‘Gave My Son A Gun’ Murder Trial — Full Sentencing — GA v. Colin Gray

[00:00:00] Speaker 1: All right, we're all present. I know it's been some time. We're here for the sentencing for Collin Gray, State of Georgia versus Collin Gray. Does the state have any evidence in aggravation or victim impact testimony to present? We have big, we just have some gifts for you. [00:00:36] Speaker 2: Okay. [00:00:37] Speaker 3: We found a couple things late yesterday. All right. We found you have copies of it. I have not seen anything. The motion on merger is to preserve the issue. Okay. One is a sentence. Thank you. The other is a victim, another victim, a character letter from Mr. Gray's sisters. Okay. We've provided copies to the state of law. All right, thank you. [00:00:59] Speaker 1: All right, is it Ms. Brooks, Mr. Smith? Ms. Daniel, I'm sorry. [00:01:13] Speaker 4: So, Judge, the first victim we're going to call is Shana Aspinwall. And we're bringing her now, she is for Shana Aspinwall's wife. And I'm going to go ahead and raise your right hand. And Ms. Aspinwall, I'm going to have you go ahead and raise your right hand. These were affirming testimony about giving and that happening for the court. It's the truth, the whole truth, and then the truth is to help you not. Thank you. Okay. And Ms. Aspinwall, if you'll just state your name for the court and tell the court what you would like them to know regarding sentencing in college grade. [00:02:11] Shana Aspinwall: My name is Shana Aspinwall, and I'm the life of Brady Aspinwall. On September 4th, 2024, my husband left her work, expecting to spend another day doing what he loved, teaching his students, coaching his players, and making a difference in their lives. He never came home. Ricky was the love of my life and the heart of our family. He was an incredibly, he was an incredible husband and an amazing father to our daughters. Everything he did was for us. He celebrated our victories, carried us through our struggles, and made our home and place filled with love after insecurity. To the world, Ricky was a math teacher and a football coach. To his students, he was someone who believed in them, challenged them, and encouraged them. To the players he coached, he was a mentor who taught far more than football. To my daughters, he was an amazing and loving father that would protect them. To me, he was my best friend, my partner, and the person I expected to grow old with. Ricky and I both shared a passion of teaching and coaching. I was a high school teacher as well, but can no longer teach in the classroom. Due to suffering with PTSD for the trauma of September 4th. What if another student shot me at school? My kids would have no parents because we were both teachers that aspired to help students learn, not be on the front line. Now, our daughters must grow up without their father. They will miss his guidance, his encouragement, his hugs, and all the milestones he should have been here to witness. Birthdays, graduations, weddings, and everyday moments that make up a lifetime will forever be marked by his absence. Colin harped on being a single parent and the struggles that entails in his testimony. He was a single parent by choice. I am now a solo parent because of his actions and lack of parenting. He was a pathetic excuse for a father, but he was not. He was an amazing dad to two little girls that loved him with his whole heart. My kids were five and two when he was killed. Psychologically, kids cannot truly process and understand death until the ages of five and six. My now four-year-old thinks her daddy is still at football practice and wishes he could come home. My now seven-year-old, who is a daddy's girl, sends time going to therapy because she struggled with the grief of losing her dad. Colin could not take his son to therapy, therefore I have to take mom. Ricky got to see her on her first day of kindergarten, but not her last. I have had to learn how to navigate a life I never imagined living. Every morning, I wake up hoping, even for a split second, that this was all a nightmare. Then reality returns. The empty space beside me, the silence in our home, and the questions our daughters ask are constant reminders that our lives have been permanently changed. The trauma the students and teachers faced by seeing my husband lay dead on the floor of the hallway because Colin could not be a responsible gun owner. He did not pull the trigger, but purchased and left a firearm accessible to a minor. My husband was a responsible gun owner that properly locked his guns up away from our children. No sentence can restore what was taken from us. No punishment can give my husband back to his family or erase the pain that has become part of our daily lives. If I ask the court to remember that this case is about more than the lies that ended that day, it is also about the families left behind who must carry the grief and trauma for the rest of our lives. I hope Ricky is remembered, not only for the way he died, but for the way he lived. He lived with kindness, integrity, compassion and courage. And even in his final moments, he was doing what came naturally to him, protecting the students entrusted to his care. Our family will carry his love with us always, but we will always carry the weight of the loss for the rest of our lives. Thank you for allowing me to speak on behalf of my husband and our family. Thank you. [00:06:39] Speaker ?: I assume you have -- [00:06:41] Speaker 2: No questions, yes, sir. If you do, just -- I will stand up. Thank you. Yes, sir. [00:06:47] Speaker 4: Detective Adolberg is Rick Aspinwall. Mr. Aspinwall, I'm going to go ahead and raise your right hand. Do you swear for any testimony you're about to give to Matt and I'm going to report the poorness of the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth to help you God? [00:07:38] Speaker 6: I do. [00:07:39] Speaker 4: All right. If you'll just state your name and tell the judge what you'd like him to know in the sense of the name of Colin Gray. [00:07:45] Speaker 7: I'm Richard William Aspinwall, Ricky's son, father. Mr. Gray, I hope you remember me from our first meeting. After all the testimony I've heard, witnessed, I find it hard to believe that you had any idea of what you were doing or raising a son. Through your ineptitude, your lack of situational awareness, you were responsible for all this that happened. I can't say it any other way. And I hope to God that you sit somewhere in a corner and just remember everything that you're responsible for. Thank you, William. [00:08:37] Speaker 4: Judge, next we're going to call up Ansley Gossett. [00:08:48] Speaker 1: I said Gossett. Yes, sir. [00:08:52] Speaker 4: I believe it's G-O-S-S-E-T-T. [00:08:55] Speaker ?: I believe it's G-O-S-T. I believe it's G-O-S-T. I believe it's G-O-S-T. I believe it's G-O-S-T. I believe it's G-O-S-T. I believe it's G-O-S-T. I believe it's G-O-S-T. [00:09:02] Speaker 4: I believe it's G-O-S-T. I believe it's G-O-S-T. I believe it's G-O-S-T. You swear from any testimony you're about to give in a minute. I don't have any point of porn. It's the truth. The whole truth. It doesn't have to be the truth. So I'll be back. How do you? All right. You'll just state with him and tell the judge what you want him to know on grace's sentencing. [00:09:16] Speaker 8: Good morning. My name's Ansley Aspinwall-Gossett. I am the sibling of Ricky Aspinwall. I was there the day we brought Ricky home from the hospital. And I was there the day we laid Ricky to rest. The amount of anger that has gone through me and my family is unspeakable. My brother was nothing but supportive, caring, loving. And he could hate the fact that I couldn't throw a football when he tried to teach me. But we're just left with the biggest hole in our heart that can never be replaced. Words just cannot express, you know, the extreme sadness for our family and the other families that have been impacted by this stupid act of irresponsible parenting. I'm a parent to four kids. My two know this will never get to know their uncle Ricky because he was gone before they could know him. My two oldest were there the day we laid Ricky to rest and they cried uncontrollably up in my arms. And there's nothing I could do to stop their tears. I know as a parent I would never actively leave a gun available to my child no matter their age, even if they were of age. I would not let it be accessible. And because of this, we are here today giving testimony because guns were left available to a young child that thought he was doing something incredible and was just such incredibly stupid. I feel like this man deserves the maximum sin as possible and should never have a slight chance of freedom again. Thank you. [00:11:05] Speaker 1: Thank you. [00:11:06] Speaker 4: This next we're going to call Brianna Skirmer. I'm going to go ahead and raise your right hand, D square, affirm the testimony draft, given that I am pending for the court, is the truth, the old truth, and nothing that the truth would offer you. I will go back, state your name, and tell the judge what you want to know. [00:11:38] Speaker 9: My name is Breanna