about 
Jones, his family and trying to craft a strategy to save his life.

“At the end of the day, I feel as though I failed the people who loved those 
children the most,” said defense attorney Boyd Young. “I was unable to provide 
the outcome and closure that the surviving victims (of Jones’ family) 
desperately wanted.”

Key evidence

Jurors had 2 major decisions: Was Jones sane? Did he deserve death? Yes, they 
said to both.

Jurors stressed their decisions were based on the facts of the case and their 
common sense.

They said key evidence included:

-- Testimony from a psychiatrist that Jones knew right from wrong and was not 
delusional when he killed his children. “He made a ... conscious choice to kill 
them,” said Richard Frierson, a court-appointed psychiatry professor at the 
University of South Carolina School of Medicine with 30 years’ experience 
examining criminals’ mental health issues.

-- A phone call, recorded by S.C. prison authorities, during which Jones 
blamed the killings on his ex-wife “We can chalk this up to Amber – if she’d 
been here, this wouldn’t have happened,” Jones is heard saying to his father on 
the phone call, made two months after his 2014 arrest.

“Zero remorse,” said Juror 272, a paralegal in a criminal defense firm.

“He won’t take ownership of his actions,” the juror from USC School of Medicine 
said.

-- Jones’ taped confession to police on how he killed each child.

We paid attention to that,” said one juror, a middle-aged woman. “We played it 
– stop. Played it – stop. We listened to every word he said.” That convinced 
jurors Jones was acting coldly but deliberately.

In an audio recording of a police interview played during the trial of Tim 
Jones contains his confession of killing his 5 children.

Jurors said they considered defense evidence of the extreme dysfunction in 
Jones’ family during his childhood and teen years, including a mentally ill 
mother and several members who committed suicide.

But, said juror 272, “Of all those people, only one had chosen to kill – and 
that was Tim.”

After they reached their decision for death, they said a prayer for the Jones 
family and for all who had been hurt by the violence. After they gave the 
verdict, they left the courthouse, driving out of the underground garage for 
the last time.

Juror 272 arrived home and sat down to watch the news. When a reporter 
announced Jones had gotten the death penalty, he said, “I lost it. My kids 
jumped in my lap and just hugged me.”

The trial has inspired jurors to spend more time with their children, be kinder 
to everyone and avoid anger. “Take time with your kids because there’s a lot of 
darkness in the world. Bring your children up so they don’t grow up to be Tim 
Jones Jr., “ said Juror 272.

They have no second thoughts about giving Jones death.

“It wasn’t hard to do the right thing with Tim Jones. He wasn’t crazy. He was 
evil,” said a middle-aged woman juror.

A 67-year-old juror said before being chosen for the jury, she doubted she 
could cast a death penalty vote.

But she voted for Jones’ death. “I did the right thing,” she said. “Those 
children had no voice but us.”

The USC School of Medicine juror said, “We didn’t give Tim Jones Jr. the death 
penalty — he earned it.”

(source: thestate.com)








FLORIDA:

Infamous Serial Killers That Targeted the Daytona Beach Area----The Daytona 
Beach area has often been a place where serial killers strike, from Gerald 
Stano to Aileen Wuornos to Gary Ray Bowles.



Daytona Beach has a reputation, fairly or unfairly, for being a destination for 
society's undesirables.

Prostitution is prevalent in Daytona Beach. It's where outlaw motorcycle gangs 
assemble. It's where rowdy college students let off steam.

Even worse, serial killers — time and again — have roamed here, lived here or 
left bodies here.

Last week, Daytona Beach police announced a break in the infamous Daytona 
serial killings of 2005 and 2006, in which 3 prostitutes were targeted. Robert 
Hayes, 37, who at the time of the slayings was a criminal justice major at 
Bethune-Cookman University, has been linked to the murders through DNA 
evidence, police said.

All 3 victims — Laquetta Gunther, 45; Julie Green, 34; and Iwanna Patton, 35 — 
were shot execution-style with a .40-caliber handgun.

"If you're a serial killer, the playing field is ripe for people on the fringes 
of society," said Volusia County Sheriff Mike Chitwood, who served as Daytona's 
police chief for 10 years before being elected sheriff in 2016. "Those who have 
been discarded by society find their way here. Who better for a serial killer 
to prey upon than someone who isn't going to be missed after they're gone?"

