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A murder in the family The two branches of the Fernandez family used to be close. Then Mark killed his cousin Jaime, tearing a chasm between the clans that may never heal. Mail Tribune / Andrew Mariman Jaime Fernandez�s family � from left, brother Brandon, mother Lori and father Jaime Sr. � reminisce about Jaime before his murder at the hands of his cousin, Mark Fernandez. All three bear a tattoo like the sunburst on Jaime Sr.�s left arm � a likeness of a similar piece of body art on Jaime. By Dani Dodge Thanksgiving used to be a time when Jaime Sr. and Bert Fernandez and their families got together to celebrate their good fortune. Their parents had emigrated from Mexico to California in the 1950s and the two brothers had gone on to buy homes and raise families in the Rogue Valley. Holidays were a time for reconnecting. Over the Fourth of July, the families would camp at Lost Creek Lake, roasting a whole pig in the ground. Everything changed in October 1999. That�s when Mark Curtis Fernandez, Bert�s son, murdered Jaime Fernandez II, Jaime�s son. What seemed like a strongly woven family fabric was ripped apart like cheesecloth. Now they don�t speak. During Mark�s murder trial, they walked past each other as if trying to avoid a drunk on the sidewalk. The only words exchanged were curses whispered in the courthouse�s public bathroom. Even the judge noticed. "I have sensed animosity among the families," Judge Ray White said at Mark�s sentencing Friday. "The family should keep in mind it wasn�t Mark�s parents and family who committed this offense. "It was Mark�s doing and his responsibility to accept the punishment." On Friday, 28-year-old Mark was sentenced to 25 years in prison for the 1999 kidnapping and killing of Jaime, who was 20 at the time. Mark�s cousin is buried at Hillcrest Memorial Park on a grassy hillside with a view of Mount Ashland. An easygoing kid The fathers of Mark and Jaime are brothers from a close Roman Catholic family. Their parents moved to California from Mexico in 1957, when Bert was 7 and before Jaime Sr. was born. The large but reserved family of five boys and one girl flourished in the United States. The father farmed and milked cows while his wife raised their kids. The children did well in school in Sebastopol, Calif., played sports, and at harvest time, the family worked together picking cherries, grapes and apples. Bert married his high school sweetheart, Pamela Swift, and after getting a job with the phone company, moved to Oregon in 1974. They settled in Prospect and he eventually went to work for the U.S. Forest Service. They had Stacey, then Mark. The couple divorced a few years later. After that, Mark and Stacey were shuttled between the parents, spending some time in the Rogue Valley and some time with their mother in Keizer near Salem. Mark was a happy, easygoing kid who made every shopping trip a drama show, his mother, Pamela, said. He�d go to the hat rack and as he put on each one, he created an outrageous character to fit the crown. "My son got us married" Jaime Sr. came up to the Rogue Valley five years after Bert and found work logging. He met his future wife, Lori Smith, after he spotted her riding down the street on a bike in "short shorts." He had to say "Hi." She got pregnant at 17. He was only two years older. They got married and eventually had three children: Jaime, Candace and Brandon. They settled in Eagle Point. "My son got us married," Jaime Sr. said. "We went through a lot of rough times in our lives, but it seemed like he was always the one who put us together." They are still together. And although Jaime�s immediate family gravitated more toward Lori�s bubbly, outgoing side of the family � her mother Beverly Lamb, father Chuck Lamb and their five children � Bert�s family and Jaime�s also kept in touch, celebrating life�s passages together. Successful students Jaime and Mark both did fairly well in high school. Jaime lettered in wrestling at Eagle Point High. Mark lettered in track at McNary High School in Keizer. He performed in school plays and was voted student body vice president in his senior year. The families grew up together in many ways. "I was close with all of them," said Stacey, Mark�s 30-year-old sister, a middle-school science teacher. "Candace (Jaime�s sister) was doing well in school. There�s only a couple of us who graduated from college. I was trying to help her and make sure she went." A near-fatal wreck They also supported each other in the bad times. One of the worst was in April 1998. That�s when Jaime, who was working as a roofer, blew a stop sign at Kershaw Road and Highway 140. His little Toyota ran into a big SUV, and he nearly lost his life. His throat was cut. His short-term memory was wiped out for a time. The accident caused problems to his internal organs, and eventually he had to have his stomach removed. He was fed through a tube inserted directly into his intestines under his rib cage. When he drank water, which he had to do to keep his mouth and throat from drying out, the liquid poured out of a hole in his neck into a bag he had taped there. There were many hospital stays. Jaime maintained his independence by changing his own bandages even in the hospital � and making sure people knew