Mother seeks justice

Angela Lee, the mother of Justice Mitchell, who was fatally shot in 2017, wants closure, but she isn't sure when she will find it.

After Lamero E. Dunstan, who is charged with shooting Mitchell behind a fast food restaurant during a botched drug deal, goes before a Shawnee County jury in August, Lee may begin moving forward. She said she is certain that the upcoming trial of Ernest L. Williams IV, one of Mitchell's best friends often called “E.J.”, will do little to ease her pain.

"I don't believe E.J. should be on trial for my son's murder," she said. "I just don't."

Williams, 19, is charged with first-degree murder committed during an inherently dangerous felony and possession of marijuana with the intent to sell. A jury will hear the case this week.

Because Mitchell died during a dangerous felony, the drug deal, prosecutors can charge Williams with his death even though he may not have pulled the trigger.

Mitchell, 18, and Williams drove to Church's Chicken at S.W. 10th and Billard in the overnight hours between June 25 and 26 to sell marijuana to Dunstan, who was then 17, according to court records. At some point, gunfire erupted. Police found Mitchell just before 12:30 a.m. suffering two fatal gunshot wounds.

Dunstan, now 18, is charged with first-degree murder and attempted aggravated robbery.

Shayden Byrd, 17, pleaded guilty to first-degree murder, conspiracy to commit aggravated robbery and using a communication facility to distribute a controlled substance. Police believe Byrd created fake Gmail and Snapchat accounts to arrange the drug deal. He was sentenced in December to five years in a juvenile detention facility plus six months of aftercare.

Lee expects justice for her son's death, but doesn't see it in Williams' trial.

"We have two people who have guilt and there will be consequences," Lee said. "But you can't tell me E.J. would ever harm a hair on Justice’s head.”

Brotherly love

Mitchell and Williams gravitated to each other quickly at French Middle School. They bonded over football, but the friendship grew beyond sports as Williams played less and Mitchell transferred to Shawnee Heights High School before their senior year.

The pair became regular fixtures in each others' homes, said Marla Hernandez, Williams’ mother. When a parent saw one boy, they assumed the other was nearby.

“They complement each other,” Hernandez said, recalling Mitchell’s outgoing personality and penchant for goofy antics. “They were kind of two different personalities, but they worked well together.”

With the mothers of three other boys, Lee and Hernandez formed “a mom’s group” of mostly single mothers who supported each other, Lee said.

“We had the same goals, the same lifestyle,” Hernandez said while sitting on Lee’s couch late last week. “I didn’t have to worry about him coming over here to big parties and she didn’t have to worry about big parties at my house. We were sort of all on the kids’ butt about school and work.”

Lee and Hernandez’s friendship hasn’t wavered during Williams’ criminal proceedings. Relaxing together in Lee’s home, they were quick to laugh at old stories of their boys or finish each other’s sentences with the punchline of a joke.

Mitchell and Williams were much the same, Lee said, with a “brotherly love.” The pair supported each other through school and athletics.

Lee recalled overhearing the two plotting to rent a house together their freshman year of college. Mitchell planned to attend Washburn University while waiting on a football opportunity in Nebraska, and Williams enrolled at the Washburn Institute of Technology. Hernandez and Lee had other plans for the boys’ living arrangements, wanting them to rent rooms in Lee’s home “to learn some responsibility.”

“We still wanted to keep an eye on them,” she said.

The boys’ relationship and the way Mitchell’s death shocked Lee's tight-knit group has motivated her to become active in Topeka, speaking out against violence and advocating for parents to become more involved.

“We got to get help for these kids,” she said, noting that even the most attentive parents may miss warning signs. “If it can help a parent not go through what we’re going through, I’ll talk about (my son’s death) all day long.”

Much about that summer night remains murky for Lee and Hernandez.

According to a court document that summarizes a video of Williams' interview with Topeka police Detective Victor Riggin, Williams was scared, but chose to go to the drug deal with Mitchell, bringing along a gun for protection. Toward the end of the transaction, Williams said, he heard a gun being "locked and loaded," so he drew his own gun. It failed to fire, and Dunstan shot Mitchell, Williams told the detective, according to court records.

A later part of the video shows Williams being tested for what appears to be gunpowder burns, according to the court records.

Lee hopes this week’s trial will help clarify what happened to her son, but she dreads the idea of Williams going to prison for it. If convicted, Williams could face a life sentence in prison without the possibility of parole for at least 25 years.

"It will be like losing a son all over again," Lee said.

Inherently dangerous

Kansas law leaves the door open for Williams to face murder charges even though he may not have been directly involved.

The state's felony murder law allows prosecutors to charge anyone participating in an inherently dangerous crime, such as aggravated assault or distribution of drugs, with murder when another participant is killed. Both the original felony and the subsequent homicide are considered crimes against society.

Essentially, because Mitchell and Williams had set out to sell marijuana when Mitchell was shot, prosecutors can charge Williams, even though they and law enforcement believe Dunstan fired the fatal shot.

The broad use of the felony murder statute has drawn criticism, and some states have abandoned or modified it, said Corey Rayburn Yung, a University of Kansas professor who specializes in criminal law and procedure.

A "causation” limitation prevents prosecution of an accomplice when the death is due to the actions of an independent third party, but Kansas hasn't fully enacted such a limitation, Yung said. A 2015 Kansas Supreme Court case held that prosecutors only had to show the felony, and not the defendant’s actions, caused the death.

"Unless the Kansas courts or Legislature decides that the government should have to prove causation by the defendant as well, this is the type of prosecution that the felony murder can allow," he said.

Yung said the argument for leaving this part of the felony murder rule behind is twofold.

In most homicide cases, the rule is rarely needed, he said, because the killing is planned and all participants except the victim are aware. Additionally, it allows prosecutors to apply a homicide statute in cases where a particular defendant had little or no involvement in the actual death at issue.

"As a result, many scholars and observers feel that it is an unnecessary and sometimes dangerous tool for prosecutors to have," he said.

Shawnee County District Attorney Mike Kagay said he couldn't comment on the pending case.

Lee said prosecutors explained the law, but the murder charge still doesn't make sense to her.

"I don't understand it," she said. "I just don't see how you can charge a kid with murder who didn't actively participate in the killing."

Contact reporter Luke Ranker at (785) 295-1270 or @lrankerNEWS on Twitter. Like him on Facebook at facebook.com/lukeranker.