Crime Stories with Nancy Grace - Shattered Souls: Anger

Episode Date: December 6, 2021

Join veteran forensic investigator Karen Smith on the Shattered Souls podcast! Trina Joseph’s tragic murder revealed a history of domestic abuse at the hands of her husband Aubrey. It’s not a whodunit, but the evidence from the crime scene would show the calculated, deliberate way that Aubrey killed her—especially one crucial piece of evidence that multiple officers, detectives, and forensic investigators nearly missed. Subscribe to the Shattered Souls podcast and catch up on all of Season 1 available now:Apple PodcastiHeartSpotifyMusic: The New Real by Sam Johnson at www.samjohnsonlive.com Learn more about your ad-choices at https://www.iheartpodcastnetwork.comSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is an iHeart Podcast. He's got blood on him. Probably going to need ammortism medics and probably several police units to go over here. What's he breathing when he left? I don't know. He doesn't know. They're making forced entry now. They're already calling for homicide. So long, farewell, to what you thought would go so well. You can hold on like hell, but it doesn't matter how you feel. This is the new real. this is the new real.

This is the new real. This is Shattered Souls. I'm your host, Karen Smith. This podcast contains graphic language and is not suitable for children. This is the new real. Welcome back. This is Episode 7. Domestic violence calls are a daily issue for police officers. They're often also the most dangerous.

People are out of control. Someone trying to leave while the other is preventing them from doing so. Stalking behaviors, threats, hitting, smacking, pushing, punching, kicking. And if there's a gun or other weapon involved, the danger increases exponentially, both for the people involved and for the responding police officers. Homicides committed by intimate partners is on the rise. In 2017, the FBI reported that 2,237 people died from intimate partner violence, and 1,527 of those victims were women. In the United States, around 20 people per minute are physically abused by an intimate partner. That means over 10 million men and women every year.

On a typical day, domestic violence hotlines field over 20,000 calls. It's a very serious problem, and sometimes there are very serious and very tragic consequences. Aubrey and Trina Joseph were no stranger to domestic disputes. They'd been married just a little over a year, and Aubrey Joseph's controlling behavior continued to worsen through the cycle of violence, physical abuse, guilt, excuses and an apology, promises to never do it again, escalation, physical abuse, and so on. Most of the time, like many domestic violence survivors, Trina chose the path of least resistance and just gave in to his wishes.

And that cycle resulted in tragedy early in the morning of August 1st, 2009. The Josephs lived in a modest one-bedroom loft on the city's south side, near the University of North Florida campus. College students and other 20-somethings occupied most of the surrounding apartments, and police were often called to the complex to sweep for underage drinking at house parties, and incidents of violent crime were few and far between. I'd been there many times at college parties, clearing out the parking lot, getting rid of drunk kids, and maybe locking a couple of them up

when their mouth wrote a check that their butt couldn't cash. Trina Joseph was working at a nursing and rehabilitation clinic just down the road on Beach Boulevard. She began work early in the morning hours, and she became really good friends with several of her co-workers. She was described as quiet, reserved, and very kind. On that Friday night in 2009, Trina and Aubrey joined a couple of her work friends for drinks at Jim's Place, a local bar on Arlington Expressway. Aubrey was scheduled to leave

the next morning for New Jersey to settle a child support issue with a former spouse. Aubrey wasn't working very much, and he depended on Trina for financial support. He had a part-time job at Popeye's, but that wasn't even enough to meet the requirements of his prior support payments, and he had to go east to sort all that out. The drinks party was supposed to be a going-away affair, since he would be gone for a little over a week or so. Trina's friend came over to the apartment, where they had a drink or two before leaving for the get-together at Jim's place. They rode in the friend's car, and for the first hour or so, everything seemed fine. More drinks were enjoyed by everybody,

and Aubrey separated himself from the group, and he planted himself at a barstool across the room. He hawked, watching Trina Joseph's every move. Trina and her friends attempted to get Aubrey to join the table several times, but he refused and continued to sit by himself, monitoring the situation from afar. He was looking for an excuse to get angry, to make himself the center of attention and once again make Trina Joseph his subordinate. But Trina was having a good time. She was dressed in a green and tan outfit, had her hair done and her nails done, and she felt good about herself.

