Gang Mom (23 page)

Now she knew that was all a con. Now she knew why Mary had distanced herself: she had ordered Aaron’s death.

As for Mary’s so-called anti-gang activities, “The defendant is evil personified. Why? Because she took in children, purporting to love and protect them. She gave them a place to just be themselves and then, when they were the most vulnerable, used them for her own gain.”

The idea that the kids called Mary ‘Moms’ “makes my skin crawl. From where I am sitting, a mom is someone who takes responsibility for her actions and her children’s.” Mary, clearly, did not.

“All the Defendant did as a mother was try to cover up her son’s actions by lying and, beyond belief, even murdering my son, my children’s brother. The main difference between you and me, Mary, is, somewhere along the line you forgot the entire idea of parenting.”

Throughout the trial, one question never seemed to be answered: was Mary a con woman from the beginning, as Michaud believed, or did she gradually succumb to the power of gangs, as Raynor believed? To Janyce, the answer was now obvious.

“You had no real intention to prevent gang activities. You were active in manipulating the system so Beau wouldn’t get caught. All a very big cover-up. First at Aaron’s expense, but also Beau’s other friends’: Joe, Jim, Lisa, Cameron, Larry, Linda, and all the rest.”

Had Mary not been caught, she never would have been stopped. The reason, Janyce said, was, “You enjoy the rush it gives you to be the mastermind and still be able to undermine the system. You played the game too well, thinking in your distorted mind that you would never get caught.” But, of course, she had. “The defendant has no feelings or true connections with other people, especially her so-called friends. The defendant is a manipulator and controlling person.”

In her grief Janyce might actually have settled on the truth about Mary. There’s one school of sociological thought that says the endorphin rush from pulling a job is what keeps criminals in the game. They are more addicted to that “high” than they are to the actual criminal behavior. In fact, being psychopaths, not feeling the way normal people do, that high is the only way they can feel at all.

“But these young adults, through this entire process, are now beginning to realize they are somebody and they are worth more than you ever gave them credit for. They should be applauded for taking the courage to step back to look, and to own their own part in this. The willingness to turn their lives around, to be productive, respected people in this community.”

Then Janyce turned to the physical and emotional toll the death had on her and her family.

“At one point in time, I was taking stomach medicine, sleeping pills, anxiety pills and depression medication and pain pills. All I take now is anti-depression medication, just to keep me on an even level to make it through each day, and medication to help allow me to get some sleep. You must know it’s not a given anymore. Just until recently I couldn’t even think of sleeping without going through all the elements of that night and how it affected me and my family.”

She related how she, her daughters and her son were all in therapy to cope with Aaron’s loss. Maya, in particular, was having problems.

Maya still felt responsible for Aaron’s death. She was the one who took the set-up call from Lisa. No longer able to cope with that guilt, Maya took what she hoped would be a fatal mixture of drugs and alcohol in January 1996. She survived, but, “This brought more overwhelming expenses: ambulance, emergency room and drug treatment—the effects of murder just are never-ending. The counseling does not come free. We exhausted all benefits through my insurance for the next two years. What is left over after bills are paid, I try to pay what I can on these expenses.”

Even Aaron’s death cost the family financially.

“The cost of Aaron being in the hospital on October third, from two a.m. until he died at ten forty-five was over twenty-two thousand dollars, not including ambulance and doctor fees. The bill from the hospital was waiting at my home after I and my family returned from staying at a friend’s home.” The bill for Aaron’s funeral alone was six thousand dollars.

As the money was depleted, so were the friendships. “Friends abandoned us because of their own fears. We felt diseased, like there was something wrong with us. Yet we were the homicide survivors.”

Mary shook her head.

“Considering all of this there is only one appropriate sentence for Mary Thompson: death. I understand that this is not possible under the law, but she has taken so much from us all. If she gets life in prison, at least that will guarantee that she will not hurt anyone else.”

Janyce sat down. No one said a word for a moment and then the judge broke the silence.

“Mary Thompson, please stand,” he intoned.

Mary stood. Judge Lyle Velure sentenced Mary Louise Thompson to spend the rest of her life in prison with no chance of parole.

After the sentence was rendered, the bailiffs snapped the leg irons and handcuffs on. It was “Gang Mom” who had come into the courtroom to hear the sentence; it was just another two-bit convicted murderer who was led shuffling away.

Outside the courtroom, Lisa Fentress was waiting. She went up to Janyce, looked into her eyes for forgiveness and collapsed crying in her arms.

“Oh, what can I do, what can I do?”

“Just live a good life.” And Janyce too began crying.

That evening, Jim Michaud stood on the porch of his home. It was an unusually clear night and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, just stars as far as the eye could see. He looked up and felt good. He’d done a good job. That was the intrinsic. As for the tangible, in one hand he had a perfect martini that he sipped, in the other, Paula, whom he had since married. They began to kiss and soon, they walked arm in arm into the back bedroom.

And then the phone rang.

AFTERWORD

Oregon’s prisons have begun to burst at the seams. To alleviate the problem, the state has arranged with Arizona to take some of their inmates. Mary Thompson is one of those. She currently resides in a prison someplace outside Phoenix, Arizona.

Beau Flynn has a scheduled parole hearing during 1998. It is not expected that he will get out, but Janyce Iturra is concerned.

Janyce and her kids are doing all right. Some still go to therapy and every year around the time of Aaron’s death, they get sad. But they carry on as best they can.

Under a new plan by Eugene’s chief of police, all detectives are supposed to be rotated back to uniform. Les Rainey was one of the first to go. Jim Michaud, though, appears to be safe for a while.

While the 74 Hoover Crips are no longer active in Eugene, gang crime in the town continues to be a problem, with no solution in the foreseeable future.

Image Gallery

Note: All photos courtesy of the Eugene Department of Public Safety unless otherwise indicated
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The view of the garage as the killers approached the house.

The bloodstained mattress on which Aaron Iturra was found mortally wounded.

Aaron Iturra posing in his bedroom where he would later be shot.

Janyce Iturra

Another view of the makeshift bedroom at the back of the garage—a typical teenager’s cluttered room where a murder would soon be committed.

Blood spattered on the beer bottle upon impact of the shot that eventually killed Aaron Iturra.

The living room window on the right was the one Joe Brown tapped on to make sure everyone was asleep before the killers entered the house.

The garage entrance through which the killers skulked on their way to Aaron’s bedroom.

Inspection of the murder scene by forensic specialists.