Pure Murder

by Corey Mitchell

  Thursday, June 24, 1993—6:00 P.M.

  Cantu residence

  Ashland Street

  Houston, Texas

  Efrain Perez pulled his car into the well-kept driveway of Peter Cantu’s family’s house. He noticed his friend fooling with his red Ford pickup truck. Cantu looked up at Perez, nodded, and went back to working on his truck. Perez pulled up, killed the engine, and he and Raul stepped out of the ride. Cantu looked up again and glanced over at the noticeably larger Raul with suspicious eyes.

  “Who’s he?” Cantu barked at Perez.

  “He’s cool, man. He’s cool,” Perez assured his friend. “This is Raul. He wants to hang. He’s cool, man.”

  “What’s up, man?” Raul nodded toward Cantu, who ignored him.

  PETER CANTU

  Chapter 7

  Peter Cantu was born in Austin, Texas, on May 27, 1975, to Suzie and Rudolph “Rudy” Cantu. Peter was the third boy, after his older brothers Rudy Jr. and Joe. A younger sister, Sabrina, was born several years later.

  Suzie was born and raised in Austin and later met Rudy when she was fifteen. She only managed to make it through tenth grade. Her husband was born with a “crippled foot” and suffered from epilepsy, but he was a strong man and a good provider for his family with income earned from his job as an office furniture deliverer.

  The Cantus held family close to their hearts. They were especially fond of Rudy’s father, who lived on a ranch. The family used to visit Grandpa almost every weekend. Little Peter loved to spend time with his grandfather fishing on the lake or riding on the large lawn mower to cut the grass. It was almost like having two dads.

  Suzie believed Peter was always a “pretty good kid,” but she had to get on him about cleaning his room or picking up after himself.

  When Peter was four, his mother took him to a speech therapist to work on his poor speaking skills. The Cantus lived in Austin until Peter was four-and-a-half years old. They packed up their belongings and headed southeast to Houston.

  By the time Peter was ready to attend school, Suzie noticed that he would get frustrated when he would speak. He would get “all the words combined in one” when he spoke and had difficulty communicating. Unfortunately, Peter’s speech problems became the brunt of amusement for some of his fellow kindergarteners at Hohl Elementary. His mother claimed the kids used to tease him constantly.

  Peter was never a very good student. It was evident by first grade at Janowski Elementary, where he did poorly in every subject, except math in which he exceeded, scoring in the upper 92 percentile. His reading and language skills were especially poor as he scored in the bottom 7 percentile

  In second grade, he improved his scores across the board; however, he was still far behind most kids his same age.

  Peter did even worse in third grade. He made D’s in almost every subject. His mother blamed it on the deaths of an aunt and his beloved grandfather. Peter crawled into a shell after the death of his grandfather. His mother noticed he no longer wanted to talk to anyone, he tended to back away from people who attempted to get close to him, and he would never cry.

  “He just did not show me grief when his grandfather passed away,” Suzie recalled. “He blamed himself when his grandfather died, but I don’t know why. He took it very hard.”

  Suzie Cantu added it was extra difficult for Peter because his grandfather was laid to rest on Peter’s birthday. “It bothered him tremendously,” she declared. “On his birthday, the only thing Peter would do was ask to take him to go see his grandfather at the cemetery. So we used to take him all the way out to Gonzales, Texas, because that’s where he is buried. That’s all he wanted for his birthday. He didn’t want birthday cake. He didn’t want a party. He didn’t want anything. Just to go visit the cemetery.”

  Peter also blamed his poor performance that year on his teacher. He claimed his teacher used to “pick on him a lot” by “poking him on the shoulders.” Suzie Cantu added that her son would come home from school with “all sorts of bruises on the side of his shoulders.”

  Suzie attempted to deal with the problem, but she was allegedly always rebuffed by the school. She claimed she spoke to the school’s principal, who told her they could do nothing because the teacher was part of the staff and she was only a parent.

  Whatever the reason, Peter was retained for the third grade, which meant he would be required to repeat the grade.

  After finally completing third grade, Peter transferred to Garden Oaks Elementary, where he reverted back to his poor performance. Once again, he made nothing but D’s and F’s. He was retained for fourth grade this time. Before even reaching junior high school, he had already flunked out twice.

  Peter Cantu was an eleven-year-old in a classroom full of nine-year-olds. It was not easy for him to relate to his classmates, but he made a go of it in his second shot at fourth grade. He started off promisingly, showing up to class regularly and even making decent grades of B’s and C’s. He did well enough to make it out of fourth grade.

  On June 24, 1986, eight-year-old Darren McElroy pedaled his bike home from another day at the year-round Janowski Elementary School. As he came to the intersection of East Crosstimbers Street and Bauman Road, he pulled his bicycle up to the 7-Eleven convenience store so he could go inside to play video games, especially any of them having to do with the movie Star Wars, as was his normal daily routine. He was very proud of his bike because he won it for collecting the most money to help support muscular dystrophy. Darren’s little brother suffered from the disease, so the bike had even more significance for him.

  Darren proudly rode his bike around like a grown-up motorcyclist would ride a brand-new shiny chrome-plated Harley-Davidson. It was a very unique bike because it was spiffed-up with several 7-Eleven Southland Corporation logo stickers. He gingerly placed the bike next to the front door on the outside of the store and went inside, ready to conquer Darth Vader and his band of Imperial stormtroopers.

  The bespectacled lad finished up saving the planet and headed out of the store. As he stepped outside the large glass front door, he saw his prized bicycle. He made sure everything was in order, hopped on, and continued on his way home. The young boy was less than one hundred feet away from the 7-Eleven when he noticed someone in his peripheral vision. He spotted an older boy slightly behind him, but he did not pay any attention to him. As he continued to casually pedal his bike, he noticed another older boy on the other side, also behind him. He continued to pedal and did not think much of them.

  Suddenly he heard running footsteps, so he glanced back over his shoulder. The two older boys were heading for him in a full-tilt sprint. Darren realized they were coming after him, but by the time he got up the energy to pedal faster, they had already caught up to him. One of the boys pushed the eight-year-old off his bicycle, and Darren rolled into a ditch, scratching his expensive glasses. The other boy grabbed the bike by its handlebars and swung it in the air before it hit the ground.

  The boys laughed as they took off with the young boy’s bicycle. The boy who pushed Darren off his bike called out to his companion, who had ridden off on the bike, “Hey, Peter!” and ran after him.

  Darren McElroy dusted the gravel and dirt off his clothes and began to walk home without his bicycle.

  Once Darren finally arrived at home, he was greeted by his mother, Nancy McElroy, who instantly noticed that he was scuffed-up. He was also crying. After realizing her son was okay, Nancy took him inside, grabbed a telephone, and called the police. She reported that her son’s bicycle had been stolen by a couple of preteen boys, and her son had been assaulted in the process. Nancy even went looking for the perpetrators back at the convenience store. She asked a group of teenage boys if they had seen the altercation and robbery, but they all claimed not to have seen anything. She even offered them $10 to help her locate her son’s bicycle, but to no avail.

  Two hours later, Peter Cantu came riding up the McElroys’ driveway on Darren’s bicycle. Nancy came outside t
o greet the young boy.

  “I heard that you were looking for this,” the irascible youth stated. “I found it near the convenience store and was told it belonged to your son.”

  “Yes, that’s his bike,” Mrs. McElroy acknowledged.

  “I also heard you were giving out a reward for it,” Peter said.

  “Yes, here you go,” the mother said as she handed the small boy a $10 bill. Before she could ask him how he had found the bike, he snatched the bill out of her hand and spun around to take off.

  He did not look back.

  Nancy McElroy stored her son’s prized bicycle in the family garage. Two days later, it was stolen and never seen again by Darren McElroy.

