How an act of kindness preceded killing of Tucson man

He was shot to death because he had empathy for those he didn’t know, and an inherent want to make their lives better.

His kindness was preyed upon, his inhibitions were lowered and in the midst of doing his final good deed, Clifford was killed and his body set on fire.

Thirty minutes before his life was taken on Dec. 23, and his body left burning on a rural road on the outskirts of Pima County, Clifford, 53, and his wife Christina were fast asleep, resting up for a busy Christmas Eve surrounded by family. Their adult daughter, Sabrina Vining, was tucked in bed down the hall, listening to an audiobook and enjoying the calm that living in the rural desert affords.

She was startled when she heard a knock at the door and saw a flashlight shine through her bedroom window in the still of the night. Concerned, Vining quickly rung her parents, who were snoozing steps away.

“It was 11:30 p.m. No one had any business being there,” Vining said. Heck, it was hard to find the place in the daylight, even if you knew where you were going, she explained.

But, sure enough, someone was at the door, and Paul Clifford — in plaid pajama pants — shuffled down the hall, half-awake, to answer the knock.

‘We broke down’

Vining never spotted who stood behind the door, but she heard her dad having a conversation, which she would later realize was likely one of his last.

“Thank God you’re awake. I’m so sorry. We broke down and there’s no service or anything out here,” Vining remembers the man at the door pleading. And he wasn’t entirely wrong. Getting a deputy to the scene for a dead battery call could take literal hours, Vining said, and many tow truck businesses would refuse the call because of the area’s terrain.

“It’s no man’s land,” Vining said. “Everybody helps everyone. That’s the expectation.” And, her dad heeded the call.

“He said, ’No, no, no. I got this.’,” Sabrina recalled. Then he hopped in his daughter’s white Ford Ranger, with no wallet or phone in his possession, and Clifford and the mysterious stranger pulled down the quarter-mile driveway into the dark night.

‘Sometimes evil will win out’

At first, there was no major worry, Sabrina said. Her dad was 6 feet, 6 inches tall and a second-degree blackbelt in karate. He could handle himself in a pickle.

But when Sabrina began tracking her truck, and saw it moving up toward Redington Pass Road, things didn’t feel right.

He never went over that pass, Vining declared. “My dad would not be on that mountain.”

Vining’s instincts were correct, because at that point Clifford had been out-numbered and out-armed.

Whether Clifford drove, or was forced to drive over Redington Pass to his death, that’s where his body was eventually found. he’d been shot and set on fire next to a smoldering, stolen GMC Sierra near Redington Pass and San Pedro River roads, authorities said. Vining’s truck was nowhere to be found.

“This act was completely senseless,” Pima County Sheriff Chris Nanos said of Clifford’s death, during which 80% of his body was burned. “For (the killers) to come up with that kind of scheme to secure someone’s vehicle is awful. They knew what they were going to do ... I don’t care how physically fit you are or what skill set you have, sometimes evil will win out.”

Soon deputies and helicopters swarmed the area to help with the search for the husband, father and grandfather, who was now missing on Christmas Eve.

Vining was able to track her Ranger to a Tucson apartment complex, where it finally parked.

She was able to provide police real-time updates about the truck’s movements, which led deputies to an apartment complex near East Prince and North Romero roads.

Three people were eventually arrested in connection with the killing.

The trio were strangers to the family: Jack Upchurch, 40; Elmer Smith, 19; and Wendy Scott, who turned 17 this month.

Upchurch was known to police.

He’d been in prison on several occasions for crimes ranging from vehicle theft to drug and weapons charges, Pima County Superior Court records show.

At the time of Clifford’s killing, Upchurch was released on bond in connection with an August 2024 vehicle theft charge. His trial was set for March.

‘Always have to be cautious’

Nanos says Clifford did what he’d want any human to do: help. But opening doors to strangers in the middle of the night, or accepting help on the side of the road aren’t the safest ways to do it.

“I drive and see motorists down, and I’ll stop and assist, but even then I’m leery,” Nanos said. “My sensors are up. Who am I assisting? Why are they here? Maybe I should think twice about stopping and just call and let a deputy get out there and help them.”

Nanos said he’ll never tell someone NOT to help, “that goes against what we’re about, as law enforcement and human beings.” But, he wants residents to be safe in their desire to be good neighbors and Samaritans because there are plenty of people like Jack Upchurch out there, he said.

“We know that there are people out amongst us and we question whether they should be out (in public),” Nanos said regarding Upchurch’s previous convictions and apparent recidivism. “It’s no surprise to us that this individual committed this act, only based on the fact that he has so much involvement with law enforcement.”

“We can’t lock up everyone,” Nanos said, noting that Upchurch’s alleged crime against Clifford took his offenses to a whole different level. “For me this is the mind of somebody evil. I can’t imagine anybody thinking, ‘Hey let’s go to somebody’s door on Christmas Eve and kill them. To do this is pure evil.”

Smith and Scott have been indicted on 10 charges each, including first-degree murder. Upchurch is facing 11 charges. They are each being held at the Pima County jail.

“I don’t care if you live in the middle of no where or the middle of the suburbs, you always have to be cautious. The world isn’t the same anymore,” Nanos said.

The statement holds even more weight for Clifford’s family. Their world and outlook on it have changed since a stranger came to the family’s rural home.

Still, there’s no way Clifford could be kept from helping strangers that night, both his wife and daughter say.

Vining admitted that she probably would have done the same when it came down to it. Not anymore.

They are banding tightly together as a family, spoiling the grandchild Clifford often sang to, but will never get to watch grow up.

Christina Clifford watches a spider make its web between her husband’s toothbrush and the wