Long before Karen Pais was shot in her chest and buried in the backyard of her Carrollwood home, she repeatedly told her friends who would be to blamefor her murder.
Nearly five years after she died, her warnings echoed through a Tampa courtroom as they told a judge what they’d heard her say: “If something happens to me, my sister did it.”
On Monday, Hillsborough Circuit Judge Robin Fuson sentenced Debra Patton to life in prison without the possibility of parole for killing Pais, her sister, with whom she lived.
A jury last month found Patton, 72, guilty of second-degree murder.
Patton, short and stooped and clad in an orange jacket, stared straight ahead, listening to words of pain and condemnation from her late sister’s friends as they asked for a sentence ensuring she will die incarcerated.
“I do stand here blameless for this,” Patton said. “I do intend to appeal the verdict. I do also forgive everything that I just heard in here that was a lie.”
She voiced what seemed to be a kind of prayer directed toward the judge.
“Heavenly father, I know that you are in sovereign control of this situation,” she said. “And even though I understand that the verdict is in and that you are going to pronounce (your) sentence, I am going to continue to fight this.”
Fuson responded in harsh terms, saying what Patton did showed “the evil that walks among us.”
“I remember this case when it first came in and the cold, calculated way that you perpetrated this crime,” the judge told her. “You say you stand here blameless. Nobody else agrees with you. And I certainly don’t. The jury certainly (didn’t). You will be judged someday. If you’re a God-fearing person, then you should fear God at this time.”
Pais, 66, was a retired Verizon engineer who lived a quiet life in a home she inherited from her parents on Cypress Park Street, north of Gunn Highway. Patton moved in with her about a decade before Pais was killed.
Pais’ friends recalled that Patton was at first friendly and sociable, but became cold and distant as years progressed. There was tension between the sisters, according to court testimony, but the source of it was never publicly stated.
Pais’ friends became concerned after she disappeared and stopped responding to calls in May 2021. One friend found it odd when she sent a text message about a hairstyling appointment she and Pais had discussed and got a curt reply: “I’ll pass.”
When her friends came looking for her at home, they found her red Toyota parked in the garage. One of them saw Patton through a garage window. When she called out, Patton ignored her, the friend testified.
One of the sisters’ neighbors happened to be a Hillsborough County sheriff’s deputy whose home was equipped with a surveillance system. A review of videos turned up footage of Pais doing yard work the morning of May 24, 2021. After she went into her garage, she never reemerged.
Subsequent footage showed Patton taking trash to a curb, walking her dog, Buddy, and retrieving a shovel from the garage. Sheriff’s detectives later searched the home and dug up a large dirt patch in the backyard. About 2 feet down, they found Pais’ body.
A medical examiner determined she died from a gunshot wound to her chest. Both sisters owned handguns, and one that was said to belong to Patton was missing. A pair of latex gloves found with her sister’s body carried her DNA.
Although Patton was convicted of second-degree murder, Assistant State Attorney John Terry said Monday there was evidence to suggest the killing was premeditated. Much of that evidence, though, was deemed hearsay and barred from Patton’s trial.
But several of her sister’s friends told the judge Monday morning they harbored no doubt that Patton had thought about what she did for a long time.
“This is not the defendant’s first threat of violence,” said Pam Nelson, a longtime friend of Pais’.
“She is going to kill me,” another friend, Jan Wilder, recalled Pais saying.
The friends said they implored Pais to make her sister move out. But Pais was too generous, too kind. She would say that Patton had nowhere else to go.
Cathy Wynkoop, another friend, described Patton as a “narcissist” who gave nothing in return for her sister’s hospitality.
“If she had a chance, she would probably fulfill other threats she has made to other family members.”
Patton shook her head at times as her sister’s friends spoke, at one point quietly uttering a single word: “Lies.”
The second-degree murder conviction gave the judge some discretion in the sentence, with 25 years being the minimum. It was what the defense sought.
The judge noted the callous nature of Patton’s actions as he imposed the sentence that prosecutors and Patton’s friends requested.
“When I watched the video and saw you take the shovel and walk back into the house to bury your sister’s body, it’s unfathomable,” Fuson told Patton.
“You should have watched the whole thing,” Patton mumbled.
The judge cut her off.
“This is not your time to speak,” he said. “It’s your time to listen. I think you may think it’s a joke. Well, enjoy yourself for the rest of your life because I’m going to mandate that you go to prison for the rest of your life.”