Man Gets 75 Years For Role In Teen’S Murder Erickson Told Court He Had No Remorse, Asked For Sentence Of Life Without Parole

A Stevens County Superior Court judge likened self-proclaimed Satan worshipper Andrew D. Erickson to Charles Manson and sentenced him to 75 years in prison for leading a teenage “brotherhood” in killing a 17-year-old boy for the thrill of it.

The sentence was 10 years longer than Prosecutor Jerry Wetle requested for a crime he described as “a gang rape” because of the way Erickson, 20, and two others riddled Newport resident Matt Davis with bullets before stabbing him and urinating on his body. But the sentence was not as long as the life without parole that Erickson himself requested.

State law doesn’t allow life without parole in standard first-degree murder convictions, such as Erickson’s.

A jury quickly convicted Erickson, of Loon Lake, last month after hearing testimony about the callous way he and two accomplices murdered Davis after inviting him to join their group of friends, which Erickson called “the brotherhood” or “our family.” Wetle described Davis as a friendly kid who tried to fit in with a group of teens he met while working at the Chataqua festival in Chewelah last July with his grandparents.

Court-appointed defense attorney Bob Simeone pleaded for no more than the 40 years that accomplice Aaron M. Dalager, 18, got earlier Wednesday. Dalager bargained for 40 years when he and Richard E. Tullis, also 18 and from Chewelah, pleaded guilty.

Judge Larry Kristianson rewarded Tullis, who reported the crime to police and testified against Erickson, by shaving five years off the 30 called for in his plea bargain.

The 27 relatives of Davis, who filled about half of the packed courtroom Wednesday, seemed to agree that Erickson was primarily responsible for the murder.

Shirley Cameron told the court she is convinced her grandson would still be alive if it weren’t for Erickson, whom she called the ringleader of the pot-smoking fans of gangster-rap to whom Davis turned for companionship.

Cameron said she was “absolutely” satisfied with Erickson’s sentence because “it makes the streets a little safer.”

During the sentencing, Davis’ uncle, Randy Davis, blasted Erickson for smirking when other relatives addressed the court. He and others chided Erickson for trying to avoid conviction, even though he told friends he would “go out like a soldier” if caught.

“I thought you were a soldier,” Randy Davis said. “What are you afraid of?” Davis supplied his own answer. “I’ll tell you this,” he told the diminutive Erickson, “you’re going to experience some rushes in prison.”

Simeone called for Kristianson to disregard the emotional contempt the victim’s family heaped on his client. He went so far as to offend family members by suggesting they should have been comforted that Davis died “relatively quickly.”

Then Erickson pulled the rug out from under Simeone when invited to speak for himself.

“I’ve been sick since I was 13,” Erickson said, adding that he had attempted to kill his mother and his sister. “I killed my pets, and I tried to blow up my dad. I am sick. I ask for exceptional sentencing: life without parole.”

Kristianson told Erickson he had never called a defendant evil in 18 years on the bench, “but you invite it and I think it’s right.” He likened Erickson, who claimed to have earned the nickname “Drewcifer” with animal sacrifices, to murderous Southern California cult leader Charles Manson.

“You indeed were the leader of this group, and this was indeed that kind of family,” Kristianson said of Erickson and the two others who riddled Davis with at least 27 bullets, stabbed him in the throat, kicked him and urinated on his body. “I think you did as you did for the thrill of it.”

Kristianson agreed with Wetle that the “deliberate cruelty” of the attack, Erickson’s admitted lack of remorse and a failed attempt to destroy the evidence by leaving Davis’ body on a railroad track to be mutilated, all were reasons for an exceptional sentence. Kristianson said Erickson’s repeated attempt to amuse his friends, to the point of annoying them, by mimicking Davis’ death cries was “disgusting.”

Like Wetle, Kristianson cited a letter Erickson sent to the court Monday, in which he said, “If I could find any remorse inside myself, I would probably show some, but I know not of the feeling.”

The judge likened Erickson’s crime to a 1988 case in which another Loon Lake resident, Curtis Buckner, hitched a ride with a young Spokane woman and repaid her by stabbing her repeatedly and raping her while she lay dead or dying. Kristianson said Erickson, who has less of a criminal history than Buckner, deserved only slightly less than the 80 years he gave Buckner.