According to Joey, his father truly deserved it because he was a “child molester,” and his stepmother, DeeDee, did nothing to mitigate Red Pedersen’s behavior.
That made little sense. By the time Red married DeeDee, Joey was grown and serving time in prison. She hadn’t even met Joey until he showed up with his plan to murder them.
Furthermore, he had denied being abused in his childhood, other than to say that Red’s behavior was “less than ideal.”
He commented that the “criminal class” generally didn’t take responsibility for their actions, but he wasn’t like that. “I’m not going to try to weasel out of it. I act on my convictions, and I’m not going to shame myself by begging for leniency.”
Joey did acknowledge that he had suffered from anxiety since he was sixteen, but fifty milligrams a day of Zoloft helped calm that, and he now had periods of heightened anxiety only once every few months.
Asked if he minded that his two attorneys were Jewish and that the psychiatric panel members were Hispanic, African-American, Asian, and Portuguese, Joey shrugged. It didn’t matter to him, as long as they did a good job for him and were fair.
Many of the staffers in his ward were members of the races he claimed to hate, and he got along well with them.
Initially, staff notes said he had tended to stay away from African-American inmates and security officers, but that ended after a week, and he currently joked with them and seemed very comfortable.
Exactly who was David Joseph Pedersen? It’s likely that even he didn’t know the answer to that. Apparently raised by an angry father and a psychotic mother, he spent the entire second half of his life in prison. He was gripped by anxiety but brushed that aside. He was clearly full of rage, misdirected as it was.
* * *
The suspects were behind bars, but there was a lot of work ahead for prosecutors, who would fight to be sure that they would never be released to kill again.
The four homicides were committed in three different states, and numerous other laws had been broken as the suspects traveled hundreds of miles down the West Coast in their deadly quest. If each crime was to be prosecuted in a separate jurisdiction, it could take many years before a resolution was reached.
The wheels of justice were already grinding in Washington State, with Snohomish County prosecutor Mark Roe at the helm, when the feds stepped in during the summer of 2012 to consolidate the bulk of the remaining crime charges against Grigsby and Pedersen.
In March 2012, Joey Pedersen had pled guilty to two counts of aggravated murder in his father and DeeDee’s case in Snohomish County. He was sentenced to life in prison without parole.
He still faced charges for the Oregon and California cases. Holly had not yet been prosecuted in Snohomish County, and charges there against her were dropped to make way for the three-state consolidated prosecution.
Roe applauded the move by the U.S. Department of Justice and said he had pushed from the start for the case to be prosecuted at a federal level. Trials scattered across three states would not only waste taxpayer funds but would also be devastating for the families of the victims, Roe noted. He told reporters, “A three-state prosecution up and down the West Coast could take a decade or more. I can’t imagine a series of more agonizing road trips for everyone involved.”
Indeed, for the families of the victims, drawn-out trials requiring thousands of miles of travel and months out of their lives could be more than they could bear.
DeeDee Pedersen’s daughters, Lori Jane and Susan, and Cody Myers’s mother, Susan, were among the loved ones of the victims who vowed to be present in the courtroom as Grigsby and Pedersen were brought to justice. If necessary, they would have gone any distance and spent any amount of time to honor DeeDee and Cody with their presence in the courtroom. But it was a relief for them to know that it could all be over in one fell swoop.
The U.S. Department of Justice officially took over the prosecutions of Grigsby and Pedersen in Portland on Friday, August 17, 2012, with the unsealing of a twenty-four-page, fifteen-count indictment.
U.S. attorney Amanda Marshall also released a statement: “The indictment in this case alleges horrendous crimes were committed as part of defendants’ white supremacist campaign to kidnap and murder targets on the basis of race, color, religion and perceived ‘degenerate’ conduct. We hope this indictment brings the victims’ families one step closer to justice.”
The indictment fell under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (RICO).
Charges included conspiracy, robbery, kidnapping, carjacking, identity theft, credit-card fraud, and, of course, murder.
There was another plus to consolidating the cases. Roe acknowledged that while the federal prosecutors would be allowed to include evidence from all four of the murders under its theory of the case, he likely would not have been allowed to tell the jury about the murders of Cody Myers and Reginald Clark, because they had occurred after the murders in Everett, Washington.
Before the federal prosecutors stepped in, however, many hours on the Pedersen and Grigsby case had been logged in courtrooms in Oregon, Washington, and, briefly, California.
Susan Stewart notes that when she first saw Holly Grigsby in the courtroom in 2011, the young woman did not seem to take the situation seriously. “She was giggling with her attorney,” Susan recalls. But with each court appearance, Holly grew more somber. It was as if the hazy world created by drugs was wearing off, and she was beginning to be aware of the awfulness of her actions.
Eventually, Holly began to lift her chin and look directly at Susan. Holly’s eyes were filled with sadness. She appeared remorseful, and Susan took some small comfort in that. Both were mothers of sons, and Susan believes that Holly finally began to imagine herself in Susan’s shoes, how she would feel if her child were murdered.
If Holly Grigsby was indeed swept up in a foggy nightmare that overwhelmed her rationality, then her emergence from that bad dream would have been a shock.
