Murdered girl's photo
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2003648679_uwshooting03m.html
Months of stalking end with 2 dead at UW
By Jim Brunner and Nick Perry
Seattle Times staff reporters
Rebecca Griego was the victim of a shooting at UW.
Related
Co-workers recall victim's loyalty, passion
Protection order can't stop person hellbent on doing harm
Excerpts from Rebecca Griego's petition for an order of protection
Griego's petition for protection order (PDF)
Description poster of ex-boyfriend Griego emailed colleagues (PDF)
Letter from UW President Mark A. Emmert
Rebecca Griego called her ex-boyfriend Jonathan Rowan "a psycho from the past." He wouldn't stop calling her office at the University of Washington. When she no longer would answer the phone, he harassed her sister and threatened to kidnap her dogs.
Griego, 26, did what she could to avoid her 41-year-old stalker, whom she described as a suicidal alcoholic who had grown increasingly menacing. She obtained a domestic-violence protection order March 6, changed addresses and phone numbers and asked co-workers to watch out for him.
On Monday morning, Rowan found Griego alone in her fourth-floor office in Gould Hall and fatally shot her before killing himself.
Griego was a program coordinator at the College of Architecture and Urban Planning and recently had shepherded a design team to victory in a regional competition.
But for months she had lived in fear of Rowan, who was angry over her efforts to break off contact.
In police reports and court papers, Griego said she dated Rowan for four years starting in 2000. Although the relationship ended in 2004, they shared a home until earlier this year.
Rowan is described in court documents as a British immigrant who had lived in the United States for 10 years, telling friends he couldn't go back to England. According to the documents, he wore tinted glasses, stuttered when nervous and had a pot belly. He sometimes went by the names Robert Richardson and Nathan Rowan.
He was an alcoholic, according to Griego, and police reports say he was arrested last June for drunken driving after ignoring a stop sign and trying to run from police. His blood-alcohol content was measured at more than three times the legal limit.
In January, Griego said, she came home to find Rowan drunk. Rowan threw candlesticks at her and tackled her to the floor, punching her, according to documents she filed seeking a protection order.
"I forgave him because he was drunk, but now I see that was wrong and he has threatened to hurt me again," she said, according to the court papers filed in King County Superior Court. She also reported that he had hurt her in a fight more than a year earlier, shoving her and slamming her ankle in a door.
Griego and her sister, Rachel, both sought protection orders against Rowan last month. They called him "very dangerous," citing his past violence, and said he left phone messages threatening to kill himself. Griego described him as "on the run" after he stole from his roommates.
In her March 6 plea for a protective order, Griego said, "Rowan called me to tell me I cannot find him but he can find me ... and to look over my shoulder because I would see him again."
UW police were notified that Rowan had left threatening messages for Griego on March 6 and March 14, said Assistant UW Police Chief Ray Wittmier. Officers were told about the threats but did not place Griego under surveillance or provide an escort.
Wittmier said Griego did not wish to press charges at the time. If she had, UW police might have been able to arrest Rowan for violating the protection order, he said.
Co-workers said Griego had taken steps to avoid Rowan, who called the office so often that she would no longer answer the phone. He then left messages including threats to kill her, one co-worker said.
Police had not been able to serve the protection order because they couldn't find Rowan. The paperwork was left at Griego's office in case he showed up there.
She described him as "a psycho from the past" and asked co-workers to watch out for him, said Lance Nguyen, who worked in the office.
Griego was so frightened of Rowan that she moved a couple of times, changed her phone number and worked from home for a month so he couldn't find her at work, Nguyen said.
Nguyen was in the building at the time of the shooting, in a first-floor class. He heard the shots but didn't realize it was gunfire at first. When he heard someone had been killed, he said, "I pretty much knew right away. I feel terrible."
Meghan Pinch, a graduate student in the Urban Planning department, had heard that Griego had been having relationship troubles. But, she said, Griego always maintained a smile and cheerful demeanor.
