4 fateful hours: The night Preston Lord crossed paths with the 'Gilbert Goons'

They call it the hammer punch. A devastatingly effective blow taught in martial arts classes. It is delivered downward with the bottom of the fist. Body weight provides momentum, driving the shoulder forward — like pounding in a nail.

Talan Renner raised his invisible hammer and brought it down again and again into Preston Lord's face. Witnesses told police Renner hit the 16-year-old boy four times before standing up and kicking him once. Then the rest of the "Gilbert Goons" moved in to continue the fatal beating.

Witnesses at the Oct. 28 Halloween party in Queen Creek agreed Renner, 17, delivered the first blows after Lord was knocked to the ground. But they are less clear about the sequence of events as a group of teens took turns stomping, kicking and punching Lord as he lay on the side of a street.

In the chaotic seconds that followed, witnesses said:

William "Owen" Hines, 18, stepped in and kicked Lord in the lower half of his body.

Dominic Turner, 20, joined in "kicking on" Lord.

Jacob Meisner, 17, leaned over Lord and hit him multiple times.

Treston Billey, 18, jumped on Lord's head and yelled, "F--- you, p---y!" He ended the beating with one final kick.

Taylor Sherman, 19, opened Snapchat and recorded as rescuers dragged Lord's body out of the street. "Slumped the f--- out. Haha," he said.

Talyn Vigil, 17, hurried back to his car, got in and told his girlfriend: "I just knocked out a kid cold ... we have to go, we have to leave."

Lord never regained consciousness. The popular student leader and basketball player at Combs High School died two days later of traumatic brain injuries. His death sent shock waves through the affluent suburbs southeast of Phoenix, where residents liked to boast about living in or near one of America's safest cities.

It left investigators with the newly formed Queen Creek Police Department facing their first homicide, a case with hundreds of witnesses and dozens of potential suspects.

It exposed a troubling pattern of teen violence and gang assaults in Gilbert, Mesa, Chandler and Pinal County that went unchecked by authorities for more than year.

It sparked community outrage, prompting marches, vigils and protests demanding accountability from police, school officials and politicians for failing to act sooner.

A Dec. 14 investigation by The Arizona Republic detailed how Lord's death was tied to the "Gilbert Goons," whose members recorded their blitz-style attacks on teens in parks and parking garages, outside fast-food restaurants and at house parties.

Police in March arrested seven individuals singled out by witnesses for the attack on Lord. The Maricopa County Attorney's Office has charged them with first-degree murder and kidnapping. Three — Billey, Meisner and Turner — also were charged with robbery. All have pleaded not guilty.

Only Sherman's lawyer responded to requests for comment.

"We're going to do everything we can to defend Taylor Sherman, who maintains his innocence," attorney Joseph Tobler said.

Many details of the attack have never been made public. The Republic pieced together what happened on the night Lord was fatally beaten from multiple sources, including quotes and material from a 1,100-page police report, interviews with police, friends of Lord, friends of the Goons, 911 calls and social media accounts.

The timeline of this account begins about 9 p.m. It covers Lord's arrival with friends to the party, their encounter with the Goons, the knock-down punch that set the beating in motion and the panicked aftermath. It ends with Renner's "stressed-out" confession-like phone call to a close friend.

Witnesses said Lord's attackers left him with blood coming out of his mouth and cuts to his face, which turned shades of white, green and blue. He "wheezed" out a few last breaths before becoming unresponsive. Police said statements — some from the Goons themselves — left no doubt the assailants knew they had seriously injured or killed someone.

Sherman told police what Renner and Meisner said as they reached the car that would carry them away from the scene:

"I might have hospitalized that kid," Renner said. "I hit him pretty hard."

"Talan f--ked that kid up. Talan just really hit that kid," Meisner said.

"Yeah. I hit him pretty hard," Renner said.

9:00-9:40 p.m. 'Halloween Costume Rager' went viral

Word of the party spread at the speed of Snapchat.

What was supposed to be a small gathering of teenage friends, according to the homeowner, turned into a viral "open invite." News of the "Halloween Costume Rager" near 194th Street and Via Del Oro lit up social media. Electronic flyers advertised free admission and promised "alc provided, first come, first serve."

Partygoers from all over the Valley, some as far away as Ahwatukee Foothills and north Phoenix, loaded up their cars with friends. Students from American Leadership Academy, Combs, Desert Ridge, Desert Vista, Higley, Highland, Mesquite and Perry high schools headed out to get their Saturday night party on.

