Dallas, Texas — May 1, 2001
For many children, a father is their first example of what safety is supposed to feel like.
He is the person they expect to protect them when they are frightened, the person they believe they can trust without question.
For nine-year-old Mary Faith “Faith” Battaglia and her six-year-old sister, Liberty Mae Battaglia, that trust was shattered in the most unimaginable way.
Their father, John Battaglia, would ultimately be responsible for both of their deaths.
Faith was only nine.
Liberty was six.
And the events that unfolded on one evening in May 2001 began with a custody arrangement that was supposed to be routine.
TWO LITTLE GIRLS WITH BIG DREAMS
Faith Battaglia was a third-grade student at Bradfield Elementary School in Dallas.
She was an excellent student, a talented violinist and a blue-belt karate student.
Faith was also deeply affected by the death of her beloved grandfather, who had died from cancer. She told people that one day she wanted to find a cure.
After her death, one of Faith’s closest friends told her mother that the world had lost a great scientist.
She was the kind of child who thought about other people.
On the day she died, Faith had even set up a lemonade stand for joggers, offering them free drinks because she knew they might not have money with them and wanted them to stay hydrated.
Her younger sister Liberty was preparing to graduate from kindergarten.
Although she was a small, slender child who had earned the nickname “French Fry,” Liberty had a huge personality.
Like Faith, she played violin.
She was also a ballerina who dreamed of one day becoming a prima ballerina.
Two sisters.
Two children with entire futures ahead of them.
And neither had anything to do with the bitter conflict between their parents.
A MARRIAGE THAT HAD TURNED VIOLENT
John Battaglia had a history of domestic violence.
His former wives had experienced his aggression, including Faith and Liberty’s mother, Mary Jean Pearl.
John and Mary Jean married in 1991 and eventually had two daughters together.
From the outside, their family appeared successful.
They lived in an affluent Dallas neighborhood. Mary Jean came from a wealthy family and worked as an antiques dealer, while John worked as an accountant.
Mary Jean later described him as someone who could be charming, generous and fun.
But behind that public image was another side of John.
Before marrying Mary Jean, he had already been violent toward his first wife, Michelle Ghetti.
Mary Jean later learned that what he had described as an argument with his former wife had actually involved serious violence.
After John and Mary Jean married, his behavior toward her gradually changed.
The verbal abuse became increasingly frequent.
Insults and threats became part of their private life.
For years, Mary Jean endured it while trying to keep the family together.
She also struggled with the contradiction she saw in him.
He could be loving toward his daughters while simultaneously treating their mother with cruelty.
THE ATTACK THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
By January 1999, Mary Jean could no longer live with the escalating abuse and threats.
She separated from John and filed for divorce.
She feared that his violence would eventually become physical.
Her fears proved justified.
On Christmas morning in 1999, John arrived to pick up Faith and Liberty for church.
An argument began between him and Mary Jean.
In front of their daughters, John attacked her.
He punched her, pulled her hair, knocked her to the ground and kicked her.
The girls cried and begged their father to stop.
After John left, Mary Jean called 911.
Police documented numerous injuries.
John was subsequently convicted of assault and placed on probation.
The divorce was finalized in August 2000.
A protective order was also issued, prohibiting John from committing violence against Mary Jean or the girls and barring him from stalking, threatening or harassing them.
He was also prohibited from possessing a firearm.
But despite everything that had happened, John continued to have scheduled visitation with his daughters.
THE WARRANT
In the spring of 2001, another dispute between John and Mary Jean escalated.
During Easter, Mary Jean gave John’s daughter Christie $50.
John became furious.
He left Mary Jean an angry message, insulting her and accusing her of interfering with his daughter’s college fund.
Because the harassment violated the conditions of his probation, Mary Jean reported the incident.
A warrant was issued for John’s arrest.
On May 2, 2001, John learned about the warrant.
He was told that he could arrange to surrender through his lawyer and that police would not arrest him in front of his daughters.
But that same day, something else was scheduled.
It was Wednesday.
And Wednesday was visitation day.
THE LAST TIME MARY JEAN SAW HER DAUGHTERS
Faith and Liberty lived with their mother in Highland Park.
Every Wednesday, Mary Jean would meet John and hand the girls over for dinner.
John was supposed to bring them back afterward.
On May 2, Mary Jean dropped the girls off with their father at Highland Village Park.
She watched them get safely into his vehicle before leaving for her friend Melissa’s home.
John was supposed to bring the girls there when dinner was over.
Instead, he took them to his rented studio apartment at the Adam Hats Lofts in Dallas.
About half an hour after dropping off the girls, Mary Jean received a message that John wanted to speak with her.
She called him at approximately 7:30 p.m.
The conversation immediately took a horrifying turn.
John had placed the phone on speaker.
Mary Jean heard him tell Faith:
“Ask her.”
Then her nine-year-old daughter asked her mother why she wanted Daddy to go to jail.
Mary Jean realized that John had involved the children in the adult dispute.
She pleaded with him not to do this.
Then she heard Faith scream.
“No, Daddy, please don’t do it!”
Those were among the last words Mary Jean would ever hear from her daughter.
THE GUNSHOTS
Mary Jean heard gunfire.
Then she heard John say:
“Merry f*ing Christmas!”**
More shots followed.
Mary Jean hung up and immediately called 911.
She rushed toward John’s apartment.
But the violence was already over.