"She didn't have a mean bone in her body," Pinch said. "She had a lot of friends; she was well-liked."
Griego, who had helped launch a real-estate program in the department, helped students understand the technical details of mortgages and finance in real-estate courses, Pinch said. She said Griego was sometimes a guest lecturer.
The shooting occurred Monday as morning classes were under way. A witness saw a man fumbling with something in a bag before entering Griego's fourth-floor office, police said.
At about 9:30 a.m., police received reports of six shots fired in Gould Hall, according to Wittmier. When police arrived, they found a man and a woman dead, and a six-shot revolver nearby.
About 300 students were in the building at the time.
Wittmier said he did not expect to see changes in campus security procedures after the shooting. "It's a public building. You can't protect everybody from everything," he said.
The UW has about 65,000 students, faculty and staff on campus and about 200 buildings. About four or five officers are on patrol on a given weekday, Wittmier said. Police receive numerous reports of death threats on campus.
"Part of the situation on campus is that you have a number of students who are moving in and out of relationships and it can be very emotional, and so such threats and emotional situations are not uncommon," Wittmier said.
"We're looking at this as a tragic event, an isolated domestic situation not involving anyone [else] on campus."
Seattle Times staff reporters Jonathan Martin, Mike Lindblom, Sanjay Bhatt, Susan Gilmore, Jennifer Sullivan, Alex Fryer, Sara Jean Green, Brian Alexander and Natalie Singer and news researchers Miyoko Wolf, Gene Balk and David Turim contributed to this report.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2003819520_illegalimmigrants03m.html
Police toughening stand on illegal immigrants
By Lornet Turnbull
Seattle Times staff reporter
KEN LAMBERT / THE SEATTLE TIMES
Jose Luis Diaz, 25, an illegal immigrant, was arrested by Pacific police in May after a traffic stop. He's now in the process of gaining legal status. His wife, Erika Marysol Diaz, 21, is a U.S. citizen.
When police in the small Southeast King County town of Pacific stopped Jose Luis Diaz for speeding in May, officers joked about a flier for an immigration rally on his front seat.
Up in Seattle they may tolerate that sort of thing, Diaz recalls the officers grousing, but not so down here.
Across the Puget Sound, local law-enforcement agencies use various approaches — from written and unwritten policies to individual officer discretion — when dealing with illegal immigrants.
Months of stalking end with 2 dead at UW
By Jim Brunner and Nick Perry
Seattle Times staff reporters
Rebecca Griego was the victim of a shooting at UW.
Related
Co-workers recall victim's loyalty, passion
Protection order can't stop person hellbent on doing harm
Excerpts from Rebecca Griego's petition for an order of protection
Griego's petition for protection order (PDF)
Description poster of ex-boyfriend Griego emailed colleagues (PDF)
Letter from UW President Mark A. Emmert
Rebecca Griego called her ex-boyfriend Jonathan Rowan "a psycho from the past." He wouldn't stop calling her office at the University of Washington. When she no longer would answer the phone, he harassed her sister and threatened to kidnap her dogs.
Griego, 26, did what she could to avoid her 41-year-old stalker, whom she described as a suicidal alcoholic who had grown increasingly menacing. She obtained a domestic-violence protection order March 6, changed addresses and phone numbers and asked co-workers to watch out for him.
On Monday morning, Rowan found Griego alone in her fourth-floor office in Gould Hall and fatally shot her before killing himself.
Griego was a program coordinator at the College of Architecture and Urban Planning and recently had shepherded a design team to victory in a regional competition.
But for months she had lived in fear of Rowan, who was angry over her efforts to break off contact.
In police reports and court papers, Griego said she dated Rowan for four years starting in 2000. Although the relationship ended in 2004, they shared a home until earlier this year.
Rowan is described in court documents as a British immigrant who had lived in the United States for 10 years, telling friends he couldn't go back to England. According to the documents, he wore tinted glasses, stuttered when nervous and had a pot belly. He sometimes went by the names Robert Richardson and Nathan Rowan.
