Texas execute Telephone Repairman ,Murders 4 Women Across Houston, Last Meal, Final words,Death ROW.
On the evening of January 18th, 2018, Anthony Allen Shore became execution number 544. He lay strapped to the gurney, arms extended outward, IV lines snaking into both veins. The white prison uniform hung loose on his 55-year-old frame. His hair had gone gray during 13 years of waiting.
The handsome features that once charmed neighbors and seduced victims had softened with age. Outside, January darkness had settled over East Texas. Inside, fluorescent lights hung over a room built for one purpose only. This would be the first execution of the new year. Through the viewing windows, three groups watched from separate chambers.
Journalists with notebooks ready, prison officials in suits, faces impassive. And in the third room, the families. The people who had waited three decades for this moment. The mothers and fathers and siblings of four girls who had crossed paths with a monster and paid with their lives.
They had buried their daughters, marked birthdays that would never be celebrated. Spent years wondering if the man responsible would ever face justice. Now they would watch him die. The warden read the charges. Capital murder, kidnapping. Words that could not capture what this man had done. Could not describe fighting for her life in a stranger’s van.
Could not convey a mother realizing her would never walk through the door again. The names hung in the air like wounds that would never heal. Lorie Lee Trembleyy, 15, walked out of her apartment on a September morning in 1986, headed to catch the school bus. The neighbor offered her a ride. She climbed into his van because she had accepted rides from him before.
Her body was found behind a Mexican restaurant, a cord wrapped around her throat. Maria Del Carmen Estrada, 21, an immigrant chasing the American dream. On an April morning in 1992, a man in a van offered her a ride to work. Her body was found behind a Dairy Queen, strangled with a device no one had ever seen before. Beneath her fingernails, skin cells from her killer waited for technology that did not yet exist. Diana Rebel.
On a brutally hot August afternoon in 1994, her mother sent her to buy sugar from the corner store less than a block away. Diana bought the sugar, started walking home, vanished. Her body was found the next day, a rope and bamboo stick twisted around her neck. Dana Sanchez, 16, stood at a pay phone on a sweltering July day in 1995 needing a ride.
A man in a van pulled over. Her body was found 8 days later in a field. Before police discovered her, the killer called a television station and told them where to look. Four lives, four families shattered, nine years of terror while a predator hunted Houston in plain sight. The warden asked if he had any final words. Shore’s voice cracked.
I’d like to take a moment to say I’m sorry. No amount of words could ever undo what I’ve done. To the family of my victims, I wish I could undo that past. He paused. It is what it is. Three words that waved away three decades of grief. Three words that captured everything about a man who had confessed to four murders with the detachment of someone describing the weather.
God bless all of you. I will die with a clear conscience. I made my peace. Then he added something investigators needed to hear. There are no others. For years they had wondered a man who killed four people across 9 years, who invented a signature weapon. Who taunted police through anonymous calls? Surely there were more victims.
With his final breath approaching, Shore was telling them no. What they knew was everything. He wished someone named Barbara Carroll a happy birthday. looked toward the window where no family of his own had come. God bless everybody until we meet again. The warden gave the signal. The pentobarbatital flowed. Shore felt it immediately. His eyes went wide.
Ooh, I can feel that. He said it burned. His breathing slowed. His chest rose and fell, each breath shallower than the last. In the witness room, the families watched in silence. At 6:28 in the evening, 13 minutes after the chemicals began their work, a prison official spoke the words that made everything final. Death has occurred.
Anthony Allen Shore, the tourniquet killer, was gone. But before we get to the end of Anthony Allen Shore, we must start at the beginning. We will travel to Rapid City, South Dakota, where Anthony Allen Shore was born on June 25th, 1962. Rapid City, South Dakota sits in the shadow of the Black Hills. It is home to Mount Rushmore and Ellsworth Air Force Base.
In 1962, thousands of military families were stationed there. Among them were Robert and Deanna Shaw. Robert Shore was serving in the United States Air Force. Deanna had also been in the Air Force, but received an honorable discharge when she became pregnant. On June 25th, 1962, she gave birth to a baby boy.
They named him Anthony Allen Shaw. Anthony was the couple’s first child. Over the following years, they would have two more children, both girls. Laurel was born next, followed by Gina. The three short children would grow up together, moving from base to base as their father’s career demanded. Military families face unique challenges.
Frequent relocations mean children must constantly adapt to new schools, new neighborhoods, and new friends. Some children thrive in this environment, others struggle. Anthony Shore would later describe his childhood as unstable and marked by conflict. Robert Shore worked with computers before the technology became commonplace.
He was skilled at his job and better opportunities kept presenting themselves. Each new job meant another move. By the time Anthony started high school, the Shore family had relocated nine times. They had lived in South Dakota, California, Florida, and Texas. The constant moving took a toll on young Anthony.
While his sisters Laurel and Gina seemed to make friends easily, Anthony struggled to connect with his peers, he was awkward in social situations. He had difficulty relating to other boys his age. Sports, which often served as a bonding activity for young people, did not come naturally to him. Where Anthony excelled was in music.
From a very young age, he showed exceptional talent with instruments. He could pick up almost anything and teach himself to play piano, trombone, guitar. When he was just 5 years old, a local newspaper wrote about him after he performed a piece by Johann Sebastian Bach at a recital. His parents were proud. Here was something their son could succeed at, but there were problems at home that the newspaper did not report.
Robert and Deanna Shore’s marriage was troubled. They fought constantly. Arguments would escalate into screaming matches. The children witnessed their parents’ conflict day after day, year after year. Both Robert and Deanna were unfaithful to each other. Affairs became a regular occurrence. Neither parent made much effort to hide their behavior from the children.
Young Anthony, Laurel, and Gina grew up in a household where trust was broken repeatedly. In 1976, when Anthony was 14 years old, Robert and Deanna finally divorced. The marriage had been broken for years. The divorce simply made it official. The children were left to navigate the aftermath of a family that had never truly functioned.
By this point, the Shore family had settled in Houston, Texas. This would become Anthony’s permanent home. The years following his parents’ divorce were formative ones for Anthony Shore. He was a teenager navigating the complexities of adolescence without a stable home environment. And during this period, disturbing patterns began to emerge.
