A Killing on the Streets of Houston

by Katherine Scardino

There really is not much surprise in a killing on the streets of Houston. That happens almost every day here. Texas, probably not unlike a lot of states in America, has many parts where the old violent "West" still lingers. Only, now - it is not so quaint nor the violence so understandable. In 1800 plus years, the people here fought for causes - like freedom from Mexico and our last stand at the Alamo. We fought to keep rustlers from stealing our cows and horses, because we needed them to eke out a meager existence on the plains. We fought the Indians - sometimes rightly, but mostly not justified but always with some reason. We hunted animals to kill to eat now or to eat during the cold Winters when the weather was so cold one could freeze if we stayed outside too long and the dirt was as hard as our concrete parking lots. The western garb has been replaced with baggy pants falling just one zillionth of an inch above the critical part of one’s behind, and oversized t-shirts with some rap singer’s picture on it.

Last Sunday, on a muggy day in Houston, a good man - a Houston police officer - was gunned down while he was doing his duty. By all accounts, Timothy Abernethy was a highly respected police officer, family man, and citizen who did nothing to deserve the death he received at the hands of a thug. No citizens like to hear of killings of any type - but when it is one of our police officers who risk their lives every day to be sure that we are kept safe and sound in our homes - we tend to get a bit aroused. And, not only was Timothy Abernethy killed during a routine traffic stop, but he was killed by a man with a criminal history. The public wants to know why was this man on the streets of our city? Why was he not in prison? Why was he paroled from prison early?

The man who was arrested and charged with capital murder is hated in this city now. He is the felon who was walking our streets and shot a man who was helping us; a family man, a cop. Some of you may be surprised to hear me talking like this...what if I were to get a call to defend this person? He couldn’t be less popular around here if he were Satan himself.

You know what my answer would be? Yes, of course I would defend this person. I would visit with him in the jail. I would make sure that he was being taken care of just like any other inmate in the jail. I would be sure that he received all his constitutional rights. And, I would fight like a tiger if one of his rights were violated. Oh yes, I know - what about Timothy Abernethy’s rights? He certainly had his rights violated, and that he did. Drastically. So much so that he is no longer around to complain about it. But, I do not represent Officer Abernethy. I would represent the accused person. And YOU and your family - We want to be sure that these same rights stick around. We do not want different rules for different people. The rules are the same - whether you are the killer of a police officer or whether you stole a dollar from the convenience store - or whether you were arrested for driving erratic on the way home from work one afternoon after a beer with the guys or girls....

But, this incident begs another question. Why do we have someone like this young black male who is accused of killing this officer? Why has he been in prison twice and jail multiple times? Why is he not in school? Where are his parents? Where is his incentive to work, to be educated, to have his own family?

I believe that we have allowed a culture of people to exist alongside us who live by a different set of rules. We get upset when one of those people break one of "our" rules. But, they laugh at us. They do not live by our creed or ethics or laws or rules. They have their own. And, we engender this manner of existence by throwing money at them for "disability" payments, to pay for their fifth baby born while unmarried or to buy their groceries because they will not get a job. And, PLEASE, do not write me about being racist or sexist. I am neither. I do not care if you are black, green, yellow or purple; I do not care if you are male, female or a combination of the two. If your world is one where you can justify murder because you don’t want to go back to jail, or you can justify selling drugs on the street because you just need a little "extra cash", or you can justify not working for any million reasons, but the real reason is that you just do not want to, then you are one of those people I am talking about.

I want the world back that I remember as a kid. I want a world where the adults work, bring home a paycheck, pay bills, get married, have children, and live by a set of rules. Was that so bad? A world where you really did not have to lock your front door. There was not much crime anywhere. I want that back. Yeah, right.....

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Homicide: A Career in Death

by Sgt. Eric Mehl

I stood in the hallway of a luxury hotel on the north side of Houston. It was late and I was tired. I carried with me an empty clipboard and I was wearing a ball cap emblazoned with the hotel logo. I knocked on the door directly in front of me.

In a loud and clear voice, I announced, “Engineering!”