For the first time in a while, she laughed and smiled, enjoying a night out with her friends. Jim's place is a neighborhood haunt with many of the same people bellying up to the bar night after night, and Trina's ex-boyfriend was there. He approached her, and he made a physical gesture toward Trina by placing his hand on her thigh. And she didn't appreciate it, and she shoved his hand away. Aubrey saw it from his spot at the bar. The friend pulled Trina into the ladies' room, which is a classic move to avert any further interaction

and get her away from her ex-boyfriend. And while they were talking in the bathroom, Trina's other friend hurried in and told them that Aubrey was picking a fight with the ex-boyfriend by the bar. Trina and the other two women quickly exited and found Aubrey nose-to-nose with the ex. Trina was having none of this. She inserted herself between the two men and diffused the situation, but the bartender came over and told Trina and Aubrey they had to leave immediately. They walked outside and Trina's friend gave her the keys to her car and said she would catch a ride later. Trina and Aubrey left the bar, but they didn't go back to the apartment. They sat in the friend's vehicle for over two hours. Trina texted her friend and told her they were still outside.

Her friend came out and found them in the parking lot. Her friend was concerned and followed Trina and Aubrey back to the apartment complex in the other friend's truck. It was now around 10 30 at night. In the apartment complex parking lot, Trina's friend said that her cell phone wasn't working, so Trina handed over hers and said she would get it back at work on Monday. Her friend asked if she was going to be okay and Trina said yeah and said that Aubrey would be leaving for New Jersey the next day so everything would have a chance to calm down. Aubrey overheard that comment and he replied, I'm not leaving. And Trina became upset and she replied, oh, you're not leaving now? And Trina started walking toward the apartment door and her friend walked over to Aubrey Joseph and said,

don't put your hands on her. And his response shocked her. He didn't immediately say, I would never do that, or are you kidding? His response was, she really hurt me. And as an afterthought, he said, but I would never touch her. The friend got in her car and drove away with Trina's cell phone. She would later testify that they were no longer arguing and she felt the situation had been sufficiently diffused. Unfortunately, it was just beginning. A witness who lived in an adjacent apartment would testify that he heard a very loud argument

on the sidewalk outside of the apartment. He looked out of his second-story window and saw Trina Joseph walking toward her apartment with what appeared to be a key in her hand. Aubrey was tracking her close behind, screaming at her, and he said this was around 11 p.m. Two hours later, a teenager in another apartment was awakened by screams. She said she heard a woman cry out, please stop, and a lower voice along with thumping on the wall. It upset her so badly that she ran downstairs and told her father, who was an ex-cop. He told her not to worry about it and go back to

bed. She went back upstairs, but she couldn't sleep. She kept looking out the window because she knew, in her gut, that something bad was going to happen. And she was right. Trina Joseph sat on the recliner in the living room. She had changed out of her party clothes and into a nightshirt and shorts. They continued to argue about his trip to New Jersey. Aubrey said he wasn't going, and Trina insisted that he get on the bus the next day.

Aubrey was enraged at the ex-boyfriend's actions and accused Trina of being unfaithful, saying that she only wanted him to leave so that she could party while he was gone. She told him he was wrong, that he needed to sort out his child support problems and take responsibility. Aubrey's rage continued to build, and he grabbed a folding knife. He pushed Trina's neck into the recliner cushion and plunged the knife into her chest. Trina screamed, so he put his hand over her mouth and shoved the knife in again and again,

and she pushed back with her hands, fighting him with all of her might, but he was just too heavy. She got weaker with each assault. She blindly grabbed for the blade that continued to plunge into her body. Unsatisfied, Aubrey pushed himself up and went to the kitchen to retrieve the 12-inch butcher knife from the block. Trina was dying and unable to fight back. He put his knee into the cushion of the chair and shoved the blade into Trina's jaw and pulled it back out, following with another strike to her temple. The knife blade broke away from the handle as he pulled it out and both pieces tumbled onto the carpet. The fatal damage was done.

