A 9-year-old girl walks out her front door to play with a friend for houses away.

60 seconds of distance.

She never comes home.

Her body is found in a shallow grave in the woods behind her neighbor’s house.

The killer, a 15year-old girl who wrote in her diary that murder was amazing, and she wanted to know what it felt like.

This is the story of Elizabeth Olton’s murder in St.

Martins’s, Missouri, and the teenage killer who shocked a nation.

October 21st, 2009.

A Wednesday afternoon in St.Martins’s, Missouri, population 1,200.

Elizabeth Olton, fourth grader, aspiring performer, beloved daughter, walks out her front door at 5:00 in the evening.

Her mother, Patty Price, tells her to be home by 6:00.

Dinner is almost ready.

Elizabeth promises she will.

She’s going to play with Emma, the six-year-old from down the street.

Just four houses away.

The sun is setting.

Elizabeth is terrified of the dark.

Everyone knows this about her.

She would never stay out after dark voluntarily.

Never.

By 6:15, Patty knows something is catastrophically wrong.

Elizabeth K.

Olton, born December 15th, 1999 in Jefferson City, Missouri, the youngest of five siblings.

Sisters Stephanie and Candace.

Brothers Anthony and Dale Jr., a tight-knit family despite hardship.

Their father was incarcerated.

Their mother, Patty, raised them alone in a rented home on Lommo Drive in St.

Martins, an unincorporated community just west of Jefferson City.

Elizabeth was everything a 9-year-old should be.

Energetic, imaginative, full of dreams.

She loved Hannah Montana and Taylor Swift.

She loved to sing.

In the days before her death, she had been practicing constantly for the school play at Pioneer Trail Elementary, running through her lines with anyone who would listen, singing her songs, begging her siblings to rehearse with her.

She was excited.

She was happy.

She loved performing.

She loved horses and dogs.

She loved baking cookies with her mom.

She loved doing puzzles on quiet evenings.

She was a normal, joyful child.

Here’s what nobody knew until it was too late.

Patty had discovered she was pregnant with Elizabeth on the same day doctors diagnosed her with stage for cervical cancer.

Against all odds, both mother and daughter survived.

Patty would later testify at sentencing.

She saved my life.

Elizabeth was afraid of the dark.

This detail becomes critical.

This is how her mother knew instantly that something was wrong.

When 6:00 passed, then 6:15, and Elizabeth still hadn’t come home.

The sun was setting.

Elizabeth would never willingly stay outside in the dark.

Never.

For houses down Lommo Drive lived the Bamonte family.

Not parents, grandparents.

Karen and Gary Brooke had custody of four children.

15year-old Alyssa, twin brothers Nathaniel and Joseph, around 11 years old, and six-year-old Emma, Alyssa’s halfsister.

These children had been removed from their biological parents custody back in 2002.

Their mother, Michelle Bamante, was only 15 when Alyssa was born.

She battled severe drug and alcohol addiction throughout Alyssa’s childhood.

Court records reveal Michelle overdosed in front of Alyssa when the girl was just 6 years old.

The father, Caesar Bamante, was in prison when Alyssa was born.

He remained incarcerated for felony assault at the time of Elizabeth’s murder.

The crime reportedly a stabbing.

One more disturbing detail, the parents were cousins by marriage.

The grandparents moved the children from California to rural Missouri, hoping stability would help them heal.

They raised them in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

They provided what juvenile authorities later described as an adequate home with proper support.

They tried.

They genuinely tried to give these children a normal life.

But Alyssa’s mental health deteriorated despite everything.

Labor Day weekend 2007.

Alyssa was starting 8th grade.

She attempted suicide by swallowing between 75 and 100 Tylenol PM pills.

Then she cut herself extensively.

Her grandmother found her unconscious in the shower.

The word hate was carved into her arm.

Hundreds of other self-inflicted wounds covered her body.

Hundreds.

She was hospitalized at Mid Missouri Center for 10 days.

After her release, she received counseling through Pathways Community Behavioral Health Care in Jefferson City.

Multiple mental health professionals diagnosed her with major depressive disorder, PTSD, and borderline personality disorder.

Possible early signs of bipolar disorder.

She was prescribed Prozac after her suicide attempt.

Here’s the critical detail.

Her dosage was increased approximately 2 weeks before the murder.

What makes this case particularly chilling is how many warnings were there, how many red flags were ignored, how many people saw something disturbing and did nothing.

Alyssa’s YouTube profile listed her hobbies as killing people and cutting, not hidden, not coded, right there in plain text for anyone to see.

She posted a video showing herself intentionally touching an electric livestock fence.

She laughed as she encouraged her younger brothers to do the same.

Watch them get hurt.

Enjoy it.

Her MySpace, Facebook, and Twitter accounts painted the same picture.

A deeply troubled teenager drawn to darkness and violence.

Photos showed her with heavy black eyeliner and deep red lipstick that looked like blood.

One Facebook image showed her with fake blood around her lips, fingers shaped like a gun pointed at her own head.

Another showed her pretending to stab a friend with a knife that had a red tipped blade.

Her bedroom walls were covered with disturbing writings and drawings, some apparently written in blood.

One crude sketch showed a figure with slash marks.

Next to it, her six-year-old sister’s name, Emma.

Writings included phrases like, “I cut to see blood because I like it.” A friend named Jennifer Meyer later told investigators that Alyssa had said at a party, “I wonder what it would be like to kill somebody.” Meer thought she was just seeking attention.

She dismissed it.

That warning haunted her for years afterward.

All of these signs were visible, public, available for anyone to see, and yet nobody intervened in a way that prevented what came next.

Wednesday, October 21st, 2009, a normal day.

Elizabeth came home from school around 3:30 in the afternoon.

She started practicing her lines for the play.

Around 5:00, 6-year-old Emma Bamante knocked on the Olton family’s door.

Can Elizabeth come out and play? Patty Price initially said no.

She was making dinner, but both girls were jumping up and down, begging, pleading.

Patty relented.

Be home by 6:00, she told Elizabeth.

No later than 6:00.

Elizabeth nodded.

She promised.

She walked out the door, a happy little girl excited to play with her friend.

That was the last time Patty Price saw her daughter alive.

What Patty didn’t know, Alyssa Bamante had been preparing for this moment for days.

5 days earlier on Friday, October 16th, Alyssa had dug two shallow graves in the woods behind her home.

She had the day off from school, she spent hours digging two graves, each approximately 2 ft deep, 2 ft wide, 6 ft long.

She covered them with leaves and branches.

She waited.

What happened in those woods on October 21st would emerge through investigation, confession, and court testimony.

Elizabeth was lured deeper into the forest, away from the houses, away from help.

Alyssa strangled her with her bare hands.

The medical examiner later testified that Elizabeth would have lost consciousness within 30 to 60 seconds.

Then Alyssa used a knife.

She cut Elizabeth’s throat.

She stabbed her chest.

She killed her.

Elizabeth’s small body was placed in one of the pre-dug graves covered with leaves.

Hidden, Alyssa walked home.

She went to her bedroom.

she wrote in her diary.

The entry was dated October 21st, 2009.

Then she cleaned herself up and attended a church youth dance at her local LDS church that evening.

While hundreds of people searched desperately for Elizabeth, Alyssa danced.

6:00 came and went.

6:15.

Elizabeth hadn’t returned.

Patty called her cell phone.

Voicemail.

She called Emma’s grandmother, Karen.

Is Elizabeth there? Karen was confused.

Emma’s here, but I haven’t seen Elizabeth.

I didn’t even know Emma had gone to your house.

Patty hung up and immediately called the police.

It was 6:30 in the evening.

Deputies arrived within minutes.

They began interviewing neighbors, including the Bamonte family.

Everyone claimed Elizabeth had never been at their home that day.

Everyone said they hadn’t seen her.

The sun was setting, temperature dropping.

A 9-year-old girl was missing in rural Missouri with 60 acres of dense woodland nearby.

The Cole County Sheriff’s Department acted quickly.

They organized search teams.

They brought in tracking dogs.

The street the family lived on was very close to those 60 acres of forest.

That became the overwhelming focus.

The search was massive and immediate.

Deputies combed through the area.

Volunteers started arriving.

neighbors, friends, strangers, people who had never met Elizabeth but knew a child was missing and wanted to help.

By nightfall on October 21st, nearly a third of the entire town of St.

Martins was out searching.

They used flashlights.

They called Elizabeth’s name.

They searched backyards, neighboring properties, the woods.

But the forest was dense, dark, damp, and cold.

There was too much ground to cover.

As darkness fell completely, the search had to slow down.

too dangerous.

They would resume at first light.

Nobody slept that night in St.

Martins’s, Missouri.

Thursday, October 22nd, 2009.

Dawn, the search resumed with even more intensity.

Within hours, over 300 volunteers, and 100 law enforcement personnel joined the effort.

300 volunteers, 100 law enforcement officers.

They searched a grid measuring half a mile by half a mile.

They searched it twice, completely thoroughly.

Missouri State Highway Patrol deployed helicopters equipped with infrared scanners.

They flew low over the woods, searching for any heat signature, any sign of life.

Search dogs tracked through the forest.

Dive teams prepared to search ponds and creeks.

Checkpoints were established.

Every car entering or leaving the area was stopped and searched.

Lowe’s donated rain gear for the volunteers working in deteriorating weather conditions.

