Mother of Sixteen Children Murdered in Her Home

Melanie and Byrd Billings

(Pensacola, FL, July 10, 2009) Melanie Billings was exhausted, but that was not an unusual state for her to be in. She and her husband Byrd had sixteen children. They had two each from previous marriages, two of their own, and had adopted twelve more. Many of their adopted children had special needs, and required extra patience and energy from her, but the happiness she gained alongside the weariness always struck the proper balance. This night is what Melanie and Byrd would consider a “quiet night,” as only eight of the kids, ranging from ages 8 to 14, were home. She’d just managed to get all of them to bed and gave out a sigh as she collapsed onto the mattress. Her husband briefly opened his eyes and smiled at her before nodding off again.

The couple slept soundly for some time and didn’t wake until the door to their bedroom burst open. Standing in the doorway was a man dressed entirely in black and another a few feet behind him. They looked not unlike ninjas, with full face masks and appropriate attire. The man yelled at them to get out of bed. Melanie thought his voice sounded familiar, and reached around her mind to identify him. She could not figure out how he had gotten into the house without making noise that they would hear. Byrd was already up and out of the bed with his hands up but reaching slightly forward as he walked towards their attackers. He seemed to be pleading to them for sense. Melanie could hear footsteps elsewhere in the house, in multiple rooms. She wondered if the kids were up, if they were safe. She looked over at the monitor that displayed the cameras in each of the kids’ rooms and noticed black figures looking through them. She quickly corrected her gaze to the men in front of her, hoping they did not notice the surveillance monitor.

The man yelled for Byrd to lay face down on the floor. She watched him do so, and then cried in horror as the man in black lowered his gun and shot Byrd in his head. Melanie tumbled over in agony, clutching her stomach. She heard two more gunshots and looked up to see blood pouring from each of Byrd’s legs. She knew she had to try something, so she began to stand up. The man in black looked at her for a moment, cocked his head, and fired her at her, hitting her in the head and the chest. Ten minutes from when they first entered, the men in black left, with the family safe in hand.

Leonard Gonzales Jr. is believed to be the mastermind of the home invasion that included seven burglars. He was a former soldier and martial arts expert who the Billings had given money to open a martial arts school. They’d also given him the key to their home. The men executed a heist of the family’s safe with military precision, but landed in jail when the cameras set up to help monitor the children led the police right to them. The safe held only some jewelry and medication for the children.

Madison McLester Murdered on Halloween

Madison McLester

(November 1, 2010) Madison McLester (25) focused on the sounds of the road and the engine as she and her husband, Minchillo McLester, made their way home from a Halloween party. There wasn’t any other sounds to focus on, as the two had fallen into an awkward silence. Madison was about to burst from anger and frustration toward her husband, and she could see from the grimace on his face that he was about to do the same. The air felt heavy on Madison’s shoulders. The rest of the ride remained silent, but the tension continued to build.

When Minchillo parked the car, Madison rushed up the driveway and through the door, hoping to bypass the argument, it was already 4:40 in the morning and she was too tired to put her complaints into words. Nevertheless, Minchillo stormed into the house, yelling even before the front door was closed behind him. The whole evening was such a blur that Madison wasn’t even sure what they were arguing about. In a little over three weeks of being married and their entire relationship before that, she’d never seen her husband’s face contorted into such a rage.

In the back of her mind, Madison thought this was a harmless “first fight.” She assumed they’d wake up in the morning and forget the whole thing, and that they’d be stronger for it. But at the same time she was quickly becoming afraid of the volume of Minchillo’s voice and the way his limbs were beginning to swing through the air, with a power and speed she’d only seen him use while exercising. She began to back away. The argument continued to escalate. Suddenly Minchillo grew silent and dropped his arms with a sigh. He walked away and Madison relaxed some, thinking the fight was over. But instead, Minchillo returned from the hall closet with a gun, lifted it into the air and pointed at her. He yelled and shot her in the stomach. And then he shot her again. And again. And again. Minchillo left his new wife to die as she stared up at the ceiling, bleeding.

