Tale of Death, Intrigue Jars Quiet Agoura Hills

The four pretty girls from the suburbs brushed their hair in the parking lot of the Malibu Municipal Courthouse. They checked each other’s lipstick, giggled a little, shared a cigarette, then teetered on clunky, fashionable heels into Judge Lawrence J. Mira’s courtroom.

They sat first in the second row, then shifted to the front row for a better look at the defendants--five boys they know who are accused of murdering a 16-year-old Agoura Hills youth.

One girl stayed behind in the second row.

“You aren’t going to be able to see them from there,” her friend hissed at her.

One by one, the defendants came in. Jason and Micah Holland, brothers from Thousand Oaks, were clad in orange and blue jail garb. Brandon Hein from Oak Park wore a neat, blue shirt and a tie, brought by his father. Tony Miliotti of Westlake Village and Chris Velardo of Oak Park were in white T-shirts and jail pants.

The youths, ages 15 to 18, noticed the girls and sneaked little smirks and smiles their way. The girls giggled back.

Before May 22, these were the boys they went to parties with, saw in the hallways of their high schools, invited to dinner at their parents’ homes in the quiet suburbs along the Los Angeles-Ventura county line.

After May 22, these were the boys that police described as thieves, gang members and coldblooded killers.

That night, May 22, Jimmy Farris, the son of a Los Angeles police officer, was stabbed to death in his friend’s Agoura Hills back yard.

His violent death, allegedly at the hands of middle-class suburban kids who barely knew him, has left residents of Agoura Hills, Oak Park, Westlake Village and Thousand Oaks with the disquieting fear that good schools, stable homes, pleasant parks and well-intentioned parents aren’t enough to keep violence out.

Because in this case, according to prosecutors’ evidence, the violence came from within, from children who were living the comfortable suburban life their parents worked so hard to give them.

While parents wonder whether the diversion of part-time jobs or extracurricular activities could have changed what occurred after school that warm spring afternoon, some of the youths’ peers say it was simply rebellion against the tedium and sanctity of the suburbs that may have led the boys over the fence at Michael McLoren’s grandparents’ house.

The former girlfriend of one of the accused spits out a piece of advice for parents: “If you could just teach them right, educate them, tell them about the real world instead of trying to shelter them in this little shell. That just makes them more rebellious.”

She says the same intrigue that brings teen-age spectators to the courtroom--intrigue with danger, with a world far tougher than the comfortable suburbs they grew up in--could have brought the boys to the same place in handcuffs and prison garb.

Four of the youths, who face a Jan 9. trial on murder charges, have pleaded not guilty. A fifth pleaded guilty to manslaughter charges, but none has yet told his story publicly. Prosecutors, police records and interviews with family and friends present this version of a day that took one life and ruined many others.

Ever since Mike McLoren and his grandfather banged together a rough, plywood shack in their back yard on Foothill Drive in Agoura Hills, the site had served as a sanctuary for area teen-agers. They called it a fort, perhaps a leftover from childhood. But for 16-year-old Mike and his friends, its function was as a place to party.

On the outside of the 13-by-14-foot fort, Mike had painted a giant cartoon-like animal. Inside, the ceilings and walls were black. There was a mattress, desk, plastic chair, couch, stereo, television, VCR and a little chest with a locked drawer containing four zip-locked cellophane bags of marijuana, police reports say.

Mike wasn’t home from school yet, but his girlfriend, Stacy Williams, let in a few friends. By 2:30 p.m., when Mike and his friend Jimmy Farris had arrived, there was a low-key party going on, with kids hanging out, smoking a little pot and watching an advance video of “Pulp Fiction” one of them got from a parent in the film industry.

One of those at the gathering was Natasha Sinkinson, a slim girl with a halo of blond curls and wide blue eyes. Natasha, a regular at the fort, had told her friends she was having a fight with her boyfriend. She said she and Chris Velardo were not speaking to each other.

Just a few miles away in Oak Park, in a group of condominiums, Phyllis Deikel was doing a load of laundry just before 3 p.m. To get to the washer, she had to walk through her back yard.

Deikel told police she overheard an excited conversation among a group of boys in the yard next door.

Brandon Hein lived there with his father and his father’s girlfriend in the $185,000 condominium, modest by Oak Park standards. He had attended the academically elite Oak Park High School, until he fell behind and transferred to the community’s continuation school, Oak View High.