I knew the man who would answer my knock had, several hours earlier, beaten an elderly woman to death with an ax. We had come to this particular hotel on a hunch that he might be there. An inquiry made at the front desk confirmed our suspicion. The dead woman was registered at the hotel. In fact, according to the hotel records, she had rented two rooms. After she had been murdered.

Hotel room doors can be difficult to breach. Any delay at the door could give the killer time to arm or barricade himself. Adding to the predicament was that the rooms rented by the killer were first-floor lobby rooms. Hotel patrons would be put at risk if we couldn’t take him quickly and quietly.

A plan was developed for him to open the door for us. The real hotel engineer cut off the electricity to the rooms the killer had rented. We waited for the suspect to call the front desk and lodge a complaint. He didn’t bother. So the front desk clerk called him and told him an “engineer” was on the way to restore the power in his rooms.

Now, standing at the door, I heard the privacy lock being disengaged from the inside. My heart began to pound in anticipation of what was to come. My right elbow rested against my .45 caliber pistol, holstered and hidden from view. It would be of little use this night.

The door swung open and there, standing in front of me, was the man who had taken an ax to an old lady. His size alone was daunting—he stood over six feet and weighed at least 220. Since he thought I was there to restore his electricity, he seemed genuinely happy to see me.

Trust me. In about one second he wouldn’t be quite so pleased.

I charged like an angry linebacker on steroids. At the point of impact, he let out a screech similar to a little girl's upon seeing her first spider. He crumbled when faced with someone comparable in size and strength. An old lady I’m not. It was over in seconds. The murderer was sitting on the floor in handcuffs and no one had been hurt. It was a successful execution of the arrest warrant.

Just Another Day at the Office

This is my world as a homicide detective. I have to admit, I’m addicted to the work.

Nobody enjoys a good murder mystery more than I do. The one where I’m standing among the carnage left in the wake of a fresh kill. Making those decisions in the first few critical hours that can mean the difference between bringing a killer to justice and knowing that he's out there unidentified. The stakes are high and the pressure is on. Moving quickly as the leads develop and staying with your case, regardless of fatigue, is mandatory. The work is dirty, demanding, challenging, and frustrating. I’m in my element. I can’t imagine having chosen a better profession.

I was a 28-year-old patrol sergeant when I was asked to apply to the Homicide Division of a large metropolitan police department. Now, more than twenty years later, with more than 500 homicide scenes behind me, I’m still there. I was warned early on not to stay too long.

“Promote out,” I was advised, “and become part of management.”

I didn’t heed the warning.

It might take only one murder case to cement your future. Mine came early in my homicide career. She was a 75-year-old woman who had been at home when she was beaten to death with a brick. Her name was Wilma. The force used against her was so tremendous that the brick broke in half. The killer then tied bound her by the neck, to a support column in her kitchen. Her legs were tied to the refrigerator door. After using her washing machine to clean the blood from his clothing, the killer stole most everything of value she owned. He had a thirty-six hour lead on me.

Two days later, I was in a small police department in Mississippi taking the murderer’s confession. He held nothing back:

There was some bricks on the side of the house and I grabbed one. . . . I walked inside. . . . She had her back to me at the kitchen table. . . . I raised my arm up and struck her on top of the head real hard. . . . She fell forward, toward the window, screaming for help. . . . I hit her so hard with the brick that it broke the brick. . . . She was laying on the ground in the kitchen and I picked up the broken piece of the brick and started pounding her with it. . . . She wasn't really moving at the time. . . . She was breathing a little bit. . . . I searched the area for a rope or something that I could tie around her neck and choke her with it.

Wilma’s murderer was buried with evidence. He had left his finger- and palm-prints at the murder scene. Bloody footprints on the kitchen floor had been made by the shoes he was wearing when he was arrested. I tracked down the stolen items he had pawned or otherwise sold. I had the ribbon of a typewriter found in his possession transcribed to prove it belonged to Wilma.

