05.A.Descent.Into.Hell.2008 (31 page)

After she’d gone, Jim explained Jennifer had been shot and she’d died quickly, but there was more. After her death, someone had mutilated her body, cutting off her head and hands. As he spoke, Sharon and Vanessa screamed, their bodies violently shaking. Jennifer’s grandmother, Myrtle, sobbed, as Vanessa ran outside. Hailey, not able to bear more, ran out after her. When one of Jim’s friends found Vanessa, she was again sitting on a curb, much as she had at the crime scene, this time rocking and staring into space.

“I’d like a cigarette,” she said, although she wasn’t a smoker. When the man gave it to her, Vanessa couldn’t hold it, and it fell into the gutter. The man helped her up and brought her to his car, then drove her home.

One of Jim’s cousins, a physician, followed them home to help, and from the house, Jim called their family doctor, who rushed over to care for Sharon and Vanessa, who were both near hysteria.

In Little Rock, Tommy Coy watched the evening news that night and heard that Texas authorities were searching for Colton Pitonyak on a murder charge, in a horrific case in which the body of a young woman had been dismembered. Coy stared at the television. The report, he thought, had to be wrong. But the news anchor had clearly said Colton Pitonyak, who’d graduated from Catholic High School. For a little while, Coy sat and wondered, and then he went to an upstairs closet and pulled out a box of student mementos, things he’d kept from his best students.

After rummaging through, he pulled out a handwritten note from Colton dated 2001, thanking him for writing a recommendation to help him get into UT’s business school. Coy read and reread the note, thinking about the kid he knew.

“I was baffled,” says Coy.

Sam Bassett also heard the reports not long after he reached Austin that evening. At first, he couldn’t quite believe the news about the condition of the body. Then, he thought about what this meant for the case, the publicity and the shock for Colton’s parents. “This wasn’t going to be your usual case,” he says. “But I liked Bridget and Eddie Pitonyak, and I knew I’d do what I could to help their son.”

Deputy U.S. Marshal Aaron Greenwood called Vinnie Bellino at 7:30 that evening, with more information via APD from Loren Hall. Hall had reported that he believed his daughter was contacting him from a hotel in Piedras Negras. As soon as he hung up the telephone, Bellino put in a call to his counterpart in Coahuila, the Mexican state that includes the city of Piedras Negras, asking to meet him at the border in Eagle Pass. At the international boundary line on top of the bridge over the Rio Grande, Bellino gave Mexican officers a wanted poster for Pitonyak, a driver’s license photo of Laura Hall, and a description and license plate number for her green Cadillac. “This Pitonyak’s tied to a really brutal murder,” Bellino told those gathered. “We need to find him and get him in custody, quick.”

A while later, Laura Hall called the front desk at the Casablanca Inn, and Pedro Fernandez answered.

“Are you going to help us sell the car?” she asked. “We want to leave.”

“I don’t want anything to do with you two and your problems,” he replied.

“That’s okay,” she said. “But please don’t tell anybody about us.”

That evening in Corpus Christi, Scott, Vanessa, and the rest of the twentysomethings were on the beach. They took wine, beer, and blankets. “We were going to say good-bye,” says Vanessa.

The Gulf breezes were strong, and they talked about Jennifer and played CDs, including the Incubus song Scott had heard on the radio on the way there that day, “I Wish You Were Here.” As it played, they held hands and sang along, then ran out into the waves together, letting the cold water wash over their bodies.

On the U.S. side of the border, Vincent Bellino was in the department’s Eagle Pass office, maintaining a vigil, hoping for word on the whereabouts of Colton Pitonyak. At 12:30 that night, the phone rang.

“We found the Cadillac,” a Mexican officer told him.

The Mexicans had moved quickly, appearing to want Pitonyak out of their country as much as Bellino and a squad of homicide detectives wanted him under arrest in Austin. The plan was to take Pitonyak by surprise, before he could get to a lawyer and fight extradition. Because he was without legal status in the country, the Mexican police planned to expel Pitonyak as an illegal immigrant. For all intents and purposes, “Colton Pitonyak was like a wetback in Mexico,” says Bellino. “He wasn’t born there, didn’t have citizenship, and could be kicked out at any time.”

