Part 5: Murder in Montrose

The cops and the papers and even Stonie’s mom, they told a story, later on, of what happened that day after Stonie left Jamie’s balcony. And if it is not a true story, well, I had no means of disproving it and still do not.

But if it was not a true story then the world is a better place after all.

The story they told is one in which Stonie – still tipsy from the beer I had finished, probably – drove over to the house of an ex. Finding her house dark and also empty, he climbed in through a convenient bathroom window.

While back at Jamie’s apartment, Jamie and I drank beers and watched the children play, Stonie was stumbling through his ex’s house, and he searched her drawers and maybe flipped through photographs. I don’t know. Perhaps he read his ex’s diary just as I had read Jamie’s. 

Her name was Justine. Everyone called her “Buttafly.”

“At 14, Justine Maxwell discovered Montrose and threw herself headlong into its unconventional,  artistic underground. Though she came from the very representation of suburbia – a two-story house in the Champions West subdivision with two parents, older siblings and pets – and grew up with every creature comfort imaginable, a stint at summer camp changed everything. There, Maxwell met some street-savvy girls who showed her how to ride the bus and introduced her to the Montrose way of life. 

“Everything about the famously eclectic neighborhood appealed to her – the street kids who answered to no one, the wild hair and tattoos, the exotic shops and coffee bars, the artistic flavor, the humming nightlife.” – chron.com

While back at Jamie’s apartment, I made ambiguous and passive-aggressive references to her dalliances, Stonie was breaking into Buttafly’s email. She and her new boyfriend were pregnant, the emails said.

O, jealousy is such a stupid thing, making some of us say ambiguous and passive aggressive words to someone we love. Others of us it makes lie in wait in a darkened house for the return of an ex and her new boyfriend.

Stonie waited.

He waited while Buttafly and her boyfriend pulled up to the house. He waited while they gathered their groceries. He waited while they opened the front door.

The boyfriend’s name was Danny. The papers never mentioned a nickname.

Stonie killed Robert with his mother’s pistol. The neighbors found Buttafly’s body on the front lawn. 

“Blood spatters leading down the couple’s back stairs and driveway showed that a wounded Maxwell ran for her life, screaming for help, police said. But she could not escape and was shot again outside before collapsing next to her driveway, in a neighbor’s front yard, witnesses say. 

“The couple’s next-door neighbor, who went outside to check the noise, first thought the shape in the grass was one of the cats.” – chron.com

Then Stonie disappeared.

For a while.

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“Part 1: A true crime story” is HERE.

“Part 2: A boy who killed some people” is HERE.

“Part 3: The other voice” is HERE.

“Part 4: Stonie’s bottle” is HERE.

News links:

- This is a news article about the murders.

- This is an obituary for Buttafly.