Sternhorn, and I'm the mother of Mason Sternhorn. I've spent countless sleepless nights asking myself how he ended up here, how my beautiful son Mason, a boy who should still have an entire lifetime ahead of him, isn't said confined to an urn on my dresser. And it's hard around my neck that I wear every single day. And no parent should have to carry their child that way. Throughout his trial, I have repeatedly heard Mr. Murray lean on the excuse that he was a newly single father, and I reject that excuse completely. Parenting is hard. Parenting alone is even harder. I know that because I lived it. I was a single teenage mother raising my daughter, Lilliana, while I was trying to grow up myself. I didn't have the years of life experience. I didn't have the financial security. I didn't have the support system that Mr. Murray had. Every decision I made mattered because my child depended on me. Was I a perfect parent? Absolutely not. I struggled. I made mistakes. But there's a world of difference between struggling to parent and refusing to parent. So, Mr. Gray was not an older teenager trying to figure your life out. He was a grown man. He had years of experience, countless opportunities, and repeated warnings. He wasn't left guessing. He was told. He saw the warning signs. He heard about the disturbing behavior. He knew that something was in crisis. And instead. Instead of acting, he chose to look away. Instead of intervening, he chose inaction. Instead of protecting his son from himself and protecting our community from the danger his son posed, he harmed him. That wasn't an accident. That wasn't bad luck. That wasn't simply poor judgment. That was a choice. A choice that handed a troubled teenager the very weapon that was later used to murder my son. The one with Christian, Ricky, and Christina. People keep calling this a tragedy. It was. The tragedies are unavoidable. This wasn't unavoidable. This was preventable. Because of the choices made inside the great household. Four families were handed life sentences and grief. Mason will never graduate. He will never fall in love. He will never build the career he dreamed of. He will never marry. We will never hear his laugh outside of old videos. We will never be able to wrap our arms around him again. Every birthday. Every birthday. Every birthday. Every holiday. Every family gathering. Every milestone will forever be defined by the person who should be there but never will. And it wasn't just our families that were robbed. An entire school lost a sense of safety. Children who should have been worried about humor. Now Karen Murray's gunfire. Teachers who dedicated their lives to protecting children were forced into an unnatural nightmare. Our community will never be the same. Even as a young single mother I understood something that Mr. Gray apparently did not. I could not control every choice my children would eventually make but I was responsible for controlling what I put into their hands. I was responsible for getting them to school. Making sure they saw doctors when they needed help. Protecting them from harm. Even when that harm came from themselves. That is what parenting is. Parenting is not about convenience. It's not about avoiding difficult conversations. It's not about pretending warning signs don't exist because dealing with them is uncomfortable. Parenting requires responsibility. Parenting requires responsibility. It requires sacrifice. It requires showing up, especially when it's hard. I remain a single parent until I met my husband. I know exactly what that burden feels like. So when I hear Mr. Gray use a single parenthood to justify what happened, I don't hear an explanation. I hear an excuse. "And excuses do not bring my son home. Mr. Gray had every opportunity to make different choices, every opportunity to be the parent his son desperately needed, and every opportunity to prevent what happened." "Instead, my son died because of decisions made inside their home before anyone ever walked into Apalachia Creek on September 4, 2024." "I have the weight of losing Mason every day. Nothing this court does today can bring him home to me. Nothing can give back Christian to his family. And nothing can restore with you or Christina to the people who love them." "But I hope this court doesn't recite the simple truth. Children depend on adults and make responsible decisions. When adults abandon their responsibility, innocent people pay the price we pay with our children." "Oh, it makes him feel better. Every student and every teacher who walked into that school to serve better. And while Mr. Gray will eventually leave the courtroom, I will never leave my sentence. I will spend the rest of my life carrying an unimaginable weight of a future that was stolen. Not by fate, but by someone who messed up. And not by some unforeseeable act, by preventable decisions made by a father." "You chose not to be one when it mattered most. Mr. Gray should not only live with what his son did. He should also live every single day with what he failed to do. I will ask the court that his punishment fit the failures of his choices." "Thank you." "Thank you." "Thank you." [00:18:09] Speaker ?: "Thank you." "Thank you." "Thank you." "Thank you." "Thank you." "Thank you." "Thank you." "We'll call a lot on this program here." "Thank you." "Thank you." [00:18:18] Speaker 4: "Thank you." "I will have to raise your right hand." [00:18:20] Speaker ?: "I will have to raise your right hand." [00:18:21] Speaker 4: "Do you swear a firm testimony about to give him a matter of how you put the court experience?" "Tell the judge your name and tell them what you want them to know and call them for his own." "My name is Delonis from Ramon Wallace." [00:18:40] Speaker 10: "Before I talk about the choices that led us here today, I want to talk about those choices, who those choices affected." Mason was not just a victim of a tragedy. He was a 14-year-old who had a family who loved him, friends who cared about him, and the future that was supposed to continue. He's my little brother. Mason was the type of person who made people feel seen. He had a kindness about him that was rare. He looked for the good people even when they did not always show themselves. And he accepted people without judgment and treated everyone like they mattered. This is what makes the loss so difficult to understand. Mason was not someone who was supposed to become a victim. He was supposed to come home that day. He was supposed to continue growing. He was supposed to experience everything that comes after being 14 years old. He was supposed to graduate, build friendships, discover his future, and become the person we all knew he'd potentially be. Instead, his life ended because the adults who had the responsibility to recognize danger and prevent harm failed to do so. The hardest part for me is knowing that Mason's death was not something my family could have prevented. We did not have the warning signs. We did not have the opportunities to intervene. We were simply the people left to suffer the consequences. As my family was planning a future of Mason and decisions were made that allowed the future to be taken away. The impact of losing Mason has affected every part of my life. Since September 4, 2024, I've had to learn how to live a life in a -- how to live in a world where my little brother is no longer in it. I've had to continue growing up while carrying a loss that has changed me forever. One of the hardest parts is knowing that Mason was supposed to be here for all the moments that come next. I will continue getting older while Mason will remain 14. I will graduate one day, but he will not. I will experience future birthdays, holidays, and milestones knowing there is someone missing. knowing there's someone missing. There are moments where I still want to tell Mason something. I see something he would have liked, think of a joke he would have laughed at, or remember a game that we used to play. And for a moment, I forget that I cannot share those things with him anymore. Then I remember that that's something I have to live with forever. This loss has also changed the way I see the world. I no longer have the same sense of safety I had before. School no longer feels what the place it once did. Every time I walk into a school building, a thought immediately crossed my mind. If this can happen to Mason, then why can't it happen to me? I find myself paying attention to exits, watching the people around me, and thinking about things I've never had to think of before. While trying to grieve my brother, I was also expected to continue being a full-time college student. I miss classes to attend court because being here for Mason matters. to me. But for me to not get kicked out of the classes, I have to provide documentation proving that my brother was killed in this tragedy. Having to handle these documents is just another painful reminder that this wasn't just a nightmare that I'm living in. Every hearing forced me to relive the worst day of my life. I had to hear details no sister should ever have to hear and evidence no family should ever have to see. Those men reached out