As the life drained from Trina's body, Aubrey went into the kitchen two more times to retrieve steak knives from the same block and continue his fury, stabbing her again and again in her face, her chest, her neck, her stomach, her shoulder. She was left with 16 stab wounds inflicted by four different knives. And her body slumped over the side of the recliner, and blood spatter covered the half wall separating the living room from the kitchen, and blood flowed from her temple, dripping onto the carpet below, until her heart finally stopped. Aubrey Joseph placed the bloody folding knife on the fireplace mantle. He went upstairs, changed his clothes, and called his sister in New Jersey. She was a 911 dispatcher. His sister quickly put a sergeant on the line, and he called the Jacksonville Police Dispatch as Aubrey left the apartment and left Trina Joseph dead on the recliner. 737 St. John's Road, apartment 1813.

You're probably going to need ambulance, medics, and probably several police units to go over there. I believe a party there was stabbed multiple times. Possibly stabbed his wife multiple times. Possibly happened inside the apartment. Ms. Aubrey, A-U-B-R-E-Y, last name Joseph. And he said he stabbed his wife? He would be the actor. I'm. And he said he stabbed his wife? He would be the actor. I'm sorry, he said he stabbed his wife?

Yes, multiple times. What time did this happen? About 1.30. This morning? Yes. 45 minutes ago. About 45 minutes ago? Yes.

He has no weapons. He told us he has no weapons, as far as we know. Right. He hung up with his sister,, as far as we know. Right. He hung up with his sister, and he called an elder from his church. Jackson, I'm wondering. Yes, I just had a gentleman call me this morning who was an acquaintance of mine and told me that he just killed his wife and he was heading to the police station. And I wanted to report it. What's his name? and told me that he just killed his wife and he was heading to the police station. And I wanted to report it.

What's his name? Aubrey Joseph. And he called me to tell me he killed his wife. He was having some problems with his wife. How did he say he killed her? He said he stabbed her up. Aubrey was well on his way to the police memorial building at that point, but he went to the wrong set of doors. The dispatcher desperately tried to get a location by description

via the New Jersey sergeant on the line with Aubrey and the dispatcher. Is he at the jail? Sounds like he's giving himself up. I mean, it sounds like he's trying to get himself up. I understand, I understand. It'll be fine, I just need to know where he's at. He's talking to somebody now. He's been talking to security. Who are you talking to right now?

What color is his uniform? What color is his uniform? What color is the uniform that the security guard's wearing? He's at the jail. He's not at the PMB. He's got to be banging on the door by J1, J2, because he had somebody pick him up. He's talking to somebody over there. Aubrey was standing in front of J1, the jail courtroom. It was 2 o'clock in the morning.

The night officer saw him outside and allowed him into the lobby, and when she asked what he wanted, he said, I killed my wife hey this is lieutenant donington over the jail yes sir we just had a guy walk in our public reception area told my public reception officer that he just killed his wife he's got blood on him. We had an officer going around there armed to handcuff him. He's locked in. He can't go anywhere. But we're going to need the patrolman from here to start an investigation. Yes, sir.

We believe we have a scene in another area of town, and he was supposed to come on downtown. Since you have him in custody there, we'll go ahead and get Zone 1 units over there. Do you have a name on them or anything? No. No? Okay, that's fine. You have them in custody, right? Right. He popped into our public reception office,

and I've got our public reception officers armed, and I've got another officer getting his weapon and going around. He's got to go around the building. I told him to put him in handcuffs just to be on the safe side. Aubrey Joseph sat on a bench and waited for police officers to arrive and take him into custody at gunpoint. Meanwhile, patrol officers received the priority one call from dispatch. A crime scene unit detective was one of the closest officers to

the scene and he arrived quickly along with a patrol officer. They approached the front door and heard nothing. The patrol officer knocked as the crime scene detective looked through the blinds. The kitchen light was on and he could see Trina Joseph slumped on the recliner. Jennifer, did you get any report back from the apartment complex yet? They're making forced entry. They're making forced entry. They're making forced entry now. Yep. They're making forced entry on that?

It's quantified. Hey, Sarge? Yes, Sarge. Yeah, they're forcing entry, and they advise it is life-threatening, and it's quantified, I'm afraid, Sarah. The crime scene detective kicked the door in, and they both went inside with guns drawn. They quickly cleared the apartment, realized that Trina was gone,

and called for a supervisor and homicide. Aubrey Joseph was now in custody and was being led to the homicide office for questioning. The lead detective's pager went off and he headed downtown to do the interview. My landline phone rang just after three in the morning, disturbing a very rare deep slumber. My on-call hours didn't begin until four o'clock, so there was really no reason for work to be contacting me unless there was a local or national emergency. After September 11th, any phone call after normal waking hours made me panic.

