Why did an angry teenager kill a 14-year-old boy in Tacoma? ‘Turmoil,’ his attorney says

Driving past four boys gathered at a bus stop in Tacoma last year, a 17-year-old boy made a decision that will govern his fate for longer than he has been alive and perhaps sit in his heart until he leaves this world.

Instead of continuing on to 7-Eleven, where he and his girlfriend had planned to get some snacks, William Isaac Kalama turned the car around on Portland Avenue. He fired eight gunshots at the group of children. Xaviar Siess, 14, was hit in the abdomen by one bullet, a wound that killed him later that day at a hospital.

On Thursday morning, almost two dozen people came to a Pierce County Superior Court room to learn what punishment the state of Washington had for Kalama, who is now 19 and had already pleaded guilty to second-degree murder and third-degree assault.

By the end of the hearing, Judge Karena Kirkendoll decided justice was a high-end punishment, sentencing Kalama to 22 years, eight months in the state's custody. In Washington, young people sentenced for crimes committed before they are 18 go to juvenile rehabilitation in the custody of the Department of Children, Youth and Families until age 25 when they would transfer to the Department of Corrections.

People weren't just there to hear how many years of incarceration a child's life is worth. At sentencing hearings, many of those most closely tied to the criminal case have a chance to have one last word. Thursday, the court would hear from a steely prosecutor, a grieving mother and her living children, Siess' best friend, a sobbing biological father and a stepfather holding it together.

There was also the veteran defense attorney trying to explain to the court how the turmoil of Kalama's early life and upbringing had made him the angry and quick-off-the-trigger person he was on Jan. 12, 2023, when he killed Siess. Then there was Kalama himself, either staring blankly or listening to testimony before he had a chance to speak. Finally the judge.

Several of Kalama's family members were in attendance as well, but they declined to speak in court. Filling out the cast of characters were a judicial assistant handing out LifeSavers before the hearing began, victim advocates offering tissues as it went on, a court reporter and a couple of news reporters, plus sheriff's deputies standing guard.

Deputy prosecuting attorney Mark Sanchez addressed the court first. He explained the circumstances of the shooting and the difficulty of talking with the family of homicide victims about standard sentencing ranges, enhancements and offender scores.

Sanchez explained that because Kalama was under 18 when he murdered Siess, the court must consider the mitigating qualities of youth at sentencing, and that the judge had discretion to impose a punishment below the standard range. Despite that, he said, he was asking the court to hand down a high-end sentence.

"This wasn't a case about self defense," Sanchez said. "Xaviar's just minding his own business at the bus stop. Multiple shots fired. Not a single shot. Not a shot to scare him, shots to hit him. And he did. Defendant then callously drove away."

The prosecuting attorney noted that Kalama had previously been convicted of second-degree robbery as a juvenile for an incident that occurred in 2020, within two years of Xaviar's murder. Kirkendoll explained later in the hearing that Kalama had been attempting to rob beer and cigarettes with a friend, and he "lost control of his emotions" while carrying it out, repeatedly punching a store clerk to the point of concussion.

'I was supposed to grow up with him'

Siess' mother, Daine Mabel, was the first family member to speak to the judge. She brought with her a painting that was placed on an easel. It was a portrait of her and Xaviar made after his death, depicting the two smiling together after an evening at a Family Fun Center.

Mabel said Siess was her first-born son. She was pregnant with him when she graduated from Franklin Pierce High School. She recalled walking across the stage with him and then living in an independent youth housing program with him after he was born, sleeping on the floor when Siess was just a week old.

"He gave me a second chance at life and love," Mabel said. "And when I visit his grave site, I get so upset sometimes."

The mother recounted the story of how she learned Siess had been shot and when she was told he was dead. Mabel said at first she was told a lie by a group of boys who said Siess had only been grazed by a bullet. When she got to the hospital, a receptionist held her by the arm while she was led to a room to wait for the surgeon who'd been working on her son.