to stay in the courtroom when the hearing ends. They follow me everywhere. Grief isn't just the anniversary of birthdays. It appears in ordinary moments. I'll see a game of a date and think about how Mason would have loved it. I'll hear a joke and instinctively want to tell him for a split second I forget he's gone. Then I remember that that realization never gets easier. I'm still moving forward. But I'm moving forward without someone who's supposed to be beside me. That is the reality my family's been left with. When I think about Mr. Gray's role in this tragedy. I think about the responsibility that comes with being a parent. Parents are supposed to protect their children. They're supposed to recognize that something is wrong, take concerns seriously, step in when their children's actions create a danger to themselves or others. Their responsibility is not fulfilled. This tragedy did not begin on September 4th, 2024. There were warnings before that day. There are opportunities to make different choices. There were moments where action could have been taken that may have changed the outcome. But what it's hard for me to accept is that the people in that school did not have the opportunity to protect themselves from decisions being made around them. They went to school that morning expecting a normal day. And the four-week loss deserved to come home. But because of the warning signs were not taken seriously enough. And because the responsibility to prevent harm was not handled the way it should have been, my family is left living with a loss that will never go away. But what makes this even harder to accept is that this was my situation where there were no signs. There were moments where action could have been taken. There were opportunities to step in before people were injured or killed. After his son made threats and showed signs of concerning behavior, the danger was still allowed to remain. The firearms were still accessible. The ammunition, whatever that word is, ammo, was still accessible. The things that could have been secured were not handled with the urgency that they required. Mr. Gray had gun locks. The gun locks. But having a safety measure means nothing if it's not used when it matters most. The gun should have been locked away. Ambulance should have been secured. There should not have been a possibility that a 14-year-old child could have accessed the tools needed to carry out something like this. What's difficult to understand is that there were concerns serious enough to create fear, yet those concerns did not -- those concerns did not lead to this level of action that was needed. If a parent is afraid of what their child may do, that fear should lead to a reason to protect others. It should be a reason to remove access to anything that could cause harm. It should be a reason to seek immediate help and intervention. Instead, the danger continued to exist until it became a tragedy that my family has to live with forever. I understand that no one can change what happened on September 4th. Nothing said in this courtroom can bring Mason back to my family, but accountability matters because Mason's life mattered. I understand that no one can change -- oh. He's not supposed to become the result of a series of miswarnings and failed decisions. He's supposed to continue living his life. He's supposed to grow up, make mistakes, change his dreams -- chase his dreams and become the person he's meant to be. Instead, my family has to live with the consequences of choices we never made. We have to wake up every day knowing that Mason is gone. We have to celebrate milestones knowing there is someone missing. We have to imagine the future he should have had because we will never get to see it happen. Mr. Gray had opportunities to make different choices. He had opportunities to take action to protect others. My family did not have an opportunity to stop what happened. Mason did not have an opportunity to come home. That is the difference. A decision was made that changed countless lives forever and people who suffered the most were the ones who had no part in making that decision. Mason deserved better. Christian deserved better. Christina deserved better. Richard deserved better. Everyone in that school and in this community deserved better. I understand that no sentence can be raised the pain that my family has lived through since September 4th. However, I do believe Mr. Gray should be held fully accountable for the role his decision to play in this tragedy. Because of that, I respectfully ask to impose the maximum sentence allowed by law. Ask for the maximum sentence not out of revenge, but because the consequences of these failures were irreversible. Four innocent people lost their lives. Many others were physically and emotionally wounded. And countless families, including mine, will carry this loss for the rest of our lives. No sentence will ever be equal to what was taken from us. But I do hope the sentence imposed today reflects the seriousness of Mr. Gray's responsibility and the immeasurable value of the lives that will forever change. Thank you, ma'am. [00:27:32] Speaker 4: My name is Mylon Woodo Jr. I'm the oldest sibling of Cristiano Gabriel Nuno. Your Honor, even though he didn't pull the trigger himself, [00:28:01] Speaker 11: I am asking this court to give him the absolute maximum sentence possible. He is a complete failure of a father. He made a choice to buy that rifle. He made a choice to ignore every red flag. And because of his choices, my little brother Christian and three others, Mason, Coach Espinwall, and Miss Ernie are gone. And so many others will carry permanent scars for the rest of their lives. A parent's negligence shouldn't cause innocent children in their lives. He built this tragedy at Appalachia High School. He showed no remorse. To him, it was just another Wednesday. He deserves every single day of the maximum sentence possible. Our families are living a lifelong sentence of grief, and he should face the full weight of his. Thank you. [00:28:49] Speaker ?: Thank you. [00:28:49] Speaker 11: Just next, we're going to bring up Terry McElhannon on behalf of Taylor Jones. [00:28:58] Speaker 4: Just next, we're going to bring up Terry McElhannon on behalf of Taylor Jones. My name is Terry McElhannon on behalf of Taylor Jones. Why are we here today? [00:29:23] Speaker 12: It's because of him. His actions and his neglect are responsible for what happened here. Though he did not shoot the gun, he bought the bullets that enabled his son to kill people, hurt people, mingled them for life. I was in therapy yesterday. [00:29:45] Speaker ?: And this guy asked me, Sue, is that your granddaughter? [00:29:45] Speaker 12: And I said, yes. Is that where she was shot? The wounds are still visible. She was shot more than one time. And she lingers with that every day. After four months in the hospital after this accident, she has endured more pain than she should have. The community has delivered and gotten more pain than they deserve because of this action. I don't know that he can do that. But I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I'm sure he can do that. I don't know that he can be remembered by being what he thinks he is, Colt. But he will be remembered. But not in my thoughts. Let me tell you a little bit about Taylor. What led up this? And can it get worse? Taylor lost her mom from an L bed heart pump four years ago, which stopped up with a blood clot and killed her. Can it get worse? Yes, it does. She lost her grandmother that drowned in Lake Eater a year later. She lost her great grandmother, my wife, which died with dementia the third year. She lost her uncles and she lost my brother, which she called Papa, too. Because, anyway, I'll tell you what he died of, but it's been sad. I think, can you get any worse? Fist comes along. This has tormented us for a long, long time. She contemplated suicide in the hospital because of a total bunch of pain she was in. She couldn't get over it. And she didn't want to live. She wanted to go see her mama. Can you get worse? It does. We're here today. Because of what he did, even though he didn't shoot, he bought the bullets. And for that, he deserves the maximum punishment. Thank you. Thank you. [00:32:03] Speaker 13: The first statement was written by Mikayla Brown. She was one of the students in Ms. Ryan's classroom. The Appalachian High School shooting on September 4th of 2025 was a tragic and terrifying event that has affected not only the people directly involved, but also the students everywhere. Knowing that something like this can happen at a school makes me feel very unsafe and anxious. Since being involved with the shooting, I have been feeling scared to even go in the dark to take my dogs out to use the bathroom. Loud noises like doors slamming hard make me jump because they remind me of what could happen. It's hard to feel relaxed or normal when things like that are always in the back of my mind. I also get nervous being home alone because I am thinking someone is going to break in and hurt me. I don't feel as safe as I used to. I used to think Appalachie was going to