he was no patsy. "He told nurses they would have one chance to draw his blood," said Jaime�s mom, Lori Fernandez. "If they couldn�t get a vein, then they had to get someone else to try." One time, Jaime�s family stopped by to see him and heard music coming from his hospital room. As they rounded the corner, they saw Mark playing guitar for his cousin. "I didn�t even know he played guitar," Candace said. Mark�s troubles begin But Mark�s family said during this time, Mark was getting more and more odd. He�d been a popular kid in high school � so popular that when his younger cousin Kassidy Swift started attending the same school, all her friends begged to sleep over at their house so they could be around Mark. "His girlfriend was a cheerleader, a very, very popular girl," Swift said. "He had popular friends." But after having trouble with one administrator in the middle of his senior year, Mark started pulling out of activities at school. He had a lead role in the play "The Outsiders" but stopped showing up for rehearsals. He later went on to Southern Oregon University, but quit after his sophomore year. He worked at the Alpine Meadows ski resort at Lake Tahoe, Calif., but things didn�t seem right, according to his dad. Bert asked his son to move in with him in 1996. Mark did, but it didn�t help. He complained about disturbing dreams, his dad said. Over the years, he seemed to get more and more confused. Went missing for days at a time. He said people were out to get him. When he started talking about hearing voices in 1998, his sister and father tried to get him some help. But he resisted. "Why are you acting crazy?" Then in the summer of 1999, Mark�s problems escalated. "One time we got in an argument over the voices," his father said. "I said, �Nobody is bothering you, why are you acting crazy?� " Mark walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a pistol that Bert stored there. "He put it to his head," Bert said. "I grabbed it from him and said, �You call this number and talk to these people.� " The number was the Employee Assistance Program, an agency provided by some employers that offers counseling referrals. Mark saw a counselor in the summer, and she referred him to an addiction program for his marijuana and heavy alcohol use. She also recommended a psychiatrist to deal with Mark�s paranoia. Although he went to the drug program a few times, he never made an appointment with the psychiatrist. Jaime�s recovery Despite all this, Jaime�s family didn�t see anything different in Mark. He�d always been quiet, and he didn�t complain of voices when he visited their home, they said. At the same time, Jaime was finally getting better. His family was totally focused on surrounding Jaime with love. His mother quit her job as a pharmacy technician for a year and a half to nurse him back to health. By June 1999, Jaime had recovered enough to undergo reconstructive surgery. Doctors reattached his esophagus to his intestines. That meant he could finally eat through his mouth. He started gaining strength. Jaime survived 23 surgeries in all. "One day after he started to eat again, he asked me, �Why did we make it through all this?� " Lori Fernandez said. "I said, �For one thing, I wasn�t going to let you die and you had the will to live.� " She said Jaime wanted to get married and have kids. "He was going to be a really good dad," she said. "The spirit was back" In late August 1999, Jaime went jet skiing with the family. He was so wild and reckless he got a ticket for chasing geese. He was so happy to be having a normal life again that he didn�t care about the fine. Jaime�s last big family get-together was a birthday party for a cousin on his mom�s side of the family. It was early October and the family was celebrating Kylie Smith�s 18th birthday at Abby�s Pizza in White City. Jaime disappeared for a while. "Jaime came back in and said, �Good job Kylie, you parked in the handicapped,� " Kathy Smith, Jaime�s aunt, remembered. "He said, �There�s a cop out there giving you a ticket right now.� " Kylie rushed out of the restaurant in a panic, only to find her little red Honda covered by rolls of toilet paper from the restaurant�s bathroom. "The spirit was back in him," his aunt said. "There were times he really didn�t feel well. He was looking better and looking forward to things." Killing opens a rift On Oct. 15, 1999, Jaime still wasn�t well enough to leave the house on his own, so he was hanging out and playing video games and watching movies. Yet, when his mother got home, she found he was missing, even though his brand new Lugz thick-soled boots were still in his bedroom. Mark was one of the last people at Jaime�s house before he disappeared. When blood was found in the yard the next day, police started looking for Mark to find out if he knew what had become of Jaime. It was then that 42 years of brotherhood started to unravel. It was the first weekend of elk hunting season, so when people went looking at Bert�s home for Mark, neither was there. Bert was out hunting. Mark stayed at a fire station. Jaime�s family called Mark�s sister, Stacey, but she also had no idea where Mark might be. Jaime�s family became suspicious. They thought maybe Stacey wasn�t telling them the whole truth. And where was Mark�s dad? When police did find Mark, he confessed to the murder. He had smashed Jaime�s head with a paving stone and buried his body off a remote logging road near Lost Creek Lake. Stacey hadn�t heard anything Sunday except that her brother had been found by police. She called Jaime�s home. One of Jaime�s aunts answered: "She said it�s my fault," Stacey recalled. "She said, �You tried to cover it up. He�s dead and Mark did it.