He was an alcoholic, according to Griego, and police reports say he was arrested last June for drunken driving after ignoring a stop sign and trying to run from police. His blood-alcohol content was measured at more than three times the legal limit.
In January, Griego said, she came home to find Rowan drunk. Rowan threw candlesticks at her and tackled her to the floor, punching her, according to documents she filed seeking a protection order.
"I forgave him because he was drunk, but now I see that was wrong and he has threatened to hurt me again," she said, according to the court papers filed in King County Superior Court. She also reported that he had hurt her in a fight more than a year earlier, shoving her and slamming her ankle in a door.
Griego and her sister, Rachel, both sought protection orders against Rowan last month. They called him "very dangerous," citing his past violence, and said he left phone messages threatening to kill himself. Griego described him as "on the run" after he stole from his roommates.
In her March 6 plea for a protective order, Griego said, "Rowan called me to tell me I cannot find him but he can find me ... and to look over my shoulder because I would see him again."
UW police were notified that Rowan had left threatening messages for Griego on March 6 and March 14, said Assistant UW Police Chief Ray Wittmier. Officers were told about the threats but did not place Griego under surveillance or provide an escort.
Wittmier said Griego did not wish to press charges at the time. If she had, UW police might have been able to arrest Rowan for violating the protection order, he said.
Co-workers said Griego had taken steps to avoid Rowan, who called the office so often that she would no longer answer the phone. He then left messages including threats to kill her, one co-worker said.
Police had not been able to serve the protection order because they couldn't find Rowan. The paperwork was left at Griego's office in case he showed up there.
She described him as "a psycho from the past" and asked co-workers to watch out for him, said Lance Nguyen, who worked in the office.
Griego was so frightened of Rowan that she moved a couple of times, changed her phone number and worked from home for a month so he couldn't find her at work, Nguyen said.
Nguyen was in the building at the time of the shooting, in a first-floor class. He heard the shots but didn't realize it was gunfire at first. When he heard someone had been killed, he said, "I pretty much knew right away. I feel terrible."
Meghan Pinch, a graduate student in the Urban Planning department, had heard that Griego had been having relationship troubles. But, she said, Griego always maintained a smile and cheerful demeanor.
"She didn't have a mean bone in her body," Pinch said. "She had a lot of friends; she was well-liked."
Griego, who had helped launch a real-estate program in the department, helped students understand the technical details of mortgages and finance in real-estate courses, Pinch said. She said Griego was sometimes a guest lecturer.
The shooting occurred Monday as morning classes were under way. A witness saw a man fumbling with something in a bag before entering Griego's fourth-floor office, police said.
At about 9:30 a.m., police received reports of six shots fired in Gould Hall, according to Wittmier. When police arrived, they found a man and a woman dead, and a six-shot revolver nearby.
About 300 students were in the building at the time.
Wittmier said he did not expect to see changes in campus security procedures after the shooting. "It's a public building. You can't protect everybody from everything," he said.
The UW has about 65,000 students, faculty and staff on campus and about 200 buildings. About four or five officers are on patrol on a given weekday, Wittmier said. Police receive numerous reports of death threats on campus.
"Part of the situation on campus is that you have a number of students who are moving in and out of relationships and it can be very emotional, and so such threats and emotional situations are not uncommon," Wittmier said.
"We're looking at this as a tragic event, an isolated domestic situation not involving anyone [else] on campus."
Seattle Times staff reporters Jonathan Martin, Mike Lindblom, Sanjay Bhatt, Susan Gilmore, Jennifer Sullivan, Alex Fryer, Sara Jean Green, Brian Alexander and Natalie Singer and news researchers Miyoko Wolf, Gene Balk and David Turim contributed to this report.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2003819520_illegalimmigrants03m.html
Police toughening stand on illegal immigrants
By Lornet Turnbull
Seattle Times staff reporter
KEN LAMBERT / THE SEATTLE TIMES
Jose Luis Diaz, 25, an illegal immigrant, was arrested by Pacific police in May after a traffic stop. He's now in the process of gaining legal status. His wife, Erika Marysol Diaz, 21, is a U.S. citizen.
