“Jane Bautista exhibited bizarre behavior,” said Don, explaining how an expert would testify that she was likely a paranoid schizophrenic.
He focused on the delusions that had caused her to move multiple times, left her living out of hotels and cars, and the temper that had sent Jason to the emergency room with a gash to the head.
“Mr. Murray painted Jason as a cold-hearted murderer,” Don said. “But there will be testimony presented showing physical abuse that was criminal. And it went on from the time he was an infant into adulthood. Evidence will show she taunted him, she beat him with sticks and clubs and belts, threatened him with a knife. She hated how he reminded her of Armando, the man who abandoned her by committing suicide.
“Matt and Jason grew up in an atmosphere of chaos and insanity. He grew up in a home more desperate, more psychotic, more poisonous than anyone should have to bear. And as a result, he developed a defense mechanism so strong, he could survive in the midst of chaos. In fact, Matt thought Jason was ‘a pussy’ for taking so much of his mom’s abuse. He never saw Jason strike back. Never.
“On January fourteenth, 2003, Jane’s insanity grew worse, as it always did around Christmas time. She talked about Jews and Mexicans. And Jason will testify that his mother came at him with a knife that night. He feared for his life. He felt fear like never before, because he saw a rage in her like he’d never seen before. Jason never intended to kill his mom. But she attacked him, there was a struggle, and she was dead. This was a struggle, not a planned killing.
“He did try to cover up. He relied on a TV script for a half-baked plan. It was a solution so ill-formed and poorly thought out, he didn’t even know what to do with the head and hands.”
Finally, Don turned to the topic of Matt, leaving jurors with a warning: “Remember, Matthew Montejo was facing life in prison when he made a deal to testify against his brother. The evidence will show he has a motive to lie and, therefore, anything he says is unreliable.”
With testimony set to begin, reporters from all over Southern California filled the courtroom. Jim Funderburk and his wife were there, too. As a future witness, Nellie was barred from the courtroom. That’s a standard rule, so that a witness can’t be tainted by the testimony of other witnesses. Reporters clamored to get a statement from Jim, who had said nothing publicly since Jason’s arrest. “We support him,” he said simply.
Sergeant Bill Vining testified first, recounting the memory of Jane’s body being pulled up the hillside off the Ortega Highway. “You could see both hands were gone, severed at the wrist joints. And the head was gone, severed at the point just as the neck meets the torso.”
Peter Martinez recounted his run-in with the boys outside the Dumpster in Oceanside. Andre Spencer followed, detailing his investigation leading to Jason’s arrest, then playing the first taped interview with the defendant, the one filled with tales of Jane running off with an Internet boyfriend, which ended with Jason’s cell call urging Matt to run.
But some of the most damaging testimony of the day came from Dr. Richard Fukamoto, chief forensic pathologist with the Orange County Coroner’s Office. Fukamoto, a man with so much experience in his field he couldn’t even recall how many autopsies he’d performed in his lifetime.
“I quit counting after fifteen thousand,” he said.
According to Dr. Fukamoto, Jane had had four blows to the head. “All consistent with delivery by a fist,” he said. She had three more across her body, two others to the shoulder. And around her eyes, the bones were deeply fractured. “It’s kind of shattered,” Fukamoto said. “I could actually just pick the bones apart.”
In sum, Jane wasn’t just knocked down, or knocked out, she was beaten, nearly to death.
Finally, Dr. Fukamoto explained the bruises covering Jane’s neck, including one that was the perfect impression of a finger. Jane’s neck had been squeezed so fiercely, the blood vessels around her eyes, in her eyelids, and above the neck had burst, and blood had seeped into her lungs—all tell-tale signs of a strangulation death.
“And how long does it take for someone to die from strangulation?” Mike asked.
“It takes about three minutes for someone to lose consciousness and appear dead. And it takes about six minutes for the person to die without oxygen,” the coroner answered. For six minutes, Jason had held his mother’s throat, waiting for her to stop struggling, then waiting for her to die.
A day later, Mike called a Riverside neighbor of the boys to the stand. It must have seemed odd to Jason, since he’d never spoken to Stephen Perotte. But Stephen remembered Jane and her family.
“I remember seeing them walk through the complex,” Stephen said. “It was always Jason in front, then Matthew, then her, in that order.”
“Did you ever speak to Jane?” Mike asked.
“No, I never spoke to her or Jason, but I exchanged a few hellos with Matt.”
“What do you recall about Jane?”
“I saw her with bruises on her face,” Stephen said. “She put on sunglasses when I saw her, trying to hide her face.”
During the break, a local newspaper reporter asked Mike what the neighbor’s testimony was supposed to show.
“I think it was a dry run,” Mike said. “I don’t think that night was the first time he went after Jane. I think he tried to do it at least once before, but, for whatever reason, he couldn’t go through with it then.”
26
Mike made his way through a lengthy witness list—nineteen people in all, including investigators, friends privy to Jason’s hatred for Jane, and everyone who remembered him mentioning his mom’s supposed Chicago plans. William Shadrick even told jurors about the “BADA BING!” sticker Jason had stuck on the Intrigue, and the song lyric his lab partner said he couldn’t stop singing.