At 10:41 that morning, investigators contacted AT&T to ping Elizabeth’s cell phone.

Cell phone triangulation technology can locate a phone even when it’s not being actively used.

The results came back.

Elizabeth’s phone was somewhere deep in the woods between the Olton and Booamonte homes.

This was strange.

Very strange.

The road connecting the two houses was a straight walk.

It would take just a few minutes.

Why would Elizabeth’s phone be deep in the woods? Why would she walk through the forest instead of along the street? Investigators tried to ping the phone again later.

No response.

The battery had died.

At 10:05 in the afternoon, the FBI was formally brought into the investigation.

Sheriff Greg White clarified they were serving in a supporting role, not taking over jurisdiction, but FBI resources, expertise, and technology were now available.

FBI special agent Shawn McDermott and agent Trisha Gentry would become instrumental in breaking the case.

Registered sex offenders in the area were all interviewed and cleared.

Local businesses were canvased.

Surveillance footage reviewed.

Every lead followed up, but there was no evidence of an abduction, no witnesses, no suspicious vehicles, no sign of Elizabeth anywhere.

48 hours passed.

In missing child cases, the first 48 hours are critical.

The chances of finding a child alive decrease dramatically after that window closes.

Everyone knew this.

Everyone felt time slipping away.

Investigators kept coming back to inconsistencies in the statements from the Bamonte household.

6-year-old Emma had initially said she played with Elizabeth alone, but when FBI agents interviewed her again gently, carefully, she changed her story.

She seemed scared.

She said her halfsister Alyssa had been with them when they were playing outside.

Emma said Alyssa encouraged her to leave them alone to go home.

Elizabeth said she had to head home too and started walking away.

Emma walked back to her house and stayed outside playing by herself.

That’s when she fell and caught herself on some thorns.

She called out for help.

Alyssa heard her from inside the house, came outside and helped her.

Here’s the critical detail Emma provided.

When Alyssa was helping her with the thorns, Emma noticed something that looked like blood on Alyssa’s clothes.

13-year-old Anthony Olton, Elizabeth’s brother, provided another piece of the puzzle.

He told investigators he had seen Alyssa walking Emma up a hill from the woods on the afternoon Elizabeth disappeared.

He heard Alyssa tell Emma, “Don’t tell anyone.” The timeline wasn’t adding up.

If Emma had played with Elizabeth alone and Elizabeth walked straight home at 6:00, where did she go? But if Alyssa had been with them and Emma left first, then Alyssa was the last person to see Elizabeth alive.

Investigators also noticed something peculiar during earlier interviews at the Booamonte home.

There were several holes dug in the backyard.

Strange holes not for planting, not for any clear purpose, just holes.

When asked about them, Alyssa casually said she just liked digging holes and sometimes buried dead animals there.

On Thursday, October 22nd, investigators obtained consent from Karen and Gary Brooke to search the Bamonte residence.

They were looking for anything that might explain Elizabeth’s disappearance.

Anything that might tell them where she was.

The bedroom.

FBI agent Trisha Gentry entered Alyssa’s bedroom.

What she found would later be described in court as one of the most disturbing scenes she had encountered in her career.

The room was chaotic, belongings everywhere, but it was the walls that immediately caught attention, covered with ominous scribblings and drawings.

Some appeared to be written in blood, actual blood.

One crude sketch showed an outline of a person with slash marks across the body.

Next to it, written in dark ink, was the name Emma, Alyssa’s six-year-old sister.

Cards from Alyssa’s father were scattered around the room.

He was in prison.

The cards were old, preserved, buried among everything else in the room.

Then, Agent Gentry found the diary.

It was hidden under a blanket on the bed, a personal journal.

She opened it.

The most recent entry was dated October 21st, 2009, the day Elizabeth disappeared, but the entry had been scribbled over with blue ink.

Someone had tried to obscure it, tried to hide what had been written there.

Agent Gentry took the diary.

Back at headquarters, investigators used backlighting techniques to read what had been written beneath the blue scribbles.

They could make out certain words, keywords, words that changed everything.

The diary was immediately handed to Missouri State Highway Patrol Sergeant David Rice.

He was preparing to interview Alysa Bamonte, and now he had evidence that would break the case wide open.

While investigators were processing evidence from the Bamonte home, a group of volunteers searching the woods made a discovery.

They found a large hole dug into the ground.

Freshly dug, recently disturbed.

The dimensions were immediately alarming.

Big enough for a person, a small person, a child.

The volunteers immediately alerted law enforcement.

Officers rushed to the location.

They carefully excavated the hole slowly, carefully, hoping and dreading what they might find.

The hole was empty, but it had clearly been dug for something or someone.

The size, the depth, the location hidden in the woods behind the Bamonte home.

This wasn’t random.

This wasn’t an animal burial.

This was intentional.

This was preparation.

Investigators now had two critical pieces of evidence pointing directly at 15-year-old Alyssa Bamante.

a diary entry describing violence and a pre-dug grave in the woods behind her house.

On Friday, October 23rd, 2009, Sergeant David Rice brought Alyssa Bamante in for formal questioning.

She was accompanied by her grandmother, Karen Brookke, and juvenile officer Toby Meyer.

The interrogation took place at FBI headquarters in Jefferson City.

Sergeant Rice had spent his entire career reading people.

He knew how to conduct an interview.

He knew how to apply pressure.

and he had something most investigators never have, a diary entry that essentially confessed to the crime he was investigating.

The interview room was small, sterile, recorded.

Alyssa sat across from Rice.

She appeared calm, almost detached.

Rice started with baseline questions.

Where were you on Wednesday? What did you do that day? Walk me through your afternoon.

Alyssa said she had come home from school around 3:30 in the afternoon.

Then she went for a walk in the forest around 4:30 or 5:00 in the evening alone.

She walked for about an hour.

Then she came home, went to her room, and later went to church.

Rice had already verified Alyssa had not been at school that day.

She had skipped.

Nobody knew where she was during school hours.

Strike one.

Rice let her talk.

He used silence as a weapon.

After she finished a statement, he would pause.

10 seconds, 20 seconds, 30 seconds, sometimes up to a full minute of absolute silence, just staring at her, watching her.

He later described seeing the stress affecting Alyssa.

You could see her eyes begin to tremor and her head begin to shake.

Then Rice pulled out a map of the area behind the Bamonte home.

He asked Alyssa to trace her route through the woods.

Show him exactly where she walked.

She pointed to trails, areas she claimed to have explored.

Her finger moved across the map.

Rice mentioned the holes in the backyard.

Alyssa repeated what she had said before.

She just liked digging holes.

Sometimes she buried dead animals.

That’s all.

Rice nodded.

Long pause.

Then Alyssa, we found your diary.

We’ve read your diary.

Including the last entry, which was scribbled out.

The moment Sergeant David Rice mentioned the diary, everything changed.

Years of training taught him to watch for micro expressions, shifts in body language, tells that indicate when someone’s internal defenses collapse.

He saw it happen in real time with Alyssa Bamante.

I could see a distinct shift in her demeanor.

Rice later testified.

Her eyes changed.

Her posture changed.

I think it was at that point she knew that we knew.

Alyssa’s grandmother, Karen Brooke, was sitting right there in the interview room.

She had no idea what was in that diary.

Nobody had told her.

When Rice began describing the content, Karen broke down crying and left the room.

The juvenile officer remained.

Rice continued applying pressure.

He explained that investigators had used forensic techniques to read what had been written under the blue scribbles.

We know you try to cover it up, but we can read every word.

We know what happened.

Alyssa’s first response was to minimize, to deflect.

She claimed it was an accident.

Elizabeth had fallen, hit her head, died from the fall.

Alyssa panicked.

She didn’t know what to do.

She tried to hide the body.

That’s all it was, an accident.

Rice didn’t believe a word.

He had seen the diary entry.

He had seen the words strangled, slit, throat, stabbed.

Those aren’t words you use to describe an accidental fall.

He leaned forward, spoke quietly, but firmly.

Alyssa, here’s what’s going to happen.

We’re going to find Elizabeth’s body.

It’s only a matter of time.

When we do, there will be an autopsy.

The medical examiner will document every single injury, every mark, every wound.

We will know exactly what happened to her.

We will know if she was hit from a fall or if something else happened.

The truth will come out.

It always does.

Rice asked about the diary entry.

What did it say? Why did she try to cover it up? Alyssa initially stayed silent.

Then slowly, she began to talk.

The actual entry would later be fully revealed at sentencing when handwriting expert Don Lock deciphered every word.

What Alyssa had written on October 21st, 2009 was this.

I just killed someone.

I strangled them and slit their throat and stabbed them.

Now they’re dead.

I don’t know how to feel ATM.

It was amazing.

As soon as you get over the oh my god, I can’t do this feeling.

It’s pretty enjoyable.

I’m kind of nervous and shaky though right now.

Okay, I got to go to church now.

Lol.

The final three letters, lol, meaning laugh out loud.

She had written laugh out loud after describing murdering a 9-year-old child.

Earlier entries in the same diary revealed even more disturbing patterns.

One entry from October 14th, just one week before the murder, read, “If I don’t talk about it, I bottle it up, and when I explode, someone’s going to die.” Another entry referenced wanting to burn down a house with a family inside.

These weren’t passing thoughts.

These were fixations, fantasies, plans.

Rice needed to know one thing above all else.