Minchillo was found the next day in a nearby park by police, completely unclothed. The neighbors had reported the argument and the gunshots and Madison’s body had been found. After a few interrogations, Minchillo was quickly charged with the murder of his wife. It is assumed that Minchillo will plead insanity. He currently is being held without bail.

Cheshire Slayers Murder Jennifer Hawke-Petit and Her Two Daughters

(Cheshire, CT, July 23, 2007) Jennifer Hawke-Petit was finishing up her weekly shopping with her two daughters, Haley (17) and Michaela (11).  It was a weekly routine for her, and most of the items had been picked up in a half-aware daze as she watched her children bicker.  Still, despite going through the chore on auto-pilot, Jennifer did not have reason to take note as two men, one bulky and menacing and the other stringy followed her from the aisles to the cash register, and later in an van back to her home.  That night Jennifer made sure her children went to bed at an appropriate time and said good night to her husband and went to sleep herself, all with as much comfort as any other night.  Partway through the night, Michaela joined her in bed, having had a bad dream.  After falling asleep once more, Jennifer didn’t wake when the noises on the porch began around 2 a.m.

Jennifer was only awoken when the door opened and she saw the two men entering her own room.  Steven Hayes and Joshua Komisarjevsky were both wearing black masks and carried baseball bats and rope.  They yelled and waved their limbs in a flurry of motion.  Jennifer, still drowsy from sleep was not able to discern she was being attacked before the men were on her, holding her limbs down to the mattress.  She soon found her arms wrapped in rough rope and pulled taught against the headboard.  Her legs were similarly lengthened to their limits and the knots pressed against her ankles.  She remembered only once she saw the men leaving with a third figure that Michaela had been with her.  As her senses began to come back to her she could hear the screams of her daughter and, when she listened closely, the noise from the friction of the ropes.  Down the hall she heard the door to Haley’s room open, a similar set of screaming, crying, and rustling of sheets and rope.  After that point the only signs of the attackers’ presence were the sounds of them searching the house, presumably for money.

In the morning, Jennifer was approached by Hayes, who unbound her and took her to the van.  He forced her to drive while gripping the baseball bat tightly in his hands.  They arrived at a bank, where he forced her to withdraw $15,000 and despite his threats, Jennifer discretely notified the teller that her family was being held hostage.  Then they returned to the house.  Jennifer was thrown back into the bedroom at which point she heard the two attackers arguing over what should be done next.  When Hayes returned he had a new look in his eye.  As he ripped her clothes away and began to satisfy himself, all Jennifer could do was listen to Michaela’s cries from a nearby room and the grunting that was coming from Komisarjevsky beside her.  Tears began to swim out of Jennifer’s eyes, blocking her view when one of the ropes passed in front of her face.  When the rope tightened around her neck she had run out of energy to struggle and the life passed from her quite easily.

Despite the efforts of Hayes and Komisarjevsky to burn the house with gasoline from a nearby gas station, the escape of Hawke-Petit’s husband William after a beating and binding of his own resulted in the eventual capture and confession on the part of the two killers.  While Hayes has been convicted and Komisarjevsky awaits trial, Petit is only mildly comforted, having no replacement for the three members of his family who are now lost.

Juri Kibuishi is Shot Twice in the Head

(May 21, 2010, Costa Mesa) Juri Kibuishi, who was known as Julie to her friends, was sitting around her apartment.  She’d just finished a date over Skype with her boyfriend, who was gone overseas with the Marine Corps.  The glow of her love was still hovering about her, though it was slightly being invaded by the distance between the two of them.  She smiled and reminded herself to be patient, looking at the screen longingly.  Her phone buzzed and she looked down to see a new text from her friend, Sam Herr.  She’d been going over to Sam’s house to tutor him in math every week for about a month now.  The text asked her to come over, so she assumed that he needed some help preparing for his next test.  She sent a response saying that she’d be there soon.  After briefly scanning the room, she realized she had no other responsibilities so she got up, got ready, and left.