Lord and his friends didn't have a personal invite. By all accounts, they didn't go out looking for trouble. They were academics and geeks, school kids. They weren't dressed up for Halloween. They'd been at a couple of small house parties in San Tan Valley when six of them piled into a black GMC Sierra and decided to go.

The Goons also didn't have personal invites. They came in four cars from what they called the "ALA party" about five minutes away, arriving about the same time as Lord's group. Some lived in the same neighborhood and hung out together. Some had been disciplined for fights at school. One was a dropout. One had done a stint in rehab.

All but Vigil were in costumes, some picked out earlier that day at Goodwill; a grab-bag of clothes and props — Soprano-style suits, a vest, a purple pimp hat, a Hugh Hefner robe and a "Shiesty" or ski mask.

By 9 p.m., streets in the Queen Creek Ranchettes III subdivision were jammed so deep with cars residents couldn't get in or out of their driveways. As the party grew, hundreds of teens cut through yards, vomited on lawns and used bushes as outhouses.

The first call to police came in about six minutes later, from a woman who said teens were banging on her car and swearing at her as she tried to leave the neighborhood to go to the hospital.

Two police cars made their way through the neighborhood of sprawling ranch homes about 9:20 p.m. Vigil's girlfriend said she was outside when police officers rolled up, and she warned them the party was getting out of control.

Officers reported seeing dozens of teens walking around, seemingly going to their cars. But they saw no alcohol, no crime and no emergency. They left to respond to a high-priority domestic violence call.

Teens continued funneling up the driveway to an open RV garage offset from the Spanish-style home. A handwritten paper sign taped to the outside wall said, "No Alcohol Allowed."

Inside the house, homeowners Roberto and Emily Correa watched television and drank wine. They said they were under the impression only a few of their daughters' friends were out in the garage and were unaware masses of kids were congregating on the other side of their sliding glass door in their backyard and patio.

In the RV garage, teens danced, played beer pong and did alcohol "shots." Music and drinking games spilled into the backyard. Teens broke off in groups. Lord and his friends huddled in a corner, debating whether to stay, uncertain they belonged. The Goons were there, too. They soon would take center stage, ready to turn the crowded space into a kind of arena for a makeshift fight night.

Two teens got into a shouting match, threatening to trade blows "in a beef" over a girl. Partygoers quickly turned spectators, breaking out cellphones to record the action. Billey, in a white suit, bright red tie and pocket hankie, positioned himself between the two. Vigil, in a black hoodie, stood close by.

Billey quickly zeroed in on one of Lord's friends, who captured the exchange. He confronted the boy, shifting everyone's attention away from the would-be fight. Billey demanded to know why the boy was recording.

Why do you care? the boy asked.

"Delete it!" Billey demanded. "Open the camera, dumba--."

The boy told Billey he deleted the video. But Billey and other Goons didn't seem to care. They had selected their target.

Lord's friends said they were afraid, intimidated. They retreated from the backyard. The Goons followed them: down the driveway, into the street, singing a disturbing serenade.

"Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey, goodbye."

9:41-9:43 p.m. The chase, the chain, the taunts

The Goons closed the distance, whispering and egging each other on to snatch a gold chain worn by the boy who recorded the backyard confrontation.

The chain was worth about $10. A medallion of a saint dangled from it. But the value didn't matter as much as the message the Goons were trying to send.

Turner decided to strike. He ran up behind the boy and yanked the chain from his neck. The Goons played hot potato with the chain, tossing it from one to another. When Billey got the handoff, he waved it around like a trophy.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Billey taunted. Other Goons chimed in: "I snatched your chain." "How are you gonna let me do that?" "Let's get it on." "You gonna let him snatch your chain like that?" "Don't be a b----."

Meisner grabbed the chain, making fun of its value. "This chain is fake," he said.

The boy said he agreed it was fake and continued to walk away. He didn't get far before he "felt a boom" to the right side of his head.

Witnesses told police Meisner threw the punch. It was the catalyst for the beating that followed. Hines told police it set off a "melee."

Lord and his friends started running, and the Goons gave chase. Police said one of the Goons pushed a 14-year-old boy in Lord's group to the ground and punched him in the head. He ended up with a broken wrist.

Lord was next. His white Crocs might have slowed him down. The Goons caught him, knocking him to the ground with a punch to the head as his friends kept going.