The Daytona Beach area has been a favorite spot for several killers who have 
had, at the very least, fleeting moments of national notoriety.

Aileen Wuornos was captured in Port Orange, which also was where Oba Chandler 
lived when he was arrested. Gary Ray Bowles murdered his first victim on 
Daytona Beach's beachside. Ottis Toole did roofing work in Deltona.

When the news broke about a particular serial killer on the lam, local police 
would half-jokingly suggest he would wind up on Interstate 95 heading for 
Daytona.

"We used to always have a saying, 'Sooner or later, the son of a bitch will 
come here,' " said former Daytona Beach police chief Paul Crow, who 
investigated serial killer Gerald Stano.

Crow, now 75, still lives in Daytona. The city remains a frequently visited 
place that hosts various events throughout the year, but during the 1980s, 
there were weeks when it felt like pandemonium.

"You could get lost in a crowd, basically," Crow said.

Chitwood said while he was police chief, 1 out of every 5 or so suspects 
arrested was from out of town. It's almost like people come to Daytona for the 
purpose of misbehaving.

Daytona Beach police Chief Craig Capri said he has "no idea" why the area has 
been such a magnet for mayhem.

"We're connected by I-95 and (Interstate) 4," Capri said. "It's a tourist area. 
It's a transient area, but really, I don't have the answers to that question."

The 1st in a line of infamous killers to terrorize Daytona was Gerald Stano. He 
was arrested in 1980 after one of his victims, a local prostitute, escaped from 
a hotel room after he had beat her and doused her with acid.

Stano was linked to 33 murders. He was convicted and sentenced to death for the 
slaying of 17-year-old Susan Bickrest, an aspiring cosmetologist who had just 
moved to Daytona Beach from Ohio. Crow, who interviewed the killer numerous 
times for more than a year, suspects Stano killed as many as 88 people.

The women he was known to have killed ranged in age from 12 to 34. Stano moved 
to the Daytona area with his parents when he was a young adult. The fledgling 
predator didn't have to search far to find victims.

"It's a place where there are a lot of young kids, young girls," Crow said, 
referring to scads of college and high school students who visit Daytona each 
year "It's easy stomping grounds for people like that."

Stano was executed in March 1998.

Wuornos, a known prostitute, was convicted in the 1989 murder of Richard 
Mallory, 51, of Clearwater. Mallory was murdered in Daytona.

Wuornos admitted to 6 other slayings in Marion, Citrus, Pasco and Dixie 
counties. She contended that she killed her 7 victims in self-defense. She was 
arrested in January 1991 at The Last Resort in Port Orange and was executed in 
October 2002, becoming the 2nd woman executed in Florida after the U.S. Supreme 
Court restored the death penalty in 1976.

Gary Ray Bowles murdered 6 men from Daytona Beach to Montgomery County, 
Maryland. His 1st victim, John Hardy Roberts, 59, was killed in March 1994 in 
his home on Vermont Avenue in Daytona. Bowles struck Roberts in the back of his 
head with a lamp, choked him and stuffed a towel down his throat. Bowles killed 
his other victims in similar fashion during the next 8 months.

Known as the "I-95 killer," Bowles was arrested in Jacksonville Beach after 
being profiled on "America's Most Wanted" at least 5 times that year.

Bowles was executed Aug. 22.

Daytona Serial Killer

Hayes, who was arrested Sept. 15 in South Florida in connection with a 2016 
prostitute slaying in Palm Beach County, had eluded local authorities for 
nearly 14 years. Few details have been released about how Hayes was linked to 
the murders of Gunther, Green and Patton, but DNA taken from the Palm Beach 
victim matched DNA taken from 2 of the Daytona victims, Chitwood told the media 
last week.

As for Patton's killing, authorities said investigators made a ballistics 
match. Hayes had purchased a .40-caliber Smith & Wesson from a local shop prior 
to the killings and detectives are saying that was the murder weapon. Hayes was 
even interviewed twice as part of the investigation in 2006 because he had 
bought that weapon, but detectives didn't see any connection at the time.

Another prostitute, Stacey Gage, 30, was murdered in January 2008 in Daytona in 
similar fashion as the others. Opinions differ on whether she was murdered by 
the same killer. Authorities are still looking into whether Hayes is 
responsible for Gage's slaying.

