February 24, 2005


One year later, two families struggle without their sons

By Kymberli W. Brady
Staff Writer

Nearly a year after 18-year-old Troy Pollett was stabbed to death, two devastated families struggle to survive in the aftermath.

A solo portrait of Troy Pollett hangs in the family room.

Chalk it up to aggression, intimidation, or a deadly combination of alcohol and testosterone. No matter how you look at it, the early-morning road rage related altercation on March 20, 2004 left one promising young man dead, the other behind bars, and parents on both sides trying to put the pieces of their lives back together—without their sons.

For Steven Pollett, letting go hasn’t been easy, and moving on has been even harder. He admits he hasn’t been able to clean out his son’s room, which remains exactly as he left it that fateful night—right down to the dirty clothes on the floor.

“It’s been really difficult of course,” Pollett admits. “Nobody will even go in there. I’ve actually asked a good friend of mine to come clean it up and take things because at this point in time, I feel like I’m just not going to be able to do it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that—It’s just too hard.”

It’s been a slow mend for Pollett, who has come a long way since those first three months.

“I did nothing—except to try and get through the day,” he admits. “I didn’t work. I didn’t pay bills. I was pretty much a vegetable. I did go to counseling. Slowly but surely, we’re trying…we still don’t have life back together and there’s not a day that has gone by where I don’t think of him at least 20 or 30 times.”

Adding to his ongoing grief are the subtle, almost daily reminders that arrive in the form of telemarketers who ask for Troy by name and mail, including college application forms and a DMV reminder to renew his driver’s license before his 19th birthday Feb. 14.

“The DMV said he never got a ticket and could register by mail,” Pollett says. “What do you do with that? We get telemarketers calling and asking for him and we keep getting application forms from colleges because he was on the senior’s list. His diploma’s been ready and I need to go and get it, but I don’t want to. It’s things like these that pop up and they’re really hard to take.”

Even pizza evokes memories that are almost too painful to bear, including the one they shared that final day, before Troy asked him for some money and walked out the door. He never came home.

“That’s been hard,” Pollett admits. “We used to share one at least once or twice a week. I’ll bet I’ve only had pizza two or three times since then. It’s the day-to-day things, like this, or shouting, “Get up and go to school!” that you don’t think you will miss, but you do.”

Troy’s Place
Looking out his back door, Pollett reflects on the weeks following Troy’s death, where nearly 20 kids showed up to rebuild the backyard gazebo he and his friend Derek Honig collapsed while swinging on a hammock just five days before he died.

“I remember when he called and said, ‘Dad, the gazebo kind of fell over, but don’t worry, my friends and I will rebuild it,’ he explains. “After his death, almost all of his friends came over. It was quite the experience trying to control them and rebuild this gazebo, but it’s nicer than the one we had to begin with.”

Troy’s older brother Josh and his girlfriend Taylor added the final touch, with hand-cut letters, whimsically painted and staggered across the front of the new structure—now the gazebo is called “Troy’s Place.”

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” Pollett exclaims. “They really put in a lot of hard work and love into it.”

Parallel lives intersect violently
According to friends and family, both Troy Pollett and his alleged assailant Anthony Sanchez shared similar traits.

Both came from middle-class upbringings, sported contagious smiles, were well liked, and loved to make people laugh.

Both even experienced their share of rough spots. In 2001, Sanchez served two days in county jail and was put on probation for throwing a beer bottle at a car, while Pollett’s wild side got him expelled from Leland and sent to a continuation school. Sanchez stayed clean after that—he even took part in a police academy program, while Pollett quickly cleaned up his act and returned to Leland after just two semesters.

Their friends also admit that both young men were well-known for standing their ground when provoked—actions and reactions that eventually resulted in one losing his life and the other fighting to save his.

The flip side
At the opposite end of this tragedy is Sanchez’s mother, Patty Melendez, who has spent the past year living in a hell of her own.

“I slept in his room every night for the first two weeks,” she admits. “I just wanted to smell him. Now, there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t wake up thinking about him. He’s always on my mind.”

For now, she takes it one day at a time and credits the support of her co-workers in getting her through the day, along with standing appointments with two therapists, coupled with the medication for depression and anxiety associated with a family torn apart and at each other’s throats.

For strength, Patty Melendez looks back to happier times spent with her son Anthony, shown here with his sister Elizabeth on his 19th birthday.