No one can really know what went on inside Holly’s head, but her relatives insisted she was not an evil person. Holly’s mother, Janet Miles,* told Oregonian reporters, “She is a good person. I know no one will believe it now.”
Her daughter’s cruelty was impossible for Janet to comprehend, and she wept as she said, “I’m terribly sorry, from the bottom of my heart and soul . . . I am so so sorry for all the families.”
The suspect’s estranged husband, Mick Buttram, echoed Janet’s comments, telling KPTV reporter Laura Rillos that Grigsby was a “really sweet, loving girl,” overwhelmed by the pressure to be a good mother.
Mick acknowledged that on the surface, Joey Pedersen had appeared to be a “nice guy,” and he said that he could understand how his wife might have been charmed by him. He thought Pedersen had “got into Holly’s brain and convinced her he was her savior.”
In the November 2011 KPTV interview, Mick shared scrapbooks created by Holly. The pages are filled with artistically placed photos of her, Mick, and their son. She had decorated the pages with stickers of hearts and stars and smiley faces.
Next to some of the photos were carefully printed words and phrases. At first glance, it appeared sweet, with phrases such as “obsessed with motherhood” and “family love.” But smack in the middle of one page is the chilling phrase “Save the white race.”
Still in shock over learning his estranged wife was a killer, Mick denounced her actions but said that she had given him a beautiful son and that he would always love her.
Holly Grigsby’s husband brought her small son to one of the court hearings, and Mick said that their child was overjoyed to see his mother. But the toddler had started to wail as legal proceedings began, forcing them to leave.
Though he made it clear that he did not agree with the path taken by his estranged wife, Mick Buttram remained in her corner—even when a shocking news report suggested that he, too, had been on her hit list.
Portland’s KATU-TV reporter Megha
n Kalkstein interviewed Mick and asked about his reaction to the jailhouse interview that his wife had given to the California newspaper the Appeal-Democrat. The paper quoted Grigsby: “It was my plan to go back and kidnap my son and take care of Mick, but I didn’t get to do that.”
Mick scoffed at that and explained that his estranged wife had had the opportunity to “take care of him” but made no move to do so. He was certain that she never had any intention of harming him.
Mick revealed that Holly showed up after the Everett murders but hadn’t stayed long. He had no idea that she was in the middle of a killing spree, and he asked her if she was going to stay and visit with their son. But Holly had rushed off with no explanation.
Had Holly really been plotting to murder Mick when she stopped by his apartment? According to him, she had never planned such a thing and had probably made up the story because her feelings were hurt by something he had said to her in a phone conversation as she sat in jail. He had told her that he had no respect for what she had done.
At one point during the interview with Kalkstein, Mick addressed his wife. “We’ve been through hell, Holly,” he pleaded. “Just let it go.” He asked that his face not be filmed during the interview, although he did allow the photos of himself in Holly’s scrapbooks to be shown.
Kalkstein continued to cover the case for KATU, and she also interviewed Joey Pedersen, who sent letters to the TV station on yellow legal paper. In small handwriting, he wrote, in part, “We are sitting in cages with no means of purchasing envelopes and calling cards to contact our family and friends, or basic hygiene items such as soap and deodorant.”
In his communication with KATU, Pedersen made it known that though he would not do a recorded telephone interview, he was willing to do an in-person interview—possibly a joint interview with Holly—if jailers would allow it. He added that he would like them each to be compensated one hundred dollars so that they could purchase necessities from the prison commissary.
Kalkstein made it clear that it was against KATU policy to pay for interviews and that they would definitely not compensate Joey.
It was not the last time the public would hear complaints from Pedersen and Grigsby about jail conditions.
In February 2012, while incarcerated in the Snohomish County Jail, Holly Grigsby made the news again because of a dispute over breakfast cereal.
Jailers had forbidden her access to her favorite cereal, Cocoa Puffs. The media jumped on the story, twisting headlines with the obvious play on words, “Cereal Killer,” and almost gleefully using the General Mills slogan for the product as expressed by its mascot for the chocolate cereal, Sonny the Cuckoo Bird: “Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs!”
Authorities said they had blocked Grigsby from using the commissary, where she might purchase the sugary cereal, candy, and other sweet snacks, because of her history of brewing “jailhouse hooch” or “Pruno.” The alcoholic concoction requires sugar and is often made by inmates who manage to conceal it in their cells during the days it takes to ferment. Sometimes they place the mix in a plastic bag and hide it in toilet tanks.
A two-hour hearing on the cereal conflict was held in Snohomish County Superior Court. Attorneys for Grigsby and Pedersen had complained about jailhouse conditions and the fact their clients were not allowed access to the jail commissary. Grigsby’s attorney, Pete Mazzone, argued that it was against her constitutional rights to deny her access to the commissary.
A judge ruled against the inmates.
In December 2012, Holly Grigsby became the subject of yet another bizarre news story when she became involved with high-profile inmate Andrew Barnett.
Barnett was Holly’s type of guy, a bad boy with obvious intelligence but misplaced loyalties. Andy Barnett and Joey Pedersen were both very angry young men. They were the same age, born a few months apart. Instead of using their brains to move their lives forward in a positive way, their schemes just drove them deeper into pits they could not crawl out of.