During the months and years after the homicides, the investigation elicited 
many false leads and inaccurate profiles of the killer. Some of the theories 
were that he had been a police officer, had a military background or was a 
member of a motorcycle gang.

Hayes was a student at Bethune-Cookman from 2000 until his graduation in 2006. 
In addition to being a criminal justice student, he also was a cheerleader for 
the school.

Hayes has not yet been charged in any of the Daytona murders because more steps 
are needed in the investigation, State Attorney R.J. Larizza told the media. 
Additionally, no decision has been made on whether prosecutors will seek the 
death penalty if and when he is indicted, he said.

"It's such a relief that this guy was caught," Capri said. "It's huge."

He said he received word a "couple months ago" that the case was "starting to 
pick up," but didn't inquire further because the investigation was still in its 
delicate stages and he didn't want anything leaked or mismanaged.

Hayes has been charged in Palm Beach for the March 2016 killing of Rachel Bey, 
32, who was strangled and then dumped on the side of a highway near Jupiter.

Hayes doesn't fit the profile of a typical serial killer — an uneducated, 
aimless white male.

Crow, however, wasn't surprised to learn that the man suspected of killing 4 
prostitutes was a large-sized man. Hayes is 6-foot-4 and weighs 220 pounds.

"You knew whoever did those murders was big and strong," Crow said. "Every 
hooker will fight you to the death."

(source: Associated press)

*******************

Evidence released in clown murder case



Evidence also shows Florida detectives traveled to Tennessee and South Carolina 
to interview former Purple Cow employees, including one who provided them with 
a photograph of Sheila Keen-Warren dressed as a clown inside the restaurant. 
The man told investigators that the photo was likely taken around Halloween.

Nearly 200 pages of evidence — showcasing jailhouse letters and a clown picture 
— have been released by prosecutors in Florida who are seeking the death 
penalty for an Abingdon, Virginia, woman accused of shooting another woman in 
1990.

Sheila Keen-Warren, 56, remains in custody at a Belle Glade, Florida, jail 
awaiting her February 2020 trial, when she faces a 1st-degree murder charge in 
the death of Marlene Warren, 40.

Authorities said Marlene Warren was gunned down by a person wearing a clown 
costume on May 26, 1990. The case remained cold until 2017 when DNA evidence 
led police to arrest Keen-Warren near her home at South Holston Lake.

Keen-Warren had left Florida, married Michael Warren, Marlene’s husband — who 
has been the recipient of many letters since her arrest, moved to the 
Tri-Cities and opened the Purple Cow restaurant in Kingsport, Tennessee.

“There is no words to describe how much I love and miss you,” Keen-Warren wrote 
her husband on May 21. “I feel so empty inside and my whole body aches for you. 
You are a part of me and I always feel you with me, even though you are so many 
miles away. I long to be in your arms to share all of these feelings with you.”

In dozens of letters to family and friends, Keen-Warren often speaks of her 
innocence and looks forward to returning home.

“I just don’t understand why we can’t get this nightmare over with,” she wrote 
her mother on April 9. “Innocent people shouldn’t be made to sit in jail this 
long waiting on a trial to prove their innocent. … I continually keep asking 
how much longer but the attorney gives me no answer.”

She writes about her love of music and plans to attend concerts with her 
husband upon release from jail.

Keen-Warren also writes about being baptized while in jail in 2018 and often 
references God and Bible verses in her letters. In one letter, she tells her 
priest, “I look forward to seeing you for my first confession.”

In a letter to her Virginia neighbor, she writes, “Just look at what’s happen 
to me, and it wasn’t because of something I done but they have took me away 
from everything and everyone I love. I’ve lost a lot of loved ones and I always 
have said God choose when our time is to leave this earth and it’s his choice 
alone.”

In many letters, Keen-Warren gives health and eating advice, and shares recipes 
with her husband.

“My Dearest Love, today is Sunday and another week has past, 30 days until my 
next court date,” Keen-Warren writes in one letter to her husband. “I wish time 
would go by faster for me, but as you know it doesn’t, days seem like weeks. I 
miss you so much it really hurts. I will be glad to get this over with and all 
behind us. I pray that everyone can hang in there and stay healthy enough.”