Shore did not handle the divorce well. His academic performance was unremarkable. He had difficulty making friends. The constant moves during his childhood had left him without a stable peer group. Now in Houston, he was starting over once again. What his family noticed most was his extreme attention to appearance and order.
Anthony was meticulous about everything. He could not tolerate dirt or mess. He organized his belongings with unusual precision. His socks were hung on hangers. He insisted on wearing only silk underwear. Everything had to be just so. This obsessive behavior extended to how he treated others, particularly his younger sisters.
Anthony took it upon himself to coach Laurel and Gina on how they should behave. He corrected them constantly. He needed to be in control. More concerning were his interactions with girls his own age and younger. Anthony began harassing and groping female classmates. He did this in school hallways, in classrooms, anywhere he could get away with it.
Some of the girls complained, but in the 1970s, such behavior was often dismissed as boys being boys. His sisters friends were not safe either. Anthony would position himself to interact with younger girls who came to the house. He touched them inappropriately. He made them uncomfortable. Some of these girls stopped coming around, others told their parents, but nothing concrete was ever done.
At some point during his childhood, Anthony killed a neighbor’s cat. This is significant because cruelty to animals is one of the behavioral indicators that researchers have linked to later violence. The famous triad of warning signs for violent behavior includes animal cruelty, fire setting, and bedwetting beyond an appropriate age.
Shore displayed at least one of these markers. By the time Shore was in his late teens, his family had noticed that something was wrong, but they did not know how to address it. Mental health resources were not as accessible then as they are today. Families often dealt with troubling behavior by ignoring it or hoping the child would grow out of it.
During his teenage years in California, before the family moved to Houston, Shore began sexually assaulting women. He rode his bicycle through neighborhoods and grabbed women as he passed. He did this repeatedly. He was never caught. In 1977 and 1978, he escalated. He was 15 and 16 years old. He committed two rapes in the Sacramento area.
The assaults were never reported, never connected to him. By the time he was old enough to vote, Shore was already a sexual predator. Shore dropped out of community college in California in his early 20s. He moved back to Texas, specifically to Houston where he would spend the rest of his life. He got a job with Southwestern Bell as a telephone technician.
The job gave him a van to drive and access to neighborhoods across the city. He also found work as a tow truck driver. This gave him additional mobility and contact with people in vulnerable situations. Both jobs put him in a position to encounter potential victims. Despite his troubled behavior, Shore was able to present a normal face to the world.
He was charming when he wanted to be. He could make good first impressions. People who met him found him likable. He was handsome and musically talented. These qualities helped him blend in and avoid suspicion. In 1983, Shore married a woman named Gina Lynn Worly. His wife shared the same first name as his younger sister.
The couple seemed happy at first. Within two years, they had two daughters, Amber, born in 1984, and Tiffany, born in 1985. To neighbors and acquaintances, Anthony Shore seemed like an ideal dad. He drove his daughters to school. He bought them presents. He took them to parks and playgrounds. He was the father who showed up, who was involved, who cared.
This image was carefully constructed. Shore knew how to perform the role of devoted parent. He understood that appearances mattered. He gave expensive gifts at birthdays and holidays. He made sure other people saw him being generous with his children. But behind closed doors, the reality was different.
Amber and Tiffany Shore grew up in a household of contradictions. Their father could be charming one moment and terrifying the next. He controlled every aspect of their lives and the abuse began early. The shore home was not a nurturing environment. Anthony kept the house in poor condition.
Cockroaches infested the rooms. The girls were not allowed to shower regularly. At school, they were teased because of their appearance and hygiene. Other children could be cruel, and Amber and Tiffany had no way to explain why they looked the way they did. Food was another area of control. Despite earning a decent salary, Shore did not always provide adequate meals for his daughters.
The girls sometimes went hungry. When they did eat, the quality was poor. This was not due to poverty, but to neglect. Anthony was physically abusive. When the girls cried, he would cover their faces with pillows. He punished them harshly for minor infractions. They learned to be afraid of triggering his anger.
Every day was spent walking on eggshells, trying to predict his moods and avoid setting him off. The windows in the shore home were nailed shut. Anthony claimed this was for safety. In reality, it was about control. He did not want his daughters to have any means of escape or communication with the outside world. The house was a prison disguised as a home.
Shore’s marriage to Gina Worly deteriorated over time. The couple fought. The relationship became toxic. After about 10 years of marriage, they divorced. Custody of Amber and Tiffany went to Anthony. This decision would have devastating consequences. With their mother out of the house, the girls were entirely at their father’s mercy. There was no other adult to witness his behavior or intervene on their behalf.
Anthony took full advantage of this isolation. Then the abuse escalated further. Anthony began drugging his daughters. He would give them hot chocolate laced with sedatives at bedtime. The drinks would make the girls drowsy and eventually unconscious. They would wake up confused with gaps in their memory.
Tiffany was about when she first understood what was happening. She woke up one night to find herself completely naked. Her father was in the room assaulting her. The shock and horror of that moment would stay with her forever. The drugging continued. The abuse continued. Tiffany tried to protect her older sister, Amber, by not telling her about the assaults.
She hoped that if she endured it silently, Amber would be spared, but Amber was experiencing the same trauma. Teachers at the girls school eventually noticed something was wrong. The girls seemed neglected. They exhibited signs of distress. The school contacted child protective services. CPS came to investigate, but when the social workers arrived, Anthony coached his daughters on what to say.
He made them put on a show of happiness. He threatened them about what would happen if they told the truth. The girls, terrified of their father, did as they were told. CPS closed the case. Shore’s sister, Gina, the aunt of Amber and Tiffany, had suspicions about her brother. She reported her concerns to Texas Child welfare authorities on multiple occasions.
Five times she contacted them. Five times nothing came of it. In 1997, Anthony Shore remarried. His new wife was Amy Lynch. The marriage gave Amber and Tiffany hope that things might improve. But the abuse did not stop. Amber and Tiffany went to stay with their grandmother, Deanna, in California. Away from their father for the first time in years, they finally felt safe enough to tell the truth.
Tiffany broke down and told her aunt everything. the drugging, the assaults, the years of terror. Amber, when asked separately, confirmed every detail. The secret that Anthony Shore had kept hidden for so long, was finally out. Amber and Tiffany knew their father was dangerous. They knew he was capable of terrible things.
