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Murder In America
EP. 236: CALIFORNIA: She Let Her Killer In: The Senseless Murder of Autumn Wallace
01:20:24
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This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. So, as a lot of you know, in the month of March, we celebrate International Women's Day, a moment to celebrate women's strength and progress, while also recognizing how much weight they carry every day. Between caring for others and managing unseen responsibilities, women's emotional well being can easily be overlooked. And Courtney and I want to remind all the women and girls out there how much they matter and that therapy offers a space for them to take care of themselves in the way they deserve. I have so many incredible women in my life, from Courtney, obviously, you guys know Courtney, to my sister Tessa, my mother Mary, Courtney's mom Shanna, both of Courtney's grandmothers. I love both of them so much. My own grandma Rosie. And they're all such amazing, incredible people. But to me, one of the things that I've always noticed, especially in the women in my life, is the strength that women have. For example, with my mom, no matter what kind of day I was having, no matter what kind of day she was having, when I was younger, she was always there for me. She was always kind and collected and loving. And so this month, I want to celebrate strong women because there are so many of y' all out there and I admire each and every one of you. But when you have moments where you don't feel strong, that's where therapy comes in. And a great place to start your therapy journey is through BetterHelp. BetterHelp therapists work according to a strict code of conduct and are fully licensed in the US BetterHelp does the initial matching work for you so you can focus on your therapy goals. A short questionnaire helps you identify your needs and preferences and their 12 plus years of experience and industry leading match fulfillment rate means they typically get it right the first time. If you aren't happy with your match, you can switch to a different therapist at any time. From their tailored racks. And with over 30,000 therapists on board, BetterHelp is the world's largest online therapy platform, having served over 6 million people globally. And it works with an average rating of 4.9 out of 5 for a live session based on over 1.7 million client reviews. Your emotional well being matters. Find support and feel lighter in therapy. Sign up and get 10% off@betterhelp.com Mia that's betterhelp.com Mia Anyways, y', all, thank you to all the amazing women out there. Truly, from the bottom of Courtney and I's hearts, y' all rock. And yeah, let's get back to our show.
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Today's episode is presented by A24's Undertone in theaters on March 13th. This is the scariest movie you'll ever hear. It follows the host of a popular paranormal podcast who becomes haunted by terrifying recordings mysteriously sent her way. The feature debut of writer director Ian Towassen has left critics raving. Bloody Disgusting's Joe Lipsett wrote in his 4.5 skull review, I can't remember the last time a movie made every hair on my body stand up, but Undertone got me good. Hear for yourself and experience Undertone in theaters Friday the 13th get tickets now. Watch the Toxic Avenger now on Screenbox. The radioactive superhero that's certified fresh on Rotten Tomatoes is available to watch now from the comfort of your home. Bloody FM listeners get a special introductory offer by going to Bit ly toxifm that's Bit ly T O X I E F M for a special offer on screenbox.
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Sometimes you gotta do something Warning the following podcast is not suitable for all audiences. We go into great detail with every case that we cover and do our best to bring viewers even deeper into the stories by utilizing utilizing disturbing audio and sound effects.
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Trigger warnings from the stories we cover may include violence, rape, murder and offenses against children.
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This podcast is not for everyone. You have been warned it was just
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after 6pm on June 15, 1990. Linda Wallace came home from work to her house in Anaheim, California. As she stepped up to her front door, nothing looked out of place, but inside was a completely different story. As soon as she opened that door, she knew something was wrong. The house had been ransacked, drawers pulled open, belongings scattered across the floor. The TV was gone, the vcr. Someone had broken in. Autumn. She called out. Autumn. No answer. Linda's nine year old daughter had been home alone that afternoon. Her crayons were still on the table, her paper dolls spread out like she had just been here. But where was she? Maybe Autumn heard the break in and hid somewhere. Maybe she was scared and waiting for her mom to find her. Maybe she got out and ran to a friend's house. Soon enough, the police would line the streets of their neighborhood and by the end of that day, everyone in Anaheim, California would would know the name Autumn Wallace. So this is her story. I'm Courtney Brown.
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And I'm Colin Browan and you're listening
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to Murder in America.
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Sam. Anaheim, California sits in Orange county, about 25 miles south of Los Angeles. This is the home of Disneyland, the happiest place on earth, and millions of tourists flood through this area every year. They Come for the magic. The Haunted Mansion. Space Mountain, Pirates of the Caribbean, Mickey Mouse waving from a parade float, kids clutching autograph books, and parents pushing strollers down Main street, usa. Everyone smiling, everyone happy. But Anaheim is more than just a theme park. Step outside those gates, drive a mile in any direction, and you'll see that you're, in fact, in a real city. Strip malls, fast food joints, auto repair shops with hand painted signs, laundromats, churches. In 1990, about 266,000 people lived here. They clocked in at warehouses and office parks. They raised families and mowed their lawns on Saturday mornings. And like a lot of Southern Californian cities back then, Anaheim had different sides. Near Disneyland, you had the tourist areas with hotels, restaurants, and the constant flow of visitors with their fanny packs and cameras. But a few miles away, you had rougher neighborhoods. Places where drugs were easy to find, where gang violence plagued the streets. In the first five months of 1990 alone, 17 young men had been gunned down in gang violence across Orange county. That spring, an 8 year old boy named Carlos Alvarez was shot by a stray bullet while watching television in his own home. The bullet went through Carlos, through the wall, and hid his aunt sleeping in the next room. Both survived. And then you had the streets in between the quiet blocks, the neighborhoods where people settled down because they felt safe, because it seemed like a good place to raise kids. And that's where the Wallace family lived.
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Autumn Carol Wallace was born on January 15, 1981. She had big brown eyes, blonde hair. She was the baby of the family, the youngest of three girls. Her older sisters, April and Amber, looked out for her. Her mom, Linda, adored her. But Autumn and her father were especially close. They loved to go fishing together, just the two of them out on the water, waiting for a bite. Those were the moments she treasured. But in 1987, when Autumn was just six years old, her father lost his battle with cancer. After he died, Autumn didn't dwell on losing him. She always talked about the good times. She'd tell her mom, he's up there fishing in heaven and he's probably catching a lot of big ones. That was Autumn. Even at six years old, she found light in the darkness. After her father died, Autumn and her mother grew even closer. Linda was all she had now, and Autumn was Linda's baby girl. But losing her husband meant more than just losing the man she loved. Linda was now a single mom with three daughters to raise. She had bills to pay all by herself, one income instead of two. She worked as a clerk for The Orange County Superior Court. A steady job, but not one that made you rich. She had to stretch every dollar, make sacrifices, figure out how to be both parents at once. But Linda made it work. She always made it work.
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In the years after her father's death, Autumn was growing up into a really special girl. She loved coloring books. She loved playing with her friends, watching cartoons on Saturday mornings. She went to Jonah C. Salk Elementary School, where she was a straight A student. According to people that knew her, she was mature for her age. She loved Nintendo and video games, and her favorite place to visit was Chuck E. Cheese. But not for the pizza. She actually hated pizza. She just wanted to play the games. And she loved basketball. The neighbors across the street, the Deckers, had a hoop on top of their garage. And Autumn was over there all the time shooting hoops with the other neighborhood kids at school. She loved playing tetherball at recess. Her best friend was a girl named Ronelle Hand, and they'd known each other since they were four. Autumn spent almost every weekend at Ronelle's house. They were always having sleepovers and taking trips to the beach. The two were practically inseparable. And Ronelle's mom, Linda Hand, treated Autumn like one of her own.