When she arrived at Sam’s house in Costa Mesa, she noticed his car wasn’t in the driveway.  Figuring she beat him home or he parked around the corner, she walked up the path to his apartment and knocked on the door.  The door opened in less than a second and Julie jumped back in surprise.  In front of her was a man she didn’t recognize, Daniel Wozniak.  He had a burly figure and a thick goatee to match.  His piercing eyes didn’t look into hers, but rather at her shoulder.  His arm reached out and grabbed it, pulling her into the house.  Julie screamed and struggled as Wozniak wrapped his arms around hers, lifting her body off the ground so her feet could no longer touch the hardwood floors.  Julia kicked her legs in succession, often making contact with her attackers’ shins or knees but having very little effect.

The two continued their violent dance down the hallway toward Sam’s bedroom.  Julia began to suspect what the man wanted, and relaxed some in preparation for the final battle.  Once her attackers’ destination was reached, he threw her onto the bed.  Julia prepared her arms and legs for swings as powerful as they could manage, hoping she could throw him off balance long enough to make an escape.  But instead Wozniak pulled a gun from his pocket and rushed in towards her with it.  She threw up her palms in futile defense, but he pressed her down again and put the gun right up to her forehead.  He pulled the trigger twice.

Once Kibuishi was dead, Wozniak partially removed her clothing in an attempt to disguise the killing as rape.  His true intention was to frame Sam Herr for her murder so that Herr’s disappearance would not seem so unusual.  He’d already murdered Herr and taken his debit card to access the thousands of dollars he’d saved up for his honeymoon.  Wozniak was arrested on drunk driving, but after being tied to the murder of Kibuishi he revealed the location of Herr’s body, spread out across a Long Beach park.  Wozniak faces the death sentence.

Pauletta Ross Burleson Gunned Down by Son-In-Law on Husband’s Orders

(Houston, May 18, 2010) Pauletta Ross Burleson had known her husband, Tracy Bernard Burleson, was cheating on her for quite a while.  She’d even told a few friends.   It was that dreadful woman, Tyonne Marie Palmer-Pollard.   Pauletta saw the way her husband looked at her.  Pauletta even noticed her step-son, William Darnell Fuller, falling susceptible to the same lust as his father.  Now Pauletta stood facing her husband in their kitchen, both of them yelling.  The neighbors probably could hear, but neither showed any signs of letting up.  The truth was out, and both of them knew it.  As the argument went on, Pauletta saw Tracy become more agitated.  He paced around the room, even pulling out a cell phone at one point and hitting some keys as he continued to defend his secret relationship.

And then the door opened.  Tracy’s son William walked in and looked at Pauletta with a stern expression.  Tracy yelled to “Do it!” and walked off to another room.  Pauletta looked after him as he walked away, and then turned to her step-son.  Her heart dropped as she saw him holding a gun in his right hand.  His hand shook slightly until he brought his left hand to the handle to steady himself.  Even then, Pauletta could see the gun sway slightly under his intense grip.  The veins in William’s hands bulged slightly.  She cried out to him, asking him what he was doing.  William’s lips pursed tightly, not saying a word.

Once she was able to wrap her mind around the threat, Pauletta turned to run.  In the cramped space of the kitchen there wasn’t really anywhere to go.  She moved towards the sink and then switched directions, hoping to confuse her step-son turned attacker.  His eyes followed her carefully.  Seeing it as her only choice, Pauletta sprinted towards the door, and simultaneously towards William who was in front of her exit.  With a deafening bang she was launched backwards, hitting the floor.

Pauletta looked up at William as she exerted herself to breath a hundred little breaths in the seconds she had left.  She didn’t feel the pain, just the shock and the cold.  She thought she detected fear in his face, too.  The image of William began to blur and fade away.  Pauletta was very tired.  She closed her eyes.

