On February 26th, 2003 a neighbor living on Treasure Lane saw a green truck and a white car. He informed the police who were investigating a murder up the road about what he had seen. Royce Clayton knew my mom and I from when I worked at Big-O Tires, He was also friends with my cousin. When he heard that a green truck was seen and informed the detectives, “Sean O’Brien’s mom drives a green Suburban type vehicle.” Suddenly I became a suspect in a murder investigation.
To this day the police have ever identified the green truck and white car, while my mom’s green Chevy Tahoe was at her place of business in Cameron Park all day as seen by numerous witnesses.
All of this was irrelevant to the detectives who began to spread the word that they were looking for Sean O’Brien. Unfortunately I was nowhere to be found. No one knew I had been sent to a school in Oregon in order to finish high school.
Within 48 hours the detectives discovered where I was and came to interview me, which I wrote about in a previous blog post. They now knew where I was and that I had no choice in going. But no one else knew and word still spread that the detectives were looking for me. The detectives’ actions and my absence created a perfect storm that allowed me to be accused of murder by those who were actually involved.
By the time Tyler Dickson and William Wellman (who were involved in the murder based on their confessions) were interviewed by the police, it was widely known that the detectives were looking for me. These two individuals who were involved, along with a handful of their friends began a conspiracy to cast blame on me. This conspiracy played out over multiple police interviews with more blame being placed on me after each subsequent interview.
More accusations but not a single piece of factual or physical evidence of any kind to corroborate anything. Not to mention Dickson and Wellman’s own accounts of the crime; which are two completely different stories. The police never questioned why nothing in their stories matched up. Not a single detail of their stories is the same. The detectives failed to even question them about how neither one could explain to the detectives how they supposedly went from my house to the house the crime had occurred. Had they been to my house as they claimed shouldn’t that have been simple? Not to mention that there is not a single piece of evidence of any kind to corroborate any accusation they made. No fingerprints, DNA. hair, fibers, nothing.
There is, however, evidence of secret meetings between those accusing me. These meetings which took place between police interviews were known to the police but never investigated. In the follow-up interviews after the secret meetings, those conspiring against me would suddenly have more accusations.
One of Dickson’s friends, Chantell Michaud, who accused me during this time later freely admitted “I was trying to protect Tyler.”
While another who participated in the secret meetings, Clff Sargent, was asked by the detectives where the information he was giving them came from.. He responded “That’s just like people saying- I’ve heard a lot of different stories, like versions of what happened. That’s one of the first ones so I thought that was the truth.” The detectives then asked him if the information he gave them had been told to him by Sean O’Brien. Sargent said “No. I heard different versions from different people.” Sargent admitted to the detectives he lied about accusing me. That he was only repeating versions of what he had heard, possibly in those secret meetings he was a part of. The detectives just did not care.
The detectives did not conduct a proper and thorough investigation. They never once found a single piece of unbiased, credible, or real evidence to corroborate any allegation made against me. They began their investigation by telling everyone they were looking for Sean O’Brien. In their tunnel vision while being helped along by the conspiracy of those who were actually involved and guilty, the detectives never considered any other possibility. Which is how I became a suspect. Now I sit in prison eleven years later; wrongfully convicted.
written by Sean O’Brien