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By 1990, Autumn was nine years old. It had been three years since her father had passed, and slowly but surely, she and her family were growing used to their new life without him. Now that she was in a single parent home, her mother, Linda, couldn't always be there when Autumn came home from school. Most days, Autumn would stay at home by herself until her mother got off work. But Linda never had to worry about her daughter. She was a really responsible kid. Linda also knew that on the off chance of anything happened, there were many people in their neighborhood that looked out for her daughter. So throughout 1990, autumn was very familiar with this routine. When she would get home from school, she would sit at the table and color. She would make herself a snack, maybe watch some tv, and before she knew it, her mom would come through the door and they'd spend the evening together like they always did. June 15, 1990, was just like any other day. It was a Friday. The sun was shining over Anaheim. The temperature was warm, but not unbearable. Schools across the city were letting out early. It was one of those half days that kids love so much. That morning, Autumn Wallis is getting ready for school. She's nine years old, fourth grade, summer break is almost here, and today school lets out at 2:35. She already knows what she's going to do once she gets home. Her paper dolls are waiting for her, her crayons. Her mom, Linda, is rushing around getting ready for work. Her sister April, is in the kitchen feeding her baby before she leaves for work. You'll be okay by yourself this afternoon? Linda asks. Autumn nods. She's done this before, dozens of times. She knows the rules. Don't open the door for strangers. Call a neighbor if something feels wrong. I'll be fine, mom, she says. Linda kisses her goodbye. Autumn heads off to school. The day moves by quickly. At 2:35pm the bell rings at Sauk Elementary. Autumn grabs her backpack and she meets her friend Christina outside. They walk home together, talking about Summer plans, TV shows, what they're going to do this weekend. When they reach Autumn's house, they say goodbye. See you Monday, they tell each other. Christina waves and keeps walking. Autumn turns and heads up her driveway. She unlocks the front door and steps inside. The house is quiet. The curtains are drawn against the afternoon sun. She sets her backpack down by the front door and walks into the living room. She sits down and picks up where she left off. Cutting, coloring. Her scissors make a soft snipping sound as she cuts around a paper dress. But soon enough, her crafts are interrupted by the sound of a knock at the front door. Autumn freezes. She isn't expecting any visitors. She sets down her scissors and walks to the door, standing on her tiptoes as she peeks through the window. But once that door opened, no one would ever see Autumn Wallis alive again. Hours later, around 4:30pm Autumn's sister, April, is sitting at work. She picks up the phone and dials her house. She wants to let Autumn know she's going to be a little late getting home. The phone rings and rings and rings. No answer. It's strange. Autumn should be home by now. Her school let out almost two hours ago. But maybe she has the TV on a little too loud and can't hear the phone. April hangs up. She'll be home soon anyway. Around 5:20pm April pulls on to Headland Street. The sun is still up. It's a warm evening. She pulls into the driveway and enters the house through the garage door. But immediately she stops in her tracks. Things are missing. The tv, the vcr, the microwave. April walks towards her bedroom. A mirror is gone. Some of her personal belongings, clothes are scattered across the floor. Like someone went through everything in a hurry. Autumn. Her voice echoes throughout the empty house. No answer. Autumn. Nothing. A pit forms in her stomach. Her hands are shaking. She peers down the hallway, where she notices a light on in the back bathroom. The door is closed. She doesn't think anything of it at the time, but she's frightened. Something is very wrong here. The silence, the mess, the missing items. And where is her sister? Maybe Autumn heard the break in and ran. Maybe she went to a neighbor's house like she was supposed to. April doesn't look any further. She turns around and walks out the front door. Across the street the Deckers are home. She crosses over and knocks on the door. Kathy Decker answers. Did you see anything unusual today? April asks. Her voice is shaking. Someone broke into our house. Things are missing and I can't find my sister. April stands in the Deckers living room. Her mind is racing. The Deckers haven't seen anything. They haven't seen Autumn either. April watches the street through the window, waiting. About 20 minutes later, she sees her mother's car pull onto their street. April runs outside. Inside the car, Linda sees her daughter April running towards her. She can tell just by the look on her face something is wrong. Linda gets out of the car, frantic. April tells her someone broke in. The TV is gone, the vcr, a bunch of stuff. And Mom. Her voice cracks. I can't find Autumn. Linda's stomach drops. What do you mean you can't find her? April explains that she called out her sister's name but she didn't answer. She admits that after seeing the house ransacked, she got scared and ran outside. Linda doesn't wait. She runs towards her house. Through the front door. She sees the mess, the drawers open, things scattered everywhere. But she doesn't care about any of that. She's looking for one thing. Autumn. Autumn where are you? She yells out. Linda runs through the house. The living room, the kitchen, April's bedroom. Her own bedroom. She looks through the closets, under the beds. She continues calling her daughter's name, her voice getting more desperate. And then she reaches the back of the house. The hallway, the bathroom at the end. The light is on. The door is closed. Linda pushes it open. A moment in time that would forever change the course of her life. There, lying on the ground, is her baby girl. She's face down, surrounded by blood. So much blood. She's not moving. She's not answering. Linda's legs give out. She falls to her knees.
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Over the next few minutes, everything is a blur. But soon enough, Linda ends up across the street at the Decker's front door. She can't speak, she can't breathe. All she can do is scream. Randall Decker grabs the phone and dials 911. There's been a burglary, he told the dispatcher. And the little girl is hurt, hurt very badly. Randall Deckard then hangs up the phone as his wife Kathy tries to calm Linda down. But Linda can't stop screaming or shaking. She just keeps saying her daughter's name over and over. April is standing there, frozen. She didn't go inside and see what her mother saw, but she can tell from the screaming, from the way her mother ran out of that house, that something was very, very wrong. Within minutes, the first sirens cut through the quiet neighborhood. Red and blue lights flashing down Headland Street. A sheriff's patrol car pulled up first and two deputies got out. Linda was on the Deckers lawn now, hysterical, barely able to speak. My daughter, she kept saying. My daughter. In the bathroom there's blood. So much blood. One deputy stayed with Linda while the other crossed the street and walked up the driveway through the front door. He moved through the hallway toward the back of the house and saw that the bathroom door was open. The light was on, and he saw her immediately. A little girl. He didn't need to check for a pulse, but he did anyways. And as he touched her, he knew that she had been gone for a while. The deputy then walked back outside and grabbed his radio and said, we're going to need homicide out here.
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He walks across the street to the Deckers house. Linda looks up at him. Her eyes are frantic, desperate yet still hoping hope that he's about to crush. He kneels down in front of her. He doesn't want to say the words, but he has to. I'm so sorry, ma'.
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Am.
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Linda's face sinks. She lets out a deep guttural wail. April is here. She wraps her arms around her mother, holds her tight. They sink into each other, sobbing, holding each other up. Linda already knew. She knew the moment she opened that bathroom door. But hearing it out loud makes it real. Her baby is gone before they know it. More police cars are pulling onto Headland Street. Yellow crime scene tape goes up. It stretches across the driveway, across the front yard. A deputy stands at the perimeter, keeping everyone back. Linda is sitting on the Deckers front porch now. Someone has brought her a glass of water. She hasn't touched it. She's staring at her house across the street, the house where she raised her girls, where they ate dinner together every night. April is on the phone, calling family, trying to get the words out, trying to explain something that doesn't make sense. Inside the house, more deputies arrive. They move carefully throughout the crime scene. No one touches anything in the bathroom, one deputy notices an eyelash curler on the floor. It's right next to the body, right next to the knife. Another notices bloody footprints on the floor outside the bathroom. Shoe prints. Someone walked through that blood. A crime scene van pulls up. Technicians in gloves and booties step out. One by one, they enter the house. They photograph everything. The camera flashes in the bathroom again and again.