After both sides had rested their cases at trial, the defense lawyer reminded the jury that he had informed them, in his opening statement, that the evidence against his client would be, “overwhelming.”

It was—and I was hooked.

Priceless Benefits

People will often ask how I can endure the constant barrage of death and tragedy. I’m not sure it’s easily explained. In the end, it’s the murder victims themselves who keep me coming back for more. Especially the most vulnerable among us, the very young and the very old. Someone has to stand and speak for them since they can no longer speak for themselves.

The work can, at times, take a toll. I remember a two-year period when 1,288 people where murdered in Houston during 1990 and 1991. The scenes came so fast I found myself standing in the middle of the next homicide scene before I could complete the last one. Or the one before that.

There was a three-month period during that time that was especially troubling, at least for me. During those three months—April, May, and June—I stood over the bodies of seven murdered children. Six had been shot to death in two separate incidents. The seventh was a 4-year-old girl who had been raped and beaten to death with a tree limb. Her name was Monique. Her killer had left her in a wooded area. It took us five days in the Bayou City's merciless heat and humidity to find her.

Imagine the sight.

Secretly, I hoped people would stop killing children. It was not to be. A little boy named Datrick was beaten to death one night, by his father, because he refused to eat his spinach. He also dared to give his father, a preacher, an evil look. His father told us he refused to have such an undisciplined child. The preacher no longer has that concern.

Then there was Floyd. Floyd was two years old and must have done something incredibly terrible. I say this because his mother decided to punish him by placing him in a bathtub of scalding water. The injuries were textbook. She decided against medical treatment—Children’s Protective Services might take him away. It took Floyd ten days to die. Ten agonizing days.

When I arrived at that scene, Floyd’s mother and her boyfriend were sitting in their living room watching television. A patrol officer motioned me to a bedroom. There was nothing in the bedroom, except Floyd. He was lying on the floor against a wall. His skin, from the waist down, looked like pink, green, and yellow bubbling wax. Infection had set in. It was absolutely horrific. Floyd died in that bare bedroom all alone. I’m sure death was a relief—Floyd didn’t have to hurt anymore.

So there it is. Floyd, Monique, Datrick, Wilma, and the hundreds of other murder victims who came after them have kept me in Homicide for so many years. Though dead, they were provided with a voice and they were heard, albeit in a courtroom. Someone, whom they had never met, was there to say that what they endured was wrong and that the people who hurt them have to be held accountable.

Life After Death

My days as a policeman are now numbered. Death is cruel and plays no favorites. It visited my home twenty-one months ago. Seeing so much death in my life has numbed me to a certain extent. But nothing in my experience prepared me for having to tell my 7-year-old daughter that her mom would never again be coming home.

Today, I try to manage a homicide caseload along with the school and social schedule of my daughter, now nine. Time constraints prevent me from giving either the proper attention. People tell me I’m too young to retire. I disagree. My daughter has already lost her mother to heart disease. She won’t lose me to my job.

The big city police department can make you feel like you’re nothing more than an employee number and a seniority date. I will be easily replaced when I leave. My hope is that the young sergeant who replaces me and walks into the Homicide Division for the first time acquires a passion for the work. A passion I’ve carried with me for the past two decades.

Eric Mehl is a sergeant with the Homicide Division of the Houston Police Department, where he has worked for twenty-seven years. He was one of two detectives asked to form the Cold Case Unit, which he now heads. Sgt. Mehl lives in Houston with his daughter. Read more about his career here.

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Most Atrocious "Burglary"

by Connie Park

On February 21, 2001, I was at the Homicide desk, working evening shift for the Houston Police Department. That night, I was taking calls from patrol officers reporting any murder scenes. I was a rookie officer back then, plus I was new to homicide. I was learning from investigators who had been investigating murders for over a quarter century. Needless to say, I was star-struck and eager to learn. On that Thursday night, we received a call regarding a body found in an apartment. A woman had been tied to a refrigerator.