  Three weeks later, however, on July 16, someone came knocking on Peter Cantu’s door on Melrose Street. Houston Police Department Juvenile Division officer Charles Niemeier paid the eleven-year-old a visit. Officer Niemeier, despite wearing a service revolver, considered his position to be one of a counselor. He usually could reach the kids by discussing their problems with them or with their parents. It was rather unusual for the officer to be making a house call on such a young perpetrator. The youngest he dealt with were usually twelve- or thirteen-year-olds.

  Officer Niemeier knocked on the Cantus’ door and was greeted by Mr. Cantu. The officer explained why he was there and requested to speak with Peter. Mr. Cantu quickly opened the door to let the officer inside. He then excused himself and called out for Peter to come into the living room.

  As soon as Peter entered and spotted the police officer, he knew he was in trouble. Officer Niemeier informed the family Peter had been accused of first assaulting and then stealing a bicycle away from eight-year-old Darren McElroy. The officer added that Peter was also accused of stealing the same bicycle a second time, two days later. He placed Peter under arrest and took him into custody.

  When a Juvenile Division officer arrests someone and places him in custody, it simply means the juvenile has his rights read to him and is questioned by the officer in front of the juvenile’s parents or guardian. Officer Niemeier questioned Peter for nearly twenty minutes about the incidents.

  Upon completion of the interview, Officer Niemeier released Peter back into the custody of his parents, as is the norm in juvenile cases. At that point, the officer could have elected to either take Peter into detention or let him stay with his parents. Some of the factors that go into making such a decision are the serious nature of the crime, the attitude of the parents, and the attitude of the juvenile. In this particular case, Officer Niemeier opted to allow Peter to stay with his parents. He also referred Peter to the Harris County Juvenile Probation Department.

  By fifth grade, Peter was consistently making B’s and he did well on his required Texas Educational Assessment of Minimal Skills test, where he scored above average in everything except language.

  In 1988, Peter started out in F. M. Black Middle School, but flunked out of school due to “excessive absences.”

  That same year, thirteen-year-old Peter got himself into even more trouble. Amber Law, a fifth-grade classmate of Peter’s at Garden Oaks Elementary School, would often walk home with him and a few of his friends after school.

  Amber enjoyed Peter’s company, until July 25, 1988. As Peter walked Amber to the front door of her home on West Thirty-first Street, he leaned in and attempted to kiss the younger girl. Amber immediately pulled away as she had no interest in boys whatsoever. She closed the door on him and he walked away, dejected.

  Peter, however, was determined to get what he wanted.

  Two days later, on July 27, Peter returned to Amber’s house. He walked up to her front door and knocked on it. Amber peeked outside one of the windows and saw it was Peter. She refused to answer the door. Peter knocked again, this time more insistently. Again, Amber ignored him.

  “Let me in!” Peter screamed at Amber from behind the door. “I know you’re in there. Let me in!”

  Amber held her ground, did not respond, and refused to open the door.

  Peter was furious. He began screaming obscenities at the girl and continued to bang on her front door. When that did not work, he moved to the windows of the house and began banging on them as well.

  “You better let me in, you bitch!” he screamed at Amber. “You’d better open that goddamned door!”

  Amber was terrified, but she would not give in. Peter continued to bang on each window of the house. He circled her home for more than ten minutes, banging on windows, on the walls, and on the front door, spewing out obscenities as he did it.

  Peter started to knock on Amber’s father Sherman Law’s bedroom window. He banged on it so hard that the window shattered everywhere. Peter took off running, not wanting to get caught.

  Once Amber realized Peter was truly gone, she rushed over to the telephone and called her father at work. The terrified girl explained what happened and begged for him to come home. There was no need for pleading, as Mr. Law rushed home to check on his daughter. Once he realized she was okay, he headed over to Peter Cantu’s apartment on North Shepherd Drive. He was insistent that he would have words with Peter’s father about his son’s behavior.

