American homicide; after five months planning, he shot the wrong woman between the eyes on 7/10/1993 on a sidewalk in Quincy, MA.
A young man of mixed race, Cape Verdean descent, Diaz never knew his dad who left after the boy was born. His mom raised him on a social worker’s salary and the boy worked hard and stayed out of trouble. He was working as a bouncer at a local club and studying to be a physical therapist when he met Kimberly Brown in July 1991 . He neither smoked or drank and was soft-spoken and polite. At the time he was 23 and still a virgin; they became passionate lovers. Diaz was totally smitten, intensely in love. He trusted Kim and told her everything, such as the time when he was seven or eight, when a man molested him and then killed his puppy as a warning to never tell anyone.
Kim’s mom, Virginia, did not approve of their relationship because Tony was black. By early 1992 they began to drift apart. He became despondent when he heard another man’s voice on her phone in February. Kim moved to New York and in September, when she told him she loved another, he said “Fucking bitch,” and slammed down the phone. Deeply depressed, he railed against being black, crying that his life was ruined, casting about for reasons and blame. Unable to forgive Kim for not loving him, he carefully planned her death. It was not a crime of passion or in spontaneous rage, but an execution.
For his escape, he contrived a new life, a new identity complete with a passport and the name Gregory Scott Grayson. His escape route covered four states establishing false address, Los Angeles, Singapore and Hong Kong on his way to Guyana, South America.
Engaged to be married, Kim returned to Quincy for a bridal shower. On the night of July 10th, Diaz waited on the sidewalk near a Dunkin’ Donuts. At 11:00 PM, the Brown’s car pulled up. Dawn and her boyfriend got out, along with their nephew. Diaz called out, “Kim.” Dawn turned as Diaz pointed the gun directly at her face and fired. Diaz had contrived the perfect crime but with one error. He shot the wrong woman.
Diaz ran. He followed his escape route and effectively disappeared. In October 1993 he landed in Georgetown looking for work. He applied at the Guyenterprise Ad Agency, telling them he was on walkabout, like the aborigines do in Australia. Diaz was well built but so deeply shy that he walked in shuffling steps with his eyes downcast. He spoke little about himself or his past. When he first started work, too broke to pay for his $12 a night room, he would camp on the beach through the night. He was a gentle man, not at all sinister. An exceptional employee, he rapidly learned how to handle the digital equipment at the agency.
In early 1994 he met Lynda Jairam when he rented a room in her flat. She was in her mid-30s, abandoned by her husband and raising two daughters by herself, taking in an occasional boarder and working part-time at a beauty parlor. They quietly married on 5/08/1994. Grays, as Lynda called him, worked hard at his job and at his weight-lifting at the gym, settling into a domestic life as a good husband and father. His mixed race mattered little in Guyana as it was common.
Tracing his escape route was a tedious process, but on 3/22/1996, at 5:15 AM, there was a knock on the door of the Grayson’s flat. It was the police. When they asked, “Are you Tony Diaz?” Grays began to tremble. The officer said, “If you run it’s nothing but bullets, man.” The following month he was deported from Guyana.
One year later, Diaz was convicted of first-degree murder.