Dressed in jeans, boots, and a T-shirt, Bellino drove to the line down the center of the Eagle Pass Bridge, the border between the two countries. A little while later, the plainclothes Mexican police arrived in a beat-up white van. Bellino got inside, and they escorted him across the border and drove the short distance to Piedras Negras, pulling into the parking lot at the Casablanca Inn. Once there, they stopped near an old green Cadillac. Bellino checked the license plate number. It was Laura Hall’s. Glancing up at the hotel, the deputy U.S. Marshal saw Hall and Pitonyak on a second-floor walkway, smoking and talking.

“That’s them,” Bellino whispered.

With that, Mexican officers backed up the van to transport Bellino back across the border. He had no authority in Mexico, and they didn’t want him in their country when they apprehended Pitonyak and Hall. Back in the Eagle Pass office, Bellino waited with Smith, hoping Mexican authorities wouldn’t hesitate too long and lose their prey.

An hour later, Pedro Fernandez was at the inn’s front desk when a squadron of Mexican police entered. Without asking any questions, they proceeded directly through the hotel, outside, and into the parking lot. Fernandez followed and watched as the officers banged on Pitonyak’s room. Pitonyak opened the door, and the officers rushed in and grabbed him. Colton Pitonyak said nothing as he was handcuffed and brought from the room, but Laura Hall, sounding like the lawyer she one day hoped to be, screamed: “We’re American citizens. You’re violating our civil rights. You can’t arrest us.”

At 1:40
A.M.
, Mexican police called to report that they had Pitonyak and Hall and were about to deport them from Mexico. Bellino and Smith rushed back to the center of the one-hundred-yard-long international bridge in two cars. At the boundary line, they waited. Again the white police van pulled up and stopped. The Mexican officers climbed out, bringing the two young Americans with them. Pitonyak looked dirty and disheveled, wearing a green T-shirt, too big Ralph Lauren Bermuda shorts, and a pair of $100 tennis shoes. Relieved to have his suspect in custody, Bellino signed the documents, and the Mexicans left.

In two cars, one of the young Americans with each, Bellino and Smith drove the short distance to the U.S. Customs office, where Colton Pitonyak was officially welcomed back to Texas, then quickly read his rights and arrested. Bellino entrusted Hall, who had no charges pending against her, to the custody of the customs officers, and Bellino, Smith, and an INS officer took Pitonyak and left for the Maverick County jail. On the way, Colton spoke for the first time: “What am I being charged with?”

“Murder,” Bellino said.

“If this is a murder charge, I know what this is about,” Pitonyak said.

They asked no questions, and he offered nothing else.

When they arrived at the jail, the sally port entrance, a set of two doors used to isolate and secure vehicles brought into the facility, wasn’t working, and Bellino got out with the INS officer to walk inside and let the jailers know they’d arrived. While he was in the car alone with Joseph Smith, Pitonyak spoke again.

“I really fucked up,” he said.

Twenty-one

“They got him. They got him,” Scott heard Vanessa screaming when he awoke the next morning. Jennifer’s friends filled the condo, and Vanessa was crying and jumping up and down on the telephone, talking to her mother.

“They found Colton,” she shouted. “They arrested him!”

Scott ran to hug her, and pretty soon everyone in the condo was awake, talking about Colton Pitonyak’s arrest in Mexico. After so much sadness, it was the first reason they’d had to rejoice. Afterward, Vanessa went back to bed and fell quickly to sleep, the first peaceful sleep she’d had since the night before Jennifer disappeared.

By then, detectives Mark Gilchrest and David Fugitt were en route to Eagle Pass to interview Pitonyak. They’d considered flying, but Gilchrest didn’t trust small planes, so they drove south, heading toward the Maverick County jail, figuring that without airports to contend with, it would be almost as fast. By the time they arrived, Loren Hall had already come and gone. Bellino had called him as soon as he’d finished turning Pitonyak over to the jail guards, to let Hall know they had his daughter at the point of entry. While they were on the telephone, Hall confided in Bellino. “He sounded upset and frustrated, and he said that Laura was trying to grow up on her own,” says Bellino. “I had the impression that he thought this was all rebellion, and that he was trying to hold on to her.”

While she waited for her father, Smith watched Laura Hall pace the facility, talking to herself and acting strangely. She wanted to call Colton’s attorney, saying she had to get him out of jail. At one point, an agitated Hall said, “I’ll kill anyone who hurts Colton.”

Whatever the issues between the father and daughter, when Loren Hall arrived, Laura ran to her father and threw her arms around him.

Loren Hall asked Bellino about reclaiming the car and Laura’s things, along with Colton’s possessions still at the Casablanca. Bellino advised Hall to wait to drive into Mexico until daylight, when it would be less dangerous. But Hall and his daughter didn’t take the advice, instead leaving immediately for Piedras Negras. Customs called Bellino two hours later. Laura Hall was coming back across the border in her Cadillac.