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Around 7:20pm Investigator Tom Giffen arrives. He's been doing this job for years. He's seen a lot. But when he walks into that bathroom, he stops. Not because it was a child, but because of what was done to the child. He stands there for a moment and takes it in, then gets to work. The investigators process the scene and find fingerprints throughout the house. On door frames, drawers and surfaces the intruder touched. They find bloody shoe prints on the floor leading away from the bathroom. They find the knife, a paring knife. It's from the Wallace family's own kitchen. The blade was only a few inches long, but it was long enough. And they find that eyelash curler lying on the floor next to Autumn's body. According to Linda and April, it doesn't belong to anyone in the family. Around 9pm the coroner's van arrives and Linda is inside the Deckers house now, standing at the front window. She hasn't moved in hours. Her eyes were fixed on her house across the street. The yellow tape, the flashing lights, the strangers walking in and out of her home. April stands beside her. Neither of them have spoken in a while. Kathy Decker is in the kitchen making coffee, Doing something. Something to keep her hands busy. The coffee, though, will go cold. No one will end up drinking it.
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The front door of the Wallace house opens. Two men come out. They're carrying a stretcher between them. Linda's breath stops in her throat. There's a small black bag on the stretcher. No, Linda whispers. She presses her hand against the window like she could reach through it, like she could stop them. April wraps her arms around her. The men load the stretcher into the back of the van. Carefully, gently. Like it matters now. Like anything matters now. Linda is sobbing those deep, heavy sobs that shake your whole body. April is still holding her up. It's all she can do. That's her baby sister in that bag. The one she used to carry around when Autumn was a newborn. The one she helped raise. The one who was just here this morning, eating cereal, asking what time April would be home from work. The van doors close. The engine starts and it pulls away. The red tail lights growing smaller and smaller until they disappear around the corner. Linda stays at the window, staring at the empty street. Kathy Decker comes up behind her. She puts a hand on her shoulder. Outside, neighbors are still standing on their lawns, watching, trying to make sense of what just happened on their quiet street. This is not a rich neighborhood, randall Decker said. It's pretty working class, very quiet and peaceful. A lot of kids. The neighbors here watch out for everybody else. That was the thing. Everyone here knew Autumn. They knew the way she would wave hello when she rode her bike past. They all vowed to look out for her, as well as all of the neighborhood kids. But now she's dead, murdered on their quiet street. And the investigation is just beginning.
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Detectives fan out across the neighborhood, knocking on doors, ringing on doorbells and asking, did you see anything unusual today? Anyone who didn't belong? Any cars you didn't recognize? And one by one the neighbors answered their doors, all of them shaken and trying to help. And slowly a picture does start to form. A woman a few houses down remembered something. Earlier that afternoon, she noticed a car in the Wallace's driveway that she didn't recognize. It was a Monic Harlow, she says. Older model, kind of a reddish color. Golden bronze, maybe. She remembers something else, too. Two men, Hispanic, standing in the driveway, facing the street, like they were waiting for something or someone. One of them was holding a baby, she said. A little one, maybe a year and a half old. Another neighbor saw the same thing. The Monte Carlo. The two men, the baby. And a third neighbor confirms it. There were now three separate witnesses with the same story. A car that didn't belong, two men that didn't belong, and a baby. Investigator Giffen writes it all down. It's something. Not much, but it's something.
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It's 11:15pm Headland street is calmer now. The neighbors have gone inside, but the house is still taped off. Officers are still at the scene of the crime. Investigator Giffen is standing in the front yard when someone approaches. It's a young woman. She stops at the edge of the crime scene tape. I heard what happened, she says. I know the family. April is my friend. Can I talk to her? Giffen looks at her. She's young, Hispanic, maybe 18 years old.
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I'm sorry, that's not possible right now.
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Please, she says. Just tell her I came by. Tell her I'm so sorry. Giffen notices a man standing behind her. He shifts a bundle in his arms. It's a baby. The baby fusses. And that's when something clicks. The witness statements. The two Hispanic men, one Holding a baby. The young woman. He looks at her again. He looks at the man behind her, the child in his arms. He turns to her.
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What's your name?
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Maria, she says. Maria Alfaro.
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The next morning, June 16, crime scene technicians are still working inside the house. They've lifted the fingerprints. Now they need to figure out who they belong to. The family's prints are easy to rule out. Linda, April, and Autumn. They live there. Their prints should be everywhere. But some of these prints don't match anyone in the family. The technicians run the Unknown prints through CalID, a statewide database that holds the fingerprints of everyone who's ever been arrested in California. They enter a print lifted from the bathroom and immediately get a hit. The print belonged to a woman named Maria del Rocio Alfaro, 18 years old. She lives three blocks away from the Wallace home, and Giffen gets the call. He then remembered the woman from last night, the one who stopped at the crime scene tape, the one with the boyfriend and the baby. I know the family, she said. April's my friend. Immediately, Giffen goes to see Maria.
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When?
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When he arrives and tells her he'd like to ask some questions about what happened to Autumn. She doesn't hesitate.
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Of course. Anything you need. April's my friend. I can't believe this happened.
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Maria agrees to go to the sheriff's station in Stanton. It's voluntary. She doesn't ask for a lawyer and has nothing to hide in the interview room. She's calm, relaxed even. Her eyes have a bit of a glassy look, but she's coherent, cooperative, and eager. Almost. Giffen starts off easy. How do you know the Wallace family?
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Me and April went to school together. I've known the family for years. I know Linda. I know Autumn. That little girl. She was so sweet. Who would do something like this?
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Have you ever been inside of the house? He asks. Maria shifted in her seat.
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Of course. Plenty of times. I used to hang out with April all the time.
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We found your fingerprint in the house, giffen said. In the bathroom. Maria didn't flinch.
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Well, yeah. I didn't just visit. I lived there for a while when I was pregnant with my son. I had nowhere to go. Linda let me stay with them. I slept there, ate there, showered there. I used that bathroom every single day. My prints are probably all over that house. Is that why you brought me in?
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Where were you yesterday afternoon? Giffen asked. Maria shrugged.
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I was around, hanging out with friends.
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What about yesterday evening?
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Me and Manuel took a walk with the baby. We ended up on Headland street and that's when we saw the cops. That's when I found out something happened. I wanted to see April. I wanted to tell her how sorry I am, but you wouldn't let me through.
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Giffen studies her face, and she seems genuine, upset even, and then she shifts. He thinks back to the witnesses. The Monte Carlo they saw at the scene, the two Hispanic men and the baby. Tell me about Manuel, he said, and Maria blinked.
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What about him?
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Was he with you yesterday afternoon?
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No, he was at home or at work. I can't remember. We weren't together until the evening.
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Does Manuel drive a Monte Carlo?
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No. Why?
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Giffen didn't answer that question. He just moved on. If you can think of anything else, he said, anyone suspicious you might have seen around the neighborhood, give us a call. Maria told him that she would and said that she really hoped that they would catch whoever did this. Giffen thanked her for coming in and she walked out of the station. For now. It was a dead end.
