𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐦 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 buy 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐢𝐦 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐎𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬💥💥💥
The birthday candles had barely stopped smoking when the text message came through.
On the night of December 10th, 2023, Shannara Patterson was laughing. She had just turned 34. Her three children were beside her. A video from that night shows her dancing, her youngest daughter giggling in the background, someone off-camera singing \\\”Happy Birthday\\\” off-key but with love. \\\”Go, baby. It\\\’s your birthday,\\\” a voice calls out. \\\”Happy birthday to you.\\\”
It was a good night. The kind of night Shannara had fought for.
Less than twelve hours later, her brother-in-law kicked down the door of a Las Vegas apartment and found something no family should ever see. Five people had been hit. Four of them were gone. The only one still breathing was an 11-year-old boy. His name was Derek Cox Jr. Everyone called him DJ.
\\\”Four victims, one adult male, one adult female, two juveniles,\\\” Lieutenant Robert Price of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police told reporters at the scene. \\\”One juvenile transported clinging to life.\\\”
The Clark County Coroner’s Office later confirmed the names of those who did not survive: Shannara Patterson, 34. Her daughter, Kaziah Conn, 14. Her youngest, Zamira Patterson, just 6 years old. And Marvin Ray Patterson, 42—Shannara’s husband. The man police say ended all of them before turning the final act on himself.
At the time of the incident, Marvin Patterson was not in custody. He was not behind bars. He was out on bond. Wearing an ankle monitor. Under house arrest. Facing nine felony charges—charges involving children.
How did a man facing allegations like that end up in the same apartment as three kids?
The answer starts and ends with Shannara Patterson.
Born December 10th, 1989 in Long Beach, California, Shannara grew up in what her family called a loving home. As a little girl, she played dress-up, coordinated hairstyles to match each outfit, and sang with her family. She turned that passion into a career as a cosmetologist—braiding, wig installations, custom work for women of color. She also started Custom Treats, a design business for parties, baby showers, birthdays. She had talent, discipline, and three children who meant everything to her.
Kaziah—called Zia—was 14. Goofy. Creative. She loved to draw. Zamira—called Duty—was 6. Gentle. Innocent. \\\”She didn\\\’t have a mean bone in her body,\\\” her aunt said. DJ was 11. Shannara’s only son. She loved that fiercely.
By the time she met Marvin Patterson, Shannara had already built her businesses. Her children were her world.
Shannara and Marvin married on May 5th, 2019 in Las Vegas. Her father, battling cancer, made it to the aisle. He walked her to her husband that day.
On their wedding registry, Shannara wrote this: \\\”There comes a time in life when you meet someone that you just want to love and make smile for the rest of your life. Someone who never belittles me, even in the heat of an argument. Someone who always looks out for me and wants the very best for me. For that, I will never take you for granted.\\\”
She called him her soulmate. Her youngest daughter, Zamira, had already been born before the wedding. Marvin fit in with Shannara’s older children. They made videos. They appeared in public together. To everyone watching, they were a family.
Then her father passed away. The man who had fought through cancer just to walk her down the aisle was gone. Her anchor. Her main source of support. Those close to Shannara say losing him took a toll she never fully recovered from.
The pandemic hit. Her businesses—hair and events—were two of the hardest-hit industries. Both dried up almost overnight. Financial pressure became real. And through all of that, Marvin was there.
According to Clark County District Court records, Marvin Patterson had allegedly been engaging in criminal conduct involving children as far back as 2013. In October 2022, law enforcement caught up with him.
He faced nine felony counts: five counts of lewd acts with a child under 14, two counts of sexual assault involving a minor under 16, one count of lewd conduct with a child under 16, and one count of first-degree kidnapping of a minor.
Four different children had come forward independently. The alleged incidents reportedly took place in and around the apartment Marvin shared with Shannara and her children.
Shannara did not believe any of it.
She had written those words about him. Her dying father had walked her to him. She had built her entire home around him. Now she was being told he was someone completely different.
When Marvin was taken into custody in October 2022, his bail was initially set at $100,000 by a substitute judge. Conditions: surrender passport, high-level electronic monitoring, no contact with any person under 18. He sat in custody for two months.
Then his defense attorney, Brett Whipple, filed a motion to reduce bail. The argument: $100,000 was unaffordable. Marvin was not a flight risk—passport already surrendered. The state’s evidence was not strong enough to justify keeping him at that level.
Several people showed up to speak on his behalf. His brother. His ex-girlfriend. And Shannara—his wife. She stood up in that courtroom and spoke for him.
The Clark County District Attorney’s Office opposed the reduction. DA Steve Wolfson argued against it, questioning why children should be subject to the consequences of this man’s alleged actions.
But Judge Diana Sullivan made a different call. She reduced Marvin Patterson’s bail from
100
,
000
t
o
100,000to10,000. Same conditions: ankle monitor, surrendered passport, no contact with anyone under 18.
