‘Nobody seems to know why’

No one suspected the boy. Not the neighbors, whom the 8-year-old waved to while walking his boxer puppy. Not the police, who were investigating whether a workplace spat had ended in the shooting deaths of his father and another man.

But a tip convinced authorities to re-interview the third-grader.

He wore pajama pants, tucked his limbs closer to his body, teared up -- and, in the end, appeared to confess to the slayings.

A videotape of the questioning, at which no attorney was present, was released by local authorities and broadcast nationwide last week -- confounding defense lawyers, juvenile justice experts and folks in this rural outpost near the New Mexico border.

The judge has issued a gag order, making it more difficult to sort out what happened Nov. 5 after the boy got off a school bus. Though the police chief has said that the youngster “methodically” killed his father -- 29-year-old Vincent Romero -- and Timothy Romans, 39, prosecutors on Friday asked that the murder charge related to his father be dropped.

“This town is just real sad,” said Connie Grugel, 57, who lives down the street from Romero’s home, where he died on the stairs, dressed in his construction-site overalls, hard hat and protective eyewear. Romans -- a co-worker who lived near Phoenix but stayed with the Romeros during the week -- was killed outside.

“Nobody seems to know why,” Grugel said. “This child seemed OK with the world. He was a happy little guy, the kind you’d want to hug.”

Vincent Romero grew up in St. Johns, an expanse of ranchland with 4,000 residents, no stoplights and the nickname Town of Friendly Neighbors. On any given day, ranchers in cowboy hats make their way past the mom-and-pop shops, storefronts with boarded-up windows, and corralled horses on the main drag. High crime here, residents say, usually involves chicken theft.

In recent years, Romero seemed dedicated to raising his family -- and to St. Johns. He fixed fences at his boyhood church and was well-liked in town. “If he didn’t shake your hand, he gave you a hug,” one resident said.

Romero was awarded custody of his son after the boy’s mother filed for divorce in 2001. He built a two-story house near the tiny St. Johns airport with the woman he married in September, Tiffany. It had a balcony, grill, trampoline and a plaque that read “Romeros.” The boy called Tiffany “Mom,” said Romero’s pastor, the Very Rev. John Sauter.

The couple “wanted to be together until death do us part,” Sauter said. He paused, and his face fell. “They were.”

On the night of the shootings, Sauter said, Vincent Romero and Romans planned to help a friend fix a chest of drawers. About 5 p.m., neighbors heard a pop three or four times at intervals, according to court transcripts that have been made public. Romero’s son told police he saw a white vehicle with rimless back tires speeding away.

“I saw the door open, and I saw Tim right there,” the boy initially told police in the videotaped interview. “And I ran and I said, ‘Dad! Dad!’ And I went upstairs and I saw him. And there was blood all over his face. And I think I touched him. I just kind of checked to see if he was a little bit alive.”

Family members asked Sauter to drive over to anoint Romero’s body, but authorities wouldn’t let him in the house because it was a crime scene. Romero and Romans were shot about five times each, authorities said, with a .22-caliber rifle, which must be reloaded after every shot.

The gun, which police found on a wire dog kennel near the front door, was the boy’s, his grandmother told investigators.

In St. Johns, families often hunt together for rabbits and squirrels. Romero owned bows, arrows and other guns. He had bought his son hunting videos, Sauter said, in hopes that learning to handle a gun would teach the boy responsibility.

The day after the shootings, police were still chasing leads, court transcripts indicate. Then at the funeral home, Romans’ widow told a sheriff’s sergeant that she spoke to her husband on his cellphone just before he was killed. A child -- whom she identified as Romero’s son -- yelled that “something’s wrong” inside the house. She heard no gunshots.

“You need to talk to that little boy,” Tanya Romans said, according to court transcripts. “He knows something. He was there when something bad happened to my husband.”

Two officers questioned the boy, sitting on either side of his armchair in a small, bare room at a local clinic. After some prodding, the third-grader told them: “I think, um, I think I shot my dad because he was suffering, I think.” He buried his face in his shirt.

“He said he was mad at his dad,” Officer Debbie Neckel testified at a detention hearing, according to court records. “He said the evening before that he didn’t bring some papers home from school and his dad was very angry and had his mother, Tiffany, spank him five swats.”

Romero was buried in the local cemetery, his grave adorned with a small cross, a Virgin of Guadalupe candle and an artificial white rose. Around St. Johns, fliers advertised a $5-a-plate benefit dinner for the Romeros.

Sauter sat in his rectory last week, trying to make sense of the accusations against the 8-year-old, who made his first court appearance in shackles but has been granted permission to spend Thanksgiving with his biological mother.

Before the shootings, Sauter said, the boy had trouble with his homework. The Romeros had visited school and grounded him from watching television. Sauter wondered whether it was hard for the child to understand complex things.

“I don’t think,” Sauter said, “he has the ability to distinguish right from wrong.”

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ashley.powers@latimes.com