The dark-haired boy with brown eyes and small features, who talked about going to art school, was no discipline problem at Oak View. But he grew frustrated at falling behind, Principal Cliff Moore said. He said Brandon had dropped out in March, as soon as he turned 18.

The night of May 22, Brandon’s friend Micah Holland was planning to sleep over. The boys, who met at Oak View, shared a common characteristic--a tendency to defend themselves fiercely in an argument. Both are small but have quick tempers, friends say.

Moore said he had many discussions with 15-year-old Micah while he was at Oak View. “He was a very sensitive young man,” Moore said. “But there were some issues there that he was dealing with that went beyond what I could do for him.”

Friends put it more bluntly, saying he acted tough, even with the biggest kids.

“Micah is a little boy inside, and he has a very big mouth,” a former neighbor said.

It wasn’t unusual to find Micah with his brother, Jason, despite the three-year age difference between them. Their father had left them when they were 6 and 3, respectively, their mother, Sharry Holland, said. They haven’t seen him since. The two brothers shared difficulties--both suffer from attention-deficit disorders that made school hard. And they shared talents, particularly artistic abilities, she said.

Jason Holland also had had his troubles with the law. Juvenile records for both brothers are sealed, but Jason was charged as an adult with receiving stolen property--a snowboard--and stealing a pair of $400 speakers in February, records show.

School officials said single mother Sharry Holland fought hard to keep her kids out of trouble and moved to Thousand Oaks to get them away from bad influences in the Agoura Hills area.

That day in May, Phyllis Deikel told police she caught only snippets of the conversation going on next door: “You don’t have the guts to do it,” and “I can do it, you can’t do it.”

She said she went back in her house and told her husband, “Those boys are up to something.”

By about 4:30 p.m., Brandon and the Holland brothers were headed for the fort in Agoura Hills, riding in Chris Velardo’s maroon pickup truck, according to police reports. As a friend of Mike McLoren’s, Chris had been to the fort often, sometimes with his girlfriend Natasha.

Chris was a student at Indian Hills Continuation School in Calabasas, where he enrolled after falling behind on credits, Principal Martin Ableser said.

His friends call him a pretty boy, nicely dressed and carefully groomed, and a follower by nature. His principal called him artistically gifted, telling how one of Chris’ paintings hung for months in the school’s district office.

He was never a discipline problem, Ableser said, but he had a problem with attendance, often skipping school. Jason Holland, one of Chris’ friends since grade school, had also gone to the continuation school. But when Jason turned 18 in January, he dropped out and decided to take the equivalency exam instead. His mother said he had been looking for a job since then, applying everywhere from department stores to gas stations. “He applied a million places,” Sharry Holland said.

At the fort that day, Chris greeted everyone--except for his estranged girlfriend Natasha, police say. He talked briefly to one boy about plans for the evening. Then he said his goodbys and left, rejoining his friends in the truck.

Later that day, Tony Miliotti, a special education student at Indian Hills, joined the group. A thin, hollow-cheeked youth, Tony, like Chris, often skipped school. He too had grown up with the Holland brothers. Tony had a tendency to follow the crowd, his friends said. But he had recently found work at a carwash and did odd jobs for his uncle’s produce company. Sometimes Jason Holland helped him unload the produce trucks.

Jimmy Farris and his neighbor Mike McLoren liked to lift weights, spending hours with the bench press and punching bag Mike had in his back yard.

A lanky boy at 5 feet, 11 inches and a little over 170 pounds, Jimmy wanted to try out for the football team in the fall. Mike, a little smaller, with dark hair and quirky eyebrows over intelligent eyes, was interested in wrestling.

They were lifting weights outside the fort when Stacy, Natasha and another friend left the fort. It was nearly 7 p.m. Stacy had an appointment at a tanning salon at 7:30 that she didn’t want to miss.

While Jimmy and Mike were lifting weights, police say, the other youths were just a few miles away. According to evidence introduced at a preliminary hearing, they were lifting a wallet out of a parked minivan at Gates Canyon Park on Thousand Oaks Boulevard near Calabasas.

Alyce Moulder told police she was in the park with her children just a few minutes before 7 p.m. when she saw a boy she later identified as Micah Holland take her wallet out of her unlocked van.

The wallet contained no cash, but Moulder was indignant. She hustled her children into the van and followed the boys--three crammed into the cab, two in the bed of the pickup truck--to a pizza place on Las Virgenes Road.