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Days pass. 32 investigators are working the case. They've interviewed more than 600 people, knocked on every door in the neighborhood. They even set up a command post outside of the Wallace home. The family still can't go home. The house is sealed off. Still a crime scene. Linda and April have been staying with friends. The Anaheim Citizens Against Violent Crime put up an $8,000 reward for information leading to an arrest. The Sheriff's Department welcomes the help. Lt. Richard Olson tells the public, we know that it sometimes takes something like that to have people come forward. End quote. He urges anyone with information to call in, no matter how insignificant they might think it is. But the leads are drying up. The neighbor saw the Monte Carlo, two Hispanic men and a baby, but no license plate, no names. And so far that's all they have. On Saturday, June 23, Linda Wallace has to bury her baby. The service is at Magnolia Baptist Church in Anaheim. Nearly 200 people fill the pews. Family, friends, neighbors from Headland street, classmates from Salk elementary, teachers, people from the courthouse where Linda works. Pink and white balloons line the aisles. Dozens of pink and white roses, carnations and lilies of the valley. At the front of the room sits a small, open white casket. Inside, Autumn is clutching her favorite teddy bear. The Reverend Michael Bradrick steps to the front. He looks out at the mourners, at the balloons and the flowers and the tiny casket. He tells the crowd, sometimes there are people like that who are so special that they teach us about life. Autumn was one of those special people. He pauses. He knows what everyone is thinking the question on all of their minds how could this happen? How could a playful little girl be struck down by such senseless violence? He tells the crowd there isn't any way our questions will ever be answered. It's simply not possible. The sacred things of God are secret and too high for us. There are some things God does that we don't understand, and this is one of them.
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One by one, people rise to speak. Sally White works with Linda at the Orange County Superior Court. She stands up, her voice shaking. I worked with her mother, and Autumn came in and would always be laughing, she says. She would come and play with a typewriter and play office. We enjoyed having her here every day. A classmate stands a little girl, maybe nine or 10, herself. She says she liked to play tetherball with Autumn at recess because Autumn was never stingy and she didn't brag about winning. At the end of the service, the Reverend addressed the mourners one last time. This is an occasion to remind us how important it is to value the lives of our children, he said. Sometimes they are remembered as a responsibility or a burden, but we need to remember they are a precious gift God has given us. The service lasts half an hour. When it ends, the mourners file slowly past the white casket, past the little girl inside. Autumn was wearing a white dress with a baby blue ribbon in her hair, and on her dress she looked like a sleeping angel. Many of them smile instead of cry. Linda stands at the casket and doesn't want to leave, doesn't want to walk away from her baby. Her daughters, April and Amber, are on either side of her, the three of them staring down at the little girl who used to come running when they got home. Now she's so still, so quiet. Linda reaches out and touches her daughter's face one last time. That afternoon, a smaller crowd gathers at Forest Lawn Cemetery in Cyprus. The sun is shining. It's a beautiful day, the kind of day Autumn would have spent shooting hoops at the Deckers house or riding her bike around the neighborhood. Instead, they're lowering a small casket into the ground. Pink and white flowers rest on top, and Linda watches it disappear into the earth. Her baby girl forever, nine years old.
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The next day, June 24, Detective Giffen gets a call from a woman named Maria Ruelis. She said she had some information regarding the Autumn Wallace case. She tells Giffen that a woman named Maria Alfaro and her boyfriend, Manuel, sometimes stay at her place. They crash there when they need somewhere to sleep. But just recently Maria left a bag at her House. She called Ruelas and asked her to leave the bag outside. She said she was leaving for Mexico early the next morning and would come by to pick it up. But she never came back for it. Giffen drives over. He gets a warrant to search the back inside, he finds some clothes. But he also finds something else. A pair of boots and a pair of LA Gear tennis shoes. He brings the items to the crime lab. He reaches out to the Wallace family. Do any of you recognize these? He asks. April Wallace points to the boots. Those are mine. She says they were stolen from her bedroom the day Autumn was killed. From here, Detective Giffen goes back to the woman who called in the tip, Maria Ruelles. She was able to confirm that the other pair of shoes, the LA Geared tennis shoes, belonged to Maria Alfaro. They were shoes she wore often, and on the bottom of them was blood. The technicians ran DNA testing and soon enough they learned whose blood it belonged to. 9 year old Autumn Wallace. In addition, Maria's LA Gear tennis shoes matched the bloody shoe prints found at the crime scene. But there's more. Over the past nine days, technicians had lifted a total of 26 fingerprints and a palm print from inside the Wallace house. Many of them were Maria's.
- [36:36]
A
On June 24, 1999, days after autumn Wallace was murdered, police obtained a warrant for Maria Alfaro's arrest. The next day, June 25, at 1:15 in the afternoon, they found her. She was in the front yard of a home at the corner of Jeffrey and Audrey Drive. Maria saw the police cars pull up and watched as the officers stepped out. But she wasn't worried. They probably just had a few more questions, she thought to herself. She had handled the last interview no problem. She told them she used to live with the Wallaces, that they took her in when no one else would. She told them she just wanted to help. And they had let her walk right out the door. She could do it again. She started walking towards them, ready to be helpful, ready to play the concerned friend one more time. But this time around, they don't ask her to come in for questions. They tell her to turn around. She was under arrest. And Maria froze.
- [37:28]
B
For what?
- [37:29]
A
For the murder of Autumn Wallace. Murder. The handcuffs click around her wrists. Her legs feel weak. Her mouth goes dry. This isn't how it was supposed to go. They bring her to the station and put her in an interrogation room. It's a small room. There's a camera in the corner. They turn it on and a red light begins to blink. They read her her rights this time it's not voluntary. She's not walking out. And this time the detectives have everything. The prints, the boots, the blood on her shoes. Now all they need is a confession. The interview lasts more than four hours and Maria sobs throughout. She changes her story, then changes it again. First she says she saw the knife on the ground. Then she says it was on top of the washer. Then she admits she took it from a kitchen drawer. The detectives notice. They write it down. They keep pushing. And then one of them leans in and looks her right in the eyes. Do you believe in God? I want you to tell me the truth. Why did you pick up the knife?
- [38:35]
B
I don't know. Something just got into me and I thought of doing that. I don't know. I was really wired, really coked out and stuff. I got kind of crazy.
- [38:45]
A
The detective doesn't let up. Don't try and convince me you were out of your head, he says. Maria shakes her head.
- [38:52]
B
No, I wasn't out of my head.
- [38:54]
A
Autumn knew who you were. And the only way you could rip off and get away with it was kill Autumn. Is that right? Maria looks at the table, at her hands, at the camera blinking in the corner. And she begins to sob.
- [39:06]
B
Yes. Cause she knew who I was. That's why I did it. I stabbed her because she knew who I was.
- [39:13]
A
Once she starts talking, she doesn't stop. Maria Alfaro confesses to the murder of nine year old Autumn Wallis. She tells them everything. So who is this woman? And how did we get here?
- [39:26]
B
Maria del Rocio Alfaro was born on October 12, 1971 in Anaheim, California. And from the beginning, her life was difficult, to say the least. Her mother, Sylvia, worked at Disneyland, the happiest place on Earth. Every day Sylvia went to work, surrounded by perfect families. But every night she came home to something entirely different. Her husband, Maria's father, was an alcoholic. A violent one. When he drank, he hit. He beat Maria. He beat her mother. He did it right in front of the other children in the family. During his drunken rages, he would throw the whole family out of the house. Just put them out on the street. Maria's childhood friend, Janelle Laird, knew him. She'd known Maria since preschool. And even she remembered being afraid of Maria's father. She remembered him vomiting in front of them when he was drunk. She remembered watching him hit Maria. And her mother, a neighbor named Dolores, remembered it too. She said Maria's father would threaten to kill Sylvia.