� " A chasm opened between the two families. "I felt threatened" Mark�s sister and father went to see Jaime�s family a day or two before the funeral. Although Jaime�s dad was polite, his mother, Lori, and sister Candace slipped out the back of the house. "I felt threatened for my life," Lori said. "I felt if Mark could do this in front of my house, what�s to think that any of them couldn�t do this to any of us in the house?" Mark�s dad, Bert, donated to the memorial fund. He and Stacey went to the funeral. But they stayed in the back. "That was the last time Lori and I were in the same place at the same time except in court," Stacey said. Jaime�s family blamed Mark�s family. It was his parents� divorce � Mark�s lack of a stable home � that led to the tragedy, they said. They feel Mark�s own family had rejected him. "He was depressed," Jaime Sr. said. "Mark has seen a lot of love and care of Jaime and he didn�t get that." Jaime�s family believes it was this jealousy that led to the murder. Mark�s family believes it was mental illness. Bert points out that Mark had access to high-powered weapons at his home. If he�d intended to kill someone, he could have done it a lot more efficiently by shooting than bludgeoning. "Guilty but insane" When the defense attorney suggested a "guilty but insane" defense for Mark, his family supported it. That kind of conviction would mean Mark would go to a state hospital rather than prison. "We were prepared for him to go away for a long time," Stacey said. "But he�s been dealing with this (mental illness) for years. We want him to go to a place that would help him fix that part." Jaime�s family was further infuriated. "If there was something wrong with Mark, I would know it in my heart and I wouldn�t let this happen," said Jaime Sr. "But I know in my mind it was all a big fake. I couldn�t understand how they could be supportive of that." Peacemaking fails During the trial, the families sat on opposite sides of the courtroom. Evert Fernandez, a brother of Jaime Sr. and Bert, came from Sebastopol to attend the trial. He�s tried to play peacemaker between the families, but to no avail. "I recognize both sides," Evert said. "I�m the one who saw the pain on both sides. "But, it�s just natural that if someone wrongs you and anyone comes to their defense, it�s natural to turn your back." Evert said he wouldn�t let their 75-year-old mother, Maria Fernandez, attend the trial. She�s too torn up about what�s happened to her family � and he was afraid the tensions would damage her health. The families have tried to go on as best they can, but the pain that surrounds them both is like a thick, toxic cloud. Judge White tried to address the issue in court. "I don�t know if the rift can be healed," he said Friday. "But if anyone looks at it from the other point of view, I think you can understand the other�s position." "Now I�ve lost all of them" The families say nothing will ever be the same. Before the murder, Jaime�s sister, Candace, had hoped to become a nurse. Instead, she dropped out of college. At 16, Jaime�s brother, Brandon, dropped out of high school and has a baby on the way. The questions are constant for Jaime�s family: What if we�d been home a half-hour earlier? And of course, nothing can ever replace the hole left by the tragic and senseless death of a son. Mark�s family hopes that people will learn from what happened and try to seek help for people who seem mentally off � but they realize not even the jury could understand. The stress of his son�s crime caused Bert to break off his relationship with his girlfriend. Stacey sought counseling for depression. "Now I�ve lost all of them," Stacey said, tears streaming down her face. "Not only my brother and Jaime, but Lori and Candace as well." In the hotel room where she stayed after flying in for Mark�s court appearances, Mark�s mother pulls out a picture of her boy from her wallet. It�s one of those posed baseball team shots, but this one has a little bit of extra spark. Mark�s got an infectious grin on his handsome face and he looks ready to hit a baseball out of the park. "This is my Mark," Pamela Fernandez sobs. "I haven�t seen him for eight years." She saw a different Mark in court each day of his trial. And Mark�s family, too, is plagued by questions. What else should they have done to help? The last word In a jailhouse interview, Mark Fernandez said he should have heeded the advice from his sister and father, and sought help earlier. He should have seen the psychiatrist when he was referred. "It�s bad enough people kill each other over silly stuff like drugs," he said. "It�s worse in a family. It�s sending out a message: You can�t trust anyone. "I don�t think there will be any peace in my family for awhile." Reach reporter Dani Dodge at 776-4471, or e-mail [email protected] Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2001 Mail Tribune, Inc.