Marvin posted bond through a Las Vegas bail company shortly after. He was out.
By late 2023, the financial pressure on both sides was building. Marvin had apartment costs, car payments, legal bills, a jury trial coming in April 2024. Shannara had fallen behind on rent. She was evicted.
With three children and no immediate alternative, she moved herself and her kids into Marvin’s apartment.
\\\”She was there no matter who you was, how long she knew you,\\\” Shannara’s sister, Michaela Bernudi, later said. \\\”If she had it, she go give it to you.\\\”
But whatever happened between the adults, the children had no say in any of it. Zamira was 6. Kaziah was 14. DJ was 11. None of them chose to be in that apartment.
The night of December 10th—Shannara’s birthday—Marvin reached out to his brother Jason. He said he was losing everything. Eviction from the apartment. His car repossessed. Life was hitting him very hard. Jason offered encouragement but decided to check on his brother first thing the next morning.
On the morning of December 11th, Jason arrived at the Loreto and Palacio Apartments. He knocked. No answer. He kicked the door in.
He stepped back outside and called 911.
\\\”They\\\’re all gone,\\\” the property manager had already told dispatchers after hearing screaming. \\\”I don\\\’t know who it is. I hear one of the kids. They\\\’re trying to breathe.\\\”
One child was still fighting. DJ.
\\\”Right now, we have one adult male deceased, an adult female deceased, two juveniles deceased, and one juvenile at UMC Hospital clinging to life,\\\” Lieutenant Price said at the scene.
Shannara had celebrated her birthday the night before. She never saw 34 end.
That evening, family and community members gathered outside the apartments for a vigil. Shannara’s mother, Jamesa Bernudi, spoke. \\\”This was not supposed to happen. She was sweet. Kind. Do anything for you.\\\”
\\\”She was sweet,\\\” Michaela said of her nieces. \\\”Duty—that\\\’s Zamira—she was the most innocent child I ever met. Kiziah was goofy. She loved to draw.\\\”
Their brother, DJ, was still in the hospital. \\\”He\\\’s still fighting,\\\” his aunt said. \\\”We praying for him. He gon\\\’ pull through. He\\\’s strong.\\\”
Jasmine Lee, founder of the Doc Ellis Foundation—a charity supporting families of missing and murdered people of color—called Marvin’s release \\\”a slap in the face to his victims.\\\” She called for accountability from those involved in the bail decision. \\\”When I looked at the charges, I was baffled. It could have been prevented. The community didn\\\’t realize we had an individual floating around.\\\”
Judge Diana Sullivan did not comment publicly. DA Steve Wolfson confirmed his office had argued against the bail reduction. His prosecutors had made their position clear. The judge made a different call.
Marvin’s defense attorney, Brett Whipple, pointed to the bail motion he had filed—which stated that Marvin had a good relationship with his wife and children. That was the argument presented. That was the argument the judge accepted.
Former Clark County District Attorney David Roger weighed in: \\\”I think the court system failed. I think the prosecutors could have done more. I think the guardian or whoever brought those children over to the defendant\\\’s home failed these children as well. This case is truly a tragedy, and there are a lot of people who have shared responsibility.\\\”
At the University Medical Center, DJ was fighting. His father, Derek Cox Sr., stayed by his side. For weeks. For months. He posted updates. DJ showed some brain activity. He sat up. He responded.
In one video, Derek Sr. is beside his son. \\\”How you feeling?\\\” he asks. \\\”I won,\\\” DJ says. His voice is small but certain. \\\”I love you,\\\” his father replies. \\\”I won.\\\”
\\\”Hold your head, man,\\\” Derek Sr. tells him. \\\”You can\\\’t be doing that.\\\”
The community kept praying. The medical reality was difficult. Recovery was long and uncertain.
Nine months after December 11th, 2023, DJ lost his fight. Derek Cox Sr. confirmed it publicly. DJ was 11 years old on that morning. He held on for nine months. Then he was gone.
\\\”Man, that really messed me up,\\\” Derek Sr. said later, holding a picture necklace of the last time he saw his son. \\\”But here it is. A picture of us.\\\”
The funerals came. The homegoing service for Shannara and her daughters was held at a chapel in Las Vegas. A praise dance was performed in their honor.
Derek Cox Sr. lost his son nine months after December 11th. He had documented every step of DJ’s fight publicly, sharing updates with a community that prayed alongside him. When DJ passed, he did not go quiet. He kept speaking. He kept DJ’s name alive.
\\\”She was sweet,\\\” Michaela Bernudi said at the vigil. \\\”Like she didn\\\’t have a mean bone in her body.\\\”
Kaziah was goofy. Zamira was gentle. DJ was strong.
Four victims. One survivor who fought for nine months. A mother who defended a man she loved. A judge who reduced bail from 100,000to10,000. A system that let him walk out the door.
And three children who never got to choose.