Mother of slain girl says `it's time to act';
THE MOTHER OF AN 18-YEAR-OLD KIDNAPPED, RAPED AND KILLED FOUR YEARS AGO WANTS TO RAISE AWARENESS -- AND TO BE HEARD
BYLINE: DAVID OVALLE, dovalle@MiamiHerald.com
BODY:TEARS ASIDE,`IT'S TIME TO ACT
Sanctuary from a sick world is here, in a secluded house in Horse Country with just her 12 cats, her rescued puppy and an urn with the ashes of her murdered daughter.Margarita Osorio rarely ventures out. ''This is my refuge,'' she said. ``This is where I have her.''But something is stirring inside Osorio, whose 18-year-old daughter, Ana Maria Angel, was kidnapped from South Beach, raped and shot to death four years ago.Upset by a judge's recent decision to toss out crucial confessions of two of her suspected killers, Osorio says she wants to be heard.The 49-year-old woman plans to start a letter-writing campaign to elected officials, to raise awareness of the decision to suppress the confessions.Perhaps, Osorio figures, she will start a foundation and reach out to families of other murder-rape victims.''I could stay here all the time, all my life. I'm tranquil,'' Osorio said. ``But my conscience won't let me. It's time to stop crying. It's time to act.''Like many crime victims, Osorio agonizes about the lengthy legal proceedings, which with five defendants is not unusual.She understands the first-degree murder case against the five Orlando-area men has run into snags before: accused shooter Joel Lebron's confession was not taped because investigators put the recording device on the wrong setting.But her angst grew this month when Circuit Judge William Thomas threw out the confession of Lebron and another suspect, Jesus Roman.''I don't have confidence in this judge,'' she said on a recent evening at her home. ``I feel like I've been betrayed by the system. For me, it's a mockery.''She knows the tension in Thomas' chambers is tangible.Saying Thomas shows apparent disdain for him, lead prosecutor Abe Laeser tried unsuccessfully Friday to have the judge recuse himself from the case.''I don't think it would be appropriate to comment'' on a pending trial, Judge Thomas said Friday afternoon when asked about Osorio.Prosecutors are appealing the ruling on the confessions, which Thomas threw out saying police did not properly advise the defendants of their Miranda rights.They say they are still confident enough evidence exists to convict the men.Miami-Dade State Attorney Katherine Fernández Rundle on Friday applauded Osorio's efforts to refocus attention on Ana's case.''I felt a real sadness for her because she is all alone. Her daughter was her life,'' Fernandez Rundle said. ``It was as if she was in a perpetual state of despair.''Ana would have gone to church with her mother that Sunday in April 2002.Except the night before she and her boyfriend went for a late-night stroll on South Beach.Five men kidnapped them. They gang-raped her in the back of a pickup, police say.The assailants slashed the throat of her boyfriend, Nelson Portobanco, and dumped him from the truck. He survived.Authorities say Lebron admitted in his confession that he forced Ana to kneel on the side of Interstate 95, then shot her in the head as she begged for her life.Two years ago, Osorio moved out of the West Miami-Dade apartment she shared with Ana.Home is now a small two-bedroom house nestled in the leafy backyard of a friend's sprawling home in West Kendall.The silhouettes of peacocks parade on a neighbor's roof. Darkness -- a country dark, no city lights -- plunges the house in deep shadows cast from patio lights.Ana lives here, too: In the happy graduation-night photos, in the South Miami High year book, in Niña, the grayish cat who was the teen's favorite.Osorio leaves only for work. She cleans houses for a living.Every morning, she drives to work in Ana's little white Mazda, her daughter's graduation tassel still hanging from the rear-view mirror.''The world outside isn't mine anymore. I don't feel right out there. It's foreign to me,'' she says.The photos, the cats, the tassel -- everything Ana is as happy as it is agonizing.Ana, who studied like crazy; Ana, independent and loving just like the family's cats; Ana, the high school soccer goalie.Osorio is an eloquent woman from the city of Medellin in Colombia, her long dark hair streaked with gray.Before Ana died, Osorio believed in God. She wants ''nothing to do'' with him today.''Do you know what it's like to wonder night and day what it was she was feeling? I wish I knew her pain stopped at death,'' she said.Osorio rarely attends court hearings.But speaking publicly -- Osorio also plans interviews with television media -- heals as much as helps.She already has a list of officials to mail letters to. She is not sure how to start an organization for surviving loved ones.But she has been especially moved by the family of Carlie Brucia, the Sarasota 11-year-old who was sexually assaulted and murdered in 2004.In that case, the killer has been convicted and was sentenced to death.''What's happening in court isn't my problem. It's society's problem,'' she says. ``What would happen if one of those guys gets out of jail and hurts somebody else?''Miami Herald staff writer Susannah E. Nesmith contributed to this report.LOAD-DATE: August 19, 2006