be a safe place for me to learn and graduate and make new friends. But no, now I just go to school thinking that I'm not safe here. This situation shows how deeply events like this can impact students mentally and emotionally. It's not just something that happens and goes away. It stays with people. Schools are supposed to be safe places. And when that safety is broken, it changes how we feel every day. And then the next statement was written by Sarah Beaver on behalf of Jackson Beaver, who was another one of the students in Ms. Ryan's classroom on September 4th. On September 4th of 2024, he went to school as a carefree, innocent 15-year-old. He came home completely broken. His childhood was violently stolen, forced to spend that grueling night begging for updates just to see how many of his classmates he would have to mourn. Now my son, like so many others, carries a crushing weight of guilt that belongs solely to the defendant. He torments himself thinking he didn't do enough. He has looked at us through tears and said it should have been him. As a mother, it breaks my heart that my son didn't more to protect his fears that day than the defendant ever did to protect the world from his own child. This trauma is a direct result of the defendant's absolute catastrophic failure as a parent. While I spent 15 years nurturing, loving, and protecting my son, you spent years actively ignoring the warning signs of a monster in your home. Because the defendant utterly refused to parent his child, my son's innocence was destroyed. His total abdication of parental responsibility forced Jackson to abandon Appalachee High School entirely. Because the hallways he let his son terrorize are now triggers for paralyzing nightmares. His deliberate negligence took away two beautiful, irreplaceable children. Because of him, the world is now forced to know Mason Skirmhorn and Christian Angulo only through internet obituaries and grieving news clips. They were just boys. They were supposed to grow up, play video games, and have teachers. You didn't just fail your own son, Colin Gray. He robbed the world of Mason and Christian and left their families with a shattering, permanent void. He robbed the world of Richard and Christina. They were people of honor, love, and courage. They gave everything they had to save our kids, while the defendant gave his son a rifle and a free pass for devastation. He traded their lives and their families' teachers for his own unconscionable cowardness. While he stood by as an indifferent spectator to his son's escalating violence, my son was standing on a football field bleeding. Pieces of that day are now a permanent part of his body. Every single ache, twitch, and physical sensation in his leg is a violent forced flashback to the terror the defendant allowed to happen. He didn't just buy his son a rifle. He hand-delivered the means to dismantle my son's peace, youth, and future. He chose to ignore every warning sign. He chose to provide the firearm. He chose to sit back and watch and do nothing. And because of his unconscionable cowardice, four beautiful souls—Mason, Christian, Coach Aspinwall, and Mrs. Jeremy—were stolen from us forever. Their families are left with an unfillable void, their lives permanently shattered by the lives that were brutally cut short. But his destruction didn't stop with the dead. He created an entire generation of traumatized survivors who must now carry the invisible, agonizing scars of his failure. My son, alongside every classmate who made it out of his hallways, is serving a life sentence of fear, panic, and grief. They are forced to reconstruct their failures out of the wreckage he handed his son the power to create. The communities, neighboring counties, law enforcement, paramedics, hospitals, nurses, and many others will forever have images of that day in their mind. All because of his failures. He let them all down, along with his children. While he deserves every ounce of punishment the law can hand down, he is not the only one with blood on his hands. His mother, his grandmother, and every other family member who stood by and watched the severe abuse he suffered, who knew exactly how dark and horrific his mind had become, belonging in a courtroom right next to him. Their silence was active compliance. Their refusal to step in and save those children is no different than pulling the trigger themselves. By doing absolutely nothing to stop the violence they knew was coming, they chose to let it happen. Because your choices were deliberate, or because the defendant's choices were deliberate, his punishment must be absolute. My son's childhood can never be restored. The families of the victims will forever be altered. The survivors will always have fear following them like a dark cloud. The community will never be the same. And the defendant must spend every single remaining day of his life carrying the heavy weight of the ruin he has created. Matthew 18:6 says if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck than to be drowned in the depths of the sea. Since that punishment is not an option, I demand that this court hand down the absolute maximum sentence allowed by law, without mercy. [00:39:12] Speaker 4: Judge next we have Natalie Griffith. Judge next we have Natalie Griffith. [00:39:25] Speaker ?: We have you raise your right hand. Please swear for many times. Thank you. Judge next we have you raised your right hand. Please swear for many times when you are about to give in the minute I am not kidding. But the court is the truth. The whole truth is not that the truth is not that the truth is not that the truth is not that. Thanks. All right. Just tell the judge your name and tell them what you want him to know. Hi, my name is Natalie Griffith. Thank you. We have you raised your right hand. [00:39:41] Speaker 4: If you swear for many times when you are about to give in the minute I am not kidding. The court is the truth. The whole truth is not that the truth is not that the truth is not that. Thanks. All right. Just tell the judge your name and tell them what you want him to know. [00:40:04] Speaker 6: Hi, my name is Natalie Griffith. I am a student at La Pauhtia High School. On September 4th, I got shot twice once in your shoulder and once in my wrist. I think about the shooting a lot and I hate it. I hate it so much. I think about if it hadn't happened. I think about my life before it and how it's so different. I wish that I could go back and change it. Sometimes I wish that I didn't go to school that day, but that wouldn't stop it from happening. I wish that I could bring back the people that died. I wish that there was some way that they'd all survived. I lost the ability to feel over half my hand. I lost two years of my life trying to heal and still haven't fully. I try to live my life normal and help and live it without letting any injuries stop me. But sometimes it's hard. Sometimes I'm petting my animal or dog or just doing something and I can't feel all the way. I can't feel through my fingers and I wish I could. I think about it every single day and I wish it could stop and I think about how it could have been avoided. How if he hadn't done it, then he would all be happy. I believe that joy can heal anyone, but it can make scars disappear and it can't bring people out of the ground. I don't understand how a parent can heal that much. I don't understand how a parent can heal their child. I don't understand how a parent can fail to protect their child. I hope to help them. And I believe that he should have a position for that. I believe. And I believe that his healer, which means that I hope that he remembers every day that he could have stopped it. And regrets his choices. [00:42:56] Speaker ?: Thank you. [00:42:58] Speaker 6: Thank you, Natalie. [00:43:00] Speaker ?: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And that concludes our statement. All right. [00:43:34] Speaker 4: And there's no evidence in aggravation, is that right? [00:43:37] Speaker 1: No. All right. Mr. Berry, Mr. Hobbs, evidence in mitigation. Judge, we provided the court a character letter. We will just proceed with argument with the court's credit. [00:43:46] Speaker ?: All right. [00:43:46] Speaker 14: And Mr. Berry, of course, has a right to make a statement if he wishes to. [00:44:00] Speaker 1: Judge, under our advice is counsel. [00:44:01] Speaker ?: We will not be making a statement. All right. We're all present. So we'll hear argument from the state and the defense and any final word from the state. There is no mitigation. [00:44:02] Speaker 3: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. There is no mitigation, is that right? [00:44:06] Speaker ?: No witnesses? [00:44:06] Speaker 3: Yes, sir. [00:44:07] Speaker ?: That's correct. [00:44:08] Speaker 1: All right. We're all present. So we'll hear argument from the state and the defense and any final word from the state. There is no mitigation. Is that right? No witnesses? Yes, sir. That's correct. [00:44:38] Speaker 15: Good morning, our honor. Can I please report? Before I say anything on behalf of the commentary, I want to acknowledge what