Once she confronted the boys, Moulder quickly became intimidated. She told police Micah Holland brandished a club used to lock steering wheels and called her a few filthy names. She got into her van, which the boys were pounding on. The boys, she told police, spat on her car as she fled.

Chris Velardo parked his pickup on the shoulder of Foothill Drive, next to the six-foot wire fence that surrounds Mike’s yard, police reports say. It was just a few minutes after 7 p.m.

He sat in the car. The four other boys--Brandon, Tony and the Hollands--climbed over the fence and approached Jimmy and Mike, police say. There were no smiles or friendly greetings. Mike told police he took off the gloves he was using on the punching bag and waited.

He said Micah Holland walked straight into the fort and touched the locked drawer where the pot was kept, demanding the key. Mike refused and the fight began.

It was dark in the fort, and Mike told police he felt as though he were being beaten by all of the boys. He put his head down to protect his braces, catching only a few glimpses of his friend Jimmy. Mike told police he thought he saw Jimmy hit Tony Miliotti in the face.

Then he saw Jimmy slumped over on the couch, head to chest, while Brandon socked him with uppercuts. Mike told police he realized he had Micah Holland in a headlock. At some point during the fray he said Micah said to him, “What are you starting . . . with Gumbys, ese ?”--an apparent reference to a San Fernando Valley gang.

Mike McLoren told police he saw something being passed back and forth between his attackers. He wound up kicked into a corner. That was when he realized he had been stabbed, and he made for the door of the fort. Mike told police he heard his assailants say, “He’s getting away, he’s getting away, let’s get out of here!”

Jimmy staggered out of the fort just behind him, Mike told police. The two boys burst through the kitchen door of Mike’s house. His mother--an elementary school teacher--was grading papers at the kitchen table. His grandparents were watching “Jeopardy!” on TV.

Brandon, Tony and the Holland brothers left the fort apparently empty-handed. The marijuana was still safely locked away.

According to police interviews with Natasha Sinkinson, Chris Velardo told her that Jason Holland was the last to come running back to the truck, saying, “I think I stabbed him.”

The maroon truck left in a hurry, knocking into a mailbox before screeching off, a passing jogger told police.

The next stop was McDonald’s in Calabasas.

Curtis Leftwich, Tony’s attorney, said the youths had no idea Jimmy Farris was dying.

“These kids, they leave, they think they’ve just gotten into a fight,” Leftwich said. “You can look at it as either they really knew and they are incredibly coldblooded to go sit down and have a hamburger. Or they didn’t have a clue what had happened, which is the case.”

About 8:40 p.m., a Los Angeles County sheriff’s deputy, looking for the youths who stole Alyce Moulder’s wallet, pulled over Chris’ truck. Police were not yet searching for the maroon pickup in connection with Farris’ stabbing. The deputy examined a folding knife Jason Holland was wearing in a belt holder. There was no blood on its three-inch blade and nothing suspicious enough about the boys to detain them, the deputy testified in a preliminary hearing. He sent them on their way.

Back in the kitchen, Nancy McLoren called 911 and then elevated Jimmy’s feet and pressed compresses to his wounds. Jimmy couldn’t speak, and he had quickly turned gray.

Nancy McLoren called Jimmy’s mother, Judie Farris, who came rushing to the McLoren house a few doors from her home. She watched as paramedics tried to revive her son. “I had to stand there screaming, seeing him lie there on the kitchen floor not moving and thinking I was going to lose him,” she said.

At 9:05 p.m., Jimmy Farris was declared dead at Westlake Medical Center. He had been stabbed twice, both times to the chest. One of the wounds, nearly three inches deep, entered the pericardium sac surrounding his heart, then into the heart.

Mike McLoren was airlifted to Kaiser Permanente Medical Center in Woodland Hills and treated for three stab wounds.

By 10 p.m., Chris Velardo had dropped Brandon Hein and Micah Holland off at the Oak Park condominium, according to police reports. Tony Miliotti went to stay with a friend in Agoura Hills. Jason Holland went off on his own.

Word was spreading quickly about Jimmy Farris’ death. Stacy called Natasha and told her that Chris might have been involved, police reports state.

Putting their argument aside, Natasha started calling around looking for her boyfriend. About 11 p.m. she tracked him down and demanded to know what had happened. She later told police that Chris swore to her he didn’t know what happened in the fort.