Sanchez spent the first six months in lockdown on the fourth floor—much of it on suicide watch. It was a very solitary existence that offered a short reprieve every 48 hours for a shower. He is now with the general population and leaves his cell three times each day. In November he filed a motion for reduced bail and asked to be released on his own recognizance. The motion was denied.

Melendez’s life these days revolves around her son. If her $600 monthly phone bill isn’t convincing enough, each Saturday, she gets up at 4:30 a.m. and waits in line at the police station until 7 a.m. to sign up for a visitation appointment. She’ll wait another 45 minutes for her assignment and return home until her appointment later in the day.

Four days before the altercation, Sanchez fulfilled a dream and drove home his first new car, a red 2004 Honda Civic. The dream was a year in the making, using money he had saved from his earnings at the Toll House Hotel in Los Gatos.

“The police took it,” Melendez says. “They still have it and now we’re stuck with $1,000 payments.”
What does she miss the most?

“I miss talking to him, going to movies with him, and going out to dinner with him,” she says. “I miss wrestling with him, and hearing him say, “Mom, do you have 20 bucks?” I miss him on our houseboat vacation. We tried it without him this year, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing’s the same.”

To add salt to the wound, the card she sent to her son for his 23rd birthday was returned.

“They sent it back because it had glitter on it,” she says. “They were afraid it had drugs in it.”

After more than 10 months, Melendez says her son has started to adjust. His time is spent reading the Bible and talking with a priest. But he still cries.

“He asked me if God is still going to let him go to heaven,” she says. “If he gets out, he says he’ll go to church every day.”

Yet, she admits the hardest part is facing Troy’s parents in the courtroom.

“They look like they hate us,” she says. “They shouldn’t hate me or his father. It’s very hard to deal with knowing they’re there and their son is gone forever. I want them to know I’m sorry, but I didn’t do it. It wasn’t my fault.

I’m sure I could never feel what they are feeling, but I do know how it feels to know that my son may never come home.”

Empty arms
Both Pollett and Melendez continue to grieve in different ways. While she faces an uncertain future with her son's incarceration, his is certain. Never will he witness his son go to college, find a successful career, get married, or have children.

“I don't get to see his ups and his downs,” he says. “I have to go through life without him and that's what bothers me most of all.”

Having raised six children, he can't help but wonder how a parent could miss the warning signs.

“I really believe that children are a product of what we do or don’t do,” he says. “I blame a lot of what’s happening on [Sanchez’ mother]—more so than him. I really believe that when your child goes out and stabs somebody else, somewhere along the line, you’ve failed.”

“I understand his anger,” replies Melendez, who argues that Troy, at 18, had no business drinking and being out that late. “But for his sake and the sake of his family, he needs closure. Until you know me, you can’t say something was wrong with my parenting.

“To know that your son has taken somebody’s life is the most terrible thing in the world,” she adds “I’m sorry that he can never hold his son again, but I can’t hold mine either—I can’t even touch him. It’s almost like he died.
Sometimes I wish he did so I wouldn’t have to see him suffer.”

TIMELINE

March 20, 2004
18-year-old Leland High School senior Troy Pollett is stabbed to death following a car chase and ensuing fight that began on Bailey Road and ended on Sleepy Creek Way. His friend, 19-year-old Kris Johnson is stabbed in the abdomen, but survives. Amir Mohboobi, a third passenger is unharmed.

March 21, 2004
Several hours after the incident, 21-year-old Anthony John Sanchez is arrested at his home on suspicion of murder and attempted murder. Sporting a black eye, Sanchez claims self-defense.

March 24, 2004
Sanchez is formally charged with Troy Pollett’s murder and assault with a deadly weapon on Johnson.

March 26, 2004
More than 1,000 people attend a memorial service for Pollett at Almaden Valley Mormon Church on Camden Avenue. Pollett is laid to rest at Oak Hill Cemetery in San Jose.

August 10, 2004
The grand Jury returns a murder indictment against Sanchez, after several failed attempts at a preliminary hearing led deputy district attorney Cameron Bowman to request a grand jury trial and asks for a murder indictment. Trial is set for Sept. 27.

Sept. 27, 2004
The trial is continued to Feb. 28, 2005.

Nov. 3, 2004
Sanchez files a bail reduction motion and asks to be released on his own recognizance. The motion is denied.

Feb. 28, 2005
Another murder case for DA Bowman is scheduled for the same day, which will most likely postpone the trial for weeks, maybe months.