Lately, my mind has been swirling with something I never imagined I’d have to process: the man who murdered my son Matt has legally changed his name while serving time in prison.
Yes, you read that right.
Henry Don Williams—the man who shot my only son, my daughter’s big brother, in the back of the head while he was simply visiting a friend—has changed his name. The date the law allowing this passed? September 1, 2018. That date landed like a punch to the gut. It’s exactly ten years to the day Matt was killed. The timing is almost too cruel to believe.
We didn’t find out through a court notice or an official call. We found out through a letter in the mail.
No warning. No explanation. Just a piece of paper telling us that the man who took Matt’s life is no longer Henry Don Williams. His new name? Don Maliano Ominoso Batalla. The name sounded more like a fictional villain than the person responsible for such real, permanent pain.
But what shook us even more was what we found next.
When we searched his new name, nothing came up. No connection to Matt. No trace of the murder. No accountability. It was like the crime had vanished. As if, through a simple name change, he had been granted a fresh start—clean, unburdened.
He got to start over.
And we got to relive it all over again.
This was made possible by California’s Name and Dignity Act (SB 310). I want to be very clear: I understand and support the original intent of this law. It was designed to allow transgender individuals to change their names and gender markers, so they can live with the dignity and identity they’ve long been denied. I believe in that. I believe in human dignity. I believe in seeing people for who they truly are.
But this law, as it stands today, has a serious and painful loophole—one that directly impacts families like mine.
Under SB 310, incarcerated individuals can legally change their name or gender marker without needing the permission of a warden or sheriff—and most importantly, without any obligation to notify the families of their victims. Once approved by a judge, their new name becomes official. Their birth name? Just an alias. A footnote. Nothing more.
That means someone convicted of murder can adopt a completely new identity, one that severs all public connection to the crime they committed. No transparency. No accountability. Just a clean slate.
As a mother who has spent every day since 2008 learning how to live with unimaginable grief, I find this not only heartbreaking—but unacceptable.
Matt didn’t get a second chance.We didn’t get a chance to forget.
So why should the man who took his life get to erase his past?
This isn’t just about our family. It’s about justice, transparency, and making sure that laws meant to protect dignity don’t unintentionally strip it from those left behind.
I will not stay silent.
Not when a name can erase a life.