Where is Elizabeth Olton? Where is her body? The family deserved to bring her home.

They deserved closure.

They deserve to bury their daughter.

Where is she, Alyssa? Alyssa initially refused to say.

Rice explained that they would search every inch of those woods if necessary.

They would find her eventually.

It would be better for everyone if Alyssa just told the truth now.

showed them where Elizabeth was.

Let the family have some peace.

More silence, more pressure.

Rice was relentless.

Professional, calm, but absolutely relentless.

Finally, Alyssa agreed.

She would show them where Elizabeth was buried.

At approximately 3:00 in the afternoon on Friday, October 23rd, 2009, Alyssa Bamante led investigators into the woods behind her home.

She walked confidently.

She knew exactly where she was going.

There was no hesitation, no confusion.

She had been there before.

Recently, they walked approximately half a mile into the forest.

Dense trees, thick underbrush, an area that search teams had not yet thoroughly covered.

Alyssa stopped at a specific spot.

Leaves and branches were scattered across the ground, but something looked disturbed.

Unnatural.

There, Alyssa said.

She’s there.

Investigators carefully, meticulously removed the leaves and branches just inches below the surface.

They found Elizabeth K.

Olton’s body.

She had been buried in a shallow grave, still wearing the clothes she had on when she left home Wednesday afternoon.

Her Hello Kitty phone was buried with her.

The grave was so shallow that Elizabeth was barely covered.

In Sergeant Rice’s words, once she pointed out the area and you looked closer, you could see that she was only a few inches.

if that under the ground.

The search was over.

Elizabeth had been found, but the nightmare for her family was just beginning.

Medical examiner Dr.

Keith Schaefer Meyer would later conduct the autopsy and testify about Elizabeth’s injuries.

Due to the child safe nature of this documentation, those specific details are not included here.

What can be said? The medical evidence corroborated Alyssa’s confession.

Elizabeth had been strangled, her throat had been cut, and she had been stabbed.

The attack was sustained and deliberate.

Crucially, the medical examiner determined that Elizabeth lost consciousness from strangulation within 30 to 60 seconds.

This was important because it meant her suffering, while horrific, was relatively brief.

She did not suffer for hours.

She did not die slowly.

That was the only small mercy in an otherwise unspeakably cruel crime.

The investigation also revealed that Alyssa had attempted to burn Elizabeth’s body before burying her, but the attempt was unsuccessful.

She had then placed the body in one of the pre-dug graves, the one she had prepared 5 days earlier on October 16th.

5 days of planning, 5 days of waiting, waiting for the right moment, the right victim, the right opportunity.

Investigators returned to the woods with Alyssa and asked about the other hole, the empty one volunteers had found.

Was that the second grave? Alyssa confirmed yes.

She had dug two graves.

Two.

The question haunted investigators.

Who was the second grave for? Alyssa never gave a clear answer.

Some speculated it might have been intended for her younger sister, Emma, based on the drawing in her bedroom.

Others thought maybe one of her twin brothers.

Or perhaps Elizabeth was always the intended victim and the second grave was just part of the fantasy, part of the planning, part of the ritual.

The answer remains unknown.

What is known, Alyssa Bamante dug two graves and only used one.

She was prepared to kill again if the opportunity arose.

At the certification hearing in November 2009, Sergeant Rice testified about the central horrifying motive.

During the interrogation, Alyssa had told him why she killed Elizabeth Olton.

She wanted to know what it felt like.

That was the motive.

Curiosity.

She wanted to know what it felt like to kill someone.

That’s why a 9-year-old girl died because a teenager was curious about murder.

There was no prior relationship between Elizabeth and Alyssa.

They weren’t friends.

They weren’t enemies.

Elizabeth hadn’t done anything to Alyssa.

There was no grudge, no revenge motive, no argument, nothing.

Elizabeth was simply available, convenient, small enough to overpower, trusting enough to follow into the woods.

Random, senseless, evil.

Cole County Prosecutor Mark Richardson would later call it the most senseless reprehensible motive that could exist in humankind to take a life for a thrill.

On Friday, October 23rd, 2009, immediately after showing investigators where Elizabeth’s body was buried, Alyssa Bamonte was placed under arrest.

She was 15 years old.

She was charged as a juvenile initially, but prosecutors immediately began the process to certify her for trial as an adult.

On Tuesday, November 17th, 2009, Judge Patricia Joyce held a certification hearing.

The purpose: determine whether Alyssa should be tried in juvenile court or adult court.

The decision would have massive implications for potential sentencing.

Prosecutors presented evidence of premeditation.

the pre-dug graves, the diary entries, the planning, the deliberate nature of the attack.

They argued this was not an impulsive act by an immature child.

This was calculated murder by someone who knew exactly what she was doing.

Defense attorneys argued Alyssa’s age, her mental health history, her traumatic childhood, her suicide attempts, her psychiatric diagnosis.

They argued she was a damaged child who needed treatment, not adult criminal punishment.

Judge Joyce ruled Alyssa Bamonte would be tried as an adult.

Hours later, a Cole County grand jury indicted her on two charges: first-degree murder and armed criminal action.

First-degree murder in Missouri carries a mandatory sentence of life in prison without possibility of parole.

Armed criminal action carries an additional consecutive sentence of 3 years to life.

A not-uilty plea was entered on Alyssa’s behalf.

She was held without bond.

The case moved toward trial.

While legal proceedings began, St.

Martins, Missouri mourned.

The entire community was devastated.

This kind of crime doesn’t happen in small towns.

Neighbors know each other.

Children play together.

People look out for one another.

The idea that a 15year-old could murder a 9-year-old, that this happened in their own backyards, shattered the sense of safety the community had always felt.

On Wednesday, October 28th, 2009, one week after Elizabeth disappeared, her funeral was held.

Hundreds of people attended.

Family, friends, classmates, teachers, neighbors, complete strangers who had never met Elizabeth, but felt compelled to honor her memory.

Elizabeth’s favorite color was pink.

The funeral was filled with pink.

Pink flowers, pink balloons, pink ribbons.

Her casket was pink and white.

A horsedrawn hearse carried the small casket to Hawthorne Memorial Gardens in Jefferson City.

At the graveside, mourers released pink balloons into the October sky.

Pastor Monty Shinkle of Concord Baptist Church officiated.

He later said, “I’ve not experienced any event that has hit this community as hard as the loss of Elizabeth.” Elizabeth’s family tried to speak but could barely get words out through their grief.

Her father, Dale Olton, Senior, was brought from prison in shackles to attend his daughter’s funeral.

He spoke briefly to reporters outside.

She was outgoing, active, loved riding her bike.

Every night, I tell her I love her and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect her.

Sheriff Greg White, who had led the investigation, sat in the front rows with his deputies and investigators.

Many were crying.

I would later call this the worst murder I’ve seen in 33 years of law enforcement.

The entire town wore pink that day.

Pink shirts, pink ribbons, pink bracelets.

Elizabeth’s life had been about color and joy and performance and laughter.

Her death had stolen all of that.

The community tried to give some of it back, even if only symbolically.

After the initial court proceedings, the case entered a long period of legal delays.

Alyssa remained in custody.

Her mental health deteriorated further.

She showed severe depression and anxiety in jail.

She attempted self harm multiple times.

Eventually, she had to be transferred to Fulton State Hospital for psychiatric evaluation and stabilization.

Defense attorneys cited multiple reasons for requesting delays.

Need to prepare for a complex case.

Difficulty scheduling expert witnesses.

Alyssa’s mental health crisis requiring hospitalization.

The volume of evidence to review.

complexity of juvenile mental health law.

The prosecution pushed for trial.

Elizabeth’s family wanted justice.

They wanted closure.

They wanted Alyssa held accountable for what she had done.

The waiting was torture.

Every delay felt like another injustice.

Then came a major blow to the prosecution’s case.

On June 22nd, 2011, nearly 2 years after the murder, Judge Patricia Joyce issued a critical ruling.

She suppressed portions of Alyssa’s confession to Sergeant Rice.

The judge found that juvenile officer Toby Meyer had used deceptive tactics during the interrogation.

Meyer had presented herself as Alyssa’s advocate, someone looking out for Alyssa’s best interests when in reality she was working with law enforcement to extract a confession.

This violated protocols for interrogating juveniles.

Juveniles are supposed to have genuine advocates present, people who actually protect their interests, not law enforcement personnel posing as advocates.

Judge Joyce ruled that certain portions of the confession were inadmissible.

The prosecution could not use everything Alyssa had said during that interrogation.

This was devastating.

Sergeant Rice later called it a huge blow to what he considered a clear firstderee murder case.

The trial was postponed.

1st to January 2012, then delayed again and again.

The defense requested more time, more evaluations, more preparation.

Elizabeth’s family waited and waited.

Would there ever be justice? Would this case ever go to trial? Would Alyssa be held accountable or would she somehow escape through legal technicalities? The answer came in January 2012.

On Tuesday, January 10th, 2012, Alyssa Bamante appeared in court and shocked everyone.

She withdrew her not guilty plea.

In a 30inut hearing before Judge Patricia Joyce, Alyssa pleaded guilty to amended charges: secondderee murder and armed criminal action, not first-degree murder.

Second degree, this was a plea deal, though Judge Joyce emphasized it was not a traditional bargain with predetermined sentencing.

The prosecution had agreed to reduce the charge from firstdegree to seconddegree murder.

In exchange, Alyssa would plead guilty and avoid trial, but the sentence would be determined separately at a later sentencing hearing.

Judge Joyce retained full discretion.

The difference between first and seconddegree murder in Missouri is massive.

Firstderee murder is premeditated intentional killing.

It carries a mandatory sentence of life in prison without possibility of parole.

Seconddegree murder is also intentional killing, but the law allows for possibility of parole after serving a minimum term.

For juveniles, especially, this distinction was critical.

Why did the prosecution agree to this deal? The suppression of parts of Alyssa’s confession had weakened their case.

Without the full confession, certain details were harder to prove.

The diary entry was powerful evidence, but defense attorneys were prepared to argue it was fantasy, creative writing, not a literal confession.

The pre-dug graves were powerful evidence, but defense attorneys would argue they were for burying animals, not people, and Alyssa just panicked after Elizabeth’s accidental death.

A trial is always a risk.

Juries are unpredictable.

Defense attorneys were prepared to put on extensive expert testimony about Alyssa’s mental health, her traumatic childhood, her suicide attempts, her psychiatric medications.

They would argue diminished capacity.

They would argue she was a damaged child, not a cold-blooded killer.

They would argue for sympathy.

The prosecution made a calculation, accept the plea to secondderee murder, guarantee a conviction, and argue for the maximum possible sentence at the sentencing hearing.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was certain.

And after more than 2 years, Elizabeth’s family deserved certainty.

During the plea hearing, Judge Joyce questioned Alyssa directly to ensure she understood what she was admitting to.

This is standard procedure in any guilty plea.

The defendant must allocate, must describe in their own words what they did.

Alyssa admitted in open court.

She strangled Elizabeth Olton with her hands.

She used a knife to cut Elizabeth’s throat and stab her chest.

She buried Elizabeth in a grave she had dug days earlier.

She did all of this intentionally.

She did all of this to experience what murder felt like.

Judge Joyce asked, “Do you understand that by pleading guilty, you are admitting you committed these acts?” Alyssa answered, “Yes.” “Do you understand the potential sentence you face?” “Yes.” “Has anyone forced you or threatened you to enter this plea?” “No.” “Are you entering this plea freely and voluntarily?” Yes.

The plea was accepted.

Alyssa Bamante was now a convicted murderer.

The only question remaining, how long would she spend in prison? The sentencing hearing was scheduled for February 2012.

Between the plea hearing and sentencing hearing, both sides prepared extensive presentations.

The prosecution would argue for the maximum possible sentence.

The defense would argue for leniency based on Alyssa’s age, mental health, and childhood trauma.

Missouri law for seconddegree murder allows for sentences ranging from 10 years to life in prison.

Armed criminal action carries an additional 3 years to life to be served consecutively.

The prosecution announced they would seek life in prison plus 71 years.

Life for the murder, 71 years for armed criminal action consecutive.

The defense would argue for concurrent sentences at the lower end of the range.

Their argument Alyssa was 15 years old.

Her brain was not fully developed.

She suffered from severe mental illness.

She had a horrific childhood.

She was on psychiatric medications that may have affected her thinking.

She needed treatment, not permanent imprisonment.

There was still hope for rehabilitation.

Elizabeth’s family prepared victim impact statements.

They would finally have the chance to speak directly to Alyssa to tell her what she had taken from them to demand justice for Elizabeth.

The hearing would take 2 days.

It would be emotionally devastating for everyone involved.

Monday, February 6th, 2012, the Cole County Courthouse in Jefferson City, Missouri.

The sentencing hearing for Alyssa Bamante began at 9:00 in the morning.

The courtroom was packed.

Media from across the country, family members on both sides, community members, law enforcement, everyone who had been touched by this case wanted to be there.

Judge Patricia Joyce presided.

She had handled this case from the beginning.

She had seen all the evidence.

She had read the diary.

She had heard the confessions.

Now she would decide Alyssa’s fate.

The prosecution presented first.

They called witnesses to establish the facts of the crime, the planning, the deliberate nature of the attack.

Then they called Elizabeth’s family to deliver victim impact statements.

Patty Price, Elizabeth’s mother, was first.

She walked slowly to the witness stand.

She was shaking.

Tears streamed down her face before she even began speaking.

She looked directly at Alyssa.

You destroyed my family, Patty began.

Her voice was raw with grief and rage.

You took my baby, my innocent, beautiful baby who never hurt anyone.

She trusted you.

She thought you were playing together and you led her into those woods and you killed her.

Patty described finding out Elizabeth was missing.

described the frantic search, the hope that maybe Elizabeth had just gotten lost, that she would be found safe.

Then the devastating moment when investigators told her Elizabeth’s body had been found, that her daughter had been murdered by a neighbor, by someone Elizabeth knew.

“Elizabeth will never go to prom,” Patty continued.

“She’ll never graduate high school.

She’ll never get married.

She’ll never have children.

She’ll never become the performer she dreamed of being.

You took all of that from her.

You took her entire future.

Patty’s statement grew more passionate.

Angrier, she called Alyssa an evil monster.

She demanded the maximum sentence.

Life in prison, never free, never given the chance to have the life Elizabeth would never have.

Judge Joyce had to interrupt several times and asked Patty to moderate her tone and language.

Court decorum required restraint, but how do you restrain a mother’s grief? How do you moderate the rage of someone whose child was murdered for entertainment? Elizabeth’s grandmother, Sandra Korn, was even more emotional.

She stood and shouted at Alyssa.

I think you should get out of jail the day Elizabeth gets out of the grave.

Baleiffs had to calm her.

Judge Joyce reminded everyone this was a court proceeding and outbursts would not be tolerated, no matter how understandable the emotions.

One by one, family members spoke.

Elizabeth’s siblings, her aunts and uncles, family friends.

Each one described the Elizabeth they knew, the happy girl, the performer, the loving sister and daughter.

They described the hole her death had left in their lives, the birthdays without her, the holidays without her, the constant aching absence.

They all asked for the same thing.

Maximum sentence.

Lock her away forever.

Never let her hurt anyone else again.

The defense strategy was to humanize Alyssa.

to show the court that she wasn’t a monster.

She was a damaged child, a victim herself in many ways.

A girl who never had a chance because of the circumstances of her birth and childhood.

Defense attorney Charles Morris called multiple witnesses.

Psychologists and psychiatrists who had evaluated Alyssa over the years.

Each one testified about her mental health diagnosis.

Major depressive disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, borderline personality disorder, possible bipolar disorder.

They described her suicide attempts, her hundreds of self-inflicted wounds, her hospitalizations.

Dr.

David Sacter, a forensic psychiatrist, testified that Alyssa’s biological parents were both severely dysfunctional.

Mother with drug addiction, father with violent criminal history.

The parents were cousins by marriage, raising questions about potential genetic issues.

Alyssa witnessed her mother overdose at age six.

She was essentially abandoned by both parents and raised by grandparents who tried their best but couldn’t undo years of trauma and neglect.

The defense argued that Alyssa’s recent increase in Prozac dosage may have contributed to the murder.

Some studies suggest SSRI antid-depressants can cause increased agitation, impulsivity, and violent ideiation in adolescence, especially when dosages are adjusted.

The defense suggested Alyssa may have been experiencing medication induced psychosis or mania.

They called Alyssa’s grandmother, Karen Brooke, to testify.

Karen was devastated.

She had raised Alyssa, loved her, tried to give her stability and support.

She testified about Alyssa’s good qualities.

She was artistic, intelligent, loved animals, helped with her younger siblings.

Karen insisted Alyssa was not a monster.

She was a sick child who needed help.

The defense also called Caesar Bamante, Alyssa’s biological father, from prison.

He appeared in shackles and prison clothes.

He testified about his own history of mental illness.

He had been a cutter as a teenager.

He had attempted suicide at age 14.

He had struggled with anger and violence his entire life.

The defense suggested Alyssa had inherited a genetic predisposition to mental illness and self-destructive behavior.

One defense expert, Dr.

Elizabeth Brokhaw testified that adolescent brains are not fully developed.

The prefrontal cortex, responsible for impulse control, judgment, and understanding consequences, doesn’t fully mature until the mid20s.

Alyssa, at 15, could not fully appreciate the magnitude of what she was doing.

She acted on impulse without fully comprehending the permanence of death or the devastation she would cause.

The defense argument boiled down to this.

Yes, Alyssa committed a terrible crime.

Yes, she deserves punishment, but she was a child, a mentally ill child, a traumatized child, a child on psychiatric medications.

She deserves a chance at rehabilitation.

She deserves hope for eventual release.

Life without parole is too harsh for a 15-year-old, no matter what she did.

Then it was Alyssa’s turn to speak.

She had the right to address the court before sentencing.

She could say anything she wanted.

Apologize, explain, beg for mercy, or say nothing at all.

Alyssa chose to speak.

She stood.

She faced Judge Joyce, not Elizabeth’s family.

She read from a prepared statement.

Her voice was quiet, shaky.

She cried as she spoke.

I know words can never be enough, and they can never adequately describe how horribly I feel for all of this.

Alyssa began.

If I could give my life to get her back, I would.

I’m sorry.

I can’t even understand what you guys are going through.

Nothing I can say can change what happened or bring Elizabeth back.

She continued, I wish I could die and she could have her life back.

That’s what I wish.

Every day I think about what I did.

I hate myself for it.

I know you all hate me and you have every right to.