But even they could not have imagined the full truth. Because Anthony Shore had been keeping secrets long before his daughters were old enough to remember. In fact, in 1986, when Amber was just 2 years old and Tiffany was barely one, their father had already taken a human life. Her name was Lorie Tremble.
She was 15 years old and she lived just a few blocks away from the Shore family home. Lorie Lee Trembley was the youngest in her family. She had older siblings who doted on her. Her mother, Kathy Tremble, worked hard to provide for her children. Money was tight, but there was love in the household.
Lorie never lacked for attention or affection. As a child, Lorie was bright and curious. She did well in school. She made friends easily. She had a smile that could light up a room. People who knew her remembered her as sweetnatured and full of life. By the time she turned, Lorie was thinking about her future. She had dreams, as most teenagers do.
She talked about getting a job, maybe going to college someday. She wanted more than what she had grown up with. She wanted to make something of herself. Lorie attended a local high school. She was a good student who tried her best despite the challenges of her circumstances. She was responsible. She helped around the house.
She did not cause trouble for her mother. In 1986, Lorie started her sophomore year of high school. September brought cooler mornings to Houston, a relief from the brutal summer heat. Students returned to classes, catching up with friends and settling into routines. Every morning, Lorie walked to the bus stop to catch the school bus.
Her apartment complex was not far from the stop. The route took her through familiar streets she had walked hundreds of times. It felt safe. It was her neighborhood. Anthony Shore had noticed Lorie before that September morning. According to his later confession, he was preoccupied with young girls. He had seen Lorie in the neighborhood. He knew her routines.
He began offering her rides. At first, the rides seemed innocent. Shore was a grown man with a nice van. He was friendly and charming. He told Lorie he was just being helpful, saving her the trouble of waiting for the bus. She accepted his offers on occasion. Shore was 24 years old at the time. Lorie was 15.
She was trusting as many teenagers are. She had no reason to believe this neighbor meant her any harm. Predators count on this innocence. They exploit it. What Lorie did not know was that Shore had been planning something. He was not just being neighborly. He was grooming her, building trust so he could eventually act on his impulses. He was patient. He waited for the right moment.
On September 26th, 1986, Lorie left her apartment to walk to school. It was a Friday morning. She was wearing her school clothes and carrying her backpack. The sun was up. The neighborhood was starting to stir. Shore intercepted her near the bus stop. He offered her a ride. She accepted, perhaps grateful to avoid the walk.
She climbed into his vehicle as she had done before. She had no idea this ride would be different. He made sexual advances toward Lorie. He tried to unhook her bra. She resisted. She demanded that he stop. Lorie’s refusal angered Shaw. An argument erupted. Shore struck Lorie in the back of the head. The blow stunned her. Then he wrapped a cotton cord around her neck. He pulled it tight.
Lorie fought for her life. She struggled against him. But Shore was stronger and he did not let go. The cord broke during the assault because Shore pulled it so tight. He injured his finger in the process. Later, he would change his method of killing. Because of that injury, he would develop the tourniquet device that would become his signature.
After Lorie stopped moving, Shore drove to a restaurant called Ninya’s Mexican Restaurant on Westimer Road. He left her body behind the building near the trash bins. Then he drove away, returning to his normal life as if nothing had happened. Shore went home that morning. He showered. He changed his clothes. He probably ate breakfast.
Meanwhile, less than a mile away, the day shift at Ninfas was just beginning to arrive. The morning of September 26th, 1986 began like any other at Nyinfa’s Mexican restaurant on Westimer Road. Employees arrived to prepare for the day. The parking lot was empty except for a few early arrivals. No one expected what they would find.
An employee walking behind the restaurant noticed something near the dumpsters. At first, it might have looked like a pile of clothes or discarded trash, but as the employee got closer, the horrible truth became clear. It was a body, a young girl. The employee immediately called the police. Within minutes, patrol cars arrived at the scene.
Yellow crime scene tape was stretched across the parking lot. Detectives were summoned. The restaurant became a homicide scene. The victim was identified as Lorie Lee Trembley, age 15. She lived in an apartment complex less than a mile away. Houston police homicide detectives took charge of the investigation. They canvased the neighborhood, knocking on doors and asking questions.
Had anyone seen anything? Did anyone know Lori? Had there been any suspicious people or vehicles in the area? The canvas produced limited results. No one had witnessed the actual crime. A few neighbors knew Lori by sight. Detectives examined the crime scene carefully. They collected evidence from Lorie’s body and the surrounding area.
The medical examiner determined that she had been strangled with a ligature. The cord had left marks on her neck. There was evidence of a struggle. Importantly, Lorie had not been sexually assaulted. Shore had attempted to assault her, but she had resisted and he had killed her before completing the assault. This detail would later distinguish her case from Shore’s subsequent murders.
Without DNA technology to analyze, investigators relied on traditional detective work. They looked for witnesses. They checked the alibis. They investigated anyone who might have had contact with Lorie, but nothing panned out. In the weeks and months after the murder, Kathy sought answers from police.
She called the detective assigned to the case. She asked about progress. She wanted to know if they were close to catching her daughter’s killer. Each time the news was discouraging. The case had no strong leads. Without witnesses or physical evidence linking a specific person to the crime, investigators had hit a wall. The file remained open, but active investigation slowed to a crawl.
Years passed. Kathy Tremble returned to Nyfa’s parking lot on the anniversary of Lorie’s death. She brought flowers. She said prayers. She refused to let her daughter be forgotten. Even as the world moved on. The 1986 murder of Lorie Tremble joined a grim catalog of unsolved homicides in Houston. The city’s homicide rate was high.
Police resources were stretched thin. Cases that did not produce immediate results often languished. What no one knew at the time was that Lorie’s killer was still walking free. Anthony Shore had gotten away with murder. And the experience taught him something. He could do it again. After killing Lorie Tremble, Anthony Shore returned to his ordinary life. He went back to work.
He came home to his wife and daughters. He played guitar at bars on weekends. No one suspected anything. The 6 years between 1986 and 1992 were relatively quiet ones for sure, at least in terms of known criminal activity. He was not arrested. He was not questioned by police. He lived as any other suburban Houston resident might.