There's confusion about who threw the punch. Some witnesses said it was Renner; others said it was Vigil. But witnesses universally agree Renner, a star running back at ALA Gilbert North, got to Lord first after he was on the ground.

He straddled the boy and drew back his hammer.

9:44-9:48 p.m. A boy lies motionless in the street

When the seconds-long beating ended, one of Lord's teenage attackers stood over him and danced. Witnesses described it as "twerking" or "air humping."

Kids who saw the attack began reacting with screams. Others stared in shock. The Goons split up and headed to their cars. Some were captured on a home surveillance camera laughing. Someone in the group can be heard saying, "What the f---?" and "You hit that dude."

It wasn't over. The Goons weren't done fighting.

Yards away from where they left Lord's prone body, Meisner, Renner, Sherman and Turner ran into another group of teens. One of the Goons shoulder-checked a member of the other group as they passed. They squared off, first trading insults, then blows.

Meisner, Sherman and Turner threw punches. And Turner took a hard one to the face. It was a knockout. He dropped to the street.

Sherman said it took about five minutes to wake Turner up. The three of them steered their stumbling friend toward Sherman's black Camero. As they were walking, Sherman whipped out his camera and recorded.

His five-second Snapchat clip showed teens half-dragging, half-carrying Lord's limp body to the side of the street. There was blood on Lord's chin, and his head lolled toward the ground. His blue basketball jersey and black hoodie rode up on his belly as a would-be rescuer clutched at the back of his outfit.

In their living room, the Correas had no clue a boy had been fatally beaten a house down from theirs, or that more fights were breaking out on the street. It took loud shouts from the backyard to get them off the couch.

They heard a girl yelling “Stop.” Roberto Correa said he checked to see what was happening and discovered the crush of teenagers. He ordered everyone out of his backyard, yelling, “Get the f--- out now!” The partygoers began trickling out to the street.

Roberto Correa told police he did not see anyone drinking alcohol, or see any evidence of it in his backyard. He said he wasn’t paying too much attention. He was more concerned with shutting down the party.

But he acknowledged breaking out his garden hose to spray puddles of vomit off his patio.

He denied seeing or hearing any fights. He said he didn't see anybody recording anything on their phones, just a few girls taking selfies.

Even after he kicked the kids out of his property, Roberto Correa said he was unaware Lord and others had been attacked — or that his house was now part of a crime scene.

9:49-9:56 p.m. Frantic 911 call: 'I do not want my friend to die'

The boy's voice quivers as he begs a 911 dispatcher for help. Between sobs and gasps, he tells police his friends were attacked; one has a broken wrist and another is unconscious.

"He's been knocked out unconscious for like two minutes," he says of Lord. "We need people over here."

"I'm scared," he says during the seven-minute call.

He tells a dispatcher some "lifeguards" are trying to help put Lord in a "safe position." The dispatcher tries to get the boy to focus on what happened, questioning him about who assaulted them and if they are still there.

The boy says his friends were jumped and some of his attackers might have guns. He tries to explain the scene while comforting his friend with the broken wrist. His answers came out rapid-fire.

"I don't know if they left or if they are still here. I got out of there as quick as possible so I didn't get hurt. I don't know the people that are here. We don't have any beef with them or anything," he says, advising his friend: "Just lay your wrist on your pants or something."

His friend moans. "I know. I know, dude," the boy says.

He describes Lord as "super duper pale" with a few minor cuts, then his voice cracks: "They are doing CPR on him, they're doing CPR."

The dispatcher gets the boy to focus on the attack. He tells her his assailants were wearing ski masks. She asks how many. "A lot," the boy says, on the edge of panic. "Like 15."

After a few seconds of silence, the boy, crying, asks if help is coming.

"Are people on the way? I need them to get here fast. I do not want my friend to die,” he says.

The boy tells his friend to call his dad. His friend says his phone is shattered. The boy tells the dispatcher he had to move away from Lord, "because a bunch of people over there told me not to call the cops, but it's the safest thing to do. I'm scared. ... I don't know what to do," he says.

Sirens are heard in the background. The boy tells another teen he is on the phone with 911. The teen reassures him Lord is OK. "I know, I know. He's fine. We're getting him. He has a pulse."

9:53-9:56 p.m. Lifeguards from Ahwatukee resuscitate Lord

While the boy begs the 911 dispatcher for help, another teen calls 911 and details efforts to resuscitate Lord.