I hate me, too.

Alyssa’s defense attorney had clearly coached her.

The statement hit all the right notes.

remorse, self-hatred, willingness to sacrifice herself, acknowledgement of the family’s pain.

It was designed to evoke sympathy, but Elizabeth’s family didn’t buy it.

Patty Price would later tell reporters she didn’t believe a word.

Everything that came out of her mouth was a lie.

She was told what to say by her lawyers.

She has no remorse.

She’s sorry she got caught, that’s all.

Watching the courtroom dynamics, observers noticed something telling.

When Alyssa finished her statement, her grandparents, Karen and Gary Brook, stood up and walked out of the courtroom.

They didn’t return.

The only two people who had stuck by Alyssa through everything.

The people who raised her and loved her unconditionally walked away in that moment.

Years later, investigators would say that was the moment Alyssa truly realized what she had lost.

Not just her freedom, not just her future, but the love and support of the only people who had ever been there for her.

that more than the conviction, more than the sentence seemed to break her.

Prosecutor Mark Richardson stood to deliver his closing argument.

He spoke with controlled fury.

He had seen a lot of terrible things in his career, but this case, he said, was the worst, the most senseless, the most evil.

The motive in this case has to be the most senseless and reprehensible that could exist in humankind, Richardson began.

And that is to take a life for a thrill.

Elizabeth Olton did nothing to Alyssa Bamante.

Nothing.

They were not enemies.

They were not rivals.

Elizabeth was just a child who happened to be available when Alyssa decided she wanted to know what murder felt like.

Richardson walked the court through the evidence of premeditation.

The graves dug five days in advance.

The diary entries in the days leading up to the murder.

The deliberate planning, the waiting, the choosing of a victim who was small enough to overpower, young enough to trust, isolated enough to kill without witnesses.

This was not an impulse, Richardson argued.

This was not a moment of rage.

This was calculated, planned, executed with cold precision.

Alyssa knew exactly what she was doing.

She dug graves in advance.

She chose her victim.

She lured Elizabeth into the woods.

She strangled her.

She cut her throat.

She stabbed her.

Then she buried her and went to a church dance.

She danced while Elizabeth’s family searched desperately.

She danced while volunteers combed through the woods calling Elizabeth’s name.

Richardson addressed the defense’s mitigation arguments directly.

Yes, Alyssa had a difficult childhood.

Yes, she has mental health issues.

Yes, she’s only 15 years old.

But none of that explains or excuses what she did.

Millions of people have difficult childhoods and don’t murder anyone.

Millions of people have mental health issues and don’t murder anyone.

Millions of 15year-olds make mistakes, bad choices, even commit crimes, but they don’t dig graves and plan murders and kill innocent children for entertainment.

He continued, “The defense wants you to feel sorry for Alyssa Bamante.

They want you to see her as a victim.

But there’s only one victim in this case.

Elizabeth Olton, a 9-year-old girl who will never get to grow up, who will never get to live her dreams, who died terrified and confused and in pain because Alyssa Bamante wanted to experience a thrill.

Richardson concluded, “Your honor, we are asking for life in prison plus 71 years consecutive sentences.

Alyssa Bamante should never walk free.

She should never have the opportunity to hurt anyone else ever again.

Elizabeth Olton was denied her life.

Alyssa Bamante should be denied hers.

That is justice.

Defense attorney Charles Morrisy stood to present the counterargument.

His task was nearly impossible.

Convince the judge to show mercy to someone who had shown none.

But he had to try.

That was his job.

That was his duty to his client.

Morrisy emphasized Alyssa’s age.

Your honor, we’re talking about a 15year-old child.

15.

The Supreme Court has repeatedly recognized that juveniles are fundamentally different from adults.

Their brains are not fully developed.

They are more impulsive.

They are less able to consider consequences.

They are more susceptible to peer pressure and environmental influences.

These are scientific facts, not excuses.

He walked through Alyssa’s mental health history in detail.

the suicide attempts, the hospitalizations, the diagnosis, the medications.

This is a deeply, profoundly ill child.

She has been ill for years.

The system knew she was ill.

She was being treated for it, but clearly the treatment was not adequate.

Clearly, something went terribly wrong.

Morrisy addressed the Prozac dosage increase.

2 weeks before this crime, Alyssa’s Prozac was increased.

Medical literature shows that SSRI increases in adolescence can cause agitation, impulsivity, even psychotic symptoms.

Did that play a role here? We don’t know for certain, but it’s a possibility that must be considered.

He tried to humanize Alyssa.

Described her as a girl who loved art, loved music, loved animals.

A girl who helped take care of her younger siblings.

A girl who had been failed by her biological parents.

Failed by the mental health system.

Failed by everyone who should have protected her.

Your honor, Alyssa Bamante is not an evil monster.

She’s a sick child who did an evil thing.

Those are two different concepts.

We are not asking you to excuse what she did.

We’re not asking you to minimize it.

We’re asking you to consider who she is, how old she is, what she’s been through, and what possibility exists for her to be rehabilitated, and eventually become a contributing member of society.

Morrisy concluded, “We respectfully request that your honor impose concurrent sentences at the low end of the guidelines.

Give this child hope.

Don’t condemn a 15year-old to die in prison.

give her a chance someday after decades of incarceration and treatment to prove she can be more than the worst thing she ever did.

Judge Patricia Joyce had listened to two days of testimony, arguments, and emotional please.

Now she had to decide.

She took a brief recess to review her notes and prepare her decision.

Then she reconvened the court.

This is one of the most difficult decisions I have ever had to make in my judicial career, Judge Joyce began.

I have presided over many serious cases.

I have sentenced many people to long prison terms, but I have never had a case quite like this one.

She addressed the crime first.

What Alyssa Bamante did to Elizabeth Olton was premeditated, calculated, and utterly senseless.

She planned this murder.

She prepared for it.

She waited for an opportunity.

When that opportunity came, she executed her plan with disturbing efficiency.

She showed no mercy to a helpless child.

She showed no hesitation.

She showed no remorse until after she was caught.

Judge Joyce then addressed the mitigation.

I have carefully considered Alyssa’s age.

I have carefully considered her mental health history.

I have carefully considered her traumatic childhood.

These are significant factors.

The law requires me to consider them and I have given them substantial weight.

Pause.

The courtroom was silent.

Everyone waiting, holding their breath.

However, Judge Joyce continued, “I must also consider the nature of this crime, the victim’s complete innocence, the devastation inflicted on her family, the danger Alyssa poses to society.

I must balance the defendant’s right to rehabilitation against society’s right to be protected from her.” Another pause.

Alyssa Bamante, please stand.

Alyssa stood.

She was crying.

Her attorney stood beside her.

Judge Joyce pronounced the sentence.

For the crime of seconddegree murder, I sentence you to life in prison with possibility of parole.

For the crime of armed criminal action, I sentence you to 30 years in the Missouri Department of Corrections.

These sentences are to be served consecutively, not concurrently.

Life plus 30 consecutive.

The courtroom erupted.

Elizabeth’s family cried with relief.

Finally, justice.

Not perfect justice.

Not enough justice, but justice.

The defense attorneys looked defeated.

They had hoped for concurrent sentences, life with possibility of parole, meaning Alyssa could potentially be released in her 40s or 50s after serving 30 or 35 years.

But consecutive sentences meant she had to serve the full 30 years for armed criminal action after becoming eligible for parole on the life sentence.

She would be in prison for a minimum of at least 35 years before even being considered for release.

Judge Joyce explained the calculation.

Under Missouri law, Alyssa must serve 85% of the 30-year sentence for armed criminal action before becoming eligible for parole consideration on the life sentence.

With good time credits, that means approximately 35 years and 5 months minimum before eligibility.

Alyssa Bamante was 15 years old.

35 years and 5 months meant she would be approximately 50 years old before her first parole hearing.

If she was denied parole, which was likely, she could remain in prison the rest of her life.

Judge Joyce concluded this sentence reflects the seriousness of the crime, the need to protect society, and the slight hope that someday, after many decades, Alyssa may have rehabilitated herself enough to potentially rejoin society.

But that is a decision for the parole board many years from now.

This court’s duty today is to impose a just punishment for a horrific crime.

I believe this sentence accomplishes that goal.

Alyssa was immediately taken into custody.

She was transferred to the Missouri Department of Corrections for classification and placement.

She would eventually be sent to the Chilikathy Correctional Center in northwestern Missouri where she remains to this day.

Elizabeth’s family spoke to reporters outside the courthouse.

Patty Price said, “It’s not enough.

It will never be enough.

But at least she’ll be in prison for a very long time.

At least she won’t be able to hurt anyone else.

That’s something.” Elizabeth’s grandmother added, “We got some justice today.

Not complete justice.

That would be bringing Elizabeth back, but some justice.” Prosecutors expressed satisfaction with the outcome.

Mark Richardson told reporters, “This is a strong sentence.

Life plus 30 years consecutive sends a clear message.

No matter your age, if you commit premeditated murder, you will be held accountable.

You will pay the price.

The defense attorneys were more circumspect.

Charles Morrisy simply said, “We’re disappointed with the consecutive sentences.

We believe concurrent sentences would have been more appropriate given Alyssa’s age and mental health issues, but we respect the court’s decision.” The broader community of St.

Martins, Missouri expressed relief that the case was finally over.

Nearly 2 and 1/2 years of waiting.

