Murder in Missouri: a year ago a say college student with big dreams fell victim to his secret policeman lover. How one man's closet destroyed two lives and left a community in shock

Once free, Jesse Valencia intended never to return to his fire-and-brimstone hometown in the hills of Boyle County, Ky., for more than brief family visits. Being gay, vocally liberal, and nonreligious constituted three kinds of blasphemy in central Kentucky. But he just couldn't stay quiet about it.

The first chance he got, he bolted to college--first to Ohio, then Missouri--where he easily made friends and attracted admirers of both sexes. Away from a family troubled by too little money and too many addictions, Valencia reinvented himself through embellished stories and a persona built upon grand possibilities. "He always felt pretty lost, not sure of where he wanted to study or where he wanted to go," says Erin Shepherd, a high school friend.

Valencia never did move back to Boyle County, but on June 5, 2004, he was buried in those Kentucky hills, having been brutally murdered by his secret lover--a married police officer who worked for the town of Columbia, Mo., the tiny mid-state home to the University of Missouri. Valencia now lies within walking distance of his mother's house outside Perryville, Ky.

"I miss Jesse, like it happened only yesterday," says his mother, Linda Valencia. "I never fully realized how gay people were affected by the way people in society act towards them. It never made me think about how painful it must be to have to hide your sexuality--until now."

On May 21 a Columbia jury convicted Steven Rios of first-degree murder, condemning him to a mandatory life sentence. The jurors also found him guilty of armed criminal action. (Sentencing for that charge was scheduled for July 5.) Special prosecutor Morley Swingle emphasized to jurors that Rios's DNA was found under Valencia's finger-nails and that his arm hairs were left on Valencia's shaved chest.

The knife used to slit his throat was never recovered.

"I have no sympathy for Steven Rios," adds Linda Valencia. "I am glad that he got life without parole and 10 years. I hope every day that he is in prison he sits and thinks about what he did to my baby. I hope he dreams about it. I hope he suffers. And then when he dies and he has to meet God, I hope God will judge him even more harshly than the jury did."

How did a student with an angelic face and a sexy, devilish grin die at the end of a tawdry affair with a married man? "Jesse was excited at first, but he reached the point where he wanted to end the relationship," prosecutor Swingle told jurors. "This defendant used his badge for sex and his knife to forever close the mouth of his victim."

When he left home, Valencia took on the role of a person of means. He was unhindered by something as insignificant as the truth, seeking credibility among privileged friends with his stories about trips to Greece and a family-owned stable of horses. He led them to believe that he came from money but also that money didn't really matter to him. His Peter Pan charm allowed him to get away with it. When a friend caught him in a grandiose fabrication, Valencia would just repeat the story the next day to the same friend who knew it wasn't true. He even lied about his age--23--trimming off a couple of years because he hated the idea of growing older.

"He talked about places like Greece and Israel as if he'd been there," says former boyfriend Jack Barry. Valencia needed those fables because his real story didn't make sense to him. He could name every constellation, discuss physics, and recite ancient Greek tragedies. He debated politics, wore too-tight T-shirts, and styled his big brown hair like a glam rock star. These were not supposed to be the interests and trappings of a gravel-road Kentucky boy.

For that matter, he wrote letters to newspaper editors about political issues, attended anti-Bush rallies during the presidential campaign, and taped jokes about Ann Coulter on the front door of his apartment. He wanted to attend law school, joking to friends that he might become the nation's first openly gay president.

Six weeks before Valencia's death, Rios, 28, was the cop who responded to a complaint about a loud party in Columbia's East Campus neighborhood. Rios arrested Valencia that night and was evidently smitten. A sexual relationship began almost immediately--even though the older man lied about his real name. It continued even though Rios repeatedly came by the student's basement apartment late at night, always unannounced and always expecting quick satisfaction, and even though Valencia continued to pursue other potential boyfriends.

Their late-night trysts had to remain a secret, Rios told his lover. But Valencia immediately told several friends about the bizarre new relationship and soon talked to them about confronting his new sexual partner over whether he was married.

Hours before his death on June 5, 2004, Valencia ended a Friday night shift as a desk clerk at the cut-rate Campus Inn motel and walked home to change clothes for a friend's party. Valencia's latest potential romantic interest, Ed McDevitt, was also at the party. They'd met the night before at the city's gay dance bar, the SoCo Club, and left together for Valencia's bed.