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. The kind of night that, in hindsight, makes everything that followed feel like a betrayal written in slow motion.
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 find.
“He had received a troubling text from his brother the night before,” law enforcement sources later confirmed. “He wanted to check on him. He knocked. No answer. So he kicked the door in.”
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 gathered at the scene. “One juvenile transported to UMC 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 that involved 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. And that answer has left a city asking questions no one wants to answer.
Born December 10th, 1989 in Long Beach, California, Shannara grew up in what her family called a loving and nurturing home. As a little girl, she played dress-up, coordinated hairstyles to match each outfit, and sang with her family. She had presence. She had light. People noticed her when she walked into a room.

As she got older, she started doing her mother’s and sister’s hair. She became the person everyone turned to when they wanted to know which hairstyle worked best for which look. That love became a career. Shannara became a cosmetologist—a talented one. She specialized in braiding, wig installations, and custom hairstyles for women of color. Her work showed up on social media. People took notice.
“She was sweet, kind, would do anything for you,” her mother, Jamesa Bernudi, later said through tears.
But Shannara did not stop at hair. She also started Custom Treats, a design business where she created personalized clothing, party favors, glasses, treats, and more for birthdays, baby showers, any occasion where people wanted to celebrate in style. She had the talent and the discipline to build something real.
And she did all of that while being a full-time mother to three children.
Kaziah—called Zia—was 14. Goofy. Creative. She loved to draw. Family members described her as someone who could make you laugh without trying. “Get you with the blink,” her aunt said. “Just get you with the blink.”
Zamira—called Duty—was 6. Gentle. Innocent. “She was the most innocent child I ever met,” her aunt Michaela Bernudi told reporters at a vigil. “Like she didn’t have a mean bone in her body.”
DJ was 11. Shannara’s only son. She loved him fiercely. She was the type of mother who went all out for her children—themed birthday parties, custom outfits, matching decorations. She made sure her children were always well put together, whether they were at home or at school.
The people who knew her said her home was always open. She hosted parties for family and friends. She passed her sense of style directly to her kids. They always looked good, and they had her personality, too. Warm. Charismatic. Full of life.
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. They created a wedding website for guests to make reservations. They invited family and friends. They celebrated properly. And the most meaningful part of that day for Shannara was that her father was there.
Her father had been battling cancer. Somehow, through everything, he made it to that aisle. He walked his daughter to her husband.
On their wedding registry, Shannara wrote these words: “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. It’s amazing when God sends you someone who appreciates you for everything someone else took for granted. Someone who loves me for me. Someone who is patient, forgiving, and humble. Someone who never belittles me, even in the heat of an argument. Someone who can make me laugh, smile, and grow. Someone who always looks out for me and wants the very best for me. And for that, I will never take you for granted. And I thank God for sending me my soulmate. Falling in love is like finding a part of you that you didn’t realize you were missing. And then suddenly you meet someone who completes you and makes you feel whole.”
She called him her soulmate.
Her youngest daughter, Zamira, had already been born before the wedding—September 2017. Marvin also had children from a previous relationship. His divorce from his first wife was finalized in April 2019. He married Shannara the very next month.
Marvin reportedly fit in well 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 shortly after. The entire country came to a standstill. Shannara’s businesses—hair and events—were two of the hardest-hit industries. Both dried up almost overnight. She kept them going as best she could, but the financial pressure was real.
And through all of that, Marvin was there. Or at least, that’s what she believed.
But according to documents from the Clark County District Court in Nevada, Marvin Patterson had allegedly been engaging in criminal conduct involving children as far back as 2013. Nearly a decade before the wedding. Nearly a decade before Shannara wrote those words about her soulmate.
In October 2022, law enforcement caught up with him.
Marvin Patterson was arrested. He faced a total of nine felony counts: five counts of lewd acts with a child under the age of 14, two counts of sexual assault involving a minor under the age of 16, one count of lewd conduct with a child under 16, and one count of first-degree kidnapping of a minor.
Nine counts. Multiple children. Nearly a decade.
According to a KTNV news report, police arrest records revealed that four different children had come forward with accounts of what Marvin allegedly did to them. Each child came forward independently. The alleged incidents reportedly took place in and around the apartment that Marvin shared with Shannara and her children.
Four children. Four separate accounts. Spanning nearly ten years.
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. She had built her life 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. The conditions attached to that bail were strict: surrender passport, high-level electronic monitoring, no contact with any person under the age of 18.
He sat in custody for two months.
Then his defense attorney, Brett Whipple, filed a motion to reduce bail. The argument presented to Judge Diana Sullivan was straightforward: $100,000 was unaffordable. Marvin was not a flight risk—his passport had already been surrendered. The evidence from the state was not strong enough to justify keeping him in custody 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 bail reduction. DA Steve Wolfson argued against it, questioning why children should be subjected to the consequences of this man’s alleged actions. His prosecutors had made their position clear.
But Judge Diana Sullivan made a different call.
She reduced Marvin Patterson’s bail from 10,000. Same conditions: ankle monitor, surrendered passport, no contact with anyone under 18.