In another letter to her husband, she writes, “I pray that no one ever does 
have to go through this like I am. It’s difficult to not have hatred for these 
people that done this to me. … I feel sad that they are so ready to destroy a 
innocent person for their own personal gain.”

Keen-Warren’s attorney, Richard Lubin, told the Sun-Sentinel newspaper of 
Florida that he does not believe the letters reveal anything of relevance to 
the case.

Evidence also shows Florida detectives traveled to Tennessee and South Carolina 
to interview former Purple Cow employees, including one who provided them with 
a photograph of Keen-Warren dressed as a clown inside the restaurant. The man 
told investigators that the photo was likely taken around Halloween.

In a South Carolina interview, a man told investigators that when he first 
started working at the Purple Cow, he saw pictures of Keen-Warren, who went by 
Debbie Warren at the time, in a clown costume.

“He never actually witnessed Debbie Warren dressed in a clown costume,” 
Investigator Michael Fincannon wrote in a report for the state attorney’s 
office.

Several people told investigators that the couple would drink with employees at 
the Purple Cow.

“[One of the employees] indicated that Debbie Warren often drank with the staff 
after work,” Fincannon wrote. “He participated sometimes, but did not recall 
ever hearing Debbie Warren talk about Florida, anything that happened in 
Florida.”

He described Keen-Warren as short tempered, the report states.

Another former employee said the Warrens were good people, “but horrible 
employers.” She added that she got a bad vibe from Michael Warren, who 
investigators say remains a person of interest in the case.

One former employee told investigators he did not believe Keen-Warren was 
responsible for the shooting.

In previously released evidence, Keen-Warren, while intoxicated, allegedly told 
a Purple Cow employee about the Florida shooting.

“[Keen-Warren] said that she had picked out a clown outfit and killed his wife, 
she then drove off. She said that Mike was her alibi,” Palm Beach County 
Sheriff’s Office Detective Paige McCann wrote in an offense report. 
“[Keen-Warren] said they moved and wanted to get married but had to wait for 
the attention on the case to die down.”

Michael Warren, Keen-Warren’s husband, has denied the couple was involved in 
the shooting. In one of the letters, a family member says Keen-Warren’s 
ex-husband likely committed the crime.

***************

The history of women on Florida’s death row



These are the stories of 15 women sentenced to death in Florida. There are 12 
that had their sentences reduced or commuted and 3 that currently sit on death 
row.

These are the stories of 15 women sentenced to death in Florida. There are 12 
that had their sentences reduced or commuted and 3 that currently sit on death 
row. In addition to this list are the only 2 women to be executed in the state 
— Judias “Judy” Goodyear Buenoano in 1998 and Aileen Wuornos in 2002.

Women who were once on death row

--Bertha Hall, 23, and Gordon Denmark, 22, were sentenced Oct. 9, 1926, to the 
electric chair for the killing of her grocer husband. The death sentences of 
Hall and Denmark were commuted in 1929. She was sentenced from Duval County and 
released in late 1934 or early 1935.

--These are Polk’s death row inmates. Juries have found each of them guilty of 
taking someone’s life. Judges have ruled that each should pay for that crime 
with his own. In the coming months, as part of an ongoing series, The Ledger 
will explore the lives of these men, their crimes and legal cases, the death 
penalty and those affected by all of it.

--Billie Jackson was sentenced in Duval County on Feb. 1, 1927, for the 
stabbing death of her musician husband. Her sentence was commuted seven months 
later by Gov. John W. Martin and she was released in 1935-36. --Ruby McCollum, 
53, was sentenced in Suwannee County in 1954. She was convicted of shooting a 
doctor in Live Oak on Aug. 3, 1952, and spent two years in jail awaiting death 
until the Florida Supreme Court reversed the sentence. She was sent to the 
state mental hospital in Chattahoochee before re-trial and remained there 20 
years before she was released to her family in 1974.

--Irene Laverne Jackson, 43, along with her son and another man, was sentenced 
to death in Pasco County on April 24, 1962, for murdering her husband for his 
insurance money. A new trial had been ordered and she was convicted and 
sentenced to life imprisonment for 2nd-degree murder in the 2nd trial on Feb. 
6, 1964. She was paroled on Jan. 17, 1972, and discharged from parole status in 
1980.

