Nestled in a valley and surrounded by craggy mountains that keep the outside world from intruding, Gisela is reminiscent of an earlier, gentler time.
Nobody locks doors, and keys are left in cars for days at a time. Everybody knows when a newcomer arrives because there is only one road into the community.Gisela's tranquility and peace have been shattered, however, by one gunshot. In the echoes, a boy is forever damaged. So are his parents, although their scars don't show. Another family is fractured, and a young man faces years in prison.
In a big city, the crime wouldn't draw a ripple of attention. It rocked this valley 20 miles south of Payson, Ariz., and remains the topic of conversation six months later as the shooter awaits sentencing. Not only did violence enter Gisela's gate, it was committed by one of its own.
"People move here to get away from all that," Celinda Witte said.
Gunfire is occasionally heard here, especially during hunting season. Neighbors working outdoors didn't get overly alarmed when they heard a gunshot on Nov. 30.
About 20 minutes later, 22-year-old Tom Williams came across the creek carrying the bloody body of a 10-year-old boy. It was an accident, Williams told them. He had taken the boy fishing and target shooting and something terrible happened.
Robert Fiestner, an emergency medical technician, was on the scene in about four minutes. When he first got the call, he figured a couple of guys had "got drunk and gotten into it."
Because the boy was lying on his back, Fiestner didn't see the bullet hole, dead center in the back of the neck. Others had, and a helicopter was on its way. The boy was airlifted to Maricopa Medical Center in Phoenix, where doctors waited to begin a lifesaving struggle.
Gisela trembled in shock and grief. It was the first violent crime here since the 1880s, said Beth Ann Tatum, owner of the Gisela Steakhouse.
"We've always felt safe. There's never been any problems down here," she added.
Townspeople said that only Trenton's parents, Brian and Vicki Armstrong, would trust their son to go fishing with Tom Williams. Everybody else was afraid of him, said Witte, because he always carried a knife and a gun.
Gila County sheriff's deputies and detectives were on the scene almost 24 hours a day in the first two or three days after the shooting. They couldn't understand why so much time passed between the gunshot and when the boy was carried out for help. Detectives walked the route and it took only five minutes.
As the investigation continued, more and more red flags popped up, Detective George Ratliff said. Even though Williams maintained it was an accident, he gave eight different versions of how it happened.
Official reports show that medical experts said the bullet hole in the back of the neck was a contact wound. The gun was placed directly against the neck and fired. Although Trenton couldn't speak, detectives asked him to indicate "yes" or "no" through eye movements. When asked whether he had been molested, he indicated yes.
Additionally, a nurse at the hospital called detectives and reported that Trenton wanted the breathing tube that kept him alive removed. As the nurse later testified, the boy - after regaining some ability to speak - said he wanted to die and take his secret with him. The secret: The shooting was not an accident, and Trenton said, "He did it to me. He did it to me."