Hello? Detective Smith, this is HQ. Sorry to wake you, but there's a homicide and you're needed at the scene, the voice said. I looked at the clock. I'm not on call yet. Where are the midnight units? Yes, ma'am, the duty sergeant requested me to call you. Will you be en route? I was groggy, and I propped myself on a pillow, and I said, midnights are working, right? She said, yes, ma'am, and then she went silent. I waited another few seconds for more info, but nothing happened, though it wasn't a question of whether or not I would respond, but a command. Okay, I'm on my way. I ran through a cold shower to wake up, and I stopped for coffee. It took about 40 minutes to drive across town with no traffic,

and thank goodness I stopped for fuel before my last shift ended. I pulled into the apartment complex, and I took a right toward the crime scene. Patrol cars were parked at either end of the parking lot and yellow tape cordoned off the area between two buildings. Two crime scene unit vans were sitting there with their rear doors open by the sidewalk, so obviously two detectives had been called out and were already working the scene.

And I thought, what the hell am I doing here? I left all of my equipment in the van and I walked down the sidewalk toward the apartment. The sergeant stood just outside the door threshold and sipped coffee from her travel mug as both of the midnight detectives came out the front door. There she is, the sergeant said. Hey, thanks for coming. And I said, yeah, well, I was told you requested me, but it looks like these guys have it already. Oh, they're leaving, so get their notes so you can take over. Wait, what? Wait, they started an investigation. Now they're leaving. Why? Listen, it was one thing to call me out early. It was

quite another to hand me another investigator's half-finished work. And she said, well, they've only done overall photographs. The medical examiner investigator's on her way, so you shouldn't be here long. She indicated to one of the midnight guys and said he's leaving for vacation in a few hours, so he needs to go home early. I became indignant. Not only had I been called out early to a murder to finish someone else's work, I was now being informed that the medical examiner investigator was already on her way, and I hadn't even received the courtesy of going inside to survey the scene. And I sighed and shook my head. None of that mattered now. I would have to start from scratch, since all of the testimony and evidence would be my responsibility. My control of

the investigation began the minute I arrived. So I took their notes, and they packed their gear, and they left for the office. The sergeant instructed me to contact her when the scene was released and said she was going home to bed. I was pretty peeved, but at least at this point I would be alone so I could survey the scene on my own time and in my own way. Sometimes I like to start an investigation of an interior exterior scene at the end point and work my way back to the primary location. I had been given very preliminary information about the suspect since this pointed toward a domestic homicide. He fled the area, so I asked the patrol officers if anyone knew where his vehicle had last been parked. The neighbor said that he drove a pickup truck, and he always parked in the first space

next to the curb. So I went over to that empty space, and on the left side next to the white painted line, I saw droplets on the black pavement. Now, these street lamps didn't offer much in the way of light. It could have been oil, brake fluid, any number of substances normally found in a parking lot. So I did a quick color test, and the Q-tip turned teal blue. It was blood. Wonderful. Now my crime scene had to be extended out to the parking lot, since I needed to see if there was a blood trail leading away from the apartment. Now these drops certainly didn't belong to the victim, since they were so far away from the primary crime scene, and they were too large to have originated from any source

other than an open bleeding wound. Now, blood stain pattern analysis is not a perfect science. There's still a lot of information that can be deduced from a single blood drop. Directionality, minimum falling height, size, and a possible source. When blood flows from an open wound, the stains left behind are generally large and follow

a longer path, unlike the limited number of much smaller drops that can be released from a bloody object like a knife. The other detectives had overlooked this evidence, as did that sergeant. As a matter of fact, she had been standing right next to several bloodstains on the sidewalk as she drank her coffee. The alternate light source was on a shelf at the office and my flashlight batteries were low so I borrowed one from a patrol officer. Starting with the tested blood drop in the parking space, I lit up the blacktop and saw three similar stains near the sidewalk. Each one tested positive for blood. These blood drops were crucial to the investigation because if they originated from Aubrey Joseph,

