Karen Kingsbury - Missy’s Murder

THE STORY YOU ARE about to read was adapted from my days as a news reporter for the Los Angeles Times.

Sadly, the characters in this story are real. In most cases, the dialogue and events are real. Some scenes have been re-created to better tell the story. Always, the chapters were difficult to write, a very real look at the darker side of life.

Missys Murder is the first of four true-crime books I wrote at the beginning of my career as an author. It allowed me to be home with my daughter, Kelsey, who was just an infant when I covered the trial involving the murder you will learn about in these pages.

I wrote three more, Final Vows, Deadly Pretender, and Snake and the Spider. After that, I decided I couldnt write another. Id explored enough of the dark side.

All of my novels since then contain characters with serious trials and tro ubles, but they are written in context of the faith, light, and hope that I believe exists for us allincluding the characters in this book. God Bless!

Karen Kingsbury

P.S. You can learn more about my other titles at KarenKingsbury.com or by following me on Facebook and Twitter.

The People Youre About to Meet

MISSY AVILA

An appealing and irresistible

young beauty, she was a popular

teen with a secret enemy

KAREN SEVERSON

Overweight, emotional, Missys

lifelong best friend, she spearheaded

the hunt for the killer

CINDY SILVERIO

She had seen too much. Tormented

by what she knew and scared for her

life, she kept a terrifying secret.

LAURA DOYLE

Angry and tough, a child of a

troubled home, she screamed

that shed kill Missy for stealing

her boyfriend

VIC AMAYA

Missys loyal friend, he

nearly killed the wrong person

in revenge.

IRENE AVILA

Missys grieving, desperate,

very pretty mother, she would

unknowingly invite a murderer

into her own home

CATHERINE SCOTT

The dedicated homicide detective

who carried a lock of Missys hair

as a reminder of a crime that had

become personala crime she had

to solve.

THE EVENTS DESCRIBED IN this book are taken directly from court transcripts and other public records and numerous interviews with many people involved. However, in many instances, in order to better communicate the story and the atmosphere surrounding the events, incidents and dialogue were dramatically re-created based on court testimony and other public records, and interviews with various participants or other knowledgeable individuals.

Except for Missy Avila, Karen Severson, Laura Doyle, Irene Avila, Ernie Avila, Sr., Mark Avila, Shavaun Avila, Chris Avila, Ernie Avila, Jr., Judge Jack Tso, prosecutor Tamia Hope, Victor Amaya, and a few other minor characters, the author has chosen to change the names and disguise the identities of the people involved in this story. This has been done to preserve privacy. Any similarity between the fictitious names used and those of living persons is, of course, entirely coincidental.

I LOOK AT THE PICTURE OF MISSY

AND I CANT HELP BUT THINK

ABOUT HOW SHE MUST HAVE STRUGGLED.

Irene Avila, Missys mom

Homicide detective Catherine Scott made a note of the scratches and bruises around the girls face and eyes. Shed been beaten up pretty badly before she was drowned. The coroner touched the cold, gray skin of the girls face and arms. It slid grotesquely from her bones.

We have skin slippage, he said. Make a note of it. Shes probably been dead a couple of days.

It was then Catherine noticed the hair.

Clumps of dark brown hair lay on a boulder. Catherine walked closer and saw more hair on the ground. It looks like someone cut her hair before they drowned her, she said.

Quietly, Catherine picked up a small, shiny, dark lock of Missys hair. She placed it on a piece of paper, folded it into a tiny square, and tucked it inside her pants pocket.

She would never forget this girl. Never give up on solving her murder. And for the next three years, wherever she went and whatever she did, Catherine Scott carried that lock of Missys hair.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank the people who made this project possible. First, my thanks goes to Arthur Pine, an incredibly persistent man whose talent, knowledge, and encouragement made a difference. I would also like to thank Irene Avila, Mark Avila, Tamia Hope, and the others who helpfully provided accurate information throughout the writing of this book.

Finally, I want to thank Leslie Schnur for being the most patient editor in the world. I also thank Mercer Warriner for her editorial expertise and Jill Lamar for creative assistance. (1991)

DEDICATED

TO

My loving husband,

who has been my best friend ever since we met.

Thank you for changing my life

and being proud of me.

My dad,

who encouraged me

and believed I would accomplish

my dreams.

My mom,

whose excitement and enthusiasm

has kept me going throughout

this project.

My precious daughter,

who inspired me to pursue

the impossible.

And especially my Heavenly Father:

Thank you for answered prayers.

(1991)

THE SANTA ANA WINDS started blowing in the San Fernando Valley on October 1, 1985. Usually, the winds came much later in the month and sometimes not until November. Most people liked the Santa Anas because they were soothing after the stagnant summer. Gentle and warm, they blew the smog, leaving behind a rare blue in the southern California skies.

On a particular Tuesday afternoon Missy Avila sauntered from the gates of Mission High School and started looking for Bobbys car. Missy loved this kind of weather. It was invigorating and infused her entire day with joy.

Even the school day had been a good one. Missy thought back over it as she stood outside the campus waiting for her ride. She had finished her math homework earlier than usual and her English teacher had read one of Missys poems aloud as a fine example of descriptive writing.

With the warm air swirling around her, Missy, at seventeen, felt that the world promised endless possibilities. Her future plans to finish school and work as a physical therapist seemed as sharply focused as the San Gabriel Mountains in the distance. The gentle peaks, covered with bare shrub trees and wild brown grass brittle from the dry summer, formed a ridge that was usually hidden under a veil of smog. That afternoon the sky was so clear, Missy thought she could see each pine tree at the summit. She wanted to hike there, find the perfect rock, and sit for hours writing poetry about her youth and the love of her life.

But the gorgeous sky and gentle wind were not the only causes of Missys buoyant mood. Bobby Miller, the tall boy with the sandy-brown hair and heart-melting grin, had been dating Missy for three months, and there were times when Missy wondered what it would be like to marry him. She believed in the possibility of love.

Missy smiled as she saw Bobby drive around the corner in his beat-up Mustang and screech to a stop at the curb where she was waiting.

Wait a minute, he yelled, jumping out of the car and running around to open the passenger door. You must allow me, my princess!

Missy tossed her head, her long shiny dark hair spilling down past her waist, and laughed as only a teenager in love can laugh. A few of Missys friends walked by and grinned when they saw Bobby bowing graciously to her. She climbed in the car, he shut her door, and then ran back to the drivers seat.

Lets say we spend the rest of the day together! He turned to Missy, pulling her close. We could make a picnic lunch and take it to the park, find a quiet place, just you and me. What do you say, Missy? Can I talk you into it?