everyone in this room knows to be true, that nothing that happens here today, no argument that I make, no census court imposes can restore what was taken on September 4th from these families and from this community. Colin Gray does not come before this court to be excused for that. He comes to be sentenced for what he did and not for what his son did. When the jury convicted Colin Gray in March, it never heard from the one person who knew the whole truth of what was planned in that house. Colin Gray did not testify of his father's trial. And this court has now spent a week hearing that missing evidence. And two days ago, it made findings about that missing evidence. So I'm going to begin not with our theory, but with this court's own record. Six things now stand in it that no jury ever weighed. First would be the concealment from the only voice with first-hand knowledge. Colbert told the court that he actively hid the depth of his involvement in that online community from almost everyone in his life, including his father, that his father did not know what he was planning. We did not ask the court to take a confessed killer at his work. We asked the court to notice that his words matched the physical evidence that the jury did see. The hidden notes, the burner accounts, the absence, after two years of investigation by the state, of a single text, email, or single witness placing that plan within Colin Gray's knowledge. Second, the notes on Colbert's phone show hostility towards his father and expressed hope that his father would be punished. I'm not going to read those words in the courtroom. I know the court saw it during the trial. I raised them for only one reason. A son who wanted his father punished and wrote it down had every incentive in the world to implicate him and said to confirm that he kept that world secret from Colin. Third, the timeline moved because Colin Gray was, in fact, moving. The court heard that Colt accelerated his plan when his father sought mental health for him through the school. The original plan called for this execution to be on the end of the first reading of February of the apartment shooting. Because Colin was taking steps, Colt decided to counter move and accelerate his plan. Was it enough what Colin did? Obviously not. The jury has said so, and Colin accepts that. But it was not nothing, and it was not an indifference. [00:47:31] Speaker ?: All right, good morning. My name is Charlie. So I'm calling from day to day. [00:47:37] Speaker 1: Please turn your phones off. [00:47:41] Speaker 15: Fourth, the expert, the defense expert who testified before the court this week described the family profile of children who fall into these communities, the jury crime community, parents who harassed, parents who do not nurture, parents who physically abuse. Your Honor heard nine days of trial evidence about Colin Gray. And whatever else it showed, it showed a father who was a presence, who pulled his son towards hunting in the outdoors, who was trying, however, inevitably, to get him back in school and away from his computer, who didn't physically or mentally abuse him. And the same expert told this court the single best intervention for a child used to get him away from that community, to get him off of the computer. That's the intervention that this untrained father was groping towards without even knowing the community's true nature, without even knowing his son's involvement in that community. Fifth, the state's own evidence found that the one adult who was inside that hidden world with cold prey was not caught. The director of the Division of Family and Children's Services testified in this courtroom that the boy's mother was, in the director's words, fueling this ongoing obsession with school shooters. The jail calls the state played, showing her relaying the community's praise into her son's cell until the court wrote that the contact stopped. That is not my characterization. That is the state's witness the state's exhibit in the courtroom this week. And sixth, on Tuesday, this court found the motive. Not holy, not hatred, in the court's own words, for the infamy of it. Infamy, Your Honor, is the currency of exactly one place, the true crime community. The hidden community that Colt Gray served in secret. The motive of this court found did not involve, did not live, in Colt Gray's house. It lived in a world that Colt Gray did not know existed. Now, Your Honor, the state's strongest foreseeability evidence at trial was one simple fact. In fact, Marcy Gray had told Collin to lock up the guns. I want to spend a few minutes on what the court has learned since then about the warning and about Marcy Gray because the companion record has shown what stood behind it and how much it had never reached the man who received it. Marcy knew the extent of her son's immersion in that community because she was inside of it with him. She knew he idolized school shooters. She knew he was corresponding with a convicted school shooter in Florida. By the evidence now before this court, that fascination was the thing the two of them shared, and none of it was shared with Colt Gray. So consider the difference between two sentences, two articulations. Lock up the guns from an estranged co-parent in one sentence versus lock up the guns because our son idolizes school shooters. He writes to one in prison, and I have been inside that world with him. That is a different sentence entirely, a different statement entirely. Colin Gray only heard the first sentence. He was never told the second. The foreseeability, as a measure of what a man morally deserves, has to be judged by the warning that he actually received, not the warning that she was in a position to give. Why would she keep such a secret? The record before this court suggests an answer. Through her own actions, the addiction, the conviction, the loss of her children, Marcy Gray forfeited the ordinary place of a parent in her children's lives. What remained to her with this son, with Colt, was one thing, the assassination they shared. It sat in the relationship where ballgames and fishing trips sit in other families. But it was the thing they talked about. It was theirs. And to tell Collin about it, we ended. We know what that relationship meant to her because the state showed us. After September 4th, after four people died, she still could not let it go. And she still discussed it with her son from his cell until a court finally stepped in and made her stop. I don't say this to condemn her. She has lost a son to this, too. I say it because it makes her silence comprehensible. And whatever her reasons, the fact stands. And it is the fact that it matters today. The knowledge was hers. It was never his. Now, weigh that understanding, Marcy, from the way Collin had to weigh it against the other voices in his ear. In May of 2023, a Jackson deputy sheriff stood at Collin Grace home, investigating an online threat given him by the FBI, traced to that address. Collin did not stonewall that officer. He volunteered, unprompted, on video, that if there was evidence his son had made the threat, the guns would leave the house immediately. He never got that answer. The case was closed. Fifteen months later, trained counselors spent hours with a call. And what came home to Collin was a consent form for a counseling program to get services started through the school, which she fell out in return. The vocabulary was anxiety. That is the information that this man was holding. One boy saying, lock up the guns with no reasons attached from the one person whose history with him made her the hardest voice for Collin to credit. A co-parent convicted of crime against him, ordered to stay out of this county, whose children were removed from her by the state, and who was, by the record, both of these proceedings. The parent who had threatened to kill Collin had to choose between listening to that voice or listening to the voice or the credentialed voices, and that's what he chose to do. This is not a hard, indifferent to human life. This is how a good rational person orders information, and it really is one of the many tragedies of this case. Because here's the cruelest part. Collin Gray had already told the deputy sheriff, out loud, at his home, the exact condition on which he would act. Tell me you did this, and the guns are gone. Marcy Gray held that evidence. The idolization. The immersion. The correspondence with the convicted shooter. Had she given him the knowledge that she had, she would have handed him the very confirmation that he publicly committed to act upon. But she never did. The confirmation that he was waiting for existed, but simply never reached him. And September 4th itself proved which parent had that knowledge, because Marcy is the one who immediately called when she received the text, knowing what was going to happen, not calling. I want to be careful, because I know that others had information as well, others in Kohl's family. And I don't believe they have anything from calling out of the will. I just don't think they perceive the significance of the information that they held. But that's precisely the