Carrs stole lives full of love, hope
The four young people murdered by the brothers were just embarking on some of life's most rewarding challenges.BY RON SYLVESTER - The Wichita Eagle - Sun, Nov. 17, 2002
Jonathan and Reginald Carr await execution by lethal injection for a crime spree police and prosecutors say was fueled by the brothers' cold lust for cash and material goods.
Nearly 23 months after a horrible home invasion left four young people dead on a frozen soccer field, the brothers sit in solitary cells at the El Dorado Correctional Facility, bereft of any of the things they most treasured.
The families of the victims are bereft, too, of the things they treasured most. They have been so since December 2000.
The worst of all the crimes the Carr brothers were convicted of may have started simply by their going to the wrong house.
By the night of Dec 14, 2000, the Carr brothers had either individually or together stalked at least two single people in their vehicles on the city's east side.
Andrew Schreiber was carjacked and then robbed at two ATMs on Dec 7. Schreiber remembered Reginald Carr saying how much he liked Schreiber's Ford Expedition. Four days later, Ann Walenta was attacked in similar fashion and fatally wounded, shot as she tried to flee.
Reginald Carr was convicted of the attack on Schreiber, and both brothers were convicted for killing Walenta.
On the night of Dec 14, they were looking for their next victim, a few hours before Jonathan Carr was scheduled to catch a train in Newton to visit family in Cleveland.
At 10:30 that night, Jean Beck got in her BMW and left The Grape, a restaurant and pub near Central and Rock. As Beck drove to her triplex in a quiet subdivision off 127th Street East and Birchwood Drive, she noticed a Toyota following her. She stopped at her mailbox and let the car pass. She hurried inside.
Beck lived at 12725 E. Birchwood Drive. Two strangers, later identified as Jonathan and Reginald Carr, went to 12727 E. Birchwood Drive.
Jean Beck never really knew the three men who lived next door. After that night, she never would have the chance.
Jason Befort had the engagement ring tucked inside a popcorn tin in his bedroom. He'd tried to keep the surprise from his curious girlfriend, who kept wondering why his stories about Christmas shopping kept changing. But it was hard to hide stuff from her. The woman was petite but strong-willed -- a "toughie," they'd called her as a little girl.
They were both teachers. Jason was a high school basketball coach in nearby Augusta for the junior varsity and freshmen teams. He taught the young players the fundamentals they'd need to graduate on to varsity and, years later, to win a state championship. She taught fifth-graders, precocious and in the pangs of pre-pubescent angst, whom she'd take for recess in her red coat to play in the fresh winter air.
They both loved children. With his sister, Kim, Jason bought the ring because he'd decided he wanted to be a husband and father. And the woman he wanted to become his wife often came to visit him, bringing him love and affection in many forms, including the cheesecake she made the night of Dec 14.
Jason Befort lived with his friends, Brad Heyka and Aaron Sander. Brad and Jason had always been best friends, inseparable people would say. Brad and Aaron knew each other from having worked together at Koch Industries.
Brad's career at Koch Financial Corp. took off so fast it embarrassed him. He didn't tell his family about promotions that had made him financial director. His success came at a time of cutbacks and layoffs. As others were losing their jobs, Brad Heyka's profile was rising. His success in the face of others' hardship bothered him.
All three were the kind of men you don't hear about often outside the circle of family and friends that they touch and inspire. They'd mastered what seems to be the lost art of calling their mothers every week. E-mails made it easier to write home. They weren't shy about hugging their brothers and sisters.
Brad fell in love, too, with Amy Scott, whom he'd met at work. She had intense eyes, an infectious smile and shining blonde hair. With his dark eyes and 6-foot-3 frame, he towered over her. He loved golf and Amy, not in that order.
His success had allowed him to join the Tallgrass Country Club, where he could enjoy the game he'd been playing since the clubs were taller than he was, that he played competitively through high school and college. One of Brad's regular golf partners was his father.
Aaron Sander had recently left Koch and moved out of the triplex for a time. When he moved back in, Jason was in the master bedroom, so Aaron lived in the other upstairs room. Brad had a little apartment of his own downstairs with a new big-screen television in a living area with a computer outside his bedroom.
Aaron was on a journey of his own, searching for purpose. He'd discussed with his family looking into a career as a counselor. He decided he might like to become a priest. Such a calling wasn't out of character. Aaron had a strong belief in God, which he had expressed since a toddler. Everyone who came in contact with him, through family or college, would speak of his kindness and gentleness.
Even his girlfriend Heather Muller, wasn't surprised that the church called to Aaron. Heather was heavily involved in her parish, too, and was studying to work with disabled children. She loved Aaron so much she didn't mind giving him up to the priesthood. She thought she might become a nun. They would marry to the church instead of each other.
Heather and Aaron both saw life with the brightest of outlooks. Ask Heather how she was and she'd cheerfully respond, "Faaaaan-tastic."
The evening of Dec 14, Heather and Aaron had dinner and shared sips of wine for the last time. Jason came home late from a night of basketball practices and found his future fiancee waiting for him, watching "ER." He went down to see Brad, sitting in front of the big-screen TV.
It was getting late. The clock ticked past 11 as Aaron went to answer the door and found two strangers waiting.
The night before, Dec 13, was the last good time the friends had together. Christmas packages sat waiting to be wrapped, and decorations were going up inside the triplex.
Heather and Aaron left early. They wanted to visit a seminary that Sander considered attending.
The others spent the evening like a family, Amy and Brad, Jason and his love. The men watched television. The women made Christmas stockings for everyone in the house. They even made a little stocking for the dog, Nikki.
They talked about having a New Year's Eve party to welcome 2001. They talked about which football games to watch. They were Kansas State University fans. They talked about food and music for the party.
That night, life was rich, warm and safe.
Mass is celebrated for victims, families
The event, sponsored by Catholic Charities, comes one day after the Carr brothers are sentenced for five murders.BY ABE LEVY - The Wichita Eagle - Sun, Nov. 17, 2002
St. Mary's Cathedral echoed with words of peace and comfort Saturday during a special Mass for crime victims and their loved ones.
It fell just a day after one of Wichita's most-watched murder trials concluded with the imposition of death sentences for Reginald and Jonathan Carr.
The trial has stirred emotions among people wrestling with Christian teachings about compassion and the desire for justice.
Bishop Thomas Olmsted spoke against the death penalty. Only faith can enable victims to cope with injustice, he said.
"The killing of Jesus was not the final word," he said. "The crime of all crimes was turned on its head. He transformed his dying into the act that transforms the world."
Lois Muller, the mother of Heather Muller -- who was killed by the Carrs -- attended part of the Mass. She declined comment.
Mary Roubeck of Catholic Charities, which sponsored the Mass, said crime victims need to know how loved they are.
"Our whole community needs that peace now," she said. "We have been through something horrible for the past two years, but God has a way of turning things into good."