Finally, on the afternoon of January 19, Mike made the announcement: “The people call Matthew Montejo to the stand.”
A sheriff’s deputy escorted Matthew to the witness box. He was now 17 years old and still an inmate. Crossing the courtroom, Matthew pointedly avoided Jason’s gaze, even though the elder brother broke into a huge smile at the sight of his young sibling. It was a strange reaction, given what Matthew was about to do. But maybe Jason was still holding out hope that Matthew wouldn’t tell them everything.
Matthew looked thin and pale as he took the stand. Attorney Dave Dziejowski placed a chair near the witness box and sat next to his client.
“Are you currently charged with a crime?” Mike asked.
“Yes, with murder,” Matthew said.
“And while in custody, in September 2004, your attorney contacted me to say you wanted to make a statement, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Whose idea was that?”
“My own,” Matt said.
“Why did you want to talk?” Mike questioned.
“To have the truth come out.”
“And did we enter into an agreement to reduce your charges to accessory after the fact for your cooperation here, and that you would go back to juvenile court to be tried?”
“Yes.”
So that was the deal—Matthew would be tried as a juvenile on a reduced charge. Likely he’d be sentenced to no more than 3 years for his part in the crime. Since he’d already served more than 2 years, it was possible a juvenile court judge could parole him any time.
“Matthew, describe what life was like around the end of 2002,” Mike prompted.
“We just moved around from place to place. We moved every day. It was a difficult time for the whole family,” he said.
Jason, most of all, hated life then, Matt said. “I think it was December 2002 when he made a statement that he wanted to kill her, pretty much. He said things would get better if that happened. That’s all he said. The situation calmed down after that.”
“How did things calm down?” Mike asked.
“They just got more stable,” Matt said. “We were living in a motel for a month or two. Then Jason’s financ
ial aid came in, so we had some cash.”
By early summer, Jane allowed the family to move into the Riverside apartment, and things were better than ever, Matt said.
“But eventually there was talk of leaving that apartment?”
“Yes, about a month or two before January 2003,” Matt said.
“How did your brother react?”
“He didn’t like it,” Matt said. “We didn’t like it. We were both upset.”
“In about October or November of 2002, did your brother make another statement about killing?”
“Yes,” Matt confirmed. “He said that he wanted to kill her. The situation was getting worse. The house was getting more chaotic, screaming, yelling, she was more paranoid.”
“What did he say?” Mike asked.
“He said he wanted to bait her, to get her mad, get her heated,” Matt said. “He motioned a chokehold.”
“Did he ask for your help?”
“Yes, he wanted me to hold her down, because he said she was pretty strong. But I said, ‘No, that’s your thing.’ “
“Why did he say he wanted to kill her?” Mike asked.
“He said he couldn’t move again. He said that would mess things up for him. He needed a stable environment to work and study, and moving would be too much stress for him.”
“Did you know your mom was mentally ill?”
“Yes, we both thought she was crazy,” Matt said.
On the night of the murder, as Jane began her conspiracy rant, Jason had made a point of calling her crazy, Matt said.
“He normally never does that. He’s only ever done that once or twice before.”
“And what did she do?” Mike asked.
“She raised her voice higher and said he was part of it, part of the conspiracy.”
He recounted the argument, up until he’d gone into his mom’s room searching for the dog to play with.
“What made you go into the bathroom?” Mike asked.
“I’ve heard this stuff for years and I was sick of it,” Matt said. “After about twenty minutes, I heard a thud.”
“Did you get up to see what just happened?”
“No, I just kept watching TV,” Matt said. “I figured either she left or something happened that I didn’t really care about. And I didn’t want to take care of it.”
“So you didn’t even care what might have been happening out there?”
“No,” he told Mike. “I was into my TV show.”
“You just didn’t care?” Mike asked again, still incredulous at the thought.
“After multiple years of it, you learn to just zone out.”
Hours later, he was in the Intrigue, riding somewhere to help Jason “dump something.”
“Do you have any idea what?”
“I figured out what it was,” said Matt, mainly because the trunk seemed so heavy. “The whole car was riding different. It had a tilt to it.”
It wasn’t until the next day, Matt said, that he learned his mom’s head and hands were in the hall closet, when Jason forbade him from going in there.
“Did that disturb you, your mother’s head and hands in the hall closet?” Mike asked.
“In a way, yes,” he said.
“But in a way, no?”
“Not no, but, I just tried to block it out,” he said. Still, he couldn’t help himself. Curiosity got the best of him and he peeked in the closet “just to see.” He found the black zippered bag, but decided against opening it.
Then came the key question, the cornerstone to Jason’s defense.
“Matt, did Jason ever tell you Jane attacked him that night?”
“No,” Matt said. “He didn’t.”
“Did he say she came after him with a knife?”
“No.”
“Did he look hurt? Was he bleeding anywhere?”
“No.”