During this time, Shore’s first marriage ended. He and Gina Worly divorced after about 10 years together. The reasons for their split were complex, but the dysfunction in the household was evident. When they separated, Shore retained custody of his daughters, Amber and Tiffany. With his daughters now solely under his control, Shore’s abuse of them continued.
He drugged them. He assaulted them. He controlled every aspect of their lives. The girls were trapped, isolated from anyone who might help them. Shore continued working as a telephone technician for Southwestern Bell. The job suited him well. He had a company van. He had access to neighborhoods across Houston.
He could move freely through the city without attracting attention. He also continued working as a tow truck driver. This gave him additional cover for being out at odd hours. Tow truck drivers respond to calls at all times of day and night. No one questioned why Shore might be driving around after dark. What was happening inside Shore’s mind during these six years is difficult to know.
Psychologists who study serial offenders note that such individuals often have cooling off periods between crimes. By 1992, Shore was 30 years old. He had been living in Houston for most of his life. He knew the city’s streets intimately. He knew which neighborhoods had vulnerable people. He knew where he could find potential victims.
April in Houston brings warmer weather. The city shakes off the mild winter and prepares for the punishing summer heat. People are outside more. They walk to work. They wait at bus stops. They are exposed and available. On April 16th, 1992, Shore was driving through a southwest Houston neighborhood in the early morning hours.
The streets were quiet. Most people were still asleep. But one young woman was already awake getting ready for another day of work. Her name was Maria Del Carmen Estrada. She was 21 years old and she had traveled a long way to be in Houston that morning. Maria Del Carmen Estrada had come to Houston from Mexico, seeking opportunities that did not exist in her home country.
She was young, hardworking, and determined to build a better life. In Mexico, economic conditions were difficult for many families. Jobs were scarce, wages were low. Young people often looked to the United States as a place where hard work could lead to success. Maria was one of millions who made that choice. Moving to a new country requires courage.
Maria left behind her family, her friends, and everything familiar. She arrived in Houston speaking limited English and knowing few people, but she was willing to work hard and learn. Moving to a new country requires courage. Maria left behind her family, her friends, and everything familiar. She arrived in Houston speaking limited English and knowing few people, but she was willing to work hard and learn.
Maria found employment as a nanny. She worked for a family in Southwest Houston, caring for their children while the parents were at work. It was honest work and Maria was good at it. She was responsible, caring, and reliable. Her employers appreciated her dedication. Maria showed up on time every day.
She treated the children with kindness. She did extra tasks without being asked. She was the kind of employee that families hoped to find. Maria lived in an apartment near her workplace. The neighborhood was working class, home to many immigrant families like herself. People looked out for each other. Community bonds were strong.
Maria felt relatively safe walking to work each morning. She had routines as most working people do. She woke early. She got dressed. She walked to the family’s home in time to start her shift. The walk took her through residential streets, past strip malls, and fast food restaurants. On the morning of April 16th, 1992, Maria left her apartme
nt around 6:30 a.m. The sun was already up. The air was warm with the promise of a hot day ahead. She began walking her familiar route to work. Anthony Shore was out that morning. He was driving through neighborhoods looking for opportunity. He spotted Maria walking alone. A young Hispanic woman, small in stature, making her way down a quiet street.
Shore approached Maria and offered her a ride. We do not know exactly what he said to her. Perhaps he claimed to know someone in the neighborhood. Perhaps he said he was going the same direction. Whatever his approach, Maria accepted. Getting into a stranger’s vehicle is risky. But people do it all the time.
They are in a hurry. They trust their instincts. They accept that most people are not dangerous. Maria had no reason to believe this friendly man meant her any harm. Shore drove to a location behind a Dairy Queen restaurant on West View Drive near Work Road. He parked the vehicle away from prying eyes. Then he revealed his true intentions.
Maria freaked out when he made sexual advances toward her. She resisted. She tried to get out of the vehicle, but the doors were locked. Shore used a pair of shears to cut Maria’s clothing. He overpowered her. He assaulted her. During the attack, Maria fought back as best she could. She scratched at him, her fingernails digging into his skin.
Those scratches would prove crucial. Beneath Maria’s fingernails, tiny particles of Shore’s skin remained lodged. This biological evidence would stay preserved for more than a decade, waiting for technology to unlock its secrets. After the assault, Shore strangled Maria, but this time he did not use a simple cord as he had with Lorie Tremble.
He had learned from that experience. The cord had broken. He had injured his finger. This time, Shore used a more sophisticated device. He wrapped a nylon cord around Maria’s neck. Then, he used a piece of wood as a handle to tighten the cord, twisting it like a tourniquet. The device gave him complete control over the pressure around her throat.
When Maria stopped breathing, Shore drove to the Dairy Queen’s drive-through lane. It was still early morning. The restaurant was not yet open. No one was around to see him. He left Maria’s body there and drove away. Maria Delcarman Estrada was found later that morning. Her body was discovered in the drive-thru, visible to anyone who approached the restaurant.
The crime scene was shocking and public. Police arrived quickly. The discovery of Maria Del Carmen Estrada’s body behind the Dairy Queen sent shock waves through the community. A young woman had been murdered in a public place. Her body had been left where anyone could find it. The killer had not even tried to hide what he had done.
Houston police homicide detectives arrived at the scene that morning. They photographed the area. They collected evidence. They examined Maria’s body for anything that might identify her attacker. Investigators collected everything they could from the crime scene. This included scrapings from underneath Maria’s fingernails.
They knew she had fought her attacker. any material under her nails might contain his DNA. But in 1992, DNA technology was still evolving. The Houston Crime Lab had the capability to process DNA evidence, but the databases were limited. Without a suspect to compare against, the DNA evidence was of limited use. Detectives canvased the neighborhood around the Dairy Queen.
They interviewed employees of nearby businesses. They asked if anyone had seen Maria that morning or noticed any suspicious vehicles or people. The canvas produced few leads, but as time passed, the case grew cold. Without new evidence or witnesses, there was nothing more to pursue. Maria Del Carmen Estrada joined the ranks of unsolved homicide victims in Harris County.
What detectives did not know was that Maria’s killer was the same man who had killed Lorie Tremble 6 years earlier. The two cases were never connected because the circumstances seemed so different. Lorie had not been sexually assaulted. She had been strangled with a simple cord, not a tourniquet. Anthony Shore had now killed twice and escaped detection both times.