--Maria Dean Arrington, 34, was sentenced from Volusia County on May 22, 1968, 
to 20 years for manslaughter in the death of her husband. While out of prison 
on appeal bond, she sought revenge against the public defender who 
unsuccessfully defended 2 of her children on felony charges. On Dec. 6, 1968, 
in Hernando County, she was sentenced to death for first-degree murder in the 
killing of the secretary of the Lake County public defender. While at Florida 
C.I., she escaped by cutting through a heavy window screen. She became the 2nd 
woman to be named to the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List. She was captured 2 years 
later in Marion County. She was sentenced to 10 more years for escape. Her 
death sentence was commuted to life on Aug. 28, 1972, when the U.S. Supreme 
Court determined capital punishment laws unconstitutional. She is in prison at 
Lowell Correctional Institution.

--Sonia Jacobs, 29, was convicted in 1976 for her part in the shooting deaths 
of a Florida Highway Patrol trooper and his friend, a Canadian constable on 
vacation. Jessie J. Tafero was also sentenced to death for the same crime. 
Jacobs began her sentence at Broward C.I. on Aug. 20, 1976. Her sentence was 
overturned by the Supreme Court on March 26, 1981, and she was resentenced to 
life with a 25-year minimum mandatory term. On Oct. 9, 1992, her case was 
reversed on appeal. She pleaded to 2nd-degree murder, time served and was 
released on Oct. 9, 1992.

--Kaysie B. Dudley, 24, was sentenced to death in Pinellas County on Jan. 27, 
1987, for the murder of her mother’s employer, a wealthy Redington Beach widow, 
on Sept. 30, 1985. She was resentenced to life with a 25-year minimum mandatory 
on Oct. 2, 1989. She is at Lowell Correctional Institution.

--Carla A. Caillier, 24, was sentenced in Hillsborough County on March 19, 
1987, for the murder of her husband on Nov. 20, 1986, in Tampa. She was 
resentenced to life with a minimum mandatory 25 years on July 26, 1988. She is 
at the Florida Women’s Reception Center.

--Dee D. Casteel, 49, was sentenced in Dade County on Sept. 16, 1987, for the 
1983 murder of an 84-year-old woman. The woman had begun asking about her 
missing son, who Casteel and a fellow employee had ordered killed a month 
before. Casteel paid 2 mechanics to kill the woman. Her death sentence was 
vacated on Dec. 6, 1990. She was resentenced to life on Dec. 19, 1991, and died 
at Broward C.I. on Oct. 7, 2002.

--Deidre Hunt, 21, was sentenced from Volusia County on Sept. 13, 1990, for the 
Oct. 20, 1989, shooting murders of two men she involved in a murder for money 
scheme. She was videotaped shooting one of the men by her co-defendant Kosta 
Fotopoulos, her former boss and lover. She pleaded guilty. She was resentenced 
to life on May 7, 1998. She is at Homestead Correctional Institution.

--Andrea Hicks Jackson, 26, was sentenced in Duval County on Feb. 10, 1984, for 
the murder of a Jacksonville police officer. She shot the officer five times 
when he tried to arrest her on May 17, 1983, for filing a false report about a 
vandalized car. She was the 1st woman in Florida to have her death warrant 
signed, which occurred on March 7, 1989. Her warrant was stayed on May 4, 1989 
by the Florida Supreme Court. She was resentenced to life on June 16, 2000. She 
is at Lowell Correctional Institution.

--Virginia Larzelere, 40, was sentenced from Volusia County on May, 11, 1993, 
for masterminding the killing of her husband, an Edgewater dentist. She was 
resentenced to life on Aug. 1, 2008. She is at Lowell Correctional Institution.

Women currently on death row

--Tiffany Cole, 26, was sentenced from Duval County on March 6, 2008, for her 
role in the double murder of a Jacksonville couple who were buried alive. She 
is currently on death row at Lowell Correctional Institution.

--Margaret A. Allen, 44, was sentenced to death from Brevard County on May 19, 
2011, for torturing and killing her housekeeper, Wenda Wright, whom she thought 
had stolen money from her purse. The jury unanimously voted for the death 
penalty. She also got a life sentence for kidnapping. Prosecutors said the 
torture went on for hours before Wright was strangled with a belt. Allen’s 
roommate James Martin and nephew Quinton Allen were convicted for their part in 
helping her try to bury the body in a shallow grave. She is on death row at 
Lowell Correctional Institution.