point. The people closest to this boy, holding the most alarming pictures, pieces of his picture, did not foresee what was coming. They did not foresee it with more knowledge, and the moral way of failing to foresee it cannot justly be concentrated, undivided, in the sentence of the one man from whom the picture was kept. The verdict aggregated this household's knowledge, the sentence should manage the knowledge of one man. So what did Colin Gray actually know? Because that, not what was kept from him, what he actually knew, is what the jury convicted him on. And it is what the court must sentence him upon today. He knew some struggle, anxiety, stress, trouble fitting in, trouble making friends. He knew the boy loved guns, as Colin did, as Colin's father did. He knew he had a temper. What he knew was it calls the struggling adolescent, one of the great many in this country. But not one single fact, from the hidden world of the true crime community, where the plan actually lived, was tended, and grew, was known by Colin. In the instance, the state lined up at trial did not arrive in Colin Gray's life as a single timeline. They arrived scattered across months, each one surrounded by scratches by a child who laughed, who was bright, who loved his computer, video games, who played guitar, who went into the woods with his father. A prosecution exhibit can compress 292 days into a column of red flags and delete every ordinary day in between. A parent lives all 292 days. A parent lives all 292 of those days. Hindsight isolates the spikes. A life lived besides the child averages them. The jury found that the average that his father strived was criminal negligence, and he accepts that. But there is a difference in sentencing between a man who watched a fire build and did nothing, and a man who saw sparks amid seasons of calm and misjudgment. And how hard was it told to read? The state answered itself that question in the court this week. The state court told the court that when this voice of the words, I hear voices, I don't want to black out, that he was not breaking it down. He was performing it. A scripted imitation of his idol Nicholas Cruz's arrest therapy. An Easter egg planted by a boy the state described as calculating up to the second of the shooting. I accept the state's proof. But this court will remember that among the greatest warnings charged against Holland Gray at his trial was that his son spoke of hearing voices in the days before the shooting. If that talk was fear, a callback that only a student of school's shooters could even recognize, then the most alarming thing that this father ever heard from his son was a lie from a script. He had no way to know existed. The same record could not call a performance in one sentencing and an unmistakable warning in the other. And the state also said that it does not know why this boy is what he is. I don't know why the shark is the way the shark is. Maybe he's born that way. Maybe something no one can make. Your Honor has an honest answer, and I respect that answer, and I respect the state for giving it. But it does have a consequence for today. In the state of Georgia, with a complete record, every expert, every jail call, two years of fine sight, if they cannot explain this boy, then the law cannot justly sentence an untrained father as though he should have understood him in real time across the living room. Foresight cannot be demanded where hindsight is failed. The FBI sent a warning, sent a tip to Jackson County Sheriff. They investigated and closed the file. A deputy sat with him and left. Trained counselors spent time with Cole before the shooting and sent him back to class. Nobody is trained to see the side. No parent is trained to look at his own child and see a mass shooter, especially when the professionals who are trained to do so did not. On Tuesday, this court wrote the first entry in the letter that history is going to read as a pair. The killer, the one who planned it, who hid it, who staged it, and who carried it out, received a sentence of life without the possibility of parole. Made all the more exceptional by the age of the person at the time the crime was committed, 14 years old, the maximum that the law allows. Today, this court writes the second entry, a father convicted of negligence, of failing to perceive what his son, by his own account in his courtroom, deliberately hid from him. These few entries have to be morally legible when they are written together. The entire architect of our homicide law, the reason we grade these offenses at all, is the line between the harm a person intends to do and the harm a person fails to prevent. Colin Gray is 55 years old. A sentence of 30 years, 40 years, 80 years. Negligence counts stacked one upon the other is a death in prison sentence. Functionally, it's the very sentence this court just reserved for the individual, the killer himself. If the father's sentence looks like the son, then that line is gone. And this court, in the first case of its kind in Georgia, would have written the precedent that erases that line. There's exactly one comparable case in American history, and I'm sure the court is aware of it. The parents of the Oxford High School shooter, convicted of involuntary manslaughter for four deaths, where he sentenced to 10 to 15 years with their counsel to run concurrently. And, Your Honor, their warnings were sharper and closer than anything in this record. They bought the gun four days before the shooting. They were called into the school the very morning of the attack, asked to take their son home, and declined to do so. They were shown their son's trying, and began in the words, quote-unquote, the thoughts won't stop helping. And they said nothing to the school about the weapon that they had recently purchased their son, and they left him in that school. 10 to 15 years concurrent was the considered judgment of that court, after that an impact testimony that was every bit as devastating what the court has heard in the past week and today. We would ask this court not to make tours to the national outlier in this first case of its kind, against a defendant whose warnings came with less than his efforts or more. Briefly, Your Honor, as to merger, we have filed a brief. We are asking, as in a case of first impression in Georgia, we believe that all of the counts should merge into count one based upon the fact that they call in failed to do one thing. Now, I understand, without waiving any objection, the court may disagree with that argument. And as I said, I would understand because this is a sense of first impression and an issue of first impression. Every count in this indictment arises when one continuous course of conduct, one gun, one child, one failure of perception over scan of us. The 18 cruelty counts do not describe 18 separate decisions by Colin Gray. They count the child, the children present, when the son acted. The number of those children is a proper measure of the gravity of this harm, but the court should weigh it in fully fixing the term. But the exact negligence counts consecutively is to count that gravity twice. We would ask the court if it disagrees with our argument on merger to run all the counts concurrent. Colin Gray did not choose his circumstances. It arrived by a telephone call from the Division of Family and Children's Services telling him to come get his two youngest children because their mother had relapsed. Throughout he and Marcy's marriage, it seemed her sole contribution to this family was to insert chaos. Immediately and without condition, when he received that call, he drove down and picked up his two youngest children and brought them back to monitor. Was he overwhelmed? Was he underprepared? Yes. Did he have a support system? No. Will the state argue that had he cooperated more with the school with defects that he could have had a support system? I'm sure they will and we do not contest that. That, too, is part of the failure that the jury found and for which he will have to answer. But an overwhelmed father is a perfect engagement with bureaucracies and negligence. It is not an indifference. This is the father who was trying. This was a father who was constantly in touch with his children. Your Honor saw the text messages that were admitted to evidence at school. Colin Gray was positive. He told his son that he loved him, that he was proud of him. He encouraged him to go to school. He told him how happy he was when he had a good day at school. This was not an absent father. This was not a distant father. This was not a harsh parent. And the rifle, the question to understand what the rifle meant, was meant to be. Because it belongs to a larger and staggered inventory. Colin's plan for his son was the only plan that he had ever seen work. His relationship with his own father was a troubled one. And it was redeemed to the extent it could be in the woods, hunting, side by side with his dad. Your Honor has a letter from his sister that details that a little more clearly. So when Colin's own son began to slip away from him, Colin reached for everything he could think of and everything that he