Sgt. John Burmester, Officer Brian Harris, and I were assigned to make the scene and conduct the investigation. We arrived at the town home complex and found the patrol officers securing the crime scene. You can imagine all the images that were going through our minds when we first received the call. Sure enough when we arrived at the crime scene, there was a heavily decomposed female body lying on the floor.

The victim had been strangled and tied to the refrigerator handle like a dog. The victim’s name was Carmen Tupas, a 76-year-old retired teacher, who had lived alone in the complex for years. Neighbors told investigators that Ms. Tupas (pictured right) kept to herself and would not open her door to anyone except the few people she knew in the complex. There were burglar bars and an alarm system in her town home. Ms. Tupas had been robbed and beaten a few years before and was very safety conscious.

According to witnesses, they noticed Ms. Tupas's car was missing but they had seen the vehicle during the week parked in different parking spaces. The night Ms. Tupas was discovered, one of the neighbors stated that he noticed the burglar bar and front door were ajar and the lights were on inside the town home. The neighbor thought that was strange. Everyone knew Ms. Tupas always had the burglar bars locked. He went inside and that’s when he discovered Ms. Tupas lying on the floor, obviously dead.

This was one of my first crime scenes I made as an investigator and one that I will not forget. I saw a helpless elderly woman tied to a refrigerator door handle like some kind of animal. I was thinking who--or better yet, what--would do this to any person. Ms. Tupas had been dead for approximately two weeks. She was so heavily decomposed that her face was unrecognizable.

I had to conduct the crime-scene investigation and collect and document any potential evidence that might help with the investigation. I made an effort to be strong and objective and not to personalize anything. The very first opportunity I could take a break, I walked to my car and I began crying, trying to comprehend how anyone could do this to a human being and the suffering Ms. Tupas went through before she died.

I know we tough police officers don’t show our emotions and we have to be objective, but I don’t know any officers who would not be affected by this murder. I remember asking Sgt. Eric Mehl, a seasoned veteran, how he handled everything. Sgt. Mehl told me that you can’t personalize the victim. You must consider the body as evidence--the one piece of evidence you discover which will ultimately help you solve the murder investigation. That advice has stuck with me through my homicide investigations over the years.

We learned through our investigation that money and jewelry were taken from the town home and that her car was missing from the complex. The vehicle was recovered a few days later at the other end of the property. Even more disturbing was that whoever was responsible for her death had been staying in Ms. Tupas’s town home for several days, eating and sleeping while she was lying dead on the floor decomposing. For several days they were in and out of her town home and using her car.

We received an anonymous tip from a woman who informed us that she had seen the stolen jewelry in the possession of two males who were visiting her the same day Ms. Tupas was found dead. It turned out one of the two suspects lived at the same complex and that Ms. Tupas knew him. Ironically enough, the suspect turned out to be her friend’s son, the one and only friend she trusted. Charles White, a 34-yr-old male, and his 17-year-old friend Sam Zerai were eventually tracked down and charged with capital murder. Killing someone during the course of committing a felony such as robbery is a death-penalty eligible offense in Texas.

Both White and Zerai confessed to being in Ms. Tupas’s home for a couple of days and admitted to driving her vehicle but, predictably, both blamed each other for the murder. Each stated Ms. Tupas was dead when they arrived at her town home. They said they had stolen her jewelry, pawned it, and used the cash to buy drugs. They acknowledged that they ate, slept, and used drugs while Ms. Tupas's body was decomposing.

That these two murderers were charged and arrested for capital murder was both exciting and a relief. The physical evidence, latent prints, and confessions placed them at the scene of the murder. Unfortunately, before a trial, the two suspects were able to plead to lesser charges--specifically, "burglary of a habitation with intent to commit robbery." Without the suspects admitting to killing Ms. Tupas, the evidence we obtained was not enough to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that they had killed her. All we had was enough to prove that they had broken into her town home and stolen from her.

Because White already had a criminal record, he received thirty-five years. Zerai was sentenced to less than five years. White is currently in the Texas Department of Criminal Justice prison unit and will be eligible for parole in 2036, and Zerai is out and living in Houston, Texas.