--Tina Brown, 43, arrived on death row in October 2013 for the brutal death of 
Audreanna Zimmerman. Brown beat her victim with a stun gun, hit her with a crow 
bar and set her on fire. The victim died two weeks later from her injuries. She 
is on death row at Lowell Correctional Institution.

(source: theledger.com)








TENNESSEE:

State Attorney General goes it alone on execution dates



Tennessee Attorney General Herbert Slatery, in seeking execution dates for 9 
men including 2 from Memphis, apparently made a unilateral move in what one 
federal public defender is calling “mass execution.”

Gov. Bill Lee is staying out of it – at least until he potentially is asked to 
grant clemency.

Lee confirmed Thursday he had not spoken with Slatery about filings in which he 
requested the Tennessee Supreme Court to set capital punishment dates for nine 
people.

Nor did the governor speak with Slatery about his decision to challenge a 
Nashville Criminal Court decision commuting the death sentence of Abu-Ali 
Abdur’Rahman to life in prison amid concerns that racism tainted the jury pool. 
Slatery said the Nashville move, an agreement between the District Attorney 
General and defense attorney, “circumvented established legal procedures.”

“Those are really Attorney General decisions that are not mine to make, so we 
haven’t talked about it,” Lee told reporters Thursday.

And even though this move will keep Tennessee second to Texas nationally in the 
number of executions, Lee said he plans to let the system play out instead of 
getting involved.

“The folks that are on death row are there because of the law,” as chosen by 
Tennesseans, Lee said, adding he believes the Attorney General is only 
“fulfilling that law and carrying out that process.

“And as I said, the governor’s office has nothing to do with that process. But 
we’re watching it,” Lee added.

Whether the state law allowing capital punishment should be reversed is a 
decision lying with Tennessee voters and the Legislature, the governor said. He 
noted “the death penalty is appropriate for those most heinous of crimes. And 
that has been the belief of the people of this state.”

According to the Attorney General’s Office, Slatery filed motions to set 
execution dates on behalf of the Department of Correction because he is 
required to take that step when a death row inmate has completed a 3-tier 
review, which has been done in the 9 cases.

“This office does not control when or which capital cases complete that 
process. The timing varies depending on each individual defendant’s case and 
the courts considering their claims,” AG’s Office spokeswoman Leigh Ann Apple 
Jones said in response to questions.

Both the Tennessee Supreme Court and U.S. Supreme Court rejected challenges to 
Tennessee’s lethal injection protocol, triggering the AG Office’s “obligation” 
to meet the rules and file motions to set executions for the nine cases, 
according to Jones.

Five people have been executed in Tennessee in the past year, with three of 
them choosing electrocution, an option allowed for those convicted before 
January 1999. Executions are usually done with a lethal injection, but if the 
drugs aren’t available, electrocution can be used, the Associated Press 
reported.

In a statement, Jones pointed out decades have passed since juries in districts 
across the state sentenced the nine defendants, and the appeals process for 
each one has been “thoroughly litigated” in state courts and federal review 
through the U.S. Supreme Court. The highest court in the land refused to hear 
them.

“The Tennessee Constitution guarantees victims of crime the right to a ‘prompt 
and final conclusion of the case after the conviction and sentence,’ ” Jones 
said.

Slatery filed the requests Sept. 20 with the Supreme Court in Nashville, 
including 2 that would put to death Tony Von Carruthers and Pervis Tyrone 
Payne, both of Memphis, who are on Death Row. Tests entered as court evidence 
showed Payne was borderline mentally disabled.

Lee is likely to receive requests to commute the sentences of these 9 on death 
row. 2 other cases have been scheduled, and 5 executions have been carried out 
within the past year under the watch of Lee and former Gov. Bill Haslam, both 
of whom have said the review and decision weigh heavily on them. Slatery was 
appointed during Haslam’s administration.

While Slatery didn’t consult with Lee on the matter, he might not have 
contacted attorneys representing the men in advance, either.

Kelley Henry, supervisory assistant federal public defender in Nashville, 
didn’t find out about Slatery’s filings until 3 days after he made them, even 
though 7 of the 9 are represented by her office.