it placed him directly at the primary scene with a bleeding injury. The directionality of the drops showed that the source was moving away from the apartment toward the parking lot. As I worked my way back down the sidewalk toward the apartment door, I found several more drops on the right side of the concrete and in the grass, which meant there was likely an injury on the left hand or arm of the person moving away from the murder scene. The drops ended at the front door. So I made notes, and as I finished my exterior photographs and sample collections, the medical examiner investigator showed up to document and remove Trina's body. I hadn't even set foot inside the apartment,

and I broke the bad news to her. Not a problem. I'll just run and get a coffee. Do you want one? You're asking me if I want coffee? I just handed her money. She left for the nearest open gas station, and I suited up in a Tyvek to go inside. During my initial walkthrough, the lead homicide detective arrived and told me that Aubrey Joseph had turned himself in. He was in the box downtown, being interviewed. I handed the detective another bunny suit and explained the blood trail going out to the empty parking space, and I asked if the suspect had any injuries, so he called the office. Hey, it's me. Do me a favor and see if he's got any injuries, he said. Oh, really? Well, make sure to get photos and swab his hands, thanks.

I'm going to be out here for a while. Does he? I asked as he flipped his phone closed. Yeah, slice on his left finger, he said. We had the suspect in custody, but the forensic evidence needed to be rock solid to make sure that any off-the-wall defenses would be squashed. Trina Joseph remained on the recliner. No resuscitation efforts had been attempted. There were bloodstains everywhere around her body, along with several knives on the floor that would need meticulous documentation. Another folding knife sat on the fireplace mantle on need meticulous documentation. Another folding knife sat on the fireplace mantle on top of a bloodstained Chinese takeout menu. While the

homicide detective viewed items in the kitchen and in the upstairs bedroom, I concentrated on the victim and the surrounding area. It appeared that most of the relevant items were either on her person or on the floor right next to her. The bloody, broken blade of the 12-inch butcher knife was on the carpet just to the right of her body between the chair and a wall, with a steak knife laying crossways on top of it. The silver handle to that butcher knife was about a foot away, and a fourth knife lay by her feet. A pair of bloody silver high-heeled shoes and a black hairpiece were next to it on the floor. Her bare left leg was draped over the arm of the chair, and a crumpled, bloody white tank top was in her lap. Her pink nightshirt was now red, saturated with blood,

and there were rips in the fabric from the stab wounds to her chest. She had a large number of injuries to her face and neck, and a massive flow of blood saturated the cushion above her head. This was going to be a challenge not only to reconstruct, but to digest. The medical examiner investigator came back with our much-needed coffee, and we all took a short break to discuss the timeline and process of the investigation. And based on those preliminary findings, it was going to be several more hours before the body would be ready for removal, so we gulped down our coffee and suited back up. And as we concentrated on Trina's injuries, it became very obvious that she put up a fight. She had several slices on her hands and fingertips,

which indicate that the blade was pulled across her skin as she tried to stop the attack. The investigator held a scale next to each injury and turned Trina's head to the left, and that revealed a heinous stab wound to her right temple that measured two and a half inches wide. Worse, there was evidence of bruising around the periphery that was consistent with the hilt, meaning that Trina was alive when the butcher knife penetrated her head to full depth. The three of us were in disbelief that a person could survive such massive damage. We all stopped talking and just simply focused on the task at hand rather than think about it. As we surveyed each wound, stunned by the absolute viciousness of this attack,

we almost missed some very obvious information revealed by the bloodstain patterns left behind on her body. Sometimes a second and third look can reset the tunnel vision that plagues every investigator in the wake of a cruel and brutal death. So after taking a small break to catch up on my notes, I went back in and I looked at Trina one final time before the removal service transported her for autopsy. I stood back for an overall view of her position, and my eyes focused on our nearly disastrous omission, and I screamed a string of expletives upstairs to the homicide detective. What's wrong, he said, and he ran downstairs to the living room. Look, I said, and pointed at her face. He studied her for about ten seconds, and I waited for the light bulb to turn on. Holy shit. How the hell did we miss that? If you or someone you know is the victim of domestic violence,

please contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE. 1-800-799-S-A-F-E. Next week on Shattered Souls, the conclusion of the Trina Joseph case. This is the new real. Opening music by Sam Johnson at samjohnsonlive.com. Underscore music by Kevin MacLeodJohnsonLive.com. Underscore music by Kevin MacLeod at Incompetech.com. All rights reserved by Angel Heart Productions. This is an iHeart Podcast.