2 and 1/2 years of legal proceedings, delays, motions, hearings.

Finally, a resolution.

Finally, some closure.

Alyssa Bamante entered the Missouri Department of Corrections on February 8th, 2012 at the age of 17.

She was classified as a highsecurity inmate due to the nature of her crime and her mental health history.

She was placed in Chilikothy Correctional Center, a medium security women’s prison in northwestern Missouri.

Prison records show Alyssa struggled significantly in her first years of incarceration.

She continued to experience severe depression.

She attempted self harm multiple times despite being on suicide watch.

She was frequently placed in restrictive housing for her own protection.

Mental health professionals monitored her closely and adjusted her medications repeatedly, trying to stabilize her condition.

Education records show Alyssa obtained her GED while incarcerated.

She participated in some prison programs, though her participation was inconsistent due to her mental health struggles.

She was described by prison staff as generally compliant, but withdrawn, isolated, and deeply depressed.

She received limited visitors.

Her grandparents Karen and Gary Brooke visited occasionally in the early years, but those visits became less frequent over time.

The emotional toll of the case and the ongoing publicity made maintaining their relationship with Alyssa extremely difficult.

Eventually, the visit stopped almost entirely.

Alyssa had no contact with Elizabeth’s family.

Missouri law prohibits inmates from contacting victims families without permission.

Elizabeth’s family made clear they never wanted to hear from Alyssa again.

In November 2013, approximately 20 months after sentencing, Alyssa’s attorneys filed an appeal.

They argued several grounds for overturning her conviction or reducing her sentence.

First, they argued the confession should have been completely suppressed, not just partially.

The entire interrogation was tainted by the presence of juvenile officer Toby Meyer posing as Alyssa’s advocate while actually working with law enforcement.

The partial suppression wasn’t enough.

The whole thing should have been thrown out.

Second, they argued Alyssa’s guilty plea was not truly voluntary.

They claimed she was not adequately informed about pending US Supreme Court litigation that might affect juvenile sentencing.

Specifically, the Supreme Court was considering Miller versus Alabama.

a case about whether mandatory life without parole sentences for juveniles violated the eth amendment’s prohibition on cruel and unusual punishment.

The Miller case was decided in June 2012 for months after Alyssa’s sentencing.

The Supreme Court ruled that mandatory life without parole for juveniles was unconstitutional.

States had to consider the defendant’s youth and the possibility of rehabilitation before imposing life without parole.

Alyssa’s attorneys argued that if she had known this ruling was coming, she would never have agreed to plead guilty.

She would have waited for the Supreme Court decision and then used it to fight the charges.

Third, they argued the consecutive sentences were disproportionately harsh given Alyssa’s age, and mental health issues.

They cited numerous studies on adolescent brain development, juvenile rehabilitation success rates, and the evolving standards of juvenile justice.

life plus 30 years consecutive for a 15-year-old, they argued, was effectively a life without parole sentence in disguise.

The Missouri Court of Appeals heard the arguments.

Elizabeth’s family waited anxiously.

Would Alyssa get a new trial? Would she potentially get a reduced sentence? Would she somehow escape justice through legal technicalities? Judge Patricia Joyce responded to the appeal in March 2014.

She issued a detailed ruling rejecting every argument.

On the confession issue, Judge Joyce held that her original suppression order was appropriate.

The parts of the confession obtained through proper procedures were admissible.

The parts obtained through improper procedures were not.

That was the correct balance.

On the guilty plea issue, Judge Joyce noted that Alyssa was fully advised of the pending Miller litigation.

Her attorneys discussed it with her.

She was aware the Supreme Court might rule on juvenile life sentences.

She made an informed decision to plead guilty anyway.

The plea was knowing and voluntary.

Moreover, Judge Joyce noted Miller only addressed mandatory life without parole.

Alyssa’s sentence was life with possibility of parole, so Miller would not have applied to her case anyway.

On the consecutive sentences issue, Judge Joyce held that the sentences were within statutory guidelines, were proportionate to the severity of the crime, and appropriately considered Alyssa’s age and mental health while also protecting public safety.

Appeal denied.

Alyssa’s attorneys appealed to the Missouri Court of Appeals Western District.

In November 2014, the appellet court affirmed Judge Joyce’s ruling, every argument rejected, every ground for appeal denied.

The conviction and sentence stood.

Alyssa Bamonte would serve life plus 30 years consecutive.

No new trial, no reduced sentence, no escape.

While the criminal case proceeded through appeals, Elizabeth’s mother, Patty Price, pursued civil litigation.

She filed multiple lawsuits seeking financial accountability for Elizabeth’s death.

The first lawsuit targeted Alyssa’s grandparents, Karen and Gary Brooke.

Patty argued they were negligent in their supervision of Alyssa.

They knew or should have known about Alyssa’s violent tendencies, her disturbing social media posts, her obsession with violence and death.

They failed to adequately supervise her.

They failed to prevent foreseeable harm.

Karen and Gary did not vigorously contest the lawsuit.

They were financially ruined and emotionally destroyed.

In October 2012, a judgment was entered against them for $400,000.

The money would come from their homeowner’s insurance policy.

Patty would never collect most of it, but the judgment was important symbolically.

It held someone accountable beyond just Alyssa herself.

The second lawsuit was more complex and controversial.

Patty sued Pathways Community Behavioral Healthc Care, the mental health agency that had treated Alyssa after her suicide attempt.

She also sued Dr.

Sultana, the psychiatrist who prescribed Alyssa’s medications, and Ron Wilson, a counselor who worked with Alyssa.

The lawsuit alleged Pathways personnel knew or should have known Alyssa was a danger to others, specifically to Elizabeth Olton.

The lawsuit claimed Pathways had information about Alyssa’s violent fantasies, her statements about wanting to kill someone, her fixation on Elizabeth, specifically.

The lawsuit alleged Pathways had a duty under Missouri law to warn potential victims or to seek Alyssa’s involuntary commitment.

Pathways failed to do either.

Therefore, Pathways was partially liable for Elizabeth’s death.

This lawsuit raised profound questions about mental health confidentiality, duty to warn, and the limits of therapist patient privilege.

Under Missouri law, mental health professionals have a duty to breach confidentiality and warn potential victims if they believe a patient poses a serious threat.

The question, did Alyssa’s statements rise to that level? Were they specific enough? Serious enough? Pathways vigorously defended the lawsuit.

They argued Alyssa never made specific credible threats against Elizabeth Olton.

Yes, she made disturbing statements.

Yes, she expressed violent fantasies, but adolescence often expressed dark thoughts without acting on them.

Pathways personnel exercised reasonable professional judgment.

They cannot be held liable for failing to predict an unpredictable act.

Moreover, Pathways argued the lawsuit required access to Alyssa’s complete medical records to prove what Pathways personnel knew and when they knew it.

But those records were protected by federal and state privacy laws.

Alyssa refused to release them.

Without the records, Patty couldn’t prove her case.

The court ultimately agreed with Pathways.

In 2013, the lawsuit against Pathways was dismissed.

Patty appealed.

The appellet court affirmed the dismissal.

Without access to the protected medical records, the case could not proceed.

This was devastating for Patty.

If Pathways had information indicating Alyssa was dangerous, they should have acted.

They should have warned someone.

They should have protected Elizabeth.

But without proof of what they knew, there was no liability.

The law protected Alyssa’s privacy more than it protected Elizabeth’s life.

In July 2017, 8 years after Elizabeth’s murder, Patty Price reached a settlement directly with Alyssa Bamante.

Under Missouri law, victims can sue offenders for damages even if the offender is incarcerated and has no assets.

The settlement amount, $5 million.

Alyssa will never be able to pay it.

She earns pennies per hour working prison jobs.

She has no assets.

She will never have significant income.

But the judgment serves several purposes.

First, it creates a permanent lean against any assets Alyssa might ever acquire.

If she inherits money, wins the lottery, or somehow comes into money, the judgment must be paid first.

Second, it prevents Alyssa from profiting from her crime.

Under the settlement terms, any compensation Alyssa receives from media coverage of her case, book deals, movie rights, interview payments, anything must be disclosed and turned over to Patty to satisfy the judgment.

Third, it provides some sense of justice.

$5 million cannot bring Elizabeth back.

It cannot heal the family’s pain, but it serves as a permanent legal declaration.

Alyssa Bamante is financially responsible for Elizabeth Olton’s death.

She owes an unpayable debt for an unforgivable crime.

When Alyssa was sentenced in February 2012, the calculation was clear.

She must serve 85% of her 30-year sentence for armed criminal action before becoming eligible for parole on her life sentence for murder with good time credits for following prison rules.

That meant approximately 35 years and 5 months minimum before parole eligibility.

She would be approximately 50 years old.

But then Missouri law changed.

In 2021, the Missouri legislature passed Senate Bill 26.

The bill made significant changes to juvenile sentencing.

It allowed offenders who committed crimes as juveniles to petition for parole after serving just 15 years.

The intent align Missouri law with evolving Supreme Court precedent about juvenile rehabilitation and the diminished culpability of adolescent offenders.

The problem the law was poorly drafted.

It applied broadly to many juvenile offenders including those convicted of secondderee murder.

That meant Alyssa Bamante, who had been expected to serve at least 35 years before parole eligibility, suddenly became eligible after just 15 years.

15 years from her 2012 conviction, 2027.