The case ended up with two arrests but only with burglary charges. The worst part is that the two cowardly suspects didn't have to stand trial for capital murder where they would have had to face Ms. Tupas's family. This was one case where justice wasn't served.

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"Lover's Lane" Unsolved Murders

by Jenna Jackson

A young couple, newly in love and looking forward to their lives – brutally murdered and left where their killer likely thought no one would discover them. Nearly 18 years ago, Cheryl Henry and Andy Atkinson met up with the wrong person/s, and two young lives, full of promise, ended.

In the summer of 1990, the bodies of Henry, 22, and her boyfriend, Atkinson, 21, were found in an undeveloped, wooded area of Houston where young people often went to park and kiss. Both had been tied up with rope and their throats slashed. Henry had been raped.

For almost two decades, detective Billy Belk worked the case for the Houston Police Department's Homicide Division. Other cases would come and go – but this one stayed with him through the years. Unfortunately, there was only so much he could do with the little amount of evidence they had. There were no eyewitnesses. Semen was collected from Henry's body at the scene -- but DNA testing was in its infancy and wasn't much help at that point.

But Belk made sure the evidence they did have was properly collected – and it finally paid off. A week after Belk retired, he got a phone call. The DNA from semen found on Henry’s body had just been matched to an unsolved rape that happened that same year. A 30-year-old exotic dancer who worked at GiGi’s, a topless club in Houston, had been raped in her apartment.

Now a 48-year-old Realtor, the woman still clearly remembered that terrifying night, just two months before Henry and Atkinson were killed – and the face of the man who raped her. Police have now released a composite sketch of the suspect. She said he was a white man in his mid-30s, about 6 feet tall and 180 pounds with brown hair, brown eyes, a possible mustache and olive skin.

Like the rape victim, Cheryl Henry had worked at a similar club in Houston -- Rick's Cabaret. Henry's boyfriend Atkinson occasionally worked the door at Dreams Street, another southwest Houston club, which his father managed. With the DNA link, police can refocus their investigation based on the likelihood that the man who raped both women frequented or worked at local strip clubs.

The “Lover’s Lane” slayings may be Houston’s most notorious set of unsolved murders.

"It's a bad Hollywood movie," Michael Miller, an HPD homicide investigator who inherited the case from Belk, his former partner, told the Houston Chronicle last week when the news broke. "Somebody came up on them, tied them up and marched them out to the woods. These two knew they were going to die."

Miller says he knows there are other victims out there – and he hopes someone will recognize the sketch and call him. Even the smallest lead could help him track down this rapist and killer, who could still be at work today.

Over the years, the victims’ families and the police department have kept these murders in the limelight. As a producer for 48 Hours, I've seen what these families go through -- it is an unspeakable nightmare to lose a loved one in this manner. But to never know who did this -- and never have them pay in any way for what they've done -- is beyond comprehension. 48 Hours has looked into this case a handful of times – as have many other media outlets. But there has never been a break with as much potential as this one.

It will definitely still be an uphill battle to find this man. It will take a lot of pounding the pavement (something the cops on this have been doing since day one) – and a huge stroke of luck. But at least it’s something – and hopefully it will get people talking.

Because the composite is of the killer 18 years ago, he obviously will have aged and will look different. But the hope is that someone will recognize him as he looked back then – and give the police a lead.

These families lost two loved ones; their lives ended before they really even began. Hopefully the progression of new DNA science – and the steadiness of old police work – will finally create a break in this case.

If you know anything, no matter how small, call Detective Michael Miller at 713-308-3946 or 713-308-3600. Crime Stoppers is offering a $5,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and charging of a suspect. Call 713-222-8477.

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Officer Rodney Johnson's Last Call

by Connie Park

When Houston police officer Rodney Johnson received the department's Badge Number 5913, he took the oath to protect and serve the citizens of Houston, Texas. Years later, on September 21, 2006, Officer Johnson was policing the city when he made what should have been a routine traffic stop. What happened in that brief moment changed the course of many lives--a tragic moment no one can reverse.