could afford. He bought his son gifts, guitars, computers, gear. He tried, however, in that belief, to get him back into school. He filled out the constantly counseling paperwork. He took him to the range. He took him hunting. And the hunting rifle, because hunting was the language in which a great father had once managed to say to a great son what he could not say in any other way. He believed that his presence and his generosity in the outdoors had pulled halt out of troubled waters. What he did not comprehend was the current that ran through a world. And one more thing about Colin. From the first hours of September 4th, as the court saw he cooperated, he sat with investigators that same day. No lawyers, no conditions, and he told the truth. In fact, the state built his case on his own candle. He has no prior family record. He's been in custody 22 months now. There is no world in which Colin Gray will re-offend. Specific deterrence and incapacitation are simply not a part of this case. And his punishment did not begin with the verdict, and it will not end with his release. His son is in life. His son is in prison for life. His daughter is in foster care. His youngest son is in foster care. His family is gone. His name will forever be associated with this tragedy for the rest of his life and afterwards. The state may tell the court this case demands a message. Your Honor, that message is sent. On March 30th, the unanimous jury delivered the first conviction of its kind in the history of Georgia, and it was reported throughout the state and throughout this country. Every gun-owning parent in Georgia already knows that the law changed that day. Deterrence requires credible condemnation. It does not require that a 55-year-old first defender die in prison for negligence. A decade or more behind bars, following the first condition of its kind, is a thunderous message by any account. So here's what we are asking of the court. On each count of murder in the second degree, we're asking the court to sentence Mr. Gray to 20 years, to serve 10 years in confinement with the ballots to be probated. On the counts of survival murder, 10 years concurrent. On the reckless conduct counts, 12 months concurrent. All the counts concurrent with each other. An effective sentence of 20 years to serve 10 years in custody. That is not leniency. Ten years in a Georgia prison, for a man who never intended to harm a single human being is among the most severe sentences ever imposed on a parent in American history for the act of the child. In honor's a statutory minimum, it accounts for every life, lost in every child in danger. It stands besides the criminal sentences rather than dwarfing them. And it preserves the one distinction this week of sentencing will be remembered for. The difference between the boy who carried that rifle and pulled the trigger, and the father who did not see it coming. Your honor, we understand the gravity of this situation. Four people are vomited, nothing in the court can do today can change that. The question today is narrower and in some ways harder. What does justice require for a father's negligence and a son's concealed intent to be on a single warning? This court asserted from the son itself and how completely that intent was hidden from the father. It is found that this was done for the infamy of it, the currency of the world the father never knew existed. It is already imposed on the one who did the killing the heaviest sentence the law allows. The sentence can be severe and still be just. We ask the court to impose one that is both, the sentence we have asked for, and to leave standing the lie. The lie is always wrong between negligence and murder. The defendant is confused and conflating the evidence that was presented last week in the trial of Coltrade. [01:10:43] Speaker 16: As disgusting as Marcy Gray's involvement in the TCC was shown in court, the very first phone call on October 1st, 2024, after, a month after the shooting, Coltrade is heard directing her of how to access this TCC true crime community. He brings her into it after the fact. After the fact. They are conflating the time periods of when that happened. And they are also conflating his knowledge of her knowledge. The phone calls that the state showed in his trial where Marcy Gray is continuously searching for the Ethan Crumley parents, why were they charged, and sentencing for that, and that simultaneously with those Google searches that she's making. They, her and the defendant were making phone calls six in one hour simultaneously with her doing that. Showed to this jury that they were in communication with each other about the threat Coltrade posed, their son posed to a school shooter. They're inflating the timelines of when these things happen. So let's look at the actual timeline in this case. In 2021, law enforcement came to his house because his son had searched how to kill your dad on the school computer. Two years later, in 2023, law enforcement again came to his house Because his son had threatened to commit a mass shooting at an elementary school. And at that meeting, law enforcement asked him to restrict his son's access to guns. But instead of doing that, just a few months later, for Christmas, he bought his son a Sig Sauer M400 rifle. And that summer, as his son's emotional health spiraled, this defendant allowed him to keep that rifle in his room. He was convicted for what he did know. And Colt lying, whether or not Colt was lying when he said he heard voices, he said to his dad he heard voices. And that should be the red flag that every parent should act on. Especially one who has already been warned that his son wants to commit a mass shooting at a school. The defendant was convicted of ignoring a substantial and unjustifiable risk. And in order to settle upon an appropriate sentence, the court needs to look at the nature of the risk he ignored. The court needs to look at the court. This is at risk. This was the risk that was staring him in the face every day. It culminated on August 6th, almost a full month before the shooting. This went up on that boy's wall. And he, every single day, saw this. And this is the risk that stared him in the face. Deadly told, 17. Tears, anger, flow. Officials say 19-year-old suspect admitted family shootings, 17, at the Broward High School. These are the headlines. They were on his son's wall for a month. There are pictures of crying students. A prayer vigil. And children streaming out of their school with their hands above their heads. And this headline. Florida shooting suspect displayed flashes of rage and other warning signs. The same thing he was seeing in his own son at that very same time. This was the risk he was ignoring. That there would be a mass shooting of children at a school. And he gave his son the exact tool he would need to accomplish this. He is the reason four people are dead, seven were injured, and countless others were traumatized. And he is the reason a 16-year-old boy was sent two days ago to the rest of his life in prison. I don't know why a shark is the way the shark is, but everyone understands the risk. From the moment of the horrific attack to throughout the trial, the defendant has shown no remorse for his actions. On the day of the shooting, his daughter texts him at 11:01 a.m. There are three people dead at the high school. After that moment, he does not call or text his son. Because he knows. Instead, he tells his boss he has to leave work because his son broke his arm. And then on the way, he stops at a convenience store to get a drink. And then he just goes home. The next day, he tells his 13-year-old daughter to lie to the authorities. And he comes into court, he takes that stand, and he lies too. Others became heroes that day. Christian Angulo, after being shot in the chest, managed to close the door to just stop the shooter from coming back in. Fernando Vega, after being wounded himself, threw desks and chairs to barricade the doors and protect his classmates. Coach Aspinwall and Coach Phoenix, as well as Ms. Irving, all moved towards the gunshots to try and help and intervene. A young man named Landon Adams. When Taylor Jones was struck in the leg in that room, Landon crawled over to her and held her hand, comforting her until hell could arrive. Every child in that classroom was a hero and they came together to comfort and protect each other. And Mason Scrummerhorn never got the chance to do that. He was robbed of the opportunity to be a friend everyone knew him to be. But the defendant did nothing. Nothing to stop this, the greatest of risks. The mass murder of children is the maximum of risks, and for that he deserves the maximum of punishment. And do not forget that the Cromleys were sentenced to the max that was allowed by the Michigan law. For murder, count one and murder in the second degree of Christian Angulo, the state would ask that the defendant be sentenced to 30 years to serve in confinement. Concecutive to count one and three. In count five, involuntary manslaughter for the death of Richard Aspinwall, the state would ask for 10 years to serve in confinement. Concecutive to