“We were surprised by the request for mass executions. Each case is unique and 
represents a number of fundamental constitutional problems including innocence, 
racism, and severe mental illness. We will oppose the appointed Attorney 
General’s request,” Henry said.

Change in the law?

The Legislature is unlikely to have the stomach to reverse the state’s capital 
punishment law. But it does need some tweaking, said Republican state Rep. Jim 
Coley of Bartlett.

“I have mixed feelings about it. I think they need to review the law, and 
certainly those people who are mentally challenged need to not be executed,” 
said Coley, who has announced he will not seek another term in the Legislature 
in 2020.

A supporter of the death penalty for heinous crimes, Coley said he does have 
reservations about capital punishment because of the expense involved in the 
appeals process.

The Legislature passed a measure this year removing an appellate court review 
from death penalty cases and sending convictions directly to the Tennessee 
Supreme Court for review. Republicans who supported the bill said it would 
expedite death penalty cases while Democrats opposing the measure said it 
endangers the appeal process.

Coley pointed out Wyoming is among the states that have abolished the death 
penalty because of the cost to state government and started shifting the money 
to deal with other crimes.

“I think there are some crimes that are so heinous that I don’t see any 
alternative but the death penalty. When you go into a school and kill 25 
children or you’re a serial killer, I don’t know what the alternative is to 
something like that. So, I’m divided over it,” Coley said.

Nevertheless, Coley said the Legislature needs to consider setting a threshold 
for capital punishment in cases involving convicts who are mentally disabled.

“If you don’t have control of your faculties, then I just don’t think that you 
should be executed,” Coley said.

On the other hand, when someone is convicted of killing a woman and her 
children, such as the Payne case, “it’s very difficult to reconcile without the 
death penalty,” he said. “I have very mixed emotions.”

(source: dailymemphian.com)








OHIO:

Lake Township couple remembered as murder trial nears----George C. Brinkman has 
already been convicted in the deaths of 3 people in Cuyahoga County.



Scores of people filled the church during calling hours for Bobbi and Gene 
John.

What had been scheduled for 4 hours stretched to nearly 6. Throngs paid 
respects to the couple found slain in their Lake Township home in June 2017. 
Person after person expressed how the couple impacted their lives.

Not only those who had known Bobbi (formally known as Roberta) or Gene 
(formally known as Rogell) for years. But those who had known them even 
casually.

A teacher whom had been mentored by Bobbi 30 years earlier. People in their 
Weight Watchers group. Others who knew them only from encounters at local 
farmers’ markets. Someone who had carried newspapers for Gene 2 decades prior 
when he worked in the circulation departments of The Canton Repository and The 
Massillon Independent.

Tears were shed. Hugs were exchanged. Fleeting grins appeared on sorrowful 
faces.

And loved ones who had already known of Gene and Bobbi’s kind hearts and 
generous spirits were overwhelmed.

“It was truly remarkable how many people they sort of touched on the periphery 
that weren’t close friends, family or coworkers or from church,” said Todd 
Pincombe, Bobbi’s son. “Just these people from the community, who had these 
brushes with them, to feel so compelled to stand two or three hours in line 
just to share an anecdote was a powerful thing to hear.”

The outpouring came only days after the couple returned home from visiting 
Pincombe and his 3 children for a week-long beach vacation in North Carolina.

Gene, 71, and Bobbi, 64, didn’t return to an empty house. A family friend, 
George C. Brinkman, had been watching it and caring for their 17-year-old dog.

So they walked inside, possibly with Brinkman carrying their luggage to the 
door. Then he fatally shot the Johns, according to investigators.

He was far from a stranger. Brinkman had known the family for more than 10 
years, working for Gene’s telephone book distribution business and formerly 
dating his daughter. The couple trusted him to care for their sick dog.

Bobbi’s two sons had been on vacation with Brinkman in the past. And he had 
crafted a personalized drink coaster for one of them.

More than 2 years since the tragedy, family members are still reeling 
emotionally from their loss, and the same confounding question remains: Why 
would Brinkman murder Bobbi and Gene, only hours after he had killed 3 people 
in Cuyahoga County.

“It’s still hard to believe,” said Amy Studer, Bobbi’s sister.

Trial set to start

Those horrors will be revisited when Brinkman’s trial begins Tuesday morning in 
Stark County Common Pleas Court. The 47-year-old Stark County man already has 
been convicted and sentenced to death in the Cuyahoga County case.

