In the pale light of a July dawn, the crack of gunfire shattered the stillness of Westminster Avenue, where one man died while another was injured.
Now, eight months later, the wheels of justice have begun to turn—methodically, unflinchingly—as two men stand accused of extinguishing a life and leaving another forever scarred.
Stevens Charles-Pierre, 27, of Linden, and Brunel Thimotee, 20, of Philadelphia, now face the grave weight of first-degree murder charges in the death of Jose Aranzamendi, a 47-year-old Elizabeth father struck down in an eruption of violence last summer.
The charges, announced last week by Union County Prosecutor William A. Daniel, Elizabeth Police Director Earl Graves, and Chief Giacomo Sacca, paint a stark portrait of that fateful morning: officers arriving to find two men bleeding in the street, one clinging to life, the other beyond saving.
Aranzamendi was pronounced dead at the hospital; his companion, a 51-year-old man whose name remains shielded from public record, survived—but survival is not the same as healing.
The long arm of the law did not act hastily.
For months, a coalition of investigators—the Prosecutor’s Homicide Task Force, Elizabeth PD, and the Union County Sheriff’s Department—pursued leads across state lines. Charles-Pierre was apprehended on March 24 in New Jersey; Thimotee, captured a day later by U.S. Marshals in Norfolk, Virginia, now awaits extradition.
Their alleged crimes read like an indictment of humanity itself: murder, conspiracy, stolen property, weapons offenses—a litany of charges that, if proven, suggest not a moment’s chaos, but a calculated act.
Yet in this courtroom drama yet to unfold, there are no heroes or villains—only facts, only evidence. The system reminds us, as it must, that these charges are accusations, not verdicts.
“I love you Pa,” wrote his daughter, Raixa Aranzamendi. “Our relationship was so rocky but I enjoyed EVERY moment I got to have with you and I will forever cherish them. I wish I could have told you I love you one last time. Until we meet again. Rest Easy Dad.”
Detective Angela Concepcion and Detective Eduardo Lozada still seek answers, still plead for witnesses to step forward. For somewhere, beyond the legal filings and procedural formalities, a family grieves, a neighborhood remembers, and a city waits—not for vengeance, but for justice to speak in measured tones, as cold and clear as the morning those shots rang out.
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