Unsolved Phoenix murder from 2006 still haunts family

Phoenix police today have little doubt that the frenetic attack on Jared Olson's home nine years ago was a targeted hit. Whether Olson's murder was the target, however, remains unclear.

Shortly after 9:30 p.m. on April 28, 2006, the 20-year-old Olson was playing video games with two friends in his home — a modest, pink one-story he shared with a friend on a cul-de-sac near 39th Avenue and Butler Drive.

Olson's friends would later describe an ambush.

Two White men kicked in the door yelling "police!" and began spraying bullets at the three friends. Olson and the other two darted through the house to escape, with Olson headed to the northwest corner of the home, and the other two barricading themselves inside a bedroom, according to the Phoenix police report.

One of Olson's friends would later say he racked a shotgun inside the room — indicating to the intruders that they were armed, which potentially scared them off, Olson's parents said.

The two friends looked in the house for Olson but couldn't find him. It wasn't until police arrived that they discovered Olson, shot in the back and ankle, dead in a small space leading to a closet.

Potential motives

Olson was a friend to everyone, said his mother, Lori Milus, in a recent interview in her Scottsdale home.

Olson's popularity was evident at the 400-person funeral and in the shrine Milus and her husband Brooks built in their foyer. In a photo next to Olson's ashes, a spiky-haired teen in a tuxedo wraps his arms around a pretty blonde on one side and a pretty brunette on the other. Olson had two dates to prom that year.

But Olson's wide net of friends caught all kinds, Milus said, including the ones that can worry the parents of teenagers.

In the months leading up to his death, Olson had been dealing marijuana out of his home.

"Not to excuse anything that he did, but he'd never been arrested, and he really thought that (by) selling marijuana out of the house, he could make a lot of money," his mom said.

Olson and his friends had held a large party at the house. Could one of the kids have been bragging about the money? Olson got in an argument with one of the girls at the party and kicked her out. Could she have complained to a boyfriend?

Let-downs

Milus describes the night Olson died as the "perfect storm." There were three other homicides that night in Phoenix, and detectives were stretched thin, she said.

But the family placed their trust in Richard "Mike" Polk, an affable, seasoned detective heading the case. Polk, a 24-year veteran on the homicide unit, won the family over by attending the funeral and consoling Olson's grandmother, Janet Brooks.

"You're going to be my new best friend," Brooks recalls telling Polk.

"Believe me," he promised, "I'll take care of this."

But two years and no arrests later, Polk was busy tending to other, more personal legal matters.

The detective was arrested in April 2008, following an investigation that revealed a stash of child pornography in his home.

"When we heard he'd been arrested, it was just like, 'You've gotta be kidding me,'" said Brooks Milus, Olson's stepfather.

Some of Polk's cases will never go to trial. Polk's credibility was irrevocably shot — a prosecutor would never call him to testify. Even if they did, it was unlikely Polk could make the date, as he was sentenced to seven years in prison.

But Olson's family was comparatively fortunate — other officers were working Olson's case as well, and a new lead detective produced an arrest within months. But the suspect would soon prove to be just the latest in a series of let-downs.

"We had some information from some sources that he was involved," said Phoenix police homicide Detective Dominick Roestenberg, the current lead on the case. "There was a person of interest that was interviewed and questioned, however due to identification issues, he was later released."

Milus said the case crumbled after one of the witnesses identified the man as one of the shooters, but then said he was 80 percent sure he was the right guy. The prosecutor at the time refused to take the case.

The life of Jared Olson

Olson was born on Labor Day, Sept. 2, 1985. He lived in the Valley most of his life, save a brief stint in Wisconsin.

His parents divorced when he was 10, but the split was amicable To this day, Milus said, the two remain in contact and share holidays together.

Olson formed close bonds with his stepfather, Brooks, and the two shared a love for archery and fishing. His hobbies evolved into skateboarding and ATVs in his teen years, and he grew closer with his friends in the West Valley, where his dad lived and where Olson attended high school at Mountain Ridge in Glendale.

Later, Olson would say he wanted to make a living skateboarding during the day and have a fishing show at night.

Olson never met a stranger, his family said, but maintained close ties to his brother, parents and grandparents.

"He was the type of kid who could call you on the telephone, and say 'grandma, I love you and papa,' and there could be 15 of his friends standing around, and that wouldn't bother him," Brooks said. "That was just the way that he was."

But Milus said she always worried that her son was too impressionable — he didn't seem to have a filter, she said.

One of Olson's friends said that Olson had wanted to get out of the marijuana business, his mom said. And today, his parents are left with several unanswered questions.

There was several thousand dollars found in the house, but just that week Olson had asked his dad for $60. His family believes the money was going to pay off those above him in the ring.



"He made a bad, bad decision that cost him his life," Milus said. "But I think a lot of it had to do with him being naive."

Olson's death lodged a hole in his family that remains to this day. His grandfather was hospitalized after a deep depression. His brother struggled with guilt after not answering a call from Olson a half-hour before he died. Milus suffered from nightmares about the attack, and to this day has trouble attending weddings, knowing that so many of life's milestones will never happen for her son.

Milus knows her son made bad decisions, and believes those young, naive decisions were what cost Olson his life. She worries his lifestyle will sidetrack police and affect the amount of attention paid to her son's case.

"He's everybody's son — he was not a bad kid," she said. "Really, the bottom line was, these two or three (suspects) … this isn't the only time they've done this. It seemed to me that should be the focus. They're going to wreak havoc if they're not brought in."