Arheel's Uncle
Senior Reporter
Sheila Jackson Lee of Texas, H.R. Bill 61
1996 murder of Troy McPeak.
Troy's brother Richie
By ABBIE VANSICKLE
Published Jan. 18, 2008|Updated Jan. 30, 2008
On a recent rainy afternoon, the city park looked peaceful.
A few children raced around the Giddens Park playground while a harried-looking woman tried to corral them into a minivan.
It was a far cry from the bloody scene that met homicide investigators when they found Troy McPeak's body there in January 1996. McPeak, 24, lay under a pavilion at this park near Hillsborough and Nebraska avenues, his face and head sliced open with broken beer bottles, a small Bible tucked in his jeans pocket.
A trail of blood led away from the scene to a man who investigators blamed for the murder and sent to prison.
But that might not be the end of the story.
McPeak's brother, Richard McPeak, now 37 and a businessman in Orlando, always believed Emillio Demon Jenkins, the man convicted in the killing, did not act alone.
In the last few months, a new witness has surfaced and given a sworn statement to police. The case detective is awaiting results of DNA tests he hopes will link two more men to the murder.
"I believe it (the test results) will come back to them, yes," said Eric Houston, a Tampa cold case detective. "It's just a matter of proving that it was left at the scene whenever the crime happened."
On Thursday afternoon, Tampa police announced a $25,000 reward, a sum provided by Richard McPeak, for any information that leads to the arrest and conviction of anyone involved, marking both the 12th anniversary of his brother's slaying and his renewed optimism that the case will finally be solved.
"There's not a day, maybe not five minutes, that go by that I don't think about Troy, that I don't seek justice for him," McPeak said.
For nearly a year, Houston, a cold case detective with the Tampa Police Department, has pored over case documents and delved into the past.
Like McPeak, Houston believes other men took part in the killing. Houston says both suspects still live in this area, it's just a matter of getting enough proof.
"It's hard to say how soon," he said. "We're going to continue working on it and following as many leads as we can."
As with many of the cases Houston investigates, there's one thing working in his favor: time.
As the years pass, relationships end, people become more willing to talk.
About three months ago, police pulled over a driver. The man in the car said he had something to tell them. He'd seen a news story about the McPeak case. He gave the officers his phone number, set up a meeting.
Now, police have a sworn witness statement. Houston wouldn't go into details about what the man told them.
McPeak says the new witness was there that day in the park, that he watched a few men beat Troy McPeak, but that the witness had been in trouble before with the law, so he left before investigators arrived.
Another benefit of time is that technology improves. In this case, Houston hopes that innovations in DNA testing will be able to link the blood of the two suspects to the crime scene. Those tests should come back any day now, he said, and he plans to present the results to prosecutors.
For McPeak, convictions of everyone involved in his brother's murder are the only thing that will allow him to rest.
"I have sent so many e-mails and letters to the governor, to representatives, to the state attorney, asking for help," he said. "I tried to do it alone for a long time, but I realized this burden was bigger than me."
McPeak and his brother were less than two years apart. Born in Indiana, the McPeak family moved to Hernando County when both boys were young. After high school, the brothers moved to Tampa.
As they reached their mid 20s, they remained close. They spent their free time playing basketball or going for chicken and yellow rice at La Teresita.
The day of McPeak's murder, the brothers had plans to play basketball in Giddens Park. But Richard McPeak, then 25, fell asleep and missed the game. A new father, he was worn out from working and caring for the baby.
That was Jan. 7, 1996. The next day, someone found his brother's body and called police.
After McPeak saw the gruesome crime photos, he felt he had a mission to help find the killers.
He kept a manila folder with a Polaroid of his brother's mangled body. He brought it to Jenkins' sentencing and showed the judge. Jenkins was convicted of second-degree murder and in March 1999, he was sentenced to 22 years in prison.
Those who killed McPeak showed no mercy, no remorse, and that's what drives him, Richard McPeak said.
In trips to Tampa, he sometimes visits Giddens Park. It reminds him of what happened, fuels his quest.
"I just want to see the last place my brother took a breath," he said. "Most people have the dignity of dying in a hospital and having a loved one hold their hand. My brother died clenching his own hand, lying in a pool of his blood."
Times researcher John Martin contributed to this report. Abbie VanSickle can be reached at vansickle@sptimes.com or 813-226-3373.