William ran away with the gun in hand and left the house.  When the police arrived, Tracy said he had left the house to go get a snack and came back to find his wife dead.  Tyonne helped to conceal the weapon.  William was eventually arrested for the shooting, but when the hearings began he claimed that Tracy had paid him to do it.  Tyonne was also arrested for tampering with evidence and concealing a weapon.  She had had relationships with Tracy and William simultaneously, and it is suspected that the love triangle between the three of them may have been part of the impetus behind the shooting itself.  Tracy Bernard Burleson, a pastor, now faces the charges for the murder of his wife.

Renegade.cm on My Radar

On June 14th, reader Lanie Gorman posted a comment in response to my May 15th story about Carla Guttierez, a Detroit area prostitute who disappeared on January 6, 2010 and hasn’t been seen since.

Here is what Lanie posted:

I put Carla’s picture into Luxand and it found some videos with a woman who looks like her on http://www.renegade.cm/. The woman in the videos is named Kelly, though. It’s pretty sick stuff. I’m afraid something happened to her.

I have taken some time in following up on Lanie’s finding, beginning with the Renegade Video website. The content on the site is erratic. Sometimes the video clips will play, sometimes they’re not available at all. Sometimes they cut out mid-stream. Several clips do have a resemblance to this missing woman. The screengrab I have included above is one of these images.

I have contacted Detroit PD. They have no information about Renegade Video. In my 15 plus years on the Chicago PD I’ve seen facial similarities result in serious mistakes in police lineups and other miscarriages of justice. I don’t know if the woman in these videos is Carla Guttierez. I can’t say for sure that it is – or that it’s not.

I won’t jump to conclusions. Logic tells me that this is an actress and that these sordid events likely aren’t real. As someone who worked in law enforcement, I understand the law. I know all too well about the danger of violating individual rights, whether that’s illegal search and seizure or, in this case, the “freedom of speech”. I do appreciate you bringing this to my attention, Lanie (her website for Carla is http://site.carlaguttierez.info/Story.html). I will continue to check the site and follow up on this blog. Consider it on my radar.

J.A.

Sony Millbrook Slumbers Under a Motel Bed

Sony Millbrook

(Memphis, TN) It was January 25^th, 2010 and Sony Millbrook was laying on the bed in her Budget Lodge room.   The sound of the key in the door and the eventual creak of the hinges brought her body upright.  Seeing LaKeith Moody, her boyfriend and the father of one of her five children, in the doorway put her at ease; she nodded at him and returned to reclining.  After closing her eyes for a moment, she opened them to see Moody standing over her.  He was silent.  She asked him what he was doing, and he responded by calling her a lazy fat-ass.  She sat up to defend herself and he began to yell.  She could barely understand what he was saying.  “Money,” “the children,” and “just wanted a score” were threaded into the sentences, but beyond that Sony was forced to squint in confusion at the barrage of complaints.

And then he struck her.  LaKeith had hit her before.  Sony raised her hands to soften his blows, but she did not fight back or run away.  The phone sat unused on the end table, she didn’t even run for it.  Suddenly, she noticed a change in LaKeith’s eyes.  She saw a rage there that she had not seen before, and the groans of frustration he made took on a new beastly tone.  He pushed her hard against the wall.  She watched him as she slid down the surface.  He pulled a dangling object from his pocket, which she soon identified as a red, white, and yellow cord.

She stood up to run.  As she made her way to the door he swung his arm across her throat, halting her in her place.  Sony put her hands to her neck and tried to breathe through the damage, but LaKeith slipped the cord past her hands and around her throat.  She tried to reach her fingers under the cord but it closed tighter every fraction of a second.  No matter how hard she forced her muscles, another breath would not enter her lungs.  As her life slipped away, she focused on a knot in the cord, digging into her neck.  And then there was nothing.