Officer Johnson stopped Juan Leonardo Quintero on traffic for speeding. Johnson handcuffed him and placed him in the back seat of his police cruiser. While Officer Johnson was sitting in the front driver’s seat of the vehicle filling out paperwork, he was shot not once, but four times in the back of the head by the suspect he had handcuffed. Quintero had managed to retrieve a pistol from his waistband. Though he had been shot, Officer Johnson somehow was able to press the emergency button in his patrol car. That was the last thing Johnson did before he died, the “last call” he made as a police officer.

Quintero (pictured right) was taken into custody to the HPD homicide office where he gave a videotaped confession to Sergeant David Ferguson. In his statement, Quintero said that he shot the officer because he thought that Johnson had disrespected him--that Officer Johnson should have just given him a ticket rather than taking him into custody. Quintero demonstrated in the video how he managed to retrieve the pistol and fire it while he was in handcuffs. It turned out that Quintero was illegally in the United States. He was charged with capital murder of a police officer and pled not guilty by reason of insanity. Quintero’s attorneys claimed that Quintero suffered from mental disease or defect and was unable to understand what he was doing. Quintero was facing the death penalty for the brutal murder of Officer Johnson.

On May 8, 2008, it took only six hours for Harris County jurors in Houston to come back with a guilty verdict for Quintero. Now it was up to the jurors to decide on sentencing, which, in a Texas capital murder case, consists of two options: life in prison without parole or the death penalty. During the State's compelling closing arguments in the punishment phase, prosecutors John Jordan and Denise Bradley asked the jurors to follow and interpret the law, which, they argued, would clearly show that Quintero deserved the death penalty and that he posed a future threat or danger to society.

“You look for some humanity in this defendant," Assistant District Attorney Jordan said, referring to the videotaped confession. "You look for some emotion, some heart, some soul in this defendant. You can watch it twenty times and you won’t find it.”

Prosecutor Bradley addressed Quintero directly: “You’re a threat in the back seat of a patrol car. You’re a threat anywhere. We can’t protect ourselves from Juan Quintero."

Quintero’s attorneys stated that brain damage caused their client to suffer from mental disease and that his actions that day were a result of "freak circumstances.” The attorneys asked the jurors to show some mercy on Quintero.

Naturally, prosecutor Bradley countered by asking whether Quintero showed any mercy when he shot Officer Johnson four times in the back of the head.

On May 20, 2008, the jurors decided to sentence Quintero to life in prison without parole. This stunned everyone in the courtroom, including Quintero and his attorneys. Prosecutors were shocked, as were Johnson’s wife, Joslyn Johnson, his family members, friends and brothers and sisters in blue. This was a senseless act where Officer Johnson was executed and murdered. This was a case where the death penalty was the right and just punishment.

Officer Johnson was not only a coworker of mine, but I was fortunate to have been friends with him and with his wife, Sergeant Joslyn Johnson (pictured left). I remember a couple of years ago I asked him what makes a good marriage and how he and Joslyn got along so well. He told me that he was just lucky to have Joslyn as his wife. As for everyone who knew him, Rodney was a big teddy bear and a jokester.

Officer Johnson will not only be remembered as a fallen hero who gave the ultimate sacrifice. He will also be remembered as a great and respected man. During a victim's impact statement to the court, Officer Johnson's sister, Susan Johnson, told everyone in the courtroom that “Rodney was bigger than life” and that he was a loving husband, father, brother, son, and brother in blue. He loved his family and his job as an officer. Rodney was proud to wear his badge and uniform and to protect and serve the City of Houston. She stated that what Quintero did on September 21, 2006, will affect their lives forever but that Quintero will never be able to take away the cherished memories they have of Rodney.

I can’t even fathom the pain Joslyn and Rodney’s children and other family members have gone through since they received the phone call and learned that Rodney had been killed. But what I can say is that we, Rodney’s brothers and sisters in blue, feel an emptiness and sadness only officers can describe. It’s what bonds officers together and what makes us a family. It’s the oath we all took to protect and to serve and Rodney was doing exactly that on the day he was shot and killed by Quintero. Rodney’s caring and selfless acts will have an unforgettable impact on our lives forever and we are all blessed to have known him.