- [40:37]
A
When Maria was nine years old, she was raped by one of her father's friends. A man Who'd been in their home. We don't know all the details of what happened, but after that, Maria started to unravel. At this point, Maria's mother, Sylvia, was just trying to survive. She worked 10, 14 hours a day, sometimes seven days a week, just to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. She had other children to take care of and bills to pay. She didn't have a choice. Which meant Maria was on her own a lot. No one watching her, no one knowing where she was or who she was with. And at school, Maria experienced racism from other kids. She was struggling in class and had learning disabilities that no one diagnosed. She just didn't fit in and she didn't want to be there. By the time she was 11, she started skipping school.
- [41:27]
B
In 1983, Maria turned 12. Most 12 year old girls that year were collecting stickers in their sticker albums and trading them with friends, begging their parents for Cabbage Patch Kids. They still had an innocence to them. But Maria's life didn't look like that. By the time she was 12, she was experimenting with hard drugs. And once she started, she couldn't stop. At 13, Maria was a full blown addict. She was shooting up speedballs dozens of times a day for weeks at a time. A speedball is cocaine and heroin cooked together. The cocaine hits first, this rush, this burst of energy, but it burns off fast. And when it does, you feel the heroin. It drags you down hard. So you shoot up again and again. Every half hour, your body is screaming for more. That's why Maria was shooting up dozens of times a day. She wasn't partying. She was just trying to stay ahead of the crash. A counselor at her school saw the signs. He called her mother, Sylvia into his office. He slid the paperwork for a rehab program across the desk. Sylvia picked it up. She looked at the numbers. She worked 14 hours a day, seven days a week, and it still wasn't enough. She couldn't afford to save her own child.
- [42:53]
A
In seventh grade, Maria dropped out. She couldn't sit in a classroom for six hours while her body was aching for drugs. School wasn't built for kids like Maria. And Maria wasn't built for school anymore. So now Maria was on the streets every day. Her mom left for work before sunrise and she wouldn't be home for 10, 12, 14 hours. During that time, no one was watching. No one knew where she was. Her hands were shaking, her stomach was cramping. She needed to get high. Not wanted to. It's important here, needed to. The sickness Wouldn't stop until she got what she needed. And this was her life now. She started running away for days at a time. And her mother would find her on the streets, dirty, hungry, shoeless. And Maria needed money constantly. Her habit didn't come cheap. And at 13 years old, she couldn't exactly just go and get a job.
- [43:46]
B
There were days when Maria woke up with nothing. No money, no drugs, nothing left to steal. Her body was shaking, her stomach in knots. She was dope, sick and desperate. And there was always a dealer nearby who had what she needed. He'd look at her. She was just 13 years old, but he didn't care. He'd tell her there was another way she could pay for the drugs. Motel rooms, backseats, Apartments that smelled like smoke and sweat. Men who didn't ask for her age. Men who didn't care she was a child. But that didn't matter to them. And for her, she was an addict who needed a fix. Her mother, Sylvia, knew her daughter needed help. Help that she couldn't give her. At some point, she even sent Maria to live with her grandmother in Mexico, hoping that getting her away from Anaheim, away from the drugs, would help. But after five months, Maria came home, and nothing had changed. But this time, Sylvia managed to get her into a rehab program. However, after 10 days, her money ran out. She couldn't afford to keep her there.
- [44:57]
A
When Maria was 14, her father finally left for good. No goodbye, no explanation, just gone. That same year, Maria found out she was pregnant. She was 14 years old and had no idea who the father was. Her mother claimed that Maria stayed clean during the pregnancy. If she truly did quit or she just managed to hide it better, at the time, we don't know. But later that year, she gave birth to a boy and named him Daniel. Sylvia said Maria stayed sober for three months after, but it didn't last. By the time she was 15, Maria was barely recognizable. And her mother watched her deteriorate right before her eyes. Sylvia would later say she wore heavy makeup, black clothing, and was always dirty. She didn't care how she looked.
- [45:43]
B
By this point, Maria barely came home. Sylvia never knew if her daughter was alive or dead. She'd wait by the phone, check the hospitals, drive through the streets looking for her. And then Maria would show up again, strung out, sick and needing money. At one point, Maria managed to get a job at McDonald's. Her manager said she was a good employee, dependable, friendly. But it didn't last. The drugs always won. Then, somewhere in those years, Maria met Manuel Cueva. We don't know where or what the circumstances were, but he became her boyfriend. And unlike the other men in her life, the dealers, the strangers, the blur of faces, she couldn't remember. Manuel stayed. At 17, Maria had another baby, a boy named Manuel, after his father. They called him Manny. By all accounts, Maria loved her two children. She worried about them. But even so, her addiction always came first. She put drugs over everyone, over her partners, her children, her friends, and even herself. She took advantage of people. And after years and years of struggling, Maria had damaged most of her relationships.
- [47:02]
A
Are you ready to have your mind blown? I want you now to imagine that in front of you was a locked door symbolizing all that you know, everything you've been taught in your time on Earth, the lies your government has fed you. With my podcast, the Conspiracy Files, I now give you the door's key. And once you've listened to the show, you finally unlock this door and step inside. Beyond the door is another dimension, a dimension of false narratives, a dimension of hidden evidence, a dimension of truth, lies and murders. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of deadly secrets and explosive ideas. You've just crossed over into the conspiracy zone. I'm your host, Colin Brown. Join me now on this journey into the world of secret pedophile rings, government coverups, and suspicious suicide suicides on my new show, the Conspiracy Files, available now on all streaming platforms. People who knew her described Maria as erratic and unpredictable. She would show up at people's houses at all hours, asking for money, asking for rides, always with some excuse for why she needed help. And one of those people was April Wallace, Autumn's older sister. Before Maria had dropped out, she and April had gone to school together for a while. They were friends. Maria visited the Wallace home on many occasions. She even lived there for a short time when she was pregnant with her second child. The Wallace family saw that she was struggling, and they wanted to do what they could for this pregnant teenage girl who clearly needed some stability. Linda got to know Maria, and so did Autumn. Like any little girl, Autumn looked up to her big sister and wanted to be around her all the time. When April had friends over, Autumn would knock on her bedroom door, hoping to hang out with them. Sometimes they let her. Other times, they didn't. It was your typical sister relationship. When Maria came to live with the family, Autumn would hang out with the girls from time to time. But by 1989, things started to sour between Maria and April. Much like all of Maria's relationships, she started taking advantage of her, started Lying. And April picked up on it. There were too many stories that just didn't add up. And she stopped trusting Maria. And soon enough, the friendship was over. Maria moved out of the Wallace home, but she didn't stop pursuing April. She would call her, asking for rides, asking for favors. April would answer the phone, but she would make excuses. She was trying her best to distance herself, but Maria kept showing up.