And 18 months after leaving Maria’s body behind the Dairy Queen, he was ready to strike again. This time, his target was a 14-year-old girl in northwest Houston. But this time, something would be different. His victim would fight back. Selma Jansky was 14 years old in October 1993.
She was a high school student living with her family in northwest Houston. She played sports, she had friends, she was a normal teenager with a normal life. The Jansky family lived in a modest home in the 1900 block of Portsouth Street. It was a quiet residential neighborhood where people knew their neighbors. Families left for work and school in the morning and returned in the evening.
Life was predictable. Selma’s routine was like that of any student. She went to school during the day. She came home in the afternoon. On October 19th, 1993, she arrived home after classes as usual. She expected to find an empty house. Her parents were still at work. What Selma did not know was that Anthony Shore had been watching her.
He knew when she came home from school. He knew she would be alone. And on October 19th, he decided to act. When Selma entered her house, she found a man standing in her kitchen. He was dressed in baggy clothes. He wore surgical gloves on his hands. Sunglasses covered his eyes. A bandana concealed the lower part of his face.
He looked like someone who did not want to be identified. Selma’s instinct was to run, but Shore moved quickly. He grabbed her before she could escape. Shore bound Selma’s hands with duct tape. He wrapped tape around her head, covering her eyes so she could not see. He told her that he had been watching her.
He knew her name. He knew where she went to school. He knew what sports she played. This level of detail was meant to frighten her. It was meant to establish control. Shore wanted Selma to understand that he knew everything about her. Resistance, he implied, would be feudal. Shore sexually assaulted Selma in her own home.
The attack was violent and traumatic. But unlike Shore’s previous victims, Selma fought back. She struggled against him. She refused to accept her fate. At some point during the attack, Selma managed to escape her bindings. Shore fled the scene before he could be caught. As he left, he made threats. He told Selma that if she reported the crime, he would return.
He would kill her and her family. He knew where she lived. He knew everything. Despite the threats, Selma told her parents what had happened. The police were called. Investigators arrived at the Jansky home. They collected evidence. They took Selma’s statement. A sexual assault examination was performed.
The examination revealed physical evidence of the attack. Importantly, DNA evidence was collected. This evidence would be stored, waiting for a suspect to compare against. Like Maria Estrada’s fingernail scrapings, it would eventually point to Anthony Shaw. Selma provided investigators with a description of her attacker. The baggy clothes, surgical gloves, sunglasses, and bandana made identification difficult, but she remembered details.
His height, his build, his voice. The case was assigned to the Houston Police Department’s sex crimes unit. Detectives investigated vigorously. They looked for similar attacks in the area. They searched for suspects who matched Selma’s description, but without a name or a clear face, the investigation stalled. Shore had been careful.
He had disguised himself. He had worn gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. The DNA evidence was filed away, awaiting a match. Selma had survived. She had fought back and lived to tell her story. But Shore was not deterred by her escape. If anything, he became more determined. Less than a year later, in the summer of 1994, he would find another victim.
This one would not get away. She was only 9 years old. Her name was Diana Riolar, and she lived in a neighborhood called the Heights, just a few miles from where Selma had been attacked. Diana Riolar was the light of her mother’s life. She had dark hair and a bright smile. She loved to play with friends in the neighborhood.
She was helpful around the house, always willing to run errands for her mother. Diana lived with her mother, Virginia Pedra, in a small duplex on North Main Street in the Houston Heights. It was a historic area of the city known for its Victorian homes and treeline streets. The Heights had a strong sense of community.
Neighbors looked out for each other. Virginia worked hard to provide for her daughter. They were a working-class family without much money, but there was no shortage of love. Virginia wanted the best for Diana. She wanted her daughter to have opportunities she never had. August in Houston is brutally hot. Temperatures regularly exceed 100°.
The humidity makes it feel even worse. People stay indoors during the hottest parts of the day, but errands still need to be run. On August 7th, 1994, Virginia asked Diana to walk to a nearby convenience store. They needed sugar for cooking. The store was just down the street, less than a block from their home.
Diana had made the trip many times before. Diana put on a black Halloween t-shirt. She was a child dressed for a quick errand, not a long journey. She left the house around noon, headed toward the store in the summer heat. Employees at the convenience store later told police that they saw Diana that day.
She came into the store. She bought the sugar her mother needed. She left the store safely. She started walking home, but Diana never made it. Somewhere between the store and her duplex, something happened. Virginia waited for her daughter to return. The minutes stretched into an hour, then 2 hours. Then Diana’s mother called the police.
The search for Diana Rebollar began immediately. Officers canvased the neighborhood. They checked parks, alleys, anywhere a child might have gone. They knocked on doors and asked if anyone had seen the girl. Diana’s body was found the next day, August 8th, 1994. She was discovered at a loading dock behind a vacant building at 1440 North Loop West.
The location was about a mile from her home. The murder of Diana Rebel horrified Houston. Houston police assigned significant resources to the case. Homicide detectives worked around the clock, following every lead. The community rallied to help, providing tips and searching for information about the killer. When investigators examined Diana’s body, they found something that stopped them cold.
The ligature around her neck was not an ordinary cord. It was a rope with a bamboo stick attached. The stick had been used as a handle to tighten the rope like a tourniquet. Detectives immediately recognized the significance. Two years earlier, Maria Delcarman Estrada had been strangled with the same type of device, a nylon cord with a piece of wood used to tighten it.
The method was unusual. It was distinctive. It was a signature. For the first time, investigators realized they might be dealing with a serial offender. Two victims killed two years apart using the same method. The connection was too specific to be coincidental. Detectives pulled the Maria Estrada file from storage. They compared the two cases.
Both victims were young Hispanic females. Both had been sexually assaulted. Both had been strangled with a tourniquet style device. Both had been left in public locations. The similarities were striking, but there were also differences. Maria had been 21 years old. Diana was only nine. Maria had been abducted while walking to work early in the morning.
Diana was taken in the middle of the day while running an errand. These differences suggested that the killer did not have a fixed victim type beyond young Hispanic females. He was opportunistic. He targeted victims who were alone and vulnerable regardless of age. Investigators also looked at the 1986 murder of Lorie Tremble, but that case did not fit the pattern as cleanly.