We will continue to love and pray for Joslyn and the kids and Rodney’s family members. But, most importantly, we will never forget Rodney and he will be in our hearts forever.

We will also carry in our heavy hearts the thought of if and when our “last call” will be.

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Body of Evidence

by Connie Park

Homicide investigators realize it just takes seconds to dramatically change someone’s life. But you’d never think a teenager’s life would end that one day she decided to miss school with her friends. That one day changed not only the teenager’s life, but the lives of many. In fact, it had an impact on one particular homicide investigator for over two decades.

While in homicide, I’ve had the opportunity to work with several of the best homicide investigators in the nation. Their combined experience adds up to over 1000 years in the Homicide Division alone. I guess I’m dating their ages, but we won’t tell them that. Sgt. John Burmester was a coworker of mine when I first began working in homicide. He worked for the Houston Police Department for thirty-one years, a quarter century in homicide. Burm retired back in 2003 and currently is loving retirement.

I joined HPD’s Cold Case Squad in 2006. Eager to start working on cases, I called Burmester one day. I asked him if there were any cases that were unsolved, cases he’d like me to look into. Without hesitation, Burm told me the story of Sharon Darnell, a 14-year-old girl who was violently murdered and found in an abandoned apartment building. He gave me the case number, the date, and the location without consulting a file. That was amazing to me--that he recalled all the detailed information after twenty-three years. Every investigator has those certain cases that really stand out and have a dramatic impact.

On February 7, 1984, Sharon Darnell was on her way to school in southeast Houston. She was just a freshman and looking forward to her high school years. That day Sharon and a few friends decided to skip school and go over their friend’s house. They’d stayed a couple of hours watching television and playing video games. It was time to go home and Sharon and her friends started walking back to their apartment complex. Frederick Johnson, 23, told Sharon he’d walk her through the empty field to make sure she got to her apartment safely. That was the last time Sharon’s friends saw her alive.

A few hours later, two kids walking back from school found a girl’s body in an abandoned building. They saw that she was dead, possibly strangled. Police were called out to the location and learned that the dead girl was Sharon Darnell. She had been sexually assaulted and brutally murdered. She was found lying on the floor nude, her throat slashed from ear to ear, and her hands bound together.

Original investigators that made the scene were J. G. Burmester and S. P. Ward. They processed the crime scene along with Crime Scene Unit Officer Tony Blando. They set to work, collecting physical evidence from both the crime scene and the victim’s body. The evidence from Sharon's body was the key to solving this case. Frederick Johnson (pictured above) was listed as a suspect, but he was released due to lack of evidence. With no other suspects, the case went nowhere.

Fast forward twenty-three years to 2007. The evidence from this case that the investigators collected back in 1984 was sent out to an independent lab in Dallas. The test came back with a male DNA profile that matched that of Frederick Johnson’s. Johnson’s DNA profile was stored in CODIS, a national DNA databank. DNA testing and technology have advanced so much over the years. The results were astounding. MiniSTR testing is one of the new advancements in DNA technology where information can be recovered from degraded DNA evidence, as in this case. Johnson was already serving a life sentence in a Texas prison unit for two counts of aggravated sexual assault of a juvenile. Surprised? The worst part about it was that without the murder charge in 2007, Johnson would have been was eligible for parole in 2009. Frederick Johnson was charged with capital murder for sexually assaulting and killing Sharon Darnell. He is awaiting trial in the Harris County District Court.

We informed Burmester and Ward of the results of the new DNA testing and the charges filed against Frederick Johnson. When I called Burm on the phone, he was excited the case was solved and that it will bring some peace to Sharon’s family. He wanted to give us the credit for solving the case but Burm is the one who never forgot about Sharon. He never forgot that day Sharon’s life ended and the impact it had on so many lives. Ironically enough, Sharon would be thirty-eight today, my same age.