- [49:31]
B
About a year would pass, a year of the same destructive behaviors. There was drug use, taking advantage of people, lying, stealing, doing everything she could to get that next fix. But Maria was pregnant again, and this time with twins. Yet her drug use continued. Her addiction was worse now than it had ever been before. On the morning of June 15, 1990, Maria woke up feeling sick. And it wasn't just morning sickness from her pregnancy. She needed drugs. She was staying at her boyfriend's father's apartment in Anaheim. Drug use was common there. And as soon as Maria opened her eyes, she got up and reached into her supply. Her one year old baby was right there in the room with her. For the next few hours, Maria injected drugs into her veins, feeling the effects of both cocaine and heroin. When she had used the last of the drugs, she immediately went searching for more. Nearby, in an area of Anaheim called Little Tijuana, was an apartment complex where her drug dealer lived. At 11am Maria grabbed her one year old and made her way over. The dealer was named Juero. She bought two dimebags from him. A couple doors down from the dealer lived an old friend of hers named Juan. Juan. People often came to Juan's apartment to shoot up. Maria stepped inside with her baby and her two dime bags. There were already several people using drugs in the living room. There was a girl named Sabrina. There was another man named Antonio Reynoso, who went by the name Shorty. He had just gotten out of prison the day before. He was an addict as well. And from here everyone sat around the apartment shooting up. They all took turns holding Maria's baby. Once someone would come down from their high, it was their turn to hold him while the others grabbed their needles. This went on for hours. Eventually, Maria ran out of drugs yet again. But luckily Shorty, the man she had just met, was willing to share with her. They all shot up some more until eventually those drugs ran out as well. Every person in the room had scraped their bags clean. There were no drugs left. There was no money left. But the need to keep getting high was very much there. That feeling never left. It was constant. But what would they do? Maria and Shorty began To brainstorm, she had already sold all things of value that she owned. She'd already stolen from everyone around her. There was nothing else to pawn. If she and Shorty were going to get money for their next fix, they'd have to steal from someone else. Maria racked her mind thinking of who they could rob. And that's when she thought of it. The Wallace family.
- [52:24]
A
Now, the Wallaces didn't have a mansion by any means. They didn't have expensive jewelry or valuables. But they had enough. They had phones, TVs, VCRs, items that they could sell that could buy just enough drugs to hold them over for the rest of the day. And it was here where they set the plan into motion. They ended up calling a third man, the driver of the Monte Carlo. Maria would later claim that she didn't know who he was. But soon enough he met up with them at the Little Tijuana apartment complex. Maria tells the men at this time about the Wallace home. In the time that Maria spent living with the Wallace family the year prior, she knew that during the day their house was empty. Linda and April went to work. Nine year old Autumn went to school. It was the perfect plan. Or so she thought. What Maria didn't know, what she had no way of knowing, was that today was a half day at Autumn's school. Instead of coming home at the normal time later in the day, Autumn would get out at 2:35pm she was already on her way home as Maria was forming her plan.
- [53:30]
B
Across town with her one year old baby on her hip, Maria gets into the goldish bronze Monte Carlo. With her is the man she had just met that day. Antonio Reynoso, or Shorty. And then there's the driver. Together they all make their way towards Headland Street. It's a short drive, just a few minutes. Maria watches the streets pass by, bouncing her baby on her leg. She sees the apartment buildings, the strip malls. The neighborhood's getting a little nicer the closer they get. Then she sees the street sign. Turn here, she tells the driver. Headland street is a nice block. Working class kids ride their bikes here. Neighbors know each other's names. The Monte Carlo pulls into the driveway of 2439, the Wallace House. Maria looks at the home, the windows, the front door. There's no movement. It seems to be empty, just like she told them. She hands her baby to Shorty. Wait here, she says. I'll be right back. Maria gets out of the car, walks up the driveway, up to the front door. Inside the house, Autumn's in the living room, her paper doll spread out in front of her. She's been home for a while now. She did her homework, had a snack. She's just waiting for her sister April to get home from work. But then she hears a knock. Autumn gets up, walks to the front door and looks through the window. Now Autumn knows not to open the door to strangers. But this isn't a stranger. It's Maria, April's friend. Autumn smiles and opens the door. Maria stands in the doorway, shocked. Autumn wasn't supposed to be here, but here she is now. Later on, when questioned, Maria would say that she knew right then that she had to kill Autumn. Autumn knew her face. She knew her name. If Maria took anything from that house, Autumn would tell the police what happened. So it's in that moment where she felt she had no other choice but to kill her. But Maria did have a choice. She could have turned around right then and there. By that point she hadn't committed any crime. The reality was she didn't decide to kill Autumn because her freedom was being threatened. When Autumn opened that door, Maria made a decision. To her, getting high was more important than this child's life, and she was willing to violently kill her to make it happen. Once that decision was made, Maria smiled at the nine year old little girl. Hey, she says. Is April home? Autumn shakes her head. She's at work. Maria looks around behind her. What about your mom? She asks. She's at work too, autumn responds. Maria pauses. Can I use your bathroom? I really have to go. Autumn steps aside, letting Maria in. The door closes behind them. The house is quiet. The bathroom's in the back, Autumn says. You remember? Yeah, I remember, maria says. She walks through the house, past the living room, but as she passes through the kitchen, she pauses. She stops to open a drawer. Inside is a paring knife. Her fingers close around the handle. Autumn doesn't notice. Maria keeps walking towards the bathroom. It's small with white tiles, a big mirror above the sink. Maria steps inside and partially closes the door. She stands there, knife in hand. She can feel the weight of it, the cheap wooden handle, the thin blade maybe 4 inches long. In her other hand is her makeup bag. She sets it on the edge of the sink, opens it up, and pulls out an eyelash curler. Her hands are shaking, not from the drugs this time, from something else. She stands there for several minutes, holding a knife in one hand and the eyelash curler in the other, thinking. She can hear Autumn in the other room. Scissors, cutting paper, a little girl playing by herself on a Friday afternoon. But Maria has already made up her mind on how this is going to end. Autumn, she calls out. Her voice sounds normal, calm even. Can you come in here and help me for a second? Autumn sets down her scissors, gets up from the table, walks down the hallway towards the bathroom. She doesn't hesitate. Why would she? It's her sister's friend. When she opens the door, Maria is standing by the sink. She holds out the eyelash curler. Can you clean these for me? She asks. It's a strange request, but Autumn likes being helpful. She takes the curler from Maria's hands and turns towards the sink to turn it on. Her back is to Maria. Maria raises the knife. The first stab hits Autumn in the back. The blade punches through skin and muscle. Autumn's body jerks forward. She tries to turn around, tries to understand what just happened, but her brain hasn't caught up yet. One second she was rinsing an eyelash curler, the next, something is burning in her back and sadly, Maria doesn't stop there. She stabs again and again and again, all over Autumn's chest, her back, her head, everywhere. Autumn doesn't scream. That's what Maria would later tell police. She didn't scream. She just looked at her. Those big brown eyes looking up at the person who was killing her, trying to understand why. The eyelash curler drops to the tile floor. It makes a small metallic sound, barely audible over everything else, but the knife keeps coming down, over and over again. Maria is on top of her now. Autumn is on the floor, the white tile turning red, blood pooling around her small body, spreading outward in a dark, slow circle. Maria plunged the knife into her 57 times in her head, neck, chest and torso. The wounds to her heart and larynx are what killed her. By the time Maria stops, there's almost nowhere left on the little girl's upper body that hasn't been punctured. And then it's quiet. Maria stands up. She's breathing hard. Her hands are covered in blood, her clothes, her shoes. She looks down at what she's done and then Maria walks over to the sink. She turns on the faucet, washes the blood off her hands, watches it swirl down the drain. Pink, then clear. Then she gets to work. Maria walks out the front door and across the driveway to the Monte Carlo where Shorty and the driver are waiting with her one year old child. She's carrying a television in broad daylight on a quiet street where neighbors know each other's names. She loads it into the car goes back inside and comes out with a vcr. The driver helps her load it. She then goes back inside, grabs a typewriter, a mirror, a telephone, a clock radio. Next, she goes into April's room. She takes some of her clothing, a pair of April's boots. She goes into Linda's room, takes another telephone, an iron, a lamp, a radio, a Nintendo console, Autumn's Nintendo, the one she loved to play. She takes a clock from the living room, a calculator. She tries to take the microwave, but it won't fit in the car. So she leaves it. Trip after trip, in and out, loading the trunk, the backseat, whatever will fit. As the Monte Carlo fills up with items, Maria's baby starts to fuss. He's been out there for a while now. Tired, hungry. A baby who has no idea what just happened inside that house. Finally, Maria climbs in and closes the door. She grabs her baby, putting him on her lap. She had just murdered someone else's baby, but that doesn't matter to her. All she cares about is getting her next fix. The Monte Carlo backs out of the driveway on its way to sell the stolen items. By the end of that day, Maria would sell everything. The tv, the vcr, the typewriter, the Nintendo. All of it. Everything she had stolen from that house. Everything that a nine year old girl lost her life over. And all she got in return was less than $300.