Based on what they learned from Mike McLoren, police staked out Brandon Hein’s Oak Park home. When they entered at 3 a.m. they found Brandon awake in the living room with his father. Micah was upstairs, curled up in a sleeping bag. Both teen-agers were arrested.

Tony Miliotti turned himself in that afternoon. A friend told police Tony had said: “We didn’t mean to do this. We didn’t mean to do any of this, I swear. Something went wrong in there, something went loony and crazy.”

Jason Holland remained a fugitive for three weeks, finally turning himself in after a televised plea from his mother.

The five youths were charged with first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit a robbery. They were ordered to stand trial as adults, even though only Jason Holland and Brandon were 18 at the time of the crime. Tony and Chris turned 18 in jail. Prosecutors could have pursued the death penalty, but decided against it.

Police are investigating possible links to the Gumbys, a suburban gang formerly known for petty thefts, tagging and minor vandalism. The Gumbys, whose members cross class and racial lines, are considered wanna-bes, emulating more serious urban gangs.

Chris Velardo pleaded guilty Sept. 28 to manslaughter and conspiracy to commit robbery. He faces a maximum term of 12 years at his Nov. 28 sentencing.

Los Angeles Assistant Dist. Atty. Jeffrey Semow said there was no deal for testimony with the plea, but the possibility remains that Chris will testify against his friends, who face life in prison.

Shortly before his plea, lawyers asked that Chris and Tony be moved away from the other three suspects, citing security reasons.

“He’s genuinely remorseful for everything that happened,” said Charles English, Chris’ lawyer. “He’s a hard kid to interview because he spends most of his time crying.”

“I have described this as a lunch-money robbery,” English added. “There was never any intention to hurt anybody. Just as far as I can see, this was, ‘Give me the grass.’ ”

Semow takes a much harder line. “They may try a boys-will-be-boys defense,” he said. “But this not a case of boys will be boys.”

At the local high schools, any news about the upcoming trial, insider knowledge on the events of May 22, or a history with the five boys accused of Farris’ stabbing is as hip as baggy clothes and beepers.

The atmosphere at the recent court hearing, with a gaggle of girls waiting to see the five defendants, was so festive that Tony Miliotti’s defense attorney marveled over it.

“It’s a chance to socialize,” Curtis Leftwich said. “Maybe later, when the trial gets started, they’ll be more serious. But that their friends are on trial for murder is just not part of their reality yet.”

Reality in the suburbs doesn’t usually include murder. Life there comes with built-in padding.

“These were all middle-class kids,” said one friend. “And in Agoura, that is lower-class.”

But the Agoura Hills-Oak Park area is filled with upper middle-class families. The schools, parks and shopping centers reflect that. “It’s like you’re exempt from a lot of things, living that kind of lifestyle,” said a former girlfriend of one of the defendants.

The girl--who does not visit court herself--notes with disgust her peers’ fascination with the case. “It’s the cool thing to do,” she said. “It’s a trend right now.”

“They weren’t even friends with these guys before this,” she added. “But all of a sudden now that they’re in jail, they’re friends. These girls are young and dumb and they don’t know what they are getting involved in. It’s just like they come to school and talk about what happened on ‘Beverly Hills, 90210’ last night. Well, this is just like Agoura Hills 91301 or whatever.”

In this case, however, there is no quick and easy weekly resolution. Instead there are ruined lives and grieving parents, for whom Jimmy’s death and its consequences reverberate every day.

Chris Velardo’s mother, Patty Fine, wells up with tears every time she comes to court. Tony Miliotti’s extended family watches him at hearings, anxiety etched on their faces. Brandon Hein’s father, Gene Hein, comes faithfully to every hearing.

Sharry Holland recently expressed a mother’s frustration. “It’s so hard because I can’t even touch Jason,” she said. “I haven’t even hugged him since May.”

Beyond the emotional strain, she must pay two expensive lawyers on her income as a real estate agent.

“I fully expect to pay for this for the rest of my life,” she said. “When your kids are in a situation like this, it doesn’t matter.”

Holland is a pretty, soft-spoken woman with a quiet dignity. She brings her boys photos of each other to look at in jail; Micah is in Sylmar Juvenile Hall, and Jason is in a Los Angeles County men’s facility. “The first words out of each other’s mouths are always, ‘How’s Jason?’ ‘How’s Micah?’ ” she said. “They have always had a need to be close.”