After Sony was dead, LaKeith pulled out the box-spring from under the mattress of the bed.  He shoved Sony’s body into it, between the metal bars.  Afterwards, he carefully replaced the bed as it was.  He took her car with him when he left.  The next day, the door was locked by management after failure to pay the rent.  Before long they were renting the room to new guests, with 5 sets of guests staying the night before the discovery of Sony’s body was made on March 17.  LaKeith Moody was arrested and questioned when he was found sitting in Sony’s car, but he was released on lack of evidence to tie him to the murder.  He was arrested again for possession of a gun as a felon, and is now being held, currently unaccused of Sony Millbrook’s death.

Sarah Hulbert’s Search for Drugs Brings an End to Her Journey

Sarah Hulbert

(Nashville, TN) On the night of June 25, 2007, Sarah Hulbert, a 25-year-old prostitute, found herself sitting in a circle of her friends a few hundred feet from a secluded road in Nashville.  They were getting high together; Sarah was already numb from the drugs, but she wanted more.  She asked the group, but they refused.  She was not getting the share she had paid for.  Angry, Sarah got up, huffed to herself, and began to walk off unnoticed by her friends.  She walked down North First Street towards the truck stop, where she had often been able to find someone dealing in the past.  She planned to get her own stash this time, and the others would have none of it.

The walk to the stop was not very far, but in her drug-addled state, every step was a challenge.  She was relieved when a large shipping truck pulled up alongside her, and she heard from inside its cabin a call to hop in.  Sarah climbed her way up the steps and opened the door, only to become suddenly unsettled.  The man inside was diminutive and strange; he had messy thin hair, and slightly disfigured features.  Sarah would never learn that his name was Bruce Mendenhall, 56.  The man pulled her into the car from her position of hesitation with surprising strength.  She struggled, but he pulled a nightstick from somewhere in the cabin and beat her with it.  Already confused, she was now unable to fight back and fell onto the seat lazily.  She vaguely heard the ripping of tape, followed by the sealing of her mouth and a clicking around her wrists as the steel of handcuffs wrapped around them.

Sarah’s consciousness darkened as the man ripped her clothes away and brought sex toys forth from hiding places.  He violated her with them, preparing her for his own body, which came soon enough.  All her body understood was the pounding of his muscles across all her limbs.  When he was done, he pulled a gun from behind the seat and forced the barrel into her mouth.  He yelled something at her, trying to get a reaction, but she felt her eyes roll up into the top of her head, unable to do anything but groan.  He pulled the trigger, exploding her head and filling the cabin with blood.  The car was later pulled into the truck stop, where Mendenhall tossed Sarah’s body and drove off.

Sarah’s body was found, and the security tapes for the station were viewed.  Later, a cop recognized Mendenhall’s car at another Nashville truck stop, and arrested him upon finding it covered in blood and holding over 300 items including a knife, rifle, gloves, and other items of torturous and sexual nature.  Upon interrogation, Mendenhall implicated himself in Sarah’s murder as well as the death of Symantha Winters in Lebanon, Tennessee.  He has been connected with the murders of seven women, mostly prostitutes, and is under investigation for many more.  On May 14, 2010, he was found guilty of killing Sarah Hulbert.

Trisha Babcock Gunned Down in Bungled Robbery

Trisha Babcock

(Detroit, MI) It was around midnight on August 1, 2009 and Trisha Babcock was sitting in a parked car on the corner of West Outer Drive and Evergreen in Detroit with John Williams, a man she’d befriended a week before.  The neighborhood was seedy, but Trisha preferred the privacy and isolation the darkened street gave them.  They drank vodka and talked about how, at 24, she’d moved there to find work as an exotic dancer.  She said she knew that, having graduated in the top 10 students of her class, her parents would be disappointed, but the money was too good to pass up.  Suddenly, Trisha heard a gruff command coming from the driver’s side window beside her, and she turned to see a gun barrel pointed directly at her eye.  The pistol was pushed through the crack she’d left open for fresh air.  Looking past the gun, she was surprised by what she saw.