1996 murder of Troy McPeak.
Troy's brother Richie
12 YEARS LATER, A BREAK IN MURDER CASE
Police hope DNA tests will link two more men to a man's brutal slaying in Giddens Park.By ABBIE VANSICKLE
Published Jan. 18, 2008|Updated Jan. 30, 2008
On a recent rainy afternoon, the city park looked peaceful.
A few children raced around the Giddens Park playground while a harried-looking woman tried to corral them into a minivan.
It was a far cry from the bloody scene that met homicide investigators when they found Troy McPeak's body there in January 1996. McPeak, 24, lay under a pavilion at this park near Hillsborough and Nebraska avenues, his face and head sliced open with broken beer bottles, a small Bible tucked in his jeans pocket.
A trail of blood led away from the scene to a man who investigators blamed for the murder and sent to prison.
But that might not be the end of the story.
McPeak's brother, Richard McPeak, now 37 and a businessman in Orlando, always believed Emillio Demon Jenkins, the man convicted in the killing, did not act alone.
In the last few months, a new witness has surfaced and given a sworn statement to police. The case detective is awaiting results of DNA tests he hopes will link two more men to the murder.
"I believe it (the test results) will come back to them, yes," said Eric Houston, a Tampa cold case detective. "It's just a matter of proving that it was left at the scene whenever the crime happened."
On Thursday afternoon, Tampa police announced a $25,000 reward, a sum provided by Richard McPeak, for any information that leads to the arrest and conviction of anyone involved, marking both the 12th anniversary of his brother's slaying and his renewed optimism that the case will finally be solved.
"There's not a day, maybe not five minutes, that go by that I don't think about Troy, that I don't seek justice for him," McPeak said.
For nearly a year, Houston, a cold case detective with the Tampa Police Department, has pored over case documents and delved into the past.
Like McPeak, Houston believes other men took part in the killing. Houston says both suspects still live in this area, it's just a matter of getting enough proof.
"It's hard to say how soon," he said. "We're going to continue working on it and following as many leads as we can."
As with many of the cases Houston investigates, there's one thing working in his favor: time.
As the years pass, relationships end, people become more willing to talk.
About three months ago, police pulled over a driver. The man in the car said he had something to tell them. He'd seen a news story about the McPeak case. He gave the officers his phone number, set up a meeting.
Now, police have a sworn witness statement. Houston wouldn't go into details about what the man told them.
McPeak says the new witness was there that day in the park, that he watched a few men beat Troy McPeak, but that the witness had been in trouble before with the law, so he left before investigators arrived.
Another benefit of time is that technology improves. In this case, Houston hopes that innovations in DNA testing will be able to link the blood of the two suspects to the crime scene. Those tests should come back any day now, he said, and he plans to present the results to prosecutors.
For McPeak, convictions of everyone involved in his brother's murder are the only thing that will allow him to rest.
"I have sent so many e-mails and letters to the governor, to representatives, to the state attorney, asking for help," he said. "I tried to do it alone for a long time, but I realized this burden was bigger than me."
McPeak and his brother were less than two years apart. Born in Indiana, the McPeak family moved to Hernando County when both boys were young. After high school, the brothers moved to Tampa.
As they reached their mid 20s, they remained close. They spent their free time playing basketball or going for chicken and yellow rice at La Teresita.
The day of McPeak's murder, the brothers had plans to play basketball in Giddens Park. But Richard McPeak, then 25, fell asleep and missed the game. A new father, he was worn out from working and caring for the baby.
That was Jan. 7, 1996. The next day, someone found his brother's body and called police.
After McPeak saw the gruesome crime photos, he felt he had a mission to help find the killers.
He kept a manila folder with a Polaroid of his brother's mangled body. He brought it to Jenkins' sentencing and showed the judge. Jenkins was convicted of second-degree murder and in March 1999, he was sentenced to 22 years in prison.
Those who killed McPeak showed no mercy, no remorse, and that's what drives him, Richard McPeak said.
In trips to Tampa, he sometimes visits Giddens Park. It reminds him of what happened, fuels his quest.
"I just want to see the last place my brother took a breath," he said. "Most people have the dignity of dying in a hospital and having a loved one hold their hand. My brother died clenching his own hand, lying in a pool of his blood."
Times researcher John Martin contributed to this report. Abbie VanSickle can be reached at vansickle@sptimes.com or 813-226-3373.