Brinkman is scheduled for a non-jury trial, according to court records. He’s 
charged with two counts of aggravated murder, two counts of aggravated robbery 
and single counts of aggravated burglary and tampering with evidence.

In July, Judges Taryn Heath and Kristin Farmer had been drawn randomly to join 
Judge Chryssa Hartnett on a panel in case Brinkman waives his right to a jury 
trial.

If convicted, Brinkman faces the death penalty a 2nd time.

Pincombe will be traveling from the Atlanta area to Canton for the trial. But 
he says there’s no explanation from Brinkman and no punishment that will 
replace what’s been stolen from the family.

“It’s not just our loss, it’s the world’s loss, it’s Northeast Ohio’s loss, 
it’s Stark County’s loss,” Pincombe said during a telephone interview late last 
week. “I can’t have what I want out of this case — I just want him to receive 
whatever will take the most joy away from him because he’s taken the joy of so 
many other people.”

“There’s nothing the judges can do,” he added. “I just want my mom back; I want 
Gene back — that’s what I want and that’s not obtainable.

Ultimately, (prosecutors) are going for the death penalty and that’s fine.”

Studer, of Canton, said she attended the 1st day of Brinkman’s trial in 
Cuyahoga County Common Pleas Court in November.

He admitted killing Suzanne Taylor, 42, and her 2 daughters Taylor Pifer, 21, 
and Kylie Pifer, 18. In addition to the death penalty, Brinkman was sentenced 
to an additional 47 years on other charges stemming from their deaths.

Witnesses had said the 2 daughters looked up to Brinkman like a 2nd father.

“We wanted George to see us,” Studer said. “We wanted George to know we were 
supporting these people.

“Nobody is ever going to understand why he did this,” she said. “To us, the 
five people who were left in his life who cared about him he murdered.”

Lasting legacy

Bobbi was a former educator, having both taught and worked as an administrator 
in special education.

She worked for the Stow-Munroe Falls, Alliance and Louisville school districts.

Her passion for special education was traced to a friend’s brother who had Down 
syndrome. And whether at school or home, she never stopped caring for children 
with special needs.

Bobbi’s other son, Brant Pincombe, recalled when their mother would invoke the 
voice and unflinching gaze of a teacher, scolding friends who used the word 
“retarded.”

“Our mom took their heads off,” he recalled. “And they got an entire lecture 
about why you don’t use that word. And you just never said it again.”

Todd Pincombe corroborated the story, laughing at the reaction of his friends 
but also deeply admiring his mother’s conviction.

“That was her mission,” he said. “To make sure special needs children had the 
same opportunities and inclusion, whether it be in school or in life as typical 
children did.”

And she passed on her compassion to younger generations.

The son said he was touched when his 10-year-old daughter told him she had 
helped organize a group of students to hold parties for kids with disabilities.

“It was one of the more proud moments of the 10 years of her life,” he said. 
“She just knows that was important to my mom and a way she can carry on her 
memory.”

Brant Pincombe said that after the tragedy, he was overwhelmed when learning of 
the countless donations the couple had made to charities.

“They were always fighting for people that didn’t have a voice, who weren’t 
able to do anything physically or financially or emotionally,” he said. “The 
reality, and the most messed up part of it is, that includes George, too.”

The last goodbye

Bobbi was an avid walker. Gene helped cook meals for shut-ins and those in 
need. Bobbi belonged to a group that made quilts and head scarves for cancer 
patients. Both sang in a church choir.

But nothing was perhaps more fulfilling to them than spending time with their 
grandchildren.

In June 2017, it had been Bobbi’s idea to go on the beach vacation. Todd 
Pincombe’s daughter had casts on both legs, and grandma wanted to cheer her up.

The week at Ocean Isle was wonderful. Before departing, they had breakfast 
together at a diner.

Not far from the ocean, they got into their vehicles. Pincombe’s daughter sat 
in a van crying.

Bobbi went over to the child, asking why she was sad. “I just want to know when 
I’m going to see you again,” the 8-year-old said.

Grandma replied how she always did: “I’ll see you soon.”

Recounting the moment, Pincombe hesitated, then his voice quieted as he told 
what happened 2 days later.

“I sat my children down and told them their grandparents are gone.”

(source: Canton Repository)