Two held in killing of man over dog

Months before her son's death, Vivian Jones was introduced to the man police say is his killer.

Her son, Bobby Wilkerson, introduced Michael Patterson to her as a friend.

He was the man who sold her son a pit bull. The man who lived next door with his mother, a woman Jones had befriended and with whom she was sharing her faith.

"If you looked at this kid, you'd never think how cold-blooded he is," Jones said of Patterson, whom police arrested along with Dale Denton, both previously of Las Vegas, in connection with Wilkerson's slaying in August.

Denton, 22, was arrested Dec. 15 on charges of murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and discharging a firearm at or into a structure. Patterson, who fled to Chicago, is awaiting extradition to Las Vegas and will face similar charges, according to Lt. Lew Roberts, head of the Metropolitan Police Department's homicide unit.

"Unfortunately, this guy lost his life over a dog," Roberts said.

Wilkerson bought a pit bull puppy from Patterson over the summer because he wanted a pet and finally had room for one, his mother said.

He had purchased another dog, named Cimba, from Patterson the year before but was forced to return it after moving to an apartment that didn't allow large animals.

"He found out ... Cimba had puppies, and he wanted one," Jones said. "He saw the litter, and there was one that looked exactly like Cimba; that's why he wanted that dog."

Wilkerson, 28, had given Patterson $100 for the animal and promised to pay an additional $150.

After struggling to make payments, Wilkerson arranged to return the dog on Aug. 29, Jones said.

That evening, Wilkerson's aunt saw her nephew argue with a someone over the phone about the dog. After hanging up, Wilkerson told his aunt that the caller was "trippin' about the dog."

Wilkerson said he made a deal to give the animal back in exchange for the $100 he had already paid, an arrest warrant for Patterson and Denton states.

He then left his aunt's house without his usual smile, taking with him the pit bull, two bags of dog food and the puppy's paperwork, the warrant states. Wilkerson went to the parking lot of the Centro Evangelistico Palabra Viva Church on Mojave Road, near Desert Inn Road, where police believe the men had agreed to meet.

Wilkerson left about 9:40 p.m. and at 10:15 p.m., he was pronounced dead, Jones said.

"He told them just to wait. He ... would have gotten paid Friday. ... All they had to do was wait just two more days and he would have gave them their money," she said.

Church surveillance from that night showed Wilkerson walking up to a car in the church parking lot and speaking with someone in the passenger seat.

Then Wilkerson returned to his vehicle. A man from the other car followed and, as Wilkerson got back in the driver's seat, someone shot at his car's windshield, the round hitting Wilkerson in the head, the warrant states.

As the gunman and the driver fled, Wilkerson stumbled out of the car and died, the warrant states. The puppy was left in Wilkerson's back seat.

"I wish I could have been there to tell him 'Don't be scared. I'm here with you. God's gonna come and you're gonna be OK,'" Jones said. "But, they took that from me."

For the past four months, Jones has been praying that police would find her son's killers before his Dec. 25 birthday.

"I don't want no family to go through what our family did. I wouldn't want to wish that on my worst enemy," she said. "No mother should bury her child, especially in such a violent way. I didn't even have time to think about it. There was no closure."

Today, Jones can't escape the memories of her son, a happy-go-lucky guy who always lit up the room with his goofy "Kool-Aid grin" and silly dance moves. A wall in her apartment kitchen has become a shrine to the man who was born like a "big bazooka" at 10 pounds, 11 ounces and walked at 9 months.

"We always had to open his present on Christmas Eve because he always said, 'Everybody would get a present on my birthday, but I don't get one on theirs,' so I made sure that every Christmas Eve he opened a present of his own to make it special."

Of late, the grieving mother has learned that for life to go on she has to see herself as a new person. She's no longer a mother of four but a mother of three. This harsh realization keeps her going.

"You gotta know tomorrow is not promised to nobody," she said. "You gotta tell the people in your life that are important to you that you love them. You gotta do it now 'cause you may not have a chance tomorrow."

Contact reporter Beth Walton at Bwalton@reviewjournal.com or (702) 383-0279.