When police in the small Southeast King County town of Pacific stopped Jose Luis Diaz for speeding in May, officers joked about a flier for an immigration rally on his front seat.
Up in Seattle they may tolerate that sort of thing, Diaz recalls the officers grousing, but not so down here.
Across the Puget Sound, local law-enforcement agencies use various approaches — from written and unwritten policies to individual officer discretion — when dealing with illegal immigrants.
On a routine traffic stop, the first clue to a motorist's immigration status may come when an officer runs a driver's license and gets all zeros in place of a Social Security number.
What they do after that depends largely on the jurisdiction.
Seattle police and King County deputies would likely just ignore it, operating as they do under an official policy of not asking a person's legal status.
But not so in tiny Pacific, where Latinos now represent 6 percent of the town's 6,000 or so residents and where illegal immigrants, like Diaz, are increasingly finding themselves in deportation proceedings following an encounter with local police.
Pacific Police Chief John Calkins says he has a duty to enforce the law. Period.
"I'm proud of my officers and the job they're doing," Calkins said. "I told them if there's a violation, whether federal, state, whatever, they're not to just turn their backs on it."
Growing trend, confusion
Nationwide, state and local law-enforcement agencies are grappling with this very thing — how to deal with a growing population of illegal immigrants and some of the potential local problems that arise, ranging from overcrowded housing to day-labor-site complaints.
There's a growing inclination among local police to take a tougher stand in the wake of well-publicized crimes by deportable immigrants — including a few in the Puget Sound region, such as Jonathan Rowan who fatally shot his former girlfriend at the University of Washington.Seattle police and King County deputies would likely just ignore it, operating as they do under an official policy of not asking a person's legal status.
But not so in tiny Pacific, where Latinos now represent 6 percent of the town's 6,000 or so residents and where illegal immigrants, like Diaz, are increasingly finding themselves in deportation proceedings following an encounter with local police.
Pacific Police Chief John Calkins says he has a duty to enforce the law. Period.
"I'm proud of my officers and the job they're doing," Calkins said. "I told them if there's a violation, whether federal, state, whatever, they're not to just turn their backs on it."
Growing trend, confusion
Nationwide, state and local law-enforcement agencies are grappling with this very thing — how to deal with a growing population of illegal immigrants and some of the potential local problems that arise, ranging from overcrowded housing to day-labor-site complaints.
Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officials report a marked increase in information relayed to them by local law enforcement.
"There's a lot of confusion about what the appropriate role for state and local law enforcement is, what their actual authority is," said Gene Voegtlin, legislative counsel for the International Association of Chiefs of Police.
"It's a volatile issue in a lot of places. It's complex and not an area local police are trained ... in."
Many larger jurisdictions, including King County and the city of Seattle, have policies against any employee, including police, asking about a person's immigration status.
Voegtlin said police chiefs have become so overwhelmed by the problems posed by illegal immigration that the association recently issued a guide on basic immigration laws and issues.
"You'd be hard-pressed to find a chief anywhere who's not dealing with some aspect of this," Voegtlin said.
A Washington, D.C.-based research organization, the Pew Hispanic Center, has estimated 200,000 to 250,000 Washington state residents are in this country illegally.
Before local police can enforce immigration law, they must first contact ICE to check the background and immigration status of an individual. ICE spokeswoman Lorie Dankers said ICE works closely with local law-enforcement agencies and "always stands ready to respond."
But some advocates, particularly in South King County, where a growing number of illegal immigrants live, are worried this relationship may lead some immigrants not to report crime. These groups are trying to sound the alarm with mayors and chiefs of police to raise this concern.
Patchwork system
There's a quiltlike approach across the Puget Sound area to handling illegal immigration — from written policies that bar inquiries into a person's immigration status to unwritten policies that may encourage them. Some departments leave it to the discretion of individual officers, and often immigration officers are contacted only in cases of serious offenses.