“Do you want us to detain her?” the border patrol officer inquired.

“No, APD didn’t ask us to hold her,” Bellino answered. “There are no charges pending against her.”

After checking in with the Maverick County Sheriff’s Department, Gilchrest and Fugitt went directly to the jail. Because of the severity of the charges against him, Pitonyak was on a suicide watch, his shoelaces and belt confiscated. Guards brought a handcuffed Pitonyak to meet with the two detectives, and Gilchrest read Pitonyak his Miranda rights: He had the right to an attorney, and anything he said could be used against him. The talking ended quickly, when Colton Pitonyak asked for a lawyer.

At 6:30 that morning, Said Aziz was in his car driving to Texas. He planned to stop in San Marcos before continuing on to Austin to get ready for classes to start at UT in a week. Following reports of the news unfolding in Austin, Aziz had thought a lot about Jennifer, whom he considered a friend. That morning a long article had run in the
Austin American Statesman
: “Police: UT Student Used Saw to Butcher Body.”

When Said’s cell phone rang and he answered, he heard Laura Hall’s voice. “You wouldn’t believe the shit coming down,” she said. “Colton’s been arrested. The Mexican cops broke our hotel door down. I can’t believe they found us so fast.”

Telling him about the early-morning raid, Hall sounded excited, elated at the drama she’d become enmeshed in.

“How long have you been involved in all this?” Said asked.

“I have been up in this shit since like two hours after the shit started,” she crowed.

“Well, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Basically, I’m fucked,” she said, but then she went on to explain that she had a plan. Her intention was to tell police that she believed she and Colton were on a vacation, and that she knew nothing about Jennifer’s dismembered body in his bathtub. “I’ll be okay.”

At eight that morning, the U.S. Embassy in Mexico City issued a press release: “Thanks to quick action on the part of Mexico’s immigration authorities and the US Marshals service, Colton Pitonyak will be held accountable in the US for one of the most horrific murders ever committed in the state of Texas.”

By then, Andrea Jiles’s cell phone was ringing in Houston. “You wouldn’t believe what’s happened,” Laura said, again sounding excited. “Check the Internet.”

Laura hung up, and Jiles, who was recovering from foot surgery, got up and logged onto her computer. She typed “Colton Pitonyak” into Google and felt queasy as a list of news articles appeared, including the wanted poster from the U.S. Marshals office.

“My phone is probably tapped,” Hall said, when she called back. “Colton’s in jail.”

“Why aren’t you in jail?” Jiles asked.

“They aren’t going to get me,” Hall said. “I didn’t do anything. We were just on vacation.”

“You’re going to go to jail,” Jiles warned. “They’re just working on gathering enough evidence to book you.”

“Don’t say that,” Hall said, for the first time sounding worried. “They aren’t going to get me.”

Laura Hall made at least one more call that Tuesday morning, phoning Colton’s attorney, Sam Bassett, to tell him of the arrest. Bassett immediately contacted an Eagle Pass attorney, hiring him to meet with Pitonyak. Bassett needed to make sure his client didn’t talk to police. Then he went in to talk to his mentor, Roy Minton.

Gracious and old-fashioned, Minton had headed the go-to firm in Austin for decades, and Sam Bassett was one of the old man’s favorites. “He’s one of the best young lawyers I’ve known,” he says. It was Minton’s opinion that defense lawyers could be too aggressive, too caustic, and that doing so only backfired on their clients. Bassett respected the older man. Often dressed with a bit of Texas flair, Minton had an optimistic attitude and appeared comfortable in his own skin. Bassett had seen other criminal defense attorneys eaten up by working with clients who’d done terrible crimes or by being unable to free clients they believed innocent. Minton wasn’t like that. “You do the best you can for the client,” Minton says. “And you accept that there are a lot of things you don’t control.”

At about that time in Corpus Christi, there was a silent ceremony unfolding at Jim and Sharon’s home, on a quiet street surrounded by trees. Hailey, Vanessa, and Lauren pulled out Sharon’s clothes, looking for something for her to wear to the funeral. They found a black dress, and then slipped her into it. Lauren sat her on a stool in the bathroom, and Sharon tried not to look into the mirror while her daughters curled her hair and applied her makeup. Later, Sharon wouldn’t remember what she’d worn, and she wouldn’t care.