But with good time credits and time served pre-sentencing, she could potentially become eligible as early as 2024.

Elizabeth’s family was horrified.

This was not justice.

This was not what the court had intended.

This was not what they had been told.

Alyssa was supposed to be in prison for at least 35 years.

Now she might be parrolled after 15.

Unacceptable.

Patty Price began advocating for a change to the law.

She lobbied state legislators.

She gave media interviews.

She appeared at public hearings.

She told Elizabeth’s story over and over demanding that seconddegree murder convictions be excluded from the early parole provisions.

On July 8th, 2024, Alyssa Bamante appeared via video from Chilikothy Correctional Center for her first parole hearing.

She had served approximately 12 years of her sentence with credit for time served pre-sentencing.

Elizabeth’s family attended to oppose her release.

Patty Price, siblings, extended family members all drove to Chilikothy to speak at the hearing.

Parole hearings in Missouri are not public.

Specific details of what was said are not available.

But Elizabeth’s stepfather, Gary Bimboom, later told reporters that Alyssa described how and why she killed Elizabeth with details that were not allowed at her trial.

The suppressed portions of her confession, the graphic details.

The family had to hear it all again.

In Alyssa’s own words, Alyssa reportedly expressed remorse.

She described the psychiatric treatment she had received in prison.

She claimed she was no longer the disturbed 15-year-old who committed murder.

She had matured.

She had changed.

She had been rehabilitated.

She deserved a second chance.

The parole board considered several factors.

The nature of the crime, the amount of time served, Alyssa’s institutional behavior, her mental health status, risk assessments, and input from victim’s families.

On July 22nd, 2024, the Missouri Board of Probation and Parole announced their decision.

Parole denied.

Alyssa Bamante would remain in prison.

Her next parole hearing was scheduled for 2029.

Remarkably, Governor Mike Parson signed Senate Bill 754 into law on July 9th, 2024, just one day after Alyssa’s parole hearing.

The bill amended Missouri’s juvenile sentencing laws to exclude secondderee murder convictions from the early parole provisions.

Elizabeth’s family had advocated for calling it Elizabeth’s Law.

While the official legislation doesn’t bear that name, it represents a direct response to the Bamante case and the unintended consequences of Senate Bill 26.

Under the new law, offenders convicted of secondderee murder as juveniles are no longer eligible for parole after 15 years.

They must serve the full sentence imposed by the court.

For Alyssa, that means the original calculation applies approximately 35 years minimum before parole eligibility, potentially much longer.

Even if Alyssa is eventually granted parole on her life sentence, she still must serve the full 30 years for armed criminal action.

Those sentences are consecutive.

The parole board can release her on one sentence, but the other remains.

She cannot be fully free until both sentences are served or she’s parrolled on both.

With good time credits, the earliest Alyssa could potentially be fully released is approximately 2015 when she would be 65 years old.

If parole is repeatedly denied, she could remain in prison for the rest of her natural life.

As of January 2026, Alyssa Bamante remains incarcerated at Chilikathy Correctional Center.

She is 31 years old.

She has been in prison for over 14 years.

Prison records indicate she has maintained relatively good behavior in recent years.

She participates in some prison programs.

She works a prison job.

She follows the rules.

Her mental health appears more stable than in her early years of incarceration, though she continues to receive psychiatric treatment and medication.

She has no social media presence.

She has no public voice.

She exists only as inmate number 1249190 Missouri Department of Corrections.

Elizabeth’s family continues to mark October 21st every year.

Memorial visuals at Elizabeth’s grave.

Pink and purple balloons released into the sky.

Prayers, poems, remembrances of the girl who would have been 26 years old now.

Patty Price has become an advocate for victim’s rights and for improving mental health screening for adolescence.

She speaks publicly about Elizabeth’s case, hoping it might prevent similar tragedies, hoping other parents might recognize warning signs earlier, hoping the system might intervene more effectively next time.

Looking back at the Elizabeth Olton case, one fact stands out above all others.

The warning signs were everywhere.

They were obvious.

They were public.

They were ignored.

Alyssa Booamonte listed killing people as a hobby on her YouTube profile.

Not hidden, not coded.

right there in plain text.

This should have triggered an investigation.

School officials should have been notified.

Law enforcement should have been contacted.

Mental health professionals should have intervened.

None of that happened.

She posted videos showing herself deliberately hurting herself and encouraging her younger brothers to do the same.

That’s not teenage rebellion.

That’s not normal adolescent boundary testing.

That’s sadism.

That’s a clear indication of dangerous pathology.

Her bedroom walls were covered with disturbing writings and drawings, some apparently in blood.

Her diary contained entries about wanting to know what murder feels like, about wanting to burn down houses with families inside, about exploding and killing someone if she didn’t find an outlet for her rage.

These weren’t subtle hints.

These were explicit statements of violent intent.

Friends heard her say she wondered what it would be like to kill someone.

They dismissed it as attention-seeking.

Maybe it was, but maybe it was also a genuine expression of her thoughts.

A warning that should have been taken seriously.

The question haunts everyone who examines this case.

Why didn’t anyone do anything? How did a 15year-old with such obvious violent ideiation, such clear warning signs, fall through every crack in the system? Alyssa Bamonte was in the mental health system.

After her suicide attempt in 2007, she was hospitalized for 10 days.

She received ongoing counseling through Pathways Community Behavioral Healthcare.

She was prescribed psychiatric medications.

The system knew she was troubled.

The system was supposedly helping her.

But clearly, it wasn’t enough.

Mental health professionals saw her regularly.

They knew about her self harm.

They knew about her depression.

They knew about her dark thoughts and violent fantasies.

But apparently they either didn’t recognize the severity of the danger she posed or they recognized it but felt unable to act due to confidentiality laws and involuntary commitment standards.

Missouri law, like most states laws, requires mental health professionals to breach confidentiality and warn potential victims only if the threat is specific and credible.

I wonder what it would be like to kill someone is disturbing but not specific.

I’m going to kill Elizabeth Olton would have been specific.

Alyssa apparently never made that specific threat, at least not in any way that could be documented or proven.

The lawsuit against Pathways raised the question, should the standard be different? Should violent fantasies by someone with Alyssa’s history trigger mandatory intervention even without specific threats? Should mental health professionals heir on the side of overintervention rather than underintervention when dealing with potentially dangerous adolescence? These are difficult questions with no easy answers.

Over intervention means violating patient confidentiality, potentially destroying therapeutic relationships and potentially committing people involuntarily when they pose no actual danger.

Under intervention means sometimes failing to prevent violence that could have been stopped.

The mental health system tries to balance these competing interests.

In Alyssa’s case, the balance was wrong.

The system underintered and Elizabeth Olton paid the price.

Alyssa’s Prozac dosage was increased approximately 2 weeks before she murdered Elizabeth.

This timing is suggestive though not conclusive.

Medical research has documented that SSRI antid-depressants can cause increased agitation, impulsivity, and suicidal ideiation in adolescence, particularly when starting the medication or changing dosage.

The FDA requires blackbox warnings on SSRIs for this reason.

In rare cases, these medications can trigger manic or psychotic episodes.

Did the Prozac increase cause Alyssa to murder Elizabeth? Almost certainly not directly.

The evidence of permeditation, the graves dug 5 days before the murder, suggests this was planned before any medication effects would have fully manifested.

But did the medication contribute? Did it lower her inhibitions? Did it make her more impulsive? Did it push her over the edge from fantasizing about murder to actually committing murder? We don’t know.

We can’t know.

What we do know, adolescent psychiatric medication is complicated.

Brains are still developing.

Medications can have unexpected effects.

Close monitoring is essential.

Changes in medication should be accompanied by increased supervision and checkins.

In Alyssa’s case, the dosage was increased and apparently there was no corresponding increase in monitoring or supervision.

Nobody noticed any change in her behavior.

Nobody intervened.

2 weeks later, Elizabeth was dead.

The Alysa Bamonte case became a focal point in the national debate about juvenile justice, adolescent brain development, and appropriate sentencing for crimes committed by minors.

On one side, advocates for harsh punishment.

They argue that premeditated murder, regardless of the offender’s age, deserves severe punishment.

Society must be protected.

Victims and their families deserve justice.

Some crimes are so heinous that rehabilitation is impossible or irrelevant.

Alyssa Bamante planned a murder, executed it, and showed no remorse until caught.

She deserves to spend her life in prison.

On the other side, advocates for rehabilitation.

They argue that adolescent brains are fundamentally different from adult brains.

The prefrontal cortex, responsible for impulse control and judgment, doesn’t fully mature until the mid20s.

Adolescents are more impulsive, more susceptible to peer pressure, less able to consider long-term consequences.

They have greater capacity for change and rehabilitation than adults.

Even someone who commits a terrible crime at 15 might become a completely different person by 30 or 40.

Life sentences for juveniles deny that capacity for change and growth.

The US Supreme Court has increasingly sided with the rehabilitation argument.

In Roer versus Simmons 2005, the court banned the death penalty for juveniles.

In Graham versus Florida 2010, the court banned life without parole for juvenile non-homicide offenses.

In Miller versus Alabama, 2012, the court banned mandatory life without parole for juvenile homicide offenses.

In Montgomery versus Louisiana, 2016, the court made Miller retroactive.

The trajectory is clear.

The Supreme Court believes juveniles should generally be treated differently from adults in the criminal justice system, even when they commit serious crimes.