Andrew Laud Barnett, born in 1980, had had trouble with the law since his teens. He had felony convictions for third-degree robbery, first-degree burglary, and theft of a vehicle. Convictions also included a 2004 assault of a corrections officer.
In January 2008, Barnett was incarcerated at the Oregon State Penitentiary in Salem, serving a seven-year sentence for assault, when he found a way to make more trouble.
The Oregon state penitentiary is the state’s only maximum-security prison, yet Barnett, who was twenty-seven at the time, managed to send a letter to the Washington County Sheriff’s Office, threatening the lives of the sheriff and three deputies.
Then, in August 2011, while awaiting trial proceedings for the 2008 case, he threw a container holding a mixture of feces and urine into the face of a Multnomah County deputy.
He was awaiting trial in April 2012 for both the 2008 and 2011 cases when he mailed yet another threatening letter, this time to the federal prosecutor who was prosecuting the previous two cases. The envelope held a white powder that the letter indicated was anthrax. The letter read, in part:
I want things in life.
1. I want you gone!!!
2. To see Pink Floyd live!!!
3. I want to lean [sic] VOODOO.
The receptionist at the U.S. Attorney’s office routinely opened the mail there, and when she opened the envelope, the fine white powder tucked inside filled the air, and she accidentally inhaled it.
Hazardous-materials personnel were rushed to the courthouse to investigate. Paramedics cared for the terrified woman, who suffered hours of emotional trauma before the powder was identified. It was not anthrax. It was a penicillin-based antibiotic that had been ground into a powder.
It was a relief, of course, but the receptionist reportedly now suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder and is afraid to open mail.
Andrew Barnett was moved to the Columbia County Jail in St. Helens, Oregon. Because he was representing himself in the federal charges for the anthrax hoax, he was given access to the jail library, a room with three aisles of general books and one aisle of law books.
Inside the library, Andrew discovered an air vent that connected to the women’s housing unit in the next room. He managed to contact Holly Grigsby by shouting through the vent.
The two began communicating through letters hidden inside books in the library. The scheme included marking books with stars, other symbols, and numeric codes, so that Holly could locate the ones with the clandestine letters inside.
In November 2012, a jailer found a four-page letter concealed in one of the books. The “love letter” to Holly was allegedly “vulgar” and sexually explicit and also contained rants about an African-American judge.
It was soon discovered that at least two other inmates were using the library books for underground communication, referring to it as their “email system.” The elaborate communication setup was apparently designed by Barnett.
Upon learning about the letters, prosecutors asked for a hearing before Senior U.S. District Judge Ancer L. Haggerty, and they argued that because Barnett had abused his library privileges, he no longer deserved to represent himself. The suspect, they said, would find and exploit another loophole if he were allowed free rein.
Barnett told the judge that Holly Grigsby had typed up a recent court motion for him. “I don’t consider my constitutional rights a loophole,” he said. “Cutting off my law library privileges—that’s cutting me off from Holly Grigsby. That’s the only way I can communicate with her.”
Haggerty ruled that Barnett could continue to represent himself.
The authorities relocated the jail’s law library, putting an end to the vent communications. The jail library rules became stricter, so that only law books were accessible via the library. All other books were made available only through the cart that was pushed from cell to cell.
Andrew Barnett was convicted for sending the death threats and throwing the foul mixture at the deputy. Without the added crimes, he could
have walked out of prison a free man in May 2015. The new convictions added five years and three months to his sentence.
He was allowed to write only with a special pencil with a distinctive orange lead. Should anyone else receive an anonymous threatening letter from Barnett, the orange writing would lead straight to him.
The clandestine romance between two of the state’s most controversial convicts was delectable fodder for the media, and once again, the story made newspaper headlines and television news.
While a lot of noise was made over smuggled letters and forbidden breakfast cereal, there were far bigger legal concerns for Joey Pedersen and Holly Grigsby.
The question of the death penalty had been looming since the moment the two were arrested and was a troublesome one for both the prosecution and the defense. California, Oregon, and Washington are among the thirty-two states that allow capital punishment, and there was the very real possibility that Pedersen and Grigsby would pay for their violent crimes with their lives.
In California, the condemned inmate can choose between lethal injection and lethal gas at the San Quentin state prison. If a decision is not made in writing within ten days of being served with the warrant for execution, then the death penalty is carried out via lethal injection. California’s death row is the largest in the country, with more than seven hundred condemned prisoners currently waiting to face death.
In Washington, inmates are given a choice between hanging and lethal injection. (Washington is one of three states that still executes by hanging. The other two are Delaware and New Hampshire.) If no choice is made, the condemned will die by lethal injection. Since 1904, sixty-six Caucasians, seven African-Americans, two Asians, two Hispanics, and one native Alaskan have been executed in Washington.
Condemned inmates in Oregon are executed via lethal injection, with no other choice offered to them. Since 1904, sixty men have met their deaths by execution at the Oregon State Penitentiary in Salem. They were fifty-six Caucasian, one Native American, and three African-American men.