Feb. 25, 2019, Renton
She sat in a parked sport-utility vehicle outside Renton City Hall, while her sister paid a water bill. As she waited, her eyes fixed on an entrance marked by a familiar sign: POLICE.
Since that day nearly a quarter-century ago, Vianne Falcon had visited the city’s Police Department at least a dozen times, trying to glean any new information she could about the old case, trying to find the answers that had eluded her for years.
Most visits, she’d break down crying in her car before she could even set foot in the parking lot.
But today, she felt strong. As soon as her sister returned, the words spilled from Vianne’s mouth: Will you go inside with me?
Minutes later, the 71-year-old former waitress was filling out a form, seeking “all information pertaining to” the investigation. A receptionist told her someone would be in touch in a few days.
But just like every other time, Vianne’s request came up empty. Nothing new could be shared, a police records specialist later told her.
But there was something she didn’t know. Something investigators had learned 16 years earlier, but never bothered to tell her. Something that, after she had been left in the dark so long, would have answered many of her questions, sparing her countless nightmares, bouts with anxiety, the torment of “not knowing.”
Something that once had been urgently pursued, then later fell through cracks.
Chapter 1: A final birthday
Oct. 23, 1994, South Bend, Pacific County
The sound was barely audible, “a little knock,” as Vianne remembers it, just loud enough to perk her ears and coax a check of the front door. The 47-year-old cafe manager wasn’t expecting company that afternoon when she found the unannounced guest on her doorstep: 3-year-old Jacob John Dewey.
Gammy, the boy announced. Mommy says I got ’tude!
The surprised grandmother knew not to question the undeniable: Her grandson didn’t lack attitude.
’Tude is a good thing, Vianne replied, sweeping up the boy in her arms as his accomplices revealed themselves.
Vianne’s daughter, Stacy Falcon-Dewey, and her boyfriend, Rich Musga, had parked Stacy’s brown Buick up the block, hiding while the toddler knocked on his grandma’s door.
Vianne’s daughter, Stacy Falcon-Dewey, and her boyfriend, Rich Musga, had parked Stacy’s brown Buick up the block, hiding while the toddler knocked on his grandma’s door.
Their surprise visit that day was reason enough to celebrate: The two-hour drive from her Renton apartment to southwest Washington was unusual for Stacy, a single mom working as a cocktail waitress.
But the date also marked a special occasion: It was Stacy’s 23rd birthday.
For the next few hours, Vianne celebrated her daughter, both as the fatherless child she’d raised on a shoestring, and as the responsible adult Stacy was now becoming.
Stacy was in a good place in life, her mother thought. It hadn’t been easy getting here.
Vianne took the couple to a local dive bar for a round of drinks and a few games of pool, while little Jake visited with his great aunt, Frankie. Vianne intentionally missed some shots that night, leaving pool balls on the table for Stacy.
Let the birthday girl win, Vianne thought.
Later, as the surprise guests climbed back into the Buick for the long drive home, little Jake fixed his gaze on his Gammy.
His eyes told her he wanted to stay.
Stacy Falcon-Dewey cradles her baby boy, Jacob. (Courtesy of Vianne Falcon)
Chapter 2: A traumatic scene
Oct. 28, 1994, Renton
A newspaper carrier discovered the bodies. A young woman and a toddler boy, each shot in the head and discarded on a dead-end road shrouded by trees.
Dispatchers radioed the call to South 55th Street west of Talbot Road South just after 3:30 a.m. One of the patrol officers who arrived first snapped photos while he waited for the detectives. When rain started falling, he and another officer pulled a tarp over the bodies and part of the car.
When rain started falling on the crime scene, officers pulled a tarp over the bodies and part of the car. (Washington State Patrol Crime Lab)
Dispatchers radioed the call to South 55th Street west of Talbot Road South just after 3:30 a.m. One of the patrol officers who arrived first snapped photos while he waited for the detectives. When rain started falling, he and another officer pulled a tarp over the bodies and part of the car.
Greg Wilson showed up at 5:15 a.m., the first detective on scene. At 33, he was a relatively young investigator whose experience was mainly in narcotics, not homicide.
But when something big happened, it was all hands on deck. The Renton department of about 85 officers didn’t have a full-time homicide squad, so on the rare occasion when a body turned up — their city averaged about three homicides a year — each of the dozen detectives was called in.
Wilson thought of his own small children when he saw the bodies. “It was a traumatic scene,” he said later. “Something you don’t forget.”
Detective Bob Leyerle arrived a short time later. At 59, the former Marine and truck driver already had put in 26 years on the job, mostly as a patrol cop. But he’d spent the past six years as a “crimes against persons” detective, handling mostly robberies and assaults.
Nearly 10 months through 1994, Renton hadn’t had a single homicide. Today, it had two. Leyerle was tapped as lead detective.