BYLINE: DAVID OVALLE, dovalle@MiamiHerald.com
BODY:TEARS ASIDE,`IT'S TIME TO ACT
Sanctuary from a sick world is here, in a secluded house in Horse Country with just her 12 cats, her rescued puppy and an urn with the ashes of her murdered daughter.Margarita Osorio rarely ventures out. ''This is my refuge,'' she said. ``This is where I have her.''But something is stirring inside Osorio, whose 18-year-old daughter, Ana Maria Angel, was kidnapped from South Beach, raped and shot to death four years ago.Upset by a judge's recent decision to toss out crucial confessions of two of her suspected killers, Osorio says she wants to be heard.The 49-year-old woman plans to start a letter-writing campaign to elected officials, to raise awareness of the decision to suppress the confessions.Perhaps, Osorio figures, she will start a foundation and reach out to families of other murder-rape victims.''I could stay here all the time, all my life. I'm tranquil,'' Osorio said. ``But my conscience won't let me. It's time to stop crying. It's time to act.''Like many crime victims, Osorio agonizes about the lengthy legal proceedings, which with five defendants is not unusual.She understands the first-degree murder case against the five Orlando-area men has run into snags before: accused shooter Joel Lebron's confession was not taped because investigators put the recording device on the wrong setting.But her angst grew this month when Circuit Judge William Thomas threw out the confession of Lebron and another suspect, Jesus Roman.''I don't have confidence in this judge,'' she said on a recent evening at her home. ``I feel like I've been betrayed by the system. For me, it's a mockery.''She knows the tension in Thomas' chambers is tangible.Saying Thomas shows apparent disdain for him, lead prosecutor Abe Laeser tried unsuccessfully Friday to have the judge recuse himself from the case.''I don't think it would be appropriate to comment'' on a pending trial, Judge Thomas said Friday afternoon when asked about Osorio.Prosecutors are appealing the ruling on the confessions, which Thomas threw out saying police did not properly advise the defendants of their Miranda rights.They say they are still confident enough evidence exists to convict the men.Miami-Dade State Attorney Katherine Fernández Rundle on Friday applauded Osorio's efforts to refocus attention on Ana's case.''I felt a real sadness for her because she is all alone. Her daughter was her life,'' Fernandez Rundle said. ``It was as if she was in a perpetual state of despair.''Ana would have gone to church with her mother that Sunday in April 2002.Except the night before she and her boyfriend went for a late-night stroll on South Beach.Five men kidnapped them. They gang-raped her in the back of a pickup, police say.The assailants slashed the throat of her boyfriend, Nelson Portobanco, and dumped him from the truck. He survived.Authorities say Lebron admitted in his confession that he forced Ana to kneel on the side of Interstate 95, then shot her in the head as she begged for her life.Two years ago, Osorio moved out of the West Miami-Dade apartment she shared with Ana.Home is now a small two-bedroom house nestled in the leafy backyard of a friend's sprawling home in West Kendall.The silhouettes of peacocks parade on a neighbor's roof. Darkness -- a country dark, no city lights -- plunges the house in deep shadows cast from patio lights.Ana lives here, too: In the happy graduation-night photos, in the South Miami High year book, in Niña, the grayish cat who was the teen's favorite.Osorio leaves only for work. She cleans houses for a living.Every morning, she drives to work in Ana's little white Mazda, her daughter's graduation tassel still hanging from the rear-view mirror.''The world outside isn't mine anymore. I don't feel right out there. It's foreign to me,'' she says.The photos, the cats, the tassel -- everything Ana is as happy as it is agonizing.Ana, who studied like crazy; Ana, independent and loving just like the family's cats; Ana, the high school soccer goalie.Osorio is an eloquent woman from the city of Medellin in Colombia, her long dark hair streaked with gray.Before Ana died, Osorio believed in God. She wants ''nothing to do'' with him today.''Do you know what it's like to wonder night and day what it was she was feeling? I wish I knew her pain stopped at death,'' she said.Osorio rarely attends court hearings.But speaking publicly -- Osorio also plans interviews with television media -- heals as much as helps.She already has a list of officials to mail letters to. She is not sure how to start an organization for surviving loved ones.But she has been especially moved by the family of Carlie Brucia, the Sarasota 11-year-old who was sexually assaulted and murdered in 2004.In that case, the killer has been convicted and was sentenced to death.''What's happening in court isn't my problem. It's society's problem,'' she says. ``What would happen if one of those guys gets out of jail and hurts somebody else?''Miami Herald staff writer Susannah E. Nesmith contributed to this report.LOAD-DATE: August 19, 2006
posted by Margarita Osorio @ 3:50 PM
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