- [62:20]
A
Later that day, after April and Linda found Autumn's body, after the police arrived on the scene, Maria decided to return to Headland Street. When she spoke with Detective Giffen, she told him she wanted to speak with April. She likely wanted to give her condolences, play the part of a concerned friend so April wouldn't suspect her of the crime. Little did Maria know, she matched the description that neighbors had seen earlier that day outside of the Wallace home. After her first interview with police, she started making plans to leave for Mexico. She must have felt the walls closing in. And they were. After finding the bloody shoes Maria left at her friend's house, investigators got the confirmation they needed, and after showing her the evidence, she confessed. Now, during her interrogation, she admitted that a man named Shorty, who she met that very day, came to the scene. But she never named the driver of the Monte Carlo. Investigators suspected that Maria knew exactly who he was, but she refused to name them. She also said she acted alone inside that house, that Shorty and the driver never stepped foot inside. They just helped her load the stolen items. At the end of her confession, investigators asked her, so what did you end up Getting out of it. And Maria replied nothing.
- [63:38]
B
At 2am on Thursday, June 26, 1990, Maria Alfaro was booked into jail without bail. As word spread throughout the neighborhood about her arrest, many people were shocked. Others weren't. Maria had a reputation. She was known for her drug use, stealing and manipulation. And while most people never imagined her murdering a little girl, they knew she wasn't a good person. They knew she'd likely end up in prison. But Autumn's family members were completely beside themselves. Although April and Maria were no longer friends, this was someone they let into their home, someone they fed and put a roof over. They took Maria in at her lowest, and this was how she repaid them.
- [64:25]
A
Autumn's aunt, Joyce Wallace, would later say, it's too bizarre. I know this type of thing happens because I work in the courthouse and I've seen it, but it's just really hard to believe. It's sad. It's really sad. On Headland Street, Donna Walker lived next door to the Wallaces. She told reporters, we were hoping they would catch whoever did it. Everyone was relieved that there was an arrest. But another neighbor, Jeff Mata, knew it wasn't over, saying, it's good they arrested her, but I know that there are at least two more to go. And he was right. After Maria's confession, investigators started looking for the man they only knew as Shorty. But he would actually turn himself in. Antonio Reynoso walked into a police station ready to confess. He told investigators that he was there that day, that he helped Maria load all the stolen items into the car. But he said he never stepped foot into that house. It should be noted that his fingerprints weren't found in the house either, so he could be telling the truth. Antonio also claimed that he had no idea Maria had murdered a little girl that day until he read about it in the paper. And that's when he turned himself in. Now, authorities weren't so sure about that part. After stabbing autumn 57 times, Maria's clothing would have been covered in blood. But Antonio swore up and down that he didn't see any blood on her clothes. Maybe Maria changed while inside the house. Or Antonio was lying. Whatever the case may be, they finally had their second guy. Now they just had to find the driver. But like Maria, Antonio couldn't tell them who he was. For months, investigators would comb through possible suspects. They looked into a hundred different men around town, but nothing panned out. With each lead, they hit a dead end, one that they'd never solve.
- [66:11]
B
A very unfortunate part of this case is that not Only did they never find the driver of that Monte Carlo. But from what I was able to find, I don't think Antonio Reynoso was ever charged for his part in this crime either. Now, I do know that he turned himself in and he testified in Maria's trial. So maybe he took a deal to avoid any charges. But investigators seem pretty confident given the evidence at the scene, that Maria was the only person who went into that house. Now, as for her trial, Autumn's family would have to wait two years before they got justice. During that time, Maria would give birth to her twins. I also wasn't able to find anything about them and how they were doing considering their mother's heavy drug use and utero. But finally, in March of 1992, Maria Alfaro would walk into an Orange county courtroom to stand trial. She was 20 years old, her four children growing up without her, and she was facing the death penalty.
- [67:15]
A
During her trial, the prosecution laid out the case. The fingerprints, the shoe prints, the blood on her LA gear, sneakers, April's stolen boots in her bag, and the confession. After her arrest, Maria sat in front of a camera and talked for four and a half hours about Autumn Wallace's murder. But despite that taped confession, Maria decided to change her story once again. Now, facing death, her defense team tried to claim that there was another man inside that house, a man named Beto. Maria claimed that Beto forced Maria to kill Autumn, that he threatened to kill her baby if she didn't. Her attorneys told the court Alfaro may have stabbed little Autumn Wallace, but she did not kill her. However, the prosecution was quick to point out that there was zero evidence of this. Maria's fingerprints were the only ones found in that house. Antonio Reynoso, the other man who was admittedly there that day, also claimed that that wasn't true. He said that he and the driver stayed outside the entire time. There were no threats. No one forced Maria to go inside of that house. And no one had made her kill nine year old Autumn.
- [68:22]
B
As the trial came to an end, the jury would deliberate for less than four hours. Maria sat at the defense table wearing a flowered blouse and blue stretch pants. Her eyes were already wet before the jury even walked in. She knows. She can feel it. The jury files through the door. 12 people, 12 strangers who have spent the last two weeks looking at crime scene photoshearing, all the details of the gruesome crime. They take their seats. They don't look at her. Maria stands, her legs shaking. She reaches out and grabs her attorney's hand, holding it Tight. Then the judge reads the verdict. Guilty. For Autumn's family, they felt a relief that they hadn't felt in years. But the fight wasn't over just yet. They still had the penalty phase. Given her conviction, Maria was facing two possible sentences. Life without parole or death. When it came to that decision, Maria Alfaro squeezed her attorney's hand even harder.
- [69:28]
A
The penalty phase ended in a mistrial. Ten jurors voted for death. Two held out. They just couldn't agree. A new jury would have to decide. And the whole thing started over again. But interestingly enough, before that could start, jail employees overheard Maria talking to another inmate. She allegedly told this inmate, I'm not going to be able to do this again. I'm no actor. I'm going to be cold this time. I just want to get this over with. And soon enough, a second jury would hear her case. Maria's defense brought in witnesses. Childhood friends, her boyfriend, Manuel Cueva, her mother, Sylvia. They told the jury about Maria's childhood. Her alcoholic father who beat her and her mother. The rape at 9 years old and the drugs at 12. The prostitution at 13. A mental health expert, Dr. Consuelo Edwards, testified that Maria had an IQ of 78. She had learning disabilities that were never diagnosed. Attention deficit disorder, a dependent personality, a follower. Dr. Edwards called her someone with low impulse control, which was made worse by years of drug abuse. Maria cried throughout the testimonies. She cried when her mother talked about trying to save her. She cried when Manuel described bringing their children to visit her at the county jail. And I'm sure that there were times when the jury felt for the child Maria once was, for the horrible upbringing she had to endure. But at the end of the day, she was an adult when she took the life of Autumn Wallace. Whatever sympathy they had for her, if any, went out the door when they heard the details of Autumn's murder, when they saw the crime scene photos, the 57 stab wounds on a nine year old girl. And this time, the jury was unanimous. On July 14, 1992, Maria Delrocio Alfaro was sentenced to death. And at 20 years old, she became the first woman in Orange county history to receive the death penalty. Superior Court Judge Theodore Millard called the murder of Autumn Wallace senseless, brutal, vicious and callous. He said it was the worst crime he had ever seen.