Kent Police Chief Steve Strachan said, in practice, officers generally don't ask about immigration status unless it is relevant. "We want people who are undocumented and are victims of crime to report it and not to feel that out of fear they can't report crimes," Strachan said.
Other jurisdictions, like Lynnwood police, say they have a close relationship with immigration authorities and provide courtesy space in their offices for an ICE agent, who, in turn, works with local police throughout King County.
It's a convenient arrangement, spokeswoman Shannon Sessions said, and "has been helpful for educating our officers."
Bothell enjoys a similar relationship, working "hand in hand with ICE agents," Capt. Denise Langford said. Often, attorney Adolfo Ojeda-Casimiro said, immigrants are being turned over to ICE even in cases where local police aren't prepared to bring criminal charges against them.
In Lynnwood, some clients who showed up to pay parking tickets ended up being detained by ICE.
Calkins, the Pacific chief, said his officers know not to proceed with immigration enforcement until they've contacted ICE. And every case, he said, started with either criminal behavior or a traffic violation by the illegal immigrant.
Diaz lives in Lakewood, Pierce County, and is married to an U.S. citizen. He was in the process of obtaining legal status when he was pulled over in Pacific in May. But he said the officers didn't believe him and, after contacting an ICE agent, drove him to the detention center in Tacoma.
He was released on bond eight days later after presenting his paperwork to an immigration judge. But he said he lost a good-paying job as a granite installer because "the police scared my boss."
"You'd be hard-pressed to find a chief anywhere who's not dealing with some aspect of this," Voegtlin said.
A Washington, D.C.-based research organization, the Pew Hispanic Center, has estimated 200,000 to 250,000 Washington state residents are in this country illegally.
Before local police can enforce immigration law, they must first contact ICE to check the background and immigration status of an individual. ICE spokeswoman Lorie Dankers said ICE works closely with local law-enforcement agencies and "always stands ready to respond."
But some advocates, particularly in South King County, where a growing number of illegal immigrants live, are worried this relationship may lead some immigrants not to report crime. These groups are trying to sound the alarm with mayors and chiefs of police to raise this concern.
Patchwork system
There's a quiltlike approach across the Puget Sound area to handling illegal immigration — from written policies that bar inquiries into a person's immigration status to unwritten policies that may encourage them. Some departments leave it to the discretion of individual officers, and often immigration officers are contacted only in cases of serious offenses.
Kent Police Chief Steve Strachan said, in practice, officers generally don't ask about immigration status unless it is relevant. "We want people who are undocumented and are victims of crime to report it and not to feel that out of fear they can't report crimes," Strachan said.
Other jurisdictions, like Lynnwood police, say they have a close relationship with immigration authorities and provide courtesy space in their offices for an ICE agent, who, in turn, works with local police throughout King County.
It's a convenient arrangement, spokeswoman Shannon Sessions said, and "has been helpful for educating our officers."
Bothell enjoys a similar relationship, working "hand in hand with ICE agents," Capt. Denise Langford said. Often, attorney Adolfo Ojeda-Casimiro said, immigrants are being turned over to ICE even in cases where local police aren't prepared to bring criminal charges against them.
In Lynnwood, some clients who showed up to pay parking tickets ended up being detained by ICE.
Calkins, the Pacific chief, said his officers know not to proceed with immigration enforcement until they've contacted ICE. And every case, he said, started with either criminal behavior or a traffic violation by the illegal immigrant.
Diaz lives in Lakewood, Pierce County, and is married to an U.S. citizen. He was in the process of obtaining legal status when he was pulled over in Pacific in May. But he said the officers didn't believe him and, after contacting an ICE agent, drove him to the detention center in Tacoma.
He was released on bond eight days later after presenting his paperwork to an immigration judge. But he said he lost a good-paying job as a granite installer because "the police scared my boss."