On the other side of the window stood a young African-American boy, 12-year-old Demarco Harris.  The boy began shouting, demanding items from the car.  Trisha didn’t obey, unable to wrap her head around the contrast between the weapon and its owner.  Demarco looked angry, but there was a childish innocence behind his eyes.  Trisha tried to talk him out of his assault, but her words were buried by nervous shouting.  She reached up to the gun, afraid, and saw the boy’s face change in an instant.  In a knee-jerk reaction, he pulled the trigger and her senses exploded while her chest was pounded by the impact of the bullet.  Her torso flew back as she reached onto John’s lap and tried to cry to him, but no words came.  The boy opened the door, grabbed Trisha’s purse, and ran away.  John stared down at Trisha’s glazed eyes a moment, and then opened his door and jumped out, gently laying her onto the seat.  He ran for help.

Trisha was left to wait in the car.  Numb from the shock of what just happened, she laid there, trying to get her limbs to move, to escape the car.  She could not be sure how much time had passed when she saw a police officer appear in the passenger window.  He threw questions at her, and she tried to answer them, but only gargling sounds came forth from her mouth.  He reclined the driver seat and laid her body straight across it cautiously.  Soon she was in an ambulance, and a hospital not long before that, but her life ended there.

Demarco Harris was tried in court as an adult, but the jury was hung and the case went on to a second trial.  Demarco took the stand on his own behalf despite the advice of his lawyers, claiming that another boy had bullied him into taking part.  This time, with the help of a 2 hour confession taped the night of his arrest, he was found guilty.    No sentence has been imposed.

Amber Dubois Led on Fatal Tour of San Diego

Amber Dubois

(Escondido, CA) On February 13, 2009 Amber Dubois, 14, walked to school with thoughts of the Valentine’s Day cards in her backpack.  Even though she was running a little late, there were still other students standing in front of the campus fence.  She nodded at a group them, and smiled as the breeze blew her bangs across her face.  That was when she felt something digging into her back.  It was a knife, and it came with an order to keep walking quietly.

She obeyed, but adrenaline began to course through her veins as she and her mysterious guide walked past her school toward one of its parking lots.  None of the other bystanders reacted to the development.  She was unable to speak, her lips frozen in fear.  Each step required a precise focus to complete without tripping.    As she approached the cars in the lot, one of them beeped and blinked to signal its unlocking.  The blade led her to it, and the man behind her commanded her to open the door and step in.  Once she had done so, she looked to see her attacker, but he’d gone.  Soon after, the opening of the driver’s door signaled his return from around the car, and she turned to look.

John Albert Gardner III was sitting beside her.  He was a complete stranger: tall, built like a football player, with an angry face.  She asked him what he wanted, and he responded, “We’re just going to go for a ride.”  He pulled the car out of the lot and began Amber’s final journey.  Gardner tried, and failed, to make proper small talk as she tried, and failed, not to cry.  More than once she considered jumping from the vehicle, but Gardner made sure to keep his speed high and his stops minimal.  When they finally reached their destination, Amber no longer recognized where they were, but saw that it was secluded.

Amber loved nature, but at this moment, she feared it.  Events blurred together for her as she was pulled from the car and thrown onto the ground.  John Gardner towered over her as he forced her flat with his legs and began to pull her clothing off with his strong hands.  She yelled and screamed as he explored her body with them, their rough texture scraping across her skin.  She went numb before the violation began, and had blacked out before the ordeal was completed.  This gave Gardner the perfect opportunity to end her life with little violence.  A nearby rock was all he required, raising it high and letting it fall repeatedly on her head until her breathing stopped.

On February 28, 2010, Gardner was arrested for the murder of another girl, 17-year-old Chelsea King.   A few weeks later, John Gardner lead authorities to the remote area of Pala in San Diego where he had buried Amber Dubois’ body.  With this cooperation, he was able to avoid the death penalty, but not the scorn of the parents of the two bright teenagers whose lives he’d ended.