Matt’s tone throughout the entire interview was flat, matter-of-fact. He never cried, he never got mad, he never stuttered. It’s the way he’d grown to deal with all the chaos in his life—with a kind of resigned acceptance.
“Matt, why did you wait so long to tell your story?” Mike asked. “Why did you try to lie to investigators?”
“I’m not very fond of police.”
“But why?”
“They never did anything for us when we were in our tough situation,” said Matt, referring to all the times police came to his house and witnessed their mom’s crazy behavior, but did nothing, leaving the boys alone to deal with her.
In cross, Don emphasized Matt’s obvious motive to testify against Jason.
“You were hoping for a reduction in your sentence when you met with [the prosecutor], isn’t that true?” Don asked.
“Yes, I was weighing my options,” he said frankly.
“And you knew you needed to offer something to the prosecutor to get a deal, right?”
“In essence, yes.”
“What’s going to happen to you now?”
“I’ll go home in a couple of weeks,” he said.
Of course, jurors would ultimately have to decide whether Matt had lied to get his deal. A ticket out of a life sentence certainly was a powerful motivator. But was it enough to betray the brother who’d cared for him his entire life?
During a court break, Jason and Matt returned to the court’s holding cell area, though in separate birdhouses (slang for the court’s one-man cages). Still, Matt knew his brother was there, less than twenty feet away and within shouting distance.
“Jason!” he called out. “Jason!”
Jason kept silent, but Matt continued, desperate to get his brother’s attention.
“Jason!” he called repeatedly.
Eventually, Jason answered. “Matt, I hear you,” he said.
“Jason!” Matt said. “Hey, dude, how’s Orange County Jail?”
Matt had nothing important to say to Jason. He just wanted to make the connection, probably hoping to make sure his big brother didn’t hate him. They talked for several minutes, shouting back and forth about a favorite computer game, Counter-Strike, and the latest issue of Rolling Stone magazine. But Jason had issues on his mind.
“Hey, Matt. Do they know what you’re doing?” he said, referring to his fellow inmates. “Do you know what happens to snitches over there?”
The comment filtered through the air, loud enough for all the inmates to hear.
Mike heard about the conversation. Sheriff’s deputies babysitting the custodies told him about it. The prosecutor was furious. Once again, Mike thought, Jason was trying to manipulate the situation, doing his best to intimidate Matthew. When Matt retook the stand, Mike made him recount the conversation. He wanted the jury to glimpse Jason’s callousness for themselves. Despite all his talk of caring about his brother, of being like a father figure to him, in the end, he was willing to put him in harm’s way.
“Is it bad to be known as a snitch where you’re at?” Mike asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you afraid now to go back to your cell?”
“In a way, yes. Bad things happen to snitches.”
Just to be safe, Dave Dziejowski, Matt’s attorney, asked for a new housing assignment. Matt needed all the protection he could get until Dave got him into juvenile court, where he’d plead for his release.
27
Jason’s defense case began on January 24, 2005. Matt remained on the stand, this time testifying for his brother by confirming the abuse they’d both endured as Jane slipped deeper into madness. But he didn’t testify for long.
“Defense calls Nellie Osborne,” Don Ronaldson said.
Jane’s mom took the stand looking every bit like a well-manicured lady. She had bright red hair, just like Jane, which she wore cut above the chin. She had on a crisp, white shirt under a navy blazer and a knee-length jeans skirt. Daughter Debbie Cagle had escorted her mom to court that day. She watched now as the clerk swore her in. Nellie spelled her name for the record, but she spoke very slowly, her s
peech slightly slurred. Last year, she had suffered a stroke. It had been a rough time for so long, she said. First her dad’s death, then Jane’s, then the boys’ arrest. And on August 7, 2004, her mother, Charlie Mae, had passed away.
Nellie testified to the beating she’d taken from Jane in 1980, when she wouldn’t let her then-college-age daughter take the car out for the night. “She just attacked me. She hit my eye, my head, my stomach. I tried defending myself. I was trying to hold her. I ended up in the hospital that night.”
Nellie knew that her mother had sent checks to Jane for years. After Charlie Mae had become homebound, Nellie was the one who sent the checks by certified mail to the post office box each month.
On cross, Mike wanted to know if Nellie understood Jane’s desperate mental state.
“When you saw her during a Christmas visit back in 1999, was Jane’s condition worse?” he asked.
“Truthfully, yes,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.
“Were you worried?”
“My grandsons were worries for me,” she said. But she never explained why she hadn’t interceded.
During a break in court, Mike seemed disturbed by Nellie’s testimony. He still couldn’t understand why nobody had ever tried to get Jane help. Jason may have killed her, but as Mike saw it, there were a lot of people to blame for her death.
“It bothers me that family knew she was sick,” Mike said. “They knew and left those kids with her anyway, just taking care of it by shipping off a monthly check. They had a moral responsibility to that woman, even if it meant involuntary commitment. If I could find a way under the law to hold them legally responsible for what happened, I’d charge them, too.”
Such Good Boys: The True Story of a Mother, Two Sons and a Horrifying Murder Page 19
