A year later, Binsted murder has altered many lives

SPECIAL REPORT: The Tyler Binsted Murder
Follow the three-part series, watch videos, read bios and view an interactive map.
• Sunday: Binsted family confronts a tragic murder
• Monday: A crime that altered many lives
• Tuesday: Preserving memories of a loved one

The official Richmond Police Department report classified it as a homicide that occurred as a result of a single gunshot at 12:45 a.m. on March 27, 2008.

But the bullet that took the life of Tyler J. Binsted also altered countless lives in numerous families over a wide landscape.

For Binsted's family, friends and classmates, it meant the loss of a beloved 19-year-old son and brother who was known at Virginia Commonwealth University as a promising sophomore sculpture major.

For Binsted's girlfriend, Maggie O'Brien, who was with him at the time of the fatal robbery, it meant the start of a haunting nightmare for which she continues to receive counseling and drug therapy.

For two of the three teenagers convicted in the case, Howard R. Scott III and LaPrecious Nicole Austin, it meant prison terms that will keep them behind bars until they are middle-aged.

For the third defendant, Zsabriela Evelyn Williams, it meant she will spend the rest of her days in prison.

Scott has an infant daughter who will grow up without him. He also has a mother who testified that she had to move from her longtime home after her son's co-defendants threatened her.

"Too many wasted lives," said Tom Binsted, Tyler's father.

As the months passed, the Binsteds tried to balance their grief with new routines of dealing with Richmond police and prosecutors.

They spent considerable time with Detective Jamie Baynes, the lead homicide investigator, and Supervising Assistant Commonwealth's Attorney Elizabeth A. Hobbs, who handled most of the hearings and got convictions for all three defendants without going to trial -- and without ever finding a murder weapon.

"I can't say enough about how efficient and professional they were," Tom Binsted said. "They were very sensitive to our needs. They were available. They kept us abreast."

The office of Commonwealth's Attorney Michael N. Herring has 37 lawyers, including about 10 who handle homicide cases. That team prosecuted 54 homicide cases last year, and 50 of those produced felony convictions, including the Binsted slaying.

Baynes, one of 18 homicide detectives in the Richmond Police Department, had left work at midnight on March 26 but still was on call when his phone rang about an hour later with the word he had a new case.

The 16-year department veteran drove to police headquarters, where officers had taken O'Brien.

Like Binsted, O'Brien was an art student at VCU, and the two had gone to Richmond's sprawling Byrd Park to look for a small chunk of sod for a school project. Then their attackers appeared.

Williams and Scott got the cell phones of Binsted and O'Brien, as well as a $1 bill and the keys to O'Brien's 14-year-old Honda sedan. But when the robbers demanded that Binsted and O'Brien get in the trunk of the car, Binsted calmly told them they would not comply, and he closed the trunk.

When Scott told Williams -- who was holding the gun -- to let the victims go, Binsted said: "Listen to your friend."

Then he gave O'Brien what would be a final gift: He positioned himself to defend her by stepping between her and the robbers. Binsted took her by the hand and they began walking away as one of the robbers urged the other to let them go.

That's when the single shot rang out, striking Binsted in the back.

. . .

Baynes' interview of O'Brien produced information that helped police locate the Honda, smashed and burned in the Bellemeade section of South Richmond, within 90 minutes.

About five hours after the slaying, it still was dark when officers converged on a house on Silver Avenue, not far from where the burned car was found, and arrested Scott.

Scott, then 17, was relaxing on the floor in his family's living room, holding O'Brien's cell phone. At his side was a grocery bag with 15 other cell phones, including Binsted's.

The other two arrests took substantially longer.

Based on statements from Scott and descriptions provided by O'Brien, police believed the second suspect was a small, slightly built male, perhaps 13 years old, named "Little Pete."

Police searched but found no such person.

The big break came April 10, when Scott -- in a jailhouse telephone conversation with a relative that was recorded by authorities -- admitted he had been lying and that there was no Little Pete.

Scott refused to elaborate until May 14, when, encouraged by defense attorney Brent Jackson to come clean, he identified his accomplices.