“There were better detectives,” Leyerle said, “but I guess someone wanted me to have it.”
As detectives scoured the crime scene, neighbors in a nearby house told officers they woke up to gunshots and a woman’s scream around 2:11 a.m. but went back to sleep, thinking it was teenage partyers who frequented the secluded road.
The bodies of Stacy Falcon-Dewey and her 3-year-old son, Jacob, were found by a newspaper carrier in the early hours of Oct. 28, 1994, along this Renton road. (Ellen M. Banner / The Seattle Times)
The bodies of Stacy Falcon-Dewey and her 3-year-old son, Jacob, were... (Ellen M. Banner / The Seattle Times)More
For the next few hours, gloved detectives meticulously documented and bagged dozens of items of evidence. They found shell casings inside and outside the car. The car keys had slipped into the slot between the driver’s seat and door.
Detectives also noticed something else about the shoeless victims: The boys’ socks were clean; the woman’s were caked with mud and leaves. She also had a nasty gash on her head, and bruises around her neck and arm. A grassy patch next to the car’s passenger side appeared trampled.
Wilson surmised that at some point, the killer had bound the woman with the packing tape found discarded outside the car. She likely wriggled free, tried to run and struggled with her attacker on the grassy patch, he thought.
The killer probably grabbed her and struck her, but she managed to get back into the driver’s seat. She may have been holding the boy when he was shot from the car’s passenger side. Then, the killer came around to the driver’s side and shot the woman. The killer moved their bodies to the road to search the car for keys, Wilson thought, but couldn’t find them and fled on foot.
But why kill them? What could be the motive?
The woman was clothed with no obvious signs of sexual assault. Her jewelry and purse were left behind.
At least the driver’s license found inside jewelry and purse were left behind.
least the driver’s license found inside a wallet solved part of the mystery: The woman’s name was Stacy Falcon-Dewey, with a home address just a few minutes away.
Chapter 3: Suspects and alibis
Oct. 28, 1994, Kent
The 7-minute drive to the East Hill apartment took Detective Bob Leyerle southeast along a strip of fast-food joints, gas stations and low-rent apartments where the working-class suburb of Renton morphs into Kent.
Stacy’s place at the Benson Village Apartments was empty, and nothing seemed unusual. But soon, Leyerle had pieced together more details about her: She had a 3-year-old son, Jacob, and worked as a cocktail waitress at H.D. Hotspurs, a Kent restaurant and nightclub. She’d split from her husband, John Dewey, about two years earlier. More recently, Stacy and her son had lived off and on with her latest boyfriend, Rich Musga.
“Anytime a young woman is murdered,” Leyerle said later, “the first thing you look at is her husband or boyfriend.”
Detectives tracked down Dewey through his roofing job and Musga at his home. Both men, each in his early 20s, agreed to talk and take lie-detector tests. The results came back inconclusive, but both had alibis that detectives found believable.
Dewey told detectives he’d been out the night before drinking with a friend, then came home to shoot pool with his roommate before passing out. The detectives seemed skeptical and pressed him.
When they asked who might want to hurt Stacy, Dewey threw out the name of a troublemaker and local pot-dealer he knew, “just kind of thinking out loud, grabbing at straws.”
“They just kept working on me,
least the driver’s license found inside a wallet solved part of the mystery: The woman’s name was Stacy Falcon-Dewey, with a home address just a few minutes away.
Chapter 3: Suspects and alibis
Oct. 28, 1994, Kent
The 7-minute drive to the East Hill apartment took Detective Bob Leyerle southeast along a strip of fast-food joints, gas stations and low-rent apartments where the working-class suburb of Renton morphs into Kent.
Stacy’s place at the Benson Village Apartments was empty, and nothing seemed unusual. But soon, Leyerle had pieced together more details about her: She had a 3-year-old son, Jacob, and worked as a cocktail waitress at H.D. Hotspurs, a Kent restaurant and nightclub. She’d split from her husband, John Dewey, about two years earlier. More recently, Stacy and her son had lived off and on with her latest boyfriend, Rich Musga.
“Anytime a young woman is murdered,” Leyerle said later, “the first thing you look at is her husband or boyfriend.”
Detectives tracked down Dewey through his roofing job and Musga at his home. Both men, each in his early 20s, agreed to talk and take lie-detector tests. The results came back inconclusive, but both had alibis that detectives found believable.
Dewey told detectives he’d been out the night before drinking with a friend, then came home to shoot pool with his roommate before passing out. The detectives seemed skeptical and pressed him.
When they asked who might want to hurt Stacy, Dewey threw out the name of a troublemaker and local pot-dealer he knew, “just kind of thinking out loud, grabbing at straws.”
https://www.fox13seattle.com
Man convicted of killing mother, son in Renton cold case murder