“$10,000 bond,” former Clark County District Attorney David Roger later told reporters. “For a man facing multiple child sex charges. I think the court system failed.”
Marvin posted bond through a Las Vegas bail company shortly after. He was out.
The court order kept him away from children under 18. He was living separately from Shannara and the children. That was the arrangement. That was the condition.
By late 2023, the pressure on both sides was building. Marvin had apartment costs, car payments, legal bills, and a jury trial coming in April 2024.
On Shannara’s side, the financial pressure had not eased. Without Marvin contributing to the household, she was carrying the costs on her own. Her businesses had not fully recovered.
According to her landlord, by late November 2023, she had fallen behind on rent. She was evicted.
With three children and no confirmed immediate alternative, Shannara made a decision. She moved herself and her three children into Marvin’s apartment.
“She was there no matter who you was, how long she knew you,” Shannara’s sister, Michaela Bernudi, later said at a vigil. “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. His trial approaching in April. Life was hitting him very hard.
Jason responded with words of encouragement. But it was not enough. Jason decided he would go check on his brother first thing the next morning.
On the morning of December 11th, 2023, Jason arrived at the Loreto and Palacio Apartments in Centennial Hills. He knocked. He called out. 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 from inside the apartment. “I need the police. I don’t know who it is. I hear one of the kids. They’re breathing. 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 Robert Price said at the scene.
The Clark County Coroner’s Office later confirmed the identities. Shannara Patterson, 34. Kaziah Conn, 14. Zamira Patterson, 6. Marvin Patterson, 42.
Investigators determined Marvin was responsible for what happened to the others. 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. The grief was raw. The anger was real.
Jamesa Bernudi, Shannara’s mother, spoke to the press that night. “This was not supposed to happen. She was sweet. Kind. Do anything for you.”
Michaela Bernudi, Shannara’s sister, described her nieces at that same vigil. “Duty—that’s Zamira—she was sweet. Like, 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.”
A food truck owner named Isaiah Robinson, who said he knew the family, organized a fundraiser to help cover funeral expenses. He told reporters he just wanted to send the children off the right way. A GoFundMe campaign was also launched by a relative to help cover funeral costs and DJ’s ongoing medical care.
But the anger had a very specific target. People wanted answers about what happened in that courtroom months before. When a judge reduced the bail of a man facing nine felony charges involving children from 100,000to10,000.
Judge Diana Sullivan reduced that bail. And people wanted to know why.
Jasmine Lee, the founder of the Doc Ellis Foundation—a charity that provides support for the families of missing and murdered people of color—was one of the most vocal voices calling for accountability.
“When I saw the charges, I was baffled,” Lee told reporters. “It could have been prevented. The community didn’t realize we had an individual floating around. That bothered me.”
Former Clark County District Attorney David Roger was even more direct. “This case is truly a tragedy, and there are a lot of people who have shared responsibility in what happened here. 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.”
Judge Diana Sullivan did not comment publicly on the case.
Clark County District Attorney Steve Wolfson confirmed that his office had argued against the bail reduction at the December 2022 hearing. 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 the children. That was the argument presented to the court. That was the argument the judge accepted.
In addition to the nine felony charges Marvin was set to go on trial for in April 2024, court records showed he had several other prior arrests on his record. The most recent of those prior arrests was listed as 2005. There was also a warrant listed for failing to appear in court at some point in his history.
Meanwhile, at the University Medical Center, DJ was fighting.
His father, Derek Cox Sr., was by his side. In the days and weeks that followed December 11th, Derek Sr. kept the people who cared about DJ updated through social media. Friends at the fundraiser told reporters that DJ had shown some brain activity in the days after the incident.
His aunt reached out on social media asking for video messages for his father to play by his bedside. DJ held on.
In one video posted months later, Derek Sr. is beside his son in the hospital room. “So, what’s up, TikTok family?” he says. “I got up and did me some working out and stuff today. Also doing some exercises with my son. He right here. Got him sitting up.”
He turns the camera to DJ. “How you feeling?” he asks.
“I won,” DJ says. His voice is small but certain.
“I love you,” his father replies.
“I won.”
“Doing a good job, right?” Derek Sr. says, his voice catching. “It’s going to be all right, man. But hold your head. You can’t be doing that.”
For weeks. For months. His father never left his side.
The community kept praying. The medical reality was difficult. DJ’s injuries were severe. Recovery was a long and uncertain process. There were good days and there were hard days. And through all of it, his father documented every step.
Nine months after December 11th, 2023, DJ lost his fight.
Derek Cox Sr. confirmed it publicly. DJ was 11 years old on the morning of December 11th, 2023. He held on for nine months. Then he was gone.
“So, my wife surprised me with a gift,” Derek Sr. said in a later video, holding up a necklace. “It’s a picture necklace of the last time I saw my son. Last picture we took together. Man, that really messed me up. 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. Family members, friends, and people from across the community came to pay their respects. The service included a praise dance performed in honor of Shannara and her daughters.
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 10,000. A system that let him walk out the door.
And three children who never got to choose.
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