Lorie had not been sexually assaulted. She had been strangled with a simple cord, not a tourniquet. Detectives saw no connection to the other two cases. Anthony Shore, meanwhile, continued his life. He went to work. He raised his daughters. He played guitar in bars. The murder of a 9-year-old girl made the news for a few weeks, then faded from public attention.
Shore watched it all unfold, knowing he was responsible, knowing no one suspected him. Less than a year later, on a sweltering July afternoon, he spotted a teenage girl standing alone at a pay phone. Her name was Dana Sanchez. She was 16 years old and she needed a ride. On July 6th, 1995, Dana was trying to get to her boyfriend’s house.
She needed a ride, but apparently did not have one available. She decided to try hitchhiking. A risky choice, but one that desperate people sometimes make. Dana was seen at a pay phone on West Cavalcade at Airline Drive. She was making a call, perhaps trying to arrange a ride or checking in with someone. She was alone on a busy street corner in the middle of a hot summer day.
Anthony Shore spotted her. He was driving his van through the area. He saw a young woman alone at a pay phone. She looked like she needed help. She looked like an opportunity. Shore approached Dana and offered her a ride. We do not know exactly what he said or how he convinced her to accept. Perhaps he seemed friendly.
Perhaps she was desperate for transportation. Perhaps she simply made a split-second decision that would cost her everything. Dana got into Shore’s van. Within minutes, he had driven to a secluded location. He began making sexual advances toward her. Dana resisted. She fought back against him and then he killed her.
He ended the life of a 16-year-old girl because she refused his advances. After Dana was dead, Shore did not immediately dispose of her body. He waited. For reasons known only to him, he held on to her for a period of time. Then he drove to North View Park in Harris County and left her body in a field.
Dana’s partially decomposed body was found on July 14th, 1995, 8 days after her disappearance. She was nude. A yellow rope was wrapped around her neck. The same type of tourniquet that had killed Maria Estrada and Deanna Rebelar. But the most remarkable aspect of the Dana Sanchez case was what happened before her body was discovered.
Anthony Shore made a phone call. He called KPRCTV, a Houston television station. He reported that a serial killer was operating in the area. Shore provided directions to where Dana’s body could be found. He gave details that only the killer could know. He was inserting himself into the investigation, playing a game with the police and the media.
This behavior is not uncommon among serial offenders. Some killers enjoy the attention their crimes generate. They follow media coverage closely. Some even contact police or journalists, either to taunt them or to inject themselves into the narrative. Shore’s call to the television station showed his arrogance.
He believed he was smarter than the police. He believed he could commit murders, call in tips about his own crimes, and still never be caught. The call should have provided a major lead. Police knew the caller was likely the killer. They analyzed the recording for voice identification. They tried to trace the call, but in 1995, without modern technology, these efforts yielded nothing concrete.
Dana Sanchez’s murder was quickly connected to the deaths of Maria Estrada and Deanna Rebelar. The Tornica device was the link. Police now knew they had a serial killer who had murdered at least three people. By the summer of 1995, Houston police homicide detectives had no doubt they were hunting a serial killer. Three young Hispanic females had been murdered over a three-year period.
All three had been strangled with the same unusual tourniquet device. Police Captain Richard Holland spoke to the media. He acknowledged that investigators believed the same person was responsible for the deaths of Maria Delcarman Estrada, Danna Rebelar, and Dana Sanchez. The public was warned to be cautious.
The news spread fear through Houston’s Hispanic community. Families became protective. Parents did not let children walk alone. Women became wary of strangers offering assistance. Investigators developed a profile of the killer. He was likely a local man who knew Houston’s streets. He had access to a vehicle, probably a van. He selected victims who were alone and vulnerable.
He was organized and methodical. The FBI’s behavioral analysis unit was consulted. They reviewed the cases and provided insights into the type of person who might commit such crimes, but profiles only help narrow the field. They do not identify specific suspects. Detectives checked sex offender registries. They looked at paroleies and probationers.
They investigated anyone convicted of similar crimes. Shore’s name did not appear on these lists because he had not yet been convicted of anything. Tips poured in from the public. Citizens reported suspicious neighbors, strange vehicles, anything that seemed relevant. Detectives followed up on every lead. None led to shore.
The investigation was frustrating. Police had evidence. They had DNA. They had the murder weapon signature, but they could not find the killer. He was hiding in plain sight. What police did not know was that the killer had stopped hunting strangers. After Dana Sanchez sure appears to have committed no more murders, but he did not stop being a predator, he continued to abuse his daughters throughout this period.
The crimes against Amber and Tiffany were horrific, but they were private crimes hidden within the family home. As 1995 became 1996, then 1997, the serial killer investigation went dormant. Without new murders or new evidence, there was nothing to pursue. The cases remained open but inactive. The files gathered dust. In 1997, Shore married Amy Lynch.
From the outside, it seemed like he was settling down. In reality, he was still the same dangerous man. The marriage did not last long. Amy accused Shore of abusing his daughters during their divorce proceedings. This accusation, combined with what Amber and Tiffany finally revealed to their grandmother, would bring Shore’s crimes to light.
In October 1997, Shore was arrested for sexually molesting his own daughters. He pleaded no contest to two counts of indecency with a child. He received 8 years of probation, no jail time. He was required to register as a sex offender. And critically, he was required to provide a DNA sample to police. That DNA sample entered the CODIS database in 1998.
Maria Delcarman Estrada’s fingernail scrapings had been collected in 1992. The two profiles should have been compared automatically. The match should have been made within months, but it was not because the Houston Police Department crime lab was broken. The Houston Crime Lab was supposed to be where science solved crimes.
Instead, it had become a place where evidence went to die. In 2002, an audit revealed devastating problems. DNA technicians had misinterpreted data. They were poorly trained. They kept sloppy records. In many cases, they had used up all available evidence, making retesting impossible. The scandal made national news.
The lab was shut down pending a comprehensive review. Cases that had been processed there were called into question. Convictions were challenged. Some inmates were released. For the families of Shore’s victims, the scandal had cruel implications. In 2000, Houston detectives had submitted the Estrada evidence for DNA analysis.
