On June 22nd, 2012, Mary Kristene Chapa and Molle Judith Olgin were in Violet Andrews Park in Portland, Texas, just outside of Corpus Christi. The two had been dating for five months and, shortly after midnight, they were both shot by an unknown assailant. Olgin was killed, while Chapa suffered severe injuries.
Caring for children isn't for everyone. Some people recognize this, and opt not to become parents, or teachers, or to take jobs at daycare centers. Others go on to take those jobs anyways, and get frustrated when kids don't do what they're told and then duct-tape them to mats in order to get them to stay still at nap time.
One morning in June of last year, Houston defense attorney Jack Carroll arrived preoccupied at Harris County’s 338th District Criminal Court. He had never appeared before the court’s presiding judge, Brock Thomas, and he needed to ask for a continuance. As he waited for his client to be brought in, he ignored the disheveled woman in jail orange waving frantically at him, trying to get his attention.
The woman was Ana Lilia Trujillo, who was on her way to becoming the most notorious accused murderer Houston had produced in years. She’d been arrested for killing her boyfriend, Alf Stefan Andersson, less than 24 hours earlier, and already it was nationwide news.
If she had stabbed Andersson with a steak knife, it would have been unremarkable, a commonplace if terrible act of domestic violence. But instead she had stabbed him with her five-and-a-half-inch stiletto heel. The legal sharks of Houston’s criminal defense corps, who like nothing better than the kind of attention the case was receiving, sent emissaries to tout their skills to Trujillo.
The story of Larry Jackson, Jr., a black Austin resident who was shot and killed by APD Detective Charles Kleinert last summer, moved one step closer to resolution this week: After a full investigation, a grand jury issued an indictment for Kleinert on the charge of manslaughter.
Just after sunrise on the morning of August 9, 2012, in the Houston suburb of Katy, Scott Catt, a fifty-year-old structural engineer, was awakened by the buzzing of his alarm clock in the master bedroom of the apartment he shared with his twenty-year-old son, Hayden, and his eighteen-year-old daughter, Abby. The apartment was in Nottingham Place, a pleasant, family-oriented complex that featured a resort-size swimming pool and a large fitness center.