Five boys, all trained lifeguards from Ahwatukee, had run over to Lord after the beating. Two of them — the two seen moving Lord out of the street in Sherman's video — had witnessed Lord getting stomped.

One of the lifeguards notices Lord had a "blue tint" to his face. They determine he does not have a pulse.

Worried Lord's assailants might return, one lifeguard acts as a lookout while the other four start performing CPR. A girl phones 911 while hurrying to her car for a "BigEasy" resuscitation mask. She gives the rescue breathing device to the boys as she relays what is happening to an emergency dispatcher.

"No f------ way. What are you doing?" someone says as the 911 call begins.

Voices talk over one another as the dispatcher tries to assess the situation. She asks to verify if someone isn't breathing. She asks the teens for an address. The dispatcher questions if someone is doing CPR when the teen caller shouts to give one of the rescuers a break.

"Someone else do compressions. ... He's getting really tired," she says.

The dispatcher asks if they need instructions to initiate lifesaving measures. The girl says the lifeguards know what they are doing.

"There's a bunch of certified lifeguards. There's a bunch of certified lifeguards right now. We all know how to do CPR," she says.

The rescuers estimate Lord has not been breathing for three minutes. Every minute or so, Lord would "cough up something," the girl says. "He was vomiting a little bit, so we are putting him in the recovery position."

The girl reports getting Lord's pulse.

"We feel a pulse now. Keep on going," she says.

The dispatcher asks if Lord is breathing. The girl tries to figure it out, saying they might have to change their resuscitation efforts if he has.

"It's very light. It's very light. It's very light," she says. The dispatcher tells them to continue CPR if Lord's breathing is not regular.

Sirens become increasingly louder. "Over here!" the caller yells in frantic relief.

"They're running over," she says.

Police continued to perform CPR on Lord until Queen Creek firefighters took control. They were able to get a pulse for Lord, but they were unable to revive him.

He was loaded into an ambulance and transported to Chandler Regional Hospital.

9:56 p.m.-12:45 a.m. For friends, family, a night of terror at hospital

Pulsing blue and red lights strobed the neighborhood.

After the Goons fled in separate vehicles. Lord's friends numbly returned. Some of the boys with Lord at the party didn't know he hadn't gotten away.

They hadn't looked back as they ran, some for more than a mile, thinking they still were being pursued. They tore through dirt fields and hid behind cars, bushes and walls. Some jumped into backyards for extra security after they heard cars circling their hiding spots.

Many hunkered down with their phones, waiting until they felt it was safe. They called their moms, dads and each other. One asked his mom to pick him up and take him home. In messages and calls, they convinced one another the threat had passed and they should return to the party house.

They'd lost track of one another in the scramble to escape. Now, they discovered Lord hadn't run fast enough. They traded stories. One by one, they learned of the beating and started making plans to follow Lord to the hospital.

Parents of the teens arrived. The father of one of Lord's friends arranged to bring his son to the Queen Creek police station that night for an interview. But officers weren't there when they arrived, and after waiting for a time, father and son headed to Chandler Regional.

Several of Lord's friends made it to the hospital that night. Huddling in the waiting room, they expected him to wake up. They figured he'd suffered a concussion and would soon be walking and talking.

Lord's parents rushed to the hospital. His mom, Autumn Curiel, got there first. Police told her what they'd been able to piece together. She asked if her son was alive. Police officers confirmed he was in the emergency department and had a pulse.

After Lord's father and stepmother got there, medical staff ushered the family into the trauma unit to see him.

Doctors updated Queen Creek Detective Johanna Iribe, who would lead the investigation, on Lord's condition. They said the boy had a brain bleed, no apparent skull fracture and abrasions. He was stable but in critical condition.

They said he would have to be flown to Phoenix Children's Hospital.

9:56 p.m.-12:44 a.m. Attackers keep moving after the beating

The attackers left the party with their friends in four separate cars, heading in different directions. But they would end up meeting later at different locations in Gilbert — In-N-Out Burger, another house party and a sleepover in the gated community of Whitewing.

But first, some of the Goons returned to the crime scene, or tried.

In the black Camaro, Sherman, Meisner, Renner and Turner only made it a few blocks when Turner, still groggy, announced that he couldn't find his house keys: They needed to head back to the Ranchettes.

Sherman, who was driving, said they found the street blocked by about 30 police cars. An officer ordered them to leave because it was a crime scene. Turner got out and asked for permission to cross the police line to look for his keys. An officer told him no.