  When Mr. Law arrived at the Cantu residence on the second floor of the apartment complex, only Peter and his mother were there. Law spoke with Suzie Cantu about her son.

  “My daughter told me that your son here tried to terrorize her,” the flustered father spoke.

  Suzie Cantu looked confused. “No, not my Peter. He’s not that kind of boy.”

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I know my daughter is telling me the truth about your son. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

  “Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe he was over there. He would never do anything to hurt a girl. You must be mistaken,” she defended her son.

  Once Sherman Law realized Mrs. Cantu was not going to be any help, he turned his attention to Peter. “I don’t want you calling my house anymore, you hear me?” the angry father declared while pointing a finger at the teenager. “I don’t want you harassing her and I don’t want you to come anywhere near our house anymore. Do you understand me?”

  “I don’t have to do what you tell me,” Peter sneered at Amber’s father. “I can do whatever the hell I want.” Suzie Cantu did nothing. She did not reprimand her son. She did not apologize to Mr. Law. She simply seemed to cower in the corner and let her son do what he wanted.

  Sherman Law was furious; however, he kept his cool, turned around, and walked away. When he returned to his home, he dialed the police and reported the incident between Peter Cantu and his daughter. Houston Police Department Juvenile Division officer Johnny Kirtley showed up at the Law residence several hours later. Law explained to the officer what happened and that Peter Cantu was the one responsible. Officer Kirtley then headed over to the Cantus’ apartment complex, where he spoke with the teenager as he stood on the Cantus’ balcony.

  “Peter, the young lady inside that house knows who you are,” the officer told Peter straight up. “She knows your name. Says you go to school with her, so don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes, son. We know you did it.”

  Peter stared at the officer and did not say a word. According to the officer, he did not look too impressed or intimidated.

  “You need to just stay away from those people,” the officer continued. “You don’t need to be going around there anymore, all right? You break into somebody’s house and they’re going to shoot you and they will be in their rights to do so, so just stay away from them.”

  Peter continued to nod his head; however, the officer sensed what he was saying was not really sinking in.

  “Think of it this way,” the officer reasoned, “if you don’t want something done to you, don’t do it to someone else.” Maybe the Golden Rule would affect the boy in some way, Kirtley thought.

  “Okay, I’ll stay away,” Peter finally responded.

  Officer Kirtley knew he had not gotten through to the kid. Kirtley left Peter C
antu with a parting thought: “You messed up this time. Don’t do it again.” He looked at the boy one last time and added, “Keep your life straight. Otherwise, it’s going to come back and haunt you.” The officer nodded at the boy and walked away. When he returned to the police station, he filed his report and referred the case over to the Harris County Juvenile Probation Department.

  Unfortunately, Officer Kirtley’s admonishments did not leave a lasting impression on Peter Cantu.

  Just a few months after the Amber Law harassment incident, Peter found himself in trouble yet again. On November 17, 1988, at Hamilton Middle School, sixth-grade English teacher Diane Caudill was attempting to usher a few straggling students into her classroom as the bell rang. The teacher noticed one of her students, Peter Cantu, standing in the doorway, looking out into the hall. She did not really know the boy, as he recently transferred to Hamilton and had only been in her classroom for two days. Caudill was not sure why Peter did not step inside the classroom, so she walked over to see what he was doing. As she came closer to him, she noticed that he was staring at another student, a young white male, who was much bigger than Peter. The two boys were having a “stare down” contest.

  Caudill described the boys as “nose to nose” with each other and not saying a word. She also noticed several more students “mobbing around in the hall,” waiting to see if Peter and the larger boy were going to start a fight.

  “Peter, please come in here and take your seat,” Caudill asked in a calm and polite voice. Peter ignored her.

  “Peter, come in and sit down, please.”

  Again, nothing. The showdown continued.

  “Peter, I need for you to get in here now,” she stated rather emphatically. She did not appreciate being ignored by one of her students.