Technology had improved significantly since 1992. A full genetic profile was obtained from the fingernail scrapings. It was high quality. Shore’s DNA was already in CODIS. The match should have been automatic, but because of problems at the lab, the match was never made. Records were mishandled. Samples were mismanaged.
Shore remained unidentified. The 2002 audit forced changes. Evidence was sent to other facilities for retesting. Private laboratories with better quality control took over the analysis. The Estrada samples were sent to Orchid Celmark, a private laboratory in Dallas with a reputation for excellence. In 2003, Orchid Cellmark made the connection that Houston had missed.
The DNA from under Maria Del Carmen Estrada’s fingernails matched Anthony Allen Shaw. The profile from her desperate struggle, preserved for 11 years, finally pointed to her killer. On October 17th, 2003, Houston homicide detective Robert King received the report. The name Anthony Shore was now attached to a capital murder.
King pulled Shore’s file. He learned about the 1998 molestation conviction. He learned Shore was a registered sex offender living freely in Houston. A week later, on October 24th, 2003, police arrested Anthony Allen Shore at his home. He was transported to the Houston Police Department’s homicide division.
He was placed in an interrogation room, and over the next 11 hours, he would confess to everything. On October 24th, 2003, Anthony Shore sat in an interrogation room at the Houston Police Department’s homicide division. He was 41 years old. When police arrived at his door with an arrest warrant for the murder of Maria Del Carmen Estrada, he did not resist.
The interrogation began at 4:53 p.m. Shore’s handcuffs were removed. He was offered water and coffee. Detective Todd Miller presented the DNA evidence linking him to Estrada’s murder. Shore remained calm. He did not immediately confess or deny. He seemed, according to officers present, as though he had been expecting this moment.
For the first three hours, Shore talked but admitted nothing specific. He was cooperative, speaking freely but not providing incriminating details. He looked Miller directly in the eye, showing no signs of deception. In his 22 years as a homicide detective, Sergeant John Swain had never had a murder suspect call him by his first name. Shore did. At 10:20 p.m.
, Detective Miller expanded the conversation. He told Shore he was suspected not just in the Estrada case but in two other murders, Diana Rabolar and Dana Sanchez. Shore did not deny involvement. He said he could not remember. When Miller invited him to speak hypothetically about what might have happened, Shore agreed, but he was more comfortable talking to Sergeant Swain.
Swain returned. Over the next several hours, Shore began to open up. He spoke hypothetically at first, distancing himself from the crimes, but gradually the hypotheticals became confessions. He confessed to Maria Del Carmen Estrada, picking her up while she walked to work the assault, using the nylon cord and piece of wood to strangle her, leaving her body behind the Dairy Queen.
He confessed to Diana Rebel, spotting the 9-year-old walking home from the store, taking her in his van, binding her with duct tape, strangling her with his tourniquet. He confessed to Dana Sanchez, offering her a ride. Her resistance, killing her, and later calling the television station to report where the body could be found.
Then Shore provided information detectives did not expect. He confessed to a fourth murder. Lorie Lee Trembley, killed in 1986, the case that had never been connected to the others. The first victim, Shaw, explained that he had strangled Lorie with a simple cord, injuring his finger in the process.
That injury led him to develop the tourniquet device. The evolution of his method suddenly made sense. He also confessed to the 1993 sexual assault of Selma Jansky, breaking into her home, binding her, assaulting her, how she had fought back, and escaped. By 3:00 a.m., Shore had confessed to four murders and one sexual assault spanning nearly a decade.
He had provided details only the killer could know, and he had done it all calmly, as though describing someone else’s actions. The confessions were recorded. The evidence was overwhelming. Now, prosecutors faced a decision. How to ensure Anthony Shore would never harm anyone again. Kelly Seagler was assigned to prosecute Shore.
She was one of the most experienced prosecutors in the Harris County District Attorney’s Office, having handled dozens of capital murder cases. She knew how to secure death penalty convictions. Seagler and her team reviewed all the evidence. Shore had confessed to four murders, but only the Maria Delcarman Estrada case had DNA evidence directly linking him to the crime.
The other cases relied primarily on his confession, which defense attorneys might challenge. The decision was made to try Shore for the capital murder of Maria Del Carmen Estrada. The DNA from her fingernails was irrefutable. It placed Shore in physical contact with her at the time of her death. Shore’s defense attorney, Gerald Burke, faced an almost impossible task.
His client had confessed on tape. DNA evidence confirmed his guilt. The only question was whether Shore would receive life in prison or death. Bourke tried to challenge the DNA evidence. arguing that the Houston Crime Labs problems cast doubt on the results, but the retesting had been done by Orchid Selmark.
The evidence stood. The trial began in late October 2004. Prosecutors presented their case methodically. The DNA match was explained. Shore’s taped confession was played. Jurors heard him describe in his own calm voice how he had assaulted and murdered Maria Del Carmen Estrada. Shore’s demeanor during the trial was unsettling. He showed little emotion.
He watched the proceedings with detachment as though observing someone else’s trial. The defense admitted Shore had killed Estrada. They argued it was murder, not capital murder, disputing the kidnapping and sexual assault elements. The evidence against this interpretation was overwhelming. After 4 days of testimony, the jury deliberated for less than 3 hours.
They found Anthony Allen Shore guilty of capital murder. The trial moved to the punishment phase. This is where prosecutors reveal the full scope of a defendant’s crimes. Jurors learned about Diana Rabolar, Dana Sanchez, and Lorie Tremble. They heard about Selma Jansky. They learned about Shore’s abuse of his own daughters.
Amber and Tiffany testified about what their father had done to them. The drugging, the assaults, the years of terror, their courage, and facing him in open court was remarkable. Selma Jansky testified about the 1993 attack. She described her escape. Her testimony put a human face on Shore’s pattern of violence. Then came the most unusual moment of the trial.
Shore’s defense attorneys told the jury their client wanted the death penalty. Shore had instructed them not to fight for life imprisonment. He wanted to die. The jury deliberated for less than an hour. They sentenced Anthony Allen Shore to death by lethal injection. Shore had confessed. Shore had been convicted. Shore had received the punishment he requested.
But he would spend the next 13 years on death row. And during that time, he would continue to manipulate the system in ways no one anticipated. The Texas Department of Criminal Justice operates death row at the Palunksky unit in Livingston, Texas. It is located about 70 mi northeast of Houston.