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No Two Days Are the Same

by Connie Park

As an investigator in Homicide, it didn't take me very long to realize that no two days are the same. I have been proud to serve as a police officer with the Houston Police Department, having spent time in Patrol, Major Offenders, and for the past seven years or so as an investigator in the Homicide Division.

In 2001, I was one of two investigators in a case involving a very dangerous man named Kenneth Headley. In Southwest Houston one afternoon, I arrived on a scene to see a man laying in the street. He had been shot, his brains blown through the back of his head.

With the exception of one brave woman (I will call her "Roxanne"), any witnesses to this awful crime opted to leave this victim dead in the street. Roxanne told us that she was in the car with Kenneth Headley and the victim, and at some point they began to argue over a petty drug dispute. Headley resolved the dispute by ordering the victim out of the car and then shooting him in the head.

Afterward, Roxanne said that Headley threatened her, along the lines of "If you say anything about this, I will do the same thing to you." She was terrified but had the guts to remain at the scene to tell her story.

Roxanne was shown a lineup. She identified Headley as the man who shot the victim in the head. We presented the case to the Harris County District Attorney's Office and filed a charge of Murder on Headley. The case was assigned to the 228th District Court. We soon met with prosecutors. We all knew that Roxanne was a drug addict. Then the problems we had hope to avoid, started. Roxanne disappeared. Without her, a murderer would walk free and be given the opportunity to kill again. But, like I said, no two days are the same.

As the case wound through the customary court settings, we looked long and hard for Roxanne, without success. The case was set for trial and we were hoping for a miracle, that Roxanne would reappear. A few weeks before trial, she did. I found out that she had been arrested under a bridge with a small amount of crack cocaine. I knew that we had to talk to her. The prosecutor and I met with her on many occasions, trying to persuade her to continue to do the right thing and not to be afraid. As we expected, she was upset and not very cooperative.

I knew that we had to have her to see that justice was served for this victim who had been executed in the middle of a public street. I reminded Roxanne of that and asked her, "What if that victim had been someone in your family? Does this monster who did this deserve to be out in the free world?" At last, Roxanne saw where I was coming from. It took an empathetic approach from us, an approach without threats and warnings. I wanted Roxanne to know that we cared about her, not just as a witness on one of our cases, but as a human being. She appreciated that, and the case went to trial.

I learned more about Kenneth Headley. I learned that he was a suspect in another violent offense in Baltimore, Maryland and that he had lied in order to convince a prosecutor up there to foolishly recommend probation for a hardened criminal.

But I had faith that we would reach the right result in the Houston case. Roxanne and I and many other HPD officers testified and we told the truth. Throughout the case, we worked hand in hand with the prosecutor, who is now a district court judge. The jury found Kenneth Headley guilty of Murder and gave him the life sentence he deserved. As a result of our perseverance and desire to seek the truth, Headley will not get the opportunity to kill again. And that is what makes what we do so rewarding.

We in the criminal justice fields have the opportunity to affect people's lives in a positive way, people who have had to sort through the wreckage of witnessing a horrible crime or ease the pain of a relative of a defenseless victim who fell prey to a criminal like Kenneth Headley. I have seen people murdered because they refused to agree to a man's request to have an abortion. I have seen people murdered over a $20 crack cocaine. I have seen people murdered over gang turf and for looking at someone the wrong way. But all I have to do is to remind myself about what I learned when I met Roxanne and had the misforutne of meeting Kenneth Headley, to know that I will be ready for it. After all, no two days are the same, and that is why I do what I do.

Note: Connie Park was recently added as a regular contributor for Women in Crime Ink. Because her bio was not posted on launch day, we are printing it here:

Connie Park is a homicide detective. Eight of Connie's 13 years with the Houston Police Department have been spent investigating murders and kidnappings. She is presently assigned to the Cold Case Unit. Ten years ago, Connie was selected to work in the Major Offenders Division, assigned to the Asian Gang Task Force, where she was able to utilize her language skills to translate Korean. During her work with the Task Force, Connie received training from various Federal Agencies. Connie obtained her business degree from Texas A&M University.

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