Mike McLoren is back at Agoura High School and still recovering physically and emotionally. He blames himself for Jimmy Farris’ death, friends say. “He still has issues with himself,” his girlfriend, Stacy, said. “It’s not like he just forgot all of a sudden. It’s hard because he misses Jimmy a lot. He loved Jimmy.”

And for the parents who lost their son forever, the pain is undiminished by the passing months.

Judie Farris drives the other way on her street now whenever she leaves her neighborhood. She can’t bear to go past Mike McLoren’s house, where the yellow police tape still wraps around his fort. Jim Farris sold his motorcycles after Jimmy died, pained by the reminder of happy times he shared with his son. Normally stoic, the police officer weeps quietly when he talks about his son.

“We float from day to day,” Judie Farris said. “We try to do everything normal. But it isn’t normal anymore.”

She cherishes a gift brought to her by Jimmy’s ceramics teacher after his death. His last piece, unfired when he died, was a ceramic box. On top, she said, etched in blue, was the eternity symbol.

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The Victims:

Jimmy Farris . . . The lanky boy with the scruffy goatee, blond hair, blue eyes and charming smile died protecting his good friend Mike McLoren. “That’s totally the kind of person he was,” said his friend Ian Bermann. Jimmy’s father, a Los Angeles police officer, often worked late, and Jimmy and his mother would share dinner together. “Mom your the Best, if I had to choose any other mom, I wouldn’t! love Jimmy,” he signed his Mother’s Day card to her the week before he died. Jimmy Farris is pictured at right.

Mike McLoren . . . The key witness for the prosecution, the 16-year-old survived three knife wounds to the torso and lived to tell police a tale of flying fists, confusion and tragedy. It was the marijuana in his back-yard fort that prosecutors believe the five youths were after. Mike asked Jimmy’s mother if she hated him because her son died protecting him. Said Judie Farris: “I thought, if I asked Jimmy, ‘Would you want me to hate Mike?’ he’d say no.” Mike McLoren’s photo was not available.

****

The Accused:

Chris Velardo . . . The driver of the truck that carried the alleged assailants to Agoura Hills, Chris Velardo, 18, was the link that brought two groups of friends together on May 22. His peers say he followed the wrong crowd, but is no murderer. “Chris Velardo?” said one friend. “I mean puhleeese. He always had the nice clean nails, collared shirt, the ring on.” Last month he pleaded guilty to voluntary manslaughter.

Brandon Hein . . . The most recent addition to the group of friends, Brandon Hein, 18, lived in Oak Park with his father. “Personally, I don’t think he has the heart to do this,” a former girlfriend said. “Brandon is a good kid. But he has a temper and he does explode.” Respectful with teachers, he kept mostly to himself at Oak View High School before dropping out. He is accused of viciously punching Jimmy Farris during the melee. He has pleaded not guilty.

Tony Miliotti . . . A Westlake Village youth who turned 18 in prison this summer, Tony Miliotti was known as a follower, a special education student at Indian Hills Continuation School who was closest to Chris Velardo. At his attorney’s request, he and Chris are being jailed separately from the other three suspects. Tony is “totally nice, a gentleman,” one friend said. He has pleaded not guilty.

Micah Holland . . . The younger of the two accused brothers, Micah Holland has been described as a troublemaker, a quick-tempered kid with a foul mouth. He reportedly claimed gang affiliation during the fight that left Jimmy Farris dead. But friends say he is not as tough as he acts. “I’ve seen Micah cry because Jason has been mean to him,” one said. “Micah is not a strong person.” He has pleaded not guilty.

Jason Holland . . . A fugitive after the stabbing, Jason Holland, 18, wandered the San Fernando Valley for three weeks before turning himself in. Police said he was wearing a knife in a belt holster the night of the killing. According to their investigation, Jason ran out of Mike McLoren’s fort, saying, “I think I stabbed him.” Mike told police he saw Jason running toward him just before he was stabbed. Jason is artistically gifted, his mother said. He has pleaded not guilty.

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FYI

Contributions can be made to the Jimmy Farris memorial fund through the Bank of America, Agoura Hills branch. In person, reference account #07593-04974 or mail contributions to Bank of America, 5667 Kanan Road, Agoura Hills, CA 91301.