- [71:32]
B
Outside the courtroom, Linda Wallace spoke to reporters. Her voice was steady. They made the right decision, she says. I want to see her get the death penalty. That's what she deserves for what she did. She pauses. At least she'll know when it's coming. Linda says my daughter didn't.
- [71:52]
A
Today, more than three decades have passed since Autumn Wallace was murdered. And after all that time, Maria Alfaro is still on death row. The state of California hasn't carried out an execution since 2006. In fact, in 2007, the California Supreme Court unanimously upheld her death sentence. And in 2014, a federal judge briefly overturned it. Then in 2017, a federal appeals court put it back. In 2019, Governor Gavin Newsom signed a moratorium halting all executions in the state. So Maria Alfaro remains on death row at the Central California Women's Facility. She's in her mid-50s now, older than Autumn would ever get to be.
- [72:36]
B
Over the years, Linda Wallace attended every hearing, every appeal. She eventually moved to Arizona, but she still travels back to California whenever there's a court date. And she does it all, not for herself, but for Autumn. Linda would later say, quote, it's the only thing I can do for her. I need to be there to represent her, because she can't do it. I go to be with my daughter. You would think after all this time, you would get over it, but you don't. The hurt is still there. It's always there, no matter how much time passes by. She would be in her 40s now. She could be married. She could have kids. That's what I think about. That's what bothers me the most, not being able to see her grow up.
- [73:22]
A
Autumn's older sister, Amber, has talked with the media about Maria Alfaro and how she wants to see her death sentence carried out. She said, I just want to see her be put to death, and I want to see it faster than it's taking. I would go to watch her die, without a doubt. I would do it myself if they'd let me. But her mom, Linda, sees it differently. When someone asks if she would attend Maria's execution, she paused, saying, I'm not that much for that. If she is put to death, then another mother loses her child. I know what it feels like to lose a child.
- [73:53]
B
When reflecting back on the last 30 years, Linda said that the beginning was by far the hardest. She recalled that in the months after Autumn's murder, she went through her daughter's belongings. Among them, she found a diary. Inside was a drawing, two stick figures, one of them saying, quote, I promise I won't open the door to strangers. Linda stared at it. She knew, but this girl wasn't a stranger. Following the murder, Linda couldn't even stomach being in that house anymore. She Couldn't go back. Not to the home where she lived for 17 years. Not to that bathroom, not to any of it. She found a place in a gated community in Garden Grove. She tried to start over, but the grief didn't let up. Linda said that Fridays were the worst. Every Friday evening, it came back. The front door, the ransacked house, the bathroom. Linda started planning things after work on Fridays so she wouldn't have to go straight home. Anything to fill the hours. Anything to keep her mind somewhere else. But another unexpected part of her grief were the relationship she lost over the years. Linda said that in the beginning, friends tried to help. But one by one, they pulled away. They didn't know what to say anymore. They told her to try and move on, to put it behind her. But you don't put something like this behind you. Year after year, her circle got smaller. However, there was one person who never pulled away. Her name was Linda Hand. She was the mother of Autumn's best friend, Ronelle. The girls had known each other since they were four. Autumn used to spend almost every weekend at the Hand's house. Sleepovers, outings, short trips. She was treated like part of the family. When Autumn was killed, Linda Hand lost someone, too. But she didn't have the uncertainties that keep some people from reaching out. She didn't wonder what to say to Linda. She just showed up. She was one of the first people Linda Wallace asked for on the night that Autumn was murdered. And she's been there for her ever since. In their weekly get togethers, the two Lindas would talk about Autumn, look at pictures, remember the good times. We both lost someone we love very much, linda Wallis said. We both know how great she was. She was as near perfect of a kid as she could be. End quote. Linda Han even made Linda Wallace a scrapbook of Autumn in the pictures she's seen smiling, playing with Ronelle. I always feel better when I'm with Linda, Hand said. I feel lucky she let me into her life. Otherwise, the pain would be unbearable.
- [76:41]
A
Throughout the years, as Linda Wallace was navigating her grief, she found an organization called Parents of Murdered Children. She started going to the monthly meetings. She sat in a room with other parents who had lost children the same way. She had heard their stories, shared hers. Lindahan went with her every time. And slowly, Linda started to find her footing. Not all the way, never all the way, but enough to keep on going.
- [77:07]
B
One night, Linda had a dream. Autumn crawled into her bed and snuggled up next to her. It made me feel good all day. Linda says it shows that I'm starting to think about her life instead of her death. I don't want to be bitter. One person did this, not the whole world. I have two daughters and three grandsons and I have a lot to live for. Autumn loved life, and I'm not going to give up mine because she's gone. Autumn Wallis should have turned 45 this year. She should have graduated from Salk elementary, gone to middle school, high school, maybe college. She should have fallen in love, built a career, had children of her own, grown old alongside her sisters. Instead, she died on a bathroom floor at 9 years old, stabbed 57 times by someone she knew, someone she let into her home. But Maria Alfaro will forever be known as the woman who killed a little girl for less than $300 worth of stolen items. Autumn Wallace will be known for so much more. Her old classmates still think about her from time to time. They remember her smile, playing tetherball with her at recess because she was never stingy and didn't brag about winning. They remember the girl who loved fishing with her dad, Nintendo, Chuck E. Cheese and Krafts. An old classmate, April Cruz, said, I wish that her name wasn't remembered as the slain nine year old girl, but as the person she really was, an angel on earth who smiled and loved to laugh and loved life. Her smile was truly contagious. I truly am honored to have known her.
- [78:54]
A
For today's episode, we will be making a donation to Parents of Murdered Children, an organization that provides support, advocacy and resources to families who have lost a loved one to Homicide. You can learn more@pomc.org hey everybody, thank you for listening to this week's episode of the podcast. We are so grateful to have so many people that tune in every single week. And yeah, Courtney and I are just so thankful that there are so many of you out there who have joined us on this journey. If you want to help support what we do here on the show, please consider joining us on Patreon. On Patreon you can get early ad free access to every episode that's posted on our main feed just like this episode. So if you don't like the ads and you want to get access to the episodes early, sometimes even a week early early, please consider joining us on Patreon. Also, if you can't get enough of the show and you want bonus episodes, on Patreon, you can get access to bonus episodes of the show. We have over 130, 40, 50, I don't know how many bonus episodes of Murder in America on there. They are full length episodes, just like every episode of the show with Courtney and I. Full length stories with music and everything, but just episodes that will never be posted on our movie main feed. So if you want to get access to that content, please consider supporting us on there. Also, don't forget to follow us on Instagram @MurderinAmerica to see photos from every case that we cover here on the show and leave us a five star review. Wherever you listen to this podcast, whether it's Apple Podcasts or Spotify, those five star reviews help us so much. Anyways y', all, we will be back next week with another episode. We both hope everybody out there has an amazing weekend. If you're listening on Friday, thank you so much. And yeah, catch y' all on the next one.
- [80:48]
B
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- [81:14]
A
Sometimes you gotta do something.