Stephanie Raimundo, the 48-year-old Palm Coast woman facing a combined 150 years in prison on 11 felony charges, including manslaughter in the drug-overdose death of 21-year-old Calvin Stull in January 2023, was sentenced to 16 years in prison.
Raimundo got 16 years for charges of two counts of trafficking fentanyl and a count of trafficking meth, which had a combined potential punishment of 90 years, and 15 years on the manslaughter charge, plus other charges adding up to 45 years. But the sentences were imposed concurrently, meaning that she would serve them all at the same time, rather than stacked consecutively.
Raimundo got some leniency in a plea deal because she testified for the state during the trial of Brian Pirraglia, who had been her roommate when Pirraglia injected 38-year-old Brian O’Shea with a fatal dose of fentanyl in Palm Coast’s B-Section in October 2022. Pirraglia was sentenced to life in prison.
It nevertheless took Circuit Judge Dawn Nichols some work to convince Raimundo to accept a plea deal. When Raimundo appeared before the judge in late January, she wanted a trial. She was hesitant about the 16-year deal, describing herself as “in shock” and perhaps not understanding its leniency. It is even more lenient when the year she has already served is credited to her sentence, as will be up to 15 percent of her prison sentence if she follows rules. She will end up serving 12.5 years, not 16.
Flagler County Sheriff’s detectives had built a case showing her to have sold Stull the dose of fentanyl that killed him hours later, when he injected it while sitting under a pavilion at Belle Terre Park. Stull had picked up the drug at Raimundo’s residence. After some back-and-forth with the judge, and a clear message from Assistant State Attorney Jason Lewis that he was out of patience with Raimundo, she gave in and signed the deal. That was on Jan. 29. On Wednesday, Nichols pronounced sentence.
As Raimundo then went through the finger-printing and DNA-harvesting ritual required of every person about to enter the state prison system, euphemistically called the Department of Corrections, the judge invited the mother of Calvin Stull to the lectern to read a statement about the death of her son.
“There’s not really a lot of very nice things I have to say at this moment, but I’m going to try my best,” the mother said, standing within five steps of Raimundo, who did not look up from the fingerprinting pad as she pressed one finger after another. “In my heart I know I will never be able to forgive you. I’ve gone through so much pain and emptiness that’s burned in my soul, the cold feeling I have anymore towards everyone. A mother should never have to bury their child.”
And yet the way she addressed her loss, the way she addressed Raimundo, was not with harshness or unkindness. The two women understood each other perhaps more than they would admit.
The mother spoke about how she herself was incarcerated on drug charges when her son died. “We never got to say goodbye. We never even got to see him when we came home, all we had of my son was a jar of ash,” she said. “I would not wish this feeling on my worst enemy. I know what addiction is. I’ve been there, done that. Come April 22 I will be two years clean on fentanyl. I wish my son would have had this opportunity that me and my sister got. You couldn’t pay me enough to touch another drug. Drugs took my son, which was more than just a son. To me, he was my best friend, my protector. He was very intelligent, funny, the light of any room. Everyone loved Calvin. He was the sweetest soul you could ever meet. He would give the shirt off his back or even his last dollar to anyone that needed it. So many people have been affected by Calvin’s passing.”
Then there was the time the mother met Raimundo’s little boy at Parkview church. “Seems like an awesome little man,” she said. “I hope you can get yourself together while you’re down for your son. I really hope he don’t fall victim to the streets like a lot of a lot of us have. With everything that’s happened, I hope you decide to stop and break this cycle. There’s so much more I really would love to say, but if I ever can forgive you, then maybe sometime down the road, you’ll get a message from me.”
Nichols thanked the mother for her words about Raimundo’s son. “What’s so sad about these cases is that the victims, it’s not just your son,” the judge said. “All the people that knew your son, her child or children, her family. It affects so many people. Thank you for being kind.”
Stull’s sister, too, addressed the court and Raimundo: “I know what it’s like to struggle with addiction myself, so part of me doesn’t want to have resentment towards you. But the other half of me knows what it’s like to be thriving in recovery, and it really sucks. My brother doesn’t get the opportunity to have this lifestyle that we get to live now. So honestly, for that, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you. But I do hope things are good for you when you are released.”
Raimundo did not speak. She did not cry, as she had after testifying about the death of Brian O’Shea who, like Stull, she had called her friend. She did not want to be there, and soon enough she no longer was as a deputy ushered her out through the side door and toward her next dozen years in Florida prisons.
PeachesMcGee says
Sadly, nobody wins.
Florida Girl says
I wonder if she even has remorse. Hopefully, the parents and siblings to the victim feel a sense of justice in a situation like this. I know a lot of people do not agree with Flagler looking at every overdose death as a murder investigation, however, I do. I support this decision 110%. I am glad she is off of our streets and locked up for a good while.
jane doh says
so how did she do it – held him down and forced it down his throat or did she tie him up to inject it?