When police entered the fourth-floor apartment, they found Faith and Liberty dead.
The girls were surrounded by blood.
Firearms were scattered throughout the apartment.
The .45-caliber handgun used in the killings was found near the kitchen phone.
Faith had been shot while standing in the kitchen during the phone call with her mother.
Liberty had attempted to escape.
She ran toward the front door.
Her father shot her as she tried to get away.
Both girls were killed inside the apartment.
AFTER THE MURDERS
John left the apartment before Mary Jean arrived.
A witness reported seeing him drive away in a black pickup truck.
Rather than immediately fleeing the city, John went with his girlfriend to a bar and later to a tattoo parlor.
There, he had two large red roses tattooed on his left bicep in connection with his daughters.
Police eventually located him in the Deep Ellum area of Dallas.
Officers spotted a truck matching his vehicle near the nightclubs.
It took several officers to subdue him at the tattoo parlor.
A loaded revolver was found in his truck.
Inside his apartment, investigators recovered more than a dozen firearms.
John was arrested and charged with two counts of capital murder.
A MESSAGE LEFT FOR HIS DAUGHTERS
The day after the murders, Mary Jean returned home.
There, she discovered that John had left a message on the answering machine for his daughters after killing them.
He spoke to them as though they were still alive, telling them he loved them and describing them as brave.
He also blamed their mother.
Even after killing Faith and Liberty, John continued directing his anger toward Mary Jean.
The message became another disturbing glimpse into his mindset after the murders.
THE TRIAL
John Battaglia’s capital murder trial began in April 2002.
The defense argued that he should receive a life sentence rather than death.
Psychiatrists testified about his mental health and whether he understood what he was doing at the time of the killings.
One defense expert believed John had experienced a psychotic episode.
Another psychiatrist agreed that John had bipolar disorder but acknowledged that he understood what he was doing when he killed his daughters.
A psychiatrist testifying for the prosecution reached a different conclusion.
He believed John had killed Faith and Liberty as an act of anger and revenge against Mary Jean.
The prosecution also presented evidence suggesting that the murders had been deliberately planned.
John had created a situation in which Mary Jean was forced to remain on the telephone while her daughters were killed.
The murders were not simply an eruption that happened without warning.
They were tied directly to the conflict between John and his former wife.
And the children were used as the means of inflicting that pain.
GUILTY
On April 30, 2002, after several days of testimony during the punishment phase of the trial, the Dallas County jury returned its verdict.
John Battaglia was found guilty of capital murder.
He was sentenced to death.
During the proceedings, Mary Jean spoke about the devastation caused by the loss of her daughters.
John showed little visible reaction.
He had taken the lives of two children who had been completely innocent of the conflict between their parents.
YEARS ON DEATH ROW
John remained on death row for years.
In 2014, he spoke to the media about Faith and Liberty, referring to them as his “best little friends” and saying that he had photographs of them around his prison cell.
He also claimed to have little memory of killing them.
His oldest daughter, Christie, visited him once while he was imprisoned.
She later worked as an event planner and volunteered with victims of domestic violence.
Meanwhile, John’s appeals continued.
His execution was scheduled for March 2016, but the execution was halted shortly before it was due to take place so that the courts could consider a claim concerning his competency.
A later evidentiary hearing examined whether John was genuinely incompetent for execution.
Although some psychologists testified that he was unfit, the court ultimately found him competent.
The courts concluded that he understood the punishment he faced.
THE FINAL APPEALS
John’s execution was eventually rescheduled for February 1, 2018.
On the day of his scheduled execution, his lawyers filed another appeal concerning the drugs Texas planned to use in the lethal injection.
The appeal was ultimately rejected.
That evening, Mary Jean entered the viewing area with other witnesses.
John was brought into the execution chamber.
He smiled in her direction.
When asked whether he had any final words, he initially said no.
Then he changed his mind.
He addressed Mary Jean and told her he would see them later.
He never expressed remorse for killing his daughters.
THE END
At 9:18 p.m., John Battaglia was administered a lethal dose of pentobarbital.
As the drug took effect, he asked whether he was still alive.
Then he said that he could feel it.
His breathing changed.
Within minutes, his movements stopped.
His death was pronounced at 9:40 p.m.
John Battaglia was 62 years old.
The man who had killed his two daughters was finally dead.
But Faith and Liberty had been gone for nearly seventeen years.
THE LIVES THEY SHOULD HAVE HAD
Faith should have grown up.
She should have had the opportunity to continue playing violin, pursue her dream of becoming a scientist and perhaps one day help find treatments for the disease that took her grandfather.
Liberty should have grown up too.
She should have danced, performed ballet and chased her dream of becoming a prima ballerina.
Instead, both girls died because an adult conflict was turned against them.
They were not responsible for their parents’ marriage.
They were not responsible for the divorce.
They were not responsible for the anger that consumed their father.
They were simply children.
Two sisters who should have been protected.
Two little girls whose lives were taken inside the home of the person who was supposed to keep them safe.
And that is what makes the story of Faith and Liberty Battaglia so devastating.
Their father was given the trust that children naturally place in a parent.
He broke that trust in the worst possible way.
Faith was nine.
Liberty was six.
They had their whole lives ahead of them.
Those lives were taken in a matter of minutes.
This story is based on publicly available information and reported facts. It has been independently written and presented for informational purposes. Images, if any, belong to their respective owners.