Within 24 hours, Austin and Williams were in custody, and the reason for any confusion involving Little Pete became apparent.

Williams, then 19, was about 5 feet tall, slightly built and had closely cropped hair and youthful features that, in the darkness of Byrd Park, easily could have led someone to believe she was a teenage boy.

Instead, the babyfaced Williams was identified as Binsted's killer, the person authorities said shot him after he refused her demand to get in the car trunk.

Baynes said Scott, Austin and Williams had thrived for six to 12 months on regular robberies in which they targeted drug dealers for three reasons: The dealers had money, they had drugs, and they wouldn't call the police.

The fatal confrontation, which Baynes said was at least the second robbery for the trio that night, continued to go wrong after the shooting.

Austin, the getaway driver, had dropped off Scott and Williams and was driving around, waiting for them to score drugs and money. But when the robbery instead produced an aging Honda, Scott drove it away with Williams in the passenger seat.

O'Brien, meantime, ran to Sheppard Street to flag down assistance -- and unwittingly jumped in front of the car being driven by Austin.

Riding nearby, Williams saw this, jumped out of O'Brien's car and ran to them, waving the gun at O'Brien.

"Chill," Austin instructed Williams.

O'Brien yanked open the rear driver's side door to Austin's car, jumped in and begged her to take her for help.

Austin drove a few blocks before O'Brien, realizing Austin would not aid her but still unaware she was the enemy, jumped out and found help in Carytown.

By then, it was too late. Binsted was dead.

. . .

As the summer faded into fall and fall slipped into winter, Tom and Paula Binsted made frequent treks from their home in Mount Jackson to Richmond Circuit Court, often stopping in Harrisonburg on the three-hour trip to pick up Seth, Tyler's twin, at James Madison University.

The three spent hours sitting in the gallery behind the prosecutors' table in Courtroom 307 as Judge Beverly W. Snukals presided over hearings in which the three defendants first admitted their involvement, then were sentenced to prison terms ranging from 18 years to life plus 13 years.

For Seth Binsted, it was his first extensive look at the criminal-justice system, and he came away disillusioned by how poor a job some adults did raising members of his generation.

"They don't consider that there is another generation past themselves and that it needs to be cultivated and it needs to be given knowledge to function," he said. "Instead, this next generation is just infected with the whole cheapness of life in general."

Like her son, Paula Binsted especially was disappointed by testimony showing the defendants all came from households without strong parents. Binsted noted that Williams testified about having a difficult childhood in part because her mother had a substance-abuse problem.

"Obviously, that mother never took the stand to break the chain," she said. "She made the decision to raise a child while doing drugs and, consequently, nothing worked for her, and nothing worked for the child."

The first to be sentenced was Williams, who had entered an Alford plea to murder, meaning she did not admit guilt but acknowledged there was enough evidence to convict her.

Williams entered guilty pleas to five other charges, including using a firearm in a murder, but she maintained at her sentencing that she did not shoot Binsted.

Williams, who turned 20 shortly after her arrest, was sentenced to life plus 13 years.

Next up was Scott, whose sentencing hearing included testimony from his mother, Terry Cain, about how she was threatened in jailhouse phone calls by Austin and Williams after their arrests. Cain said she initially changed her telephone number but eventually had to move out of her home of 10 years.

There also was testimony that Scott tried to hang himself in his cell on July 29 but jailers intervened.

Scott, who turned 18 after his arrest, was sentenced to 29 years.

Austin, who turned 19 in July, was sentenced this month to 18 years.

Snukals imposed the term after O'Brien tearfully recounted how, one year later, she continues to struggle with Binsted's death.

O'Brien said she is being treated for depression and anxiety and that her psychiatrist recently doubled the strength of her prescription antidepressant.

When asked to describe her state of mind given the passage of a year, O'Brien said: "Definitely not improved. If anything, I think I've gotten worse."

O'Brien said she originally figured she would grow to accept Binsted's death. Instead, the initial period of grief had given way to an increasingly painful awareness that he is gone.

"It's real now," she said, "and that's something I'm just starting to deal with."

TOMORROW: Remembering Tyler

Contact Joe Macenka at (804) 649-6804 or .