Missouri’s evolving laws reflect this tension.

Senate Bill 26 extended parole eligibility to many juvenile offenders.

Then Senate Bill 754 pulled back, excluding secondderee murder.

The state is still trying to figure out the right balance.

Alyssa Bamante sits at the center of this debate.

Does she deserve a second chance? Does she deserve parole after 35 or 40 years? Or should she remain in prison for life regardless of her age when she committed the crime? There’s no objectively correct answer.

It depends on your philosophy of punishment, your belief in rehabilitation, your assessment of risk, your prioritization of victim’s rights versus offenders rights.

One question has never been answered.

Who was the second grave for? Alyssa dug two graves 5 days before she murdered Elizabeth.

She used one, the other remained empty.

Investigators asked her repeatedly, “Who was the second grave for?” She never gave a clear answer.

Some theories.

Theory one, Emma, her six-year-old halfsister.

The drawing in Alyssa’s bedroom showed a figure with slash marks labeled Emma.

Maybe Emma was the intended first victim, but the opportunity didn’t arise, so Alyssa took Elizabeth instead.

Theory two, one of her twin brothers, Nathaniel or Joseph.

Alyssa had posted videos showing herself encouraging them to touch an electric fence, laughing as they got shocked.

Maybe she saw them as potential victims.

Theory three, Elizabeth was always the only intended victim, but Alyssa dug two graves as part of her fantasy, part of her preparation, part of creating the ritual.

She was role-playing being a serial killer.

One grave wasn’t enough psychologically.

Theory four, Alyssa planned to kill two people that day.

When only Elizabeth showed up, she proceeded with one murder.

If Emma had stayed or if one of her brothers had been there, she might have killed them, too.

Theory five, the second grave was for herself.

She planned to kill Elizabeth and then kill herself.

But after murdering Elizabeth, she lost her nerve and didn’t go through with her own suicide.

We don’t know.

Alyssa never explained.

Maybe she doesn’t know herself.

Maybe the second grave was just impulse, something she did without clear reason.

Or maybe she knows exactly who it was for and chose never to reveal it.

That empty grave remains one of the most chilling aspects of the case.

It suggests Elizabeth might not have been Alyssa’s only intended victim.

It suggests if she had not been caught, she might have killed again.

The hardest question, could Elizabeth’s murder have been prevented? If people had acted differently, if the system had worked better, if warning signs had been taken seriously, would Elizabeth still be alive? Almost certainly yes.

If school officials had seen Alyssa’s YouTube profile listing killing people as a hobby and reported it, intervention might have occurred.

If Alyssa’s friends had reported her statements about wondering what murder feels like, investigation might have followed.

If mental health professionals had recognized the severity of her violent ideiation and pursued more aggressive treatment, hospitalization, or even involuntary commitment, she might have been prevented from having the opportunity to kill.

If her grandparents had monitored her social media more closely, read her diary, searched her room, found the disturbing content, they might have sought help.

If anyone at any point had taken the warning signs seriously enough to act, Elizabeth would likely be alive today.

But nobody did.

Everyone saw pieces of the puzzle, but nobody put them together.

Everyone thought someone else would handle it.

Everyone assumed it was just teenage drama, just attention-seeking behavior, not genuine danger.

The lesson: Take warning signs seriously.

Violent ideiation and adolescence, especially when combined with access to weapons, history of self harm, social isolation, and explicit statements about wanting to hurt others, should trigger immediate intervention.

Better to overreact to a false alarm than to underreact to a genuine threat.

Alyssa Bamante’s defense attorneys emphasized her traumatic childhood.

Abandoned by drugaddicted mother, absent violent father.

Witnessing mother’s overdose at age six.

Raised by grandparents who tried their best but couldn’t undo years of damage.

This trauma is real.

It shaped Alyssa.

It contributed to her mental illness.

It’s part of the explanation for how she became capable of murder.

But trauma is not an excuse.

Millions of people experience childhood trauma.

Millions of people are abandoned by parents, witness violence, grow up in dysfunction.

The vast majority do not become murderers.

Trauma may explain behavior, but it doesn’t justify it.

It doesn’t absolve responsibility.

Elizabeth Olton experienced trauma, too.

Her father was incarcerated.

Her mother struggled financially to raise five children alone.

Elizabeth faced hardships, but she responded with kindness, with joy, with dreams of performing and bringing happiness to others.

Two children, both facing difficulty, one became a killer, one became a victim.

Trauma doesn’t determine outcomes.

Choices do.

Alyssa Bamante made evil choices.

She is responsible for those choices.

Elizabeth Olton was 9 years old when she died.

She never got to grow up.

Never got to perform in her school play.

Never got to go to prom or graduate or fall in love or have children or become the person she might have been.

But her legacy lives on.

Her case led to increased awareness about adolescent mental health warning signs.

Schools and mental health providers across Missouri and nationally reviewed their protocols for identifying and intervening with atrisisk youth.

Her case contributed to changes in Missouri law regarding juvenile sentencing and parole eligibility, ensuring similar offenders face appropriate consequences.

Her case brought attention to the limitations of mental health confidentiality laws and sparked debate about duty to warning cases involving juvenile violent ideiation.

Her family’s advocacy work has helped other victims families navigate the criminal justice and mental health systems.

Every year on October 21st, Elizabeth is remembered not just by her family, but by the community of St.

Martins, by victim’s rights advocates, by people across the country who followed her case and were moved by her story.

She was a little girl who loved pink, who loved singing, who loved performing, who dreamed of being on stage.

She brought joy to everyone who knew her.

Her death was senseless and cruel, but her memory inspires people to be better, to pay attention, to protect children, to never take a child’s safety for granted.

The Elizabeth Olton case offers no easy answers.

It raises more questions than it resolves.

How do we balance mental health confidentiality with public safety? How do we treat violent ideiation in adolescence without either underintering or overintervening? How do we sentence juvenile offenders in ways that account for both their diminished culpability and the severity of their crimes? How do we identify warning signs early enough to prevent violence? These questions don’t have simple solutions.

They require ongoing dialogue among mental health professionals, educators, law enforcement, policy makers, victims advocates, and the public.

What we know for certain, ignoring warning signs doesn’t work.

Assuming someone else will handle the problem doesn’t work.

Hoping troubled adolescence will simply grow out of dangerous behavior doesn’t work.

We need better mental health screening in schools.

We need clearer protocols for when to breach confidentiality and warn potential victims.

We need more resources for families dealing with mentally ill children.

We need better training for teachers, counselors, and others who work with youth to recognize signs of dangerous pathology.

We need a culture where reporting concerns is encouraged, not stigmatized.

We’re saying, “I’m worried about this kid,” leads to appropriate investigation and intervention, not dismissal or accusations of overreacting.

Most of all, we need to remember Elizabeth Olton.

Remember that behind every statistic about juvenile crime, behind every legal debate about sentencing, behind every discussion of mental health policy, there are real people, real victims, real families destroyed by preventable violence.

It has now been over 15 years since Elizabeth Olton was murdered.

October 21st, 2009 feels both recent and ancient.

The world has changed.

Technology has evolved.

Laws have shifted.

But Elizabeth’s family’s pain remains fresh.

Patty Price still visits Elizabeth’s grave regularly.

She still celebrates what would have been Elizabeth’s birthday every December 15th.

She still wonders what her daughter would have become.

Would Elizabeth have pursued performing arts? Would she have gone to college? Who would she have married? What children might she have had? Those questions will never be answered.

Elizabeth’s entire adult life was stolen from her at age 9.

stolen for no reason other than satisfying one person’s curiosity about what murder feels like.

Alyssa Bamante will face the parole board again in 2029.

She will be 35 years old.

She will have been in prison for 17 years.

She will argue she has been rehabilitated, that she deserves a second chance, that the 15year-old who committed murder no longer exists.

Elizabeth’s family will be there to oppose her release.

They will argue that no amount of time can make up for what Alyssa took from them.

They will argue that Alyssa should never walk free.

They will tell Elizabeth’s story once again, ensuring the parole board understands exactly what was lost.

The parole board will make their decision based on risk assessments, institutional behavior, mental health evaluations, and countless other factors.

They will balance rehabilitation against public safety, mercy against justice, hope against caution.

Whatever they decide, Elizabeth Olton will still be dead.

Nothing will bring her back.

Nothing will undo the events of October 21st, 2009.

The Elizabeth Olton case is at its core a story about evil.

About the capacity for human beings, even young human beings, to inflict unimaginable cruelty, about the fragility of innocence and the ease with which it can be destroyed.

But it’s also a story about warning signs missed and systems failed.

About the importance of taking threats seriously, of intervening when something seems wrong, of protecting vulnerable children even when it’s difficult or uncomfortable.

It’s a story about the limits of rehabilitation and the complexity of justice.

About balancing accountability with mercy, punishment with hope, victim’s rights with offenders humanity.

Most importantly, it’s a story about a little girl who deserved so much better, who deserved to grow up, to chase her dreams, to live her life, who was denied all of that by someone who should have been kept away from her.

Elizabeth K.

Olton, December 15th, 1999 to October 21st, 2009.

Gone too soon, never forgotten.

May her memory be a blessing.

May her story inspire change.

May her loss remind us all to protect the vulnerable, to recognize warning signs, and to never assume someone else will handle the problem.

Rest in peace, Elizabeth.

You deserved so much better.