Back in the car, Turner discovered his keys were in his backpack all along. Sherman wheeled around to take Turner to his girlfriend's house.

After dropping him off, Sherman, Meisner and Renner went to the In-N-Out, a favorite hangout of the Goons and the scene of multiple gang attacks. Some of the boys appeared rattled. In a Snapchat group message, someone posted: "Go to in n out, I can't bresth rn." Police redacted the sender's handle in reports.

Sherman, Meisner and Renner left the In-N-Out for the Gilbert party at a house near Chandler Heights and Greenfield roads.

In a white BMW X7, Billey and three friends drove from the scene of the attack to Mansel Carter Oasis Park, about three miles away. The car belonged to the parents of a boy who was not involved in Lord's attack but who has been recorded in other Goon videos. They stopped for five minutes and then drove to the Gilbert party.

In a white Honda Accord, Hines and two friends went from the Ranchettes to the Gilbert party.

It was a bust. When the three carloads of friends got out, they weren't allowed inside, even though at least one had an invite.

The homeowner had heard rumors about what had happened in Queen Creek and wasn't opening his doors to more teens. The Goons mingled outside. Conversation was subdued.

One of Billey's friends mentioned he looked scared.

"Are you OK?" the friend asked. "Is that kid OK?"

"I don't know, dude," Billey said. "I was the last person to kick him."

Hines and his friends were also talking about the beating. He told police Renner, who wasn't part of the conversation, overheard and interrupted, saying, "Bro, I f---ing did that."

The driver of the BMW told the group they could go to his house in Whitewing, near Higley and Pecos roads. At least nine took him up on the offer.

Billey, Hines and another friend stayed the night. Meisner, who lived a few doors down, and Sherman didn't stay the whole night.

At the house, one of the friends was captured on a home surveillance camera saying Lord was going to need a "closed casket" funeral. They stayed up talking about the beating.

Hines told one of his friends he felt bad. He questioned why they had kicked Lord in the head.

"I only kicked him in the stomach," Hines said.

In a parked white Toyota Camry, Vigil sat stewing near the crime scene. He could have driven away. But his girlfriend said he instead U-turned and drove back up the street where Lord was attacked. Vigil maneuvered through the crowd, then stopped and got out without explanation.

He stood there for a few minutes. Once he got back in the car, he didn't mention Lord or any other fight. Vigil's girlfriend said he appeared to be "freaking out," looked "really nervous," kept glancing around and was breathing heavily.

He didn't have anything more to do with the Goons that night. He later took to Snapchat. "I hit a kid and this kid feel hit his head and then they kicked his head in the ground then i got word he died so idk," he wrote in the post.

11:30 p.m.-12:45 a.m. 'I was just hitting ... everyone is saying he's dead'

Renner spent the waning hours of Saturday posting on his phone.

Renner also lived in Whitewing, but he didn't go to the sleepover. He messaged his ex-girlfriend on Snapchat, telling her he got drunk and got in a fight.

"I got into a fight, I hit a kid, I accidentally killed a kid," he wrote. "I guess I don't know my own strength."

She asked what he was talking about. He told her: "Everyone was fighting. I was just hitting and now everyone is saying he's dead." She also said Renner told her he "kicked some kid" and a lot of people were screaming. He said he saw a lot of people crying and saying things like, "He's gone, he's gone."

Renner's ex-girlfriend told him she thought it was messed up for him to get involved in the attack. He replied: "I'm not really worried about that right now." He said he was more concerned about his friend who had been knocked out.

She told police he didn't say much else.

As Saturday spilled into Sunday, Renner reached out to another friend, someone he trusted, who used to live with the Renners. The friend told police Renner had tried to FaceTime him several times on the night Lord was killed.

They didn't speak until hours later, when Renner confessed to beating a kid, "knocking out his jaw."

Renner told the friend he got on top of a boy.

Hammer-fist punched him. Four times.

What to know: The people charged in connection with Preston Lord's death

Robert Anglen is an investigative reporter for The Republic. Reach him at robert.anglen@arizonarepublic.com. Follow him on X @robertanglen.

Reach reporter Elena Santa Cruz at elena.santacruz@gannett.com. Follow her on X @ecsantacruz3.

This article originally appeared on Arizona Republic: The night of Preston Lord's deadly encounter with the 'Gilbert Goons'