When the surgeon appeared, he told her that Siess' vitals were low when he arrived. He said he thought the bullet was suppressing something, so they started emergency surgery, but he died during the procedure. Mabel said she told the doctor he must have the wrong one, her son was strong.

"I said, 'No doctor talk. What happened?'" Mabel said. "And he said I can't find the bullet, to be honest. And he lost a lot of blood in his stomach. So you've seen that, and so there was no chance."

Mabel cried at times while she spoke, and her voice fell to a whisper when she described how her son's last words were to tell ambulance workers what his name was. She said she had already forgiven Kalama in her heart, and she felt that Siess would have forgiven him if he had survived. Then she turned to face the young man.

"I forgive you, in my heart and my soul," Mabel said. "Even when I saw you on the news, I still could not hold any hate in my heart. I just wanted to grieve my son in peace."

Siess' biological father, Christopher Siess, spoke next. He said he was in prison when he found out, but weeks earlier he had a weird feeling in his stomach that something was going to happen to one of his kids. He struggled to speak without becoming emotional and told the court that Siess never got to see him be a changed person. Eventually his stifled cries broke into loud sobs.

"I used to get mad at him because I thought he needed to toughen up," Christopher Siess said. "He was just so nice, like so gentle. And I apologize for that because why would I want him to be any different than who he was? He was just the nicest person that you could ever meet."

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Kenneth Bradley, Siess' stepfather, walked up to the judge next with two little girls in tow. They were two of Siess' younger sisters, Azariah, 9, and Malaysia, 6.

Bradley recalled asking Siess if it was OK to date his mom when the boy was about 5 years old over a meal of french fries and ranch dressing. Bradley said it was missing the little things that was hurting him, like playing video games with Siess or even him frustrating Bradley or messing with his sisters. He said Siess loved life and cherished his family.

At his side, Azariah held a picture of her brother. The judge asked if she wanted to tell her about him.

"He was a really great brother," the girl said. "I was supposed to grow up with him."

Siess' sister, Meleah, who was closest to him in age, spoke last along with her boyfriend, who was also Siess' best friend. Both described having dreams of Siess and how he had always had their backs.

Defense attorney describes 'turmoil' of client's life

After a short recess, Kalama's defense attorney, Bryan Hershman, addressed the court, seeking to explain why Kirkendoll should impose a low-end sentence of around 14 years.

He said he was going to ask for some latitude while he spoke. He said he'd been to way too many of sentencing hearings, and he hates them, but he couldn't think of a more eloquent and sorrowful presentation than what the victim's family had just given. While he argued before the judge, the veteran attorney became emotional himself at times.

"These people are in terrible pain," Hershman said. "So is he. They want an answer, why he did this. I don't think my client knows."

Hershman said this case emanated from Kalama being robbed weeks before the shooting. He said connecting the dots from that robbery to a finger on a trigger was senseless but also diagnostic. Hershman said Kalama had armed himself after the robbery.

"He didn't understand why he was so angry. I do," Hershman said.

The attorney turned to Kalama's upbringing and mental health issues. Kalama's mother was an addict, he said, and he was born addicted to methamphetamine, the fourth of 10 siblings. His father was an alcoholic who beat Kalama and raised him alongside his grandmother, according to Hershman. He said the boy grew up in a gang community, got in frequent physical altercations at school and was shot at before his mid-teens, something that led to a PTSD diagnosis. Kalama started abusing alcohol and drugs by age 12.

Hershman said the major finding of a psychological evaluation done in the case was Kalama's troubled childhood and prenatal exposure to meth, but he had a different takeaway. He noted that Kalama admitted to feeling excited during the prior robbery he was convicted of.

"What's going on here," Hershman said. "A kid who grows up in turmoil, that's his world. It's turmoil. They self-treat with turmoil."

Then it was Kalama's turn. He stood, then said he was sorry to the victim's family, that he apologized for the pain he's caused and he takes responsibility for what he did. He turned to face the courtroom gallery.

"I apologize to everyone," Kalama said. "I'm sorry that I've done this to you guys."

Finally, the judge made her ruling.