counts one and three. For count seven, involuntary manslaughter for the death of Anna Christina Irmi, the state would ask for 10 years to serve in confinement. Concecutive counts one, three, and five. For counts nine through 26, cruelty is short of the second degree. The state would ask for 10 years to serve concurrent to each other and the previous counts. Counts 27 and 29, reckless conduct. The state would ask for 12 months to serve concurrent to each other and the previous counts. For a total of eight years to serve in confinement. The state under court. State versus Bryant. They're under 363, Georgia appeals 349, 202. In Harris versus the state 272, Georgia appeals 366. Both say that the same incident with separate victims does not merge. And Gaither versus the state 312, Georgia appeals 53 says that although the convictions arose from the same acts, they did not merge as a matter of fact of the law because each count was based upon harm to a different victim. So that is why the state would ask her since 80 years to serve in confinement. [01:21:49] Speaker 1: All right. Thank you. As you all are aware, this is the first case of its kind in the state of Georgia. As far as I'm aware, it's the second case of its kind in the nation. What we're really referencing is this new phenomenon of parents being charged in conjunction with crimes that their children are committing. It's a divisive case, it's a divisive type of case where a parent is charged in conjunction with the crimes that their children committed. And Mr. Gray committed crimes. But his crimes are tethered to the tragedy committed by his son. And that makes the situation a little unique. When it went out, the first 39 witnesses of Mr. Gray's trial did not mention Colin Gray. They did not testify about anything that Colin Gray did. It was the tragedy that he's tethered to from Colt. Now again, Mr. Gray committed crimes and he was convicted because of his failure to act and intervene. I want to talk for a second about just some principles in American justice. The highest level of criminal responsibility or culpability is for someone who willfully, knowingly, intentionally commits a crime. The lowest level of criminal culpability in our system is criminal negligence. You didn't intend to commit a crime, but you ignored foreseeable harm. You failed to act in a certain way. You failed to intervene. And there's an easy example. Take a premeditated murder. Someone plans a murder. They want to kill someone, and they follow through on that plan, and they shoot them with a gun and kill them. And then in the other situation, someone's playing around with a loaded gun, recklessly, negligently, and they accidentally shoot and kill someone. Those crimes aren't punished the same. One is intentional. One is intentional. One is negligent. I want to point out that every one of the 27 charges that Colin Gray was convicted of are criminal negligence. Every one of them. Punishing criminal negligence is not easy, in part because they didn't intend to commit a crime. The punishment generally comes from the foreseeability of the harm and from the damage that results. It is clear you failed as a parent. You did not provide a stable household. You did not have things in check with Marcy's issues and what the kids were being exposed to. You did not have Colt in activities that a boy should be in where he's making connections with other children in person, where he feels loved, where he feels accepted. You didn't monitor what was going on with him in the computer. You didn't have him in school. He was in your care his entire eighth grade year. And he didn't go to school. And what did he do each of those days he should have been in school? He watched and re-watched the school shooting trial of Nicholas Cruz. He fell deeper and deeper into this obsession when he should have been in school every day. And that was a failure on your part. He didn't get any mental health counseling when it was obvious he needed some. None of those failures helped your case. But those aren't why you were convicted. You were convicted because the morning lights were flashing brighter and brighter. And you didn't get him help. And you didn't remove his access to the guns. I recognize that no parent believes that their child is capable of committing a heinous crime. No parent thinks that their child is going to be the next school shooter. But it became more and more obvious that something bad was going to happen. At a minimum, you should have believed that Colt would commit suicide. And you failed to do the simplest things to prevent this. You had gun locks and you didn't use them. You could have got a hundred something dollars safe and put the guns in the safe. If you had done that, you wouldn't be here today. You could have removed the ammo in the magazines from the house. And if you'd done that, you wouldn't be here today. You could have let someone else hold the guns while you got Colt help. If you'd done that, you wouldn't be here today. If you had done any of those things, Ms. Jeremy, Mr. Aspinwall, Mason, Christian, would be here today. And your negligence didn't arise in an instant. It was repeated day after day. The entire first month of school was an opportunity to remove the guns to get Colt help. And you failed. Again, sentencing for negligence is very difficult because there's not an intention to commit a crime. None of the crimes that you're convicted of require mandatory prison. And as I mentioned, the weight of your crimes is tethered and told, tethered and tied to the acts of someone else, your son. Two scenarios. You fail the same way in both. You fail to get Colt counseling. You fail to remove the guns from the house. In the one scenario, Colt changes his mind, doesn't go through with it. You're not charged with any crime at all. You're very seeing failures. Colt goes through with it as he did. Commits the atrocity. And the state's asking for 80 years confinement for you. Your actions are identical in each of those scenarios. My heart aches for everyone that was there that day. For all of you that have been impacted by it. But the law requires that I set aside a motion. I don't get the sentence with passion. I have the nearly impossible task of sentencing you without passion, despite the immeasurable heartache that you've caused. On September 4th, 2024, lives and families were forever altered. You are the but for. But for you failing to get Colt help. But for your failure to remove access to the guns. This doesn't happen. September 4th would have been a normal day. Mr. Aspinwall, Ms. Erami, Mason, Christian, Mr. Phoenix, Natalie, Melanie, Taylor, Jackson. They all would have gone home as normal to have dinner with their loved ones. It's the but for that the community has such outrage for you. But it matters that you didn't have actual knowledge that Colt was going to school to do that. It matters that you didn't intentionally commit a crime. It matters that you didn't plan an attack. It matters that you didn't seek to harm anyone. It matters that you didn't pull a trigger. As I indicated, all of your crimes are a form of criminal negligence. None of them require mandatory prison. I don't have a concern that you're going to commit future crimes. You're 55 years old and you have no criminal history. You didn't intend to commit these crimes that you've been convicted of. But the loss here is profound. But I still have to distinguish your acts from the malignant heart and the acts that Colt Gray committed upon the Apalachee School. For each of the murders in the second degree, I'm sentencing you to 15 years in confinement concurrent with one another. For each of the involuntary manslaughter, I'm sentencing you to 10 years confinement concurrent. For each non-merging cruelty to children, I'm sentencing you to 10 years in confinement concurrent. For each non-merging reckless conduct charge, I'm sentencing you to 12 months confinement concurrent. This is an aggregate sentence of 15 years in prison. I'm going to have the sentence filed presently. I'm required to advise you that you have certain post-conviction appellate rights. You have the right to a court-appointed attorney. If you need one to file a direct appeal or a motion for new trial, those have to be filed within 30 days of today's date. You have a right to file a petition for habeas corpus to challenge any violation of your constitutional rights or any legal errors. That has to be filed within four years of today's date. You have no right to a court-appointed attorney for a habeas corpus petition as it's a civil proceeding. I'll ask defense counsel to file a placeholder motion for you. If you need court-appointed counsel, make sure you apply so that you can comply with those 30-day deadlines. If your motion for new trial is denied, you have a right to a court-appointed counsel and can file an appeal from that within 30 days of that denial. This only closes the legal chapter of this horror. The pain, the heartache, they continue. I understand that. I hope all of you know that this community loves you, and I ask that God gives you peace. Thank you. We're adjourned. We're adjourned.