Inmates are held in single cells, isolated from each other for 23 hours a day. Anthony Shore arrived on death row in November 2004. He was inmate number 9999312. He joined approximately 300 other men awaiting execution. Some had been there for decades. Shore would spend more than 13 years waiting for his date with the needle. Life on death row is monotonous.
Inmates spend most of their time alone in small cells. They are allowed 1 hour of recreation per day, which they take alone in a small cage. Visits from family and friends occur through glass partitions. Shore adapted to the routine. He wrote letters to family members and pen pels. His correspondence was upbeat, often minimizing his situation.
He maintained relationships with his sisters who struggled to reconcile the brother they had known with the monster he had become. His daughters did not visit. Amber and Tiffany had testified against their father and wanted nothing more to do with him. The man who had abused them for years held no appeal as a father figure.
Now Shore’s appeals wound through the courts. His attorneys argued various points. Ineffective counsel at trial, brain damage that affected his judgment, procedural errors. None succeeded. The Texas Court of Criminal Appeals affirmed Shore’s conviction and sentence in December 2007. Federal appeals followed. Each was denied.
The Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals found no merit in his claims. The Supreme Court declined to hear his case. One of Shore’s arguments centered on his mental state. His attorneys claimed he had suffered brain damage early in life that his trial lawyers failed to discover. They argued this damage affected his decision to seek the death penalty, but the courts found this argument unpersuasive.
Shore had been competent during his trial. He understood what he was doing when he asked for death. The judgment stood. As the years passed, Shore’s execution date was set and reset multiple times. Legal proceedings caused delays. In 2017, his date was finally scheduled for October 18th. But Shore had one more scheme to play.
In the weeks before his scheduled execution, he began claiming he had committed additional murders. He wrote to the governor offering information about other killings if he was given more time to live. Texas Rangers interviewed Shore on Death Row. He claimed to have killed a woman named Aurora Roas in Pulk County in 1995.
He also claimed involvement in an unsolved murder near the Texas killing fields. Investigators looked into his claims. They found some details that fit, but others that did not. Ultimately, they concluded Shore was lying. He was trying to buy time by dangling false confessions. There was also the matter of Larry Swearing, another death row inmate scheduled for execution in November 2017.
Swearing had been convicted of murdering a woman named Melissa Troder in 1998. He maintained his innocence. Shore and Swaren hatched a scheme. Shore would confess to the Melissa Troder murder, creating doubt about Swearing’s conviction. Investigators found evidence of this plan in Shore’s cell, including hand-drawn maps supposedly showing where Troder’s body evidence could be found.
The scheme backfired. Shore eventually admitted to investigators that he had agreed to make a false confession to help his friend Swearing. He had not actually killed Melissa Troder. The manipulation was exposed. Shore’s October execution was delayed while authorities investigated the false confession scheme.
A new date was set, January 18th, 2018. January 18th, 2018 was a Thursday. The weather in Huntsville, Texas, was mild for winter. Inside the Walls unit, the state’s oldest prison, preparations were underway for the first execution of the new year. Anthony Allen Shore had exhausted his appeals. The Supreme Court had declined to intervene.
The Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles had unanimously rejected his clemency petition. There would be no last-minute reprieve. Shore spent his final hours at the walls unit where executions are carried out. He was moved from death row at Palunksky to the execution chamber building the day before.
His last night was spent in a holding cell adjacent to the death chamber. On the morning of his execution, Shore declined a final meal. Texas had stopped offering special last meals in 2011 after another inmate ordered an elaborate feast and then refused to eat it. Now condemned inmates received the same food as everyone else in the unit.
Throughout the day, Shore met with prison chaplain and staff. He was reportedly calm. He had said he was ready to die. He had told interviewers that he had made his peace. His family did not come to witness the execution. His father, Robert Shaw, stayed home. His sisters, Laurel and Gina, did not make the trip to Huntsville. They chose to remember their brother as he had been, not as he was at the end.
His daughters were not present either. Tiffany and Amber had long since moved on with their lives. They wanted nothing to do with the man who had abused them. His death would bring them relief, not grief. Witnesses did gather in the viewing room adjacent to the death chamber. Family members of Shore’s victims were present.
Andy Kahan, Houston’s crime victim’s advocate, was there to speak on their behalf. Media witnesses would record the proceedings. At 6:15 p.m., the execution process began. Shore was led into the death chamber and strapped to the gurney. IV lines were inserted into his arms. The witnesses watched through windows. Shore was given the opportunity to make a final statement.
His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke. He apologized to the families of his victims, though he knew no words could undo what he had done. I’d like to take a moment to say, “I’m sorry,” Shore said. “No amount of words could ever undo what I’ve done. To the family of my victims, I wish I could undo that past. It is what it is.
” He continued, “God bless all of you. I will die with a clear conscience. I made my peace. There are no others.” That last phrase was important. Shore was telling investigators that there were no other victims they had not discovered. He was putting to rest any speculation about additional murders.
Shore also wished a happy birthday to someone named Barbara Carroll. He thanked those who had helped him during his years on death row. God bless everybody until we meet again, he concluded. The warden gave the signal. The lethal dose of pentobarbatl began flowing through the IV line. Shore felt the drug immediately.
“Oo, I can feel that,” he said. He noted that it burned. Within seconds, Shore closed his eyes. His breathing slowed, then stopped. At 6:28 p.m., 13 minutes after the process began, Anthony Allen Shore was pronounced dead. Outside the prison, Andy Kahan addressed the media. “Anthony Allen Shore’s reign of terror is officially over.
” He said, “There’s a reason we have the death penalty in the state of Texas.” and Anthony Shore is on the top of the list. For the families of Lorie Trembley, Maria Delcarman Estrada, Diana Rebolar, and Dana Sanchez, the execution brought a measure of closure. More than 30 years after Shore claimed his first victim, justice had finally been served.
This documentary is dedicated to the memory of Lorie Lee Trembley, Maria Del Carmen Estrada, Diana Rabolar, and Dana Sanchez. May they rest in peace and may their stories remind us to protect the vulnerable, pursue justice relentlessly and never forget those whose lives are cut short by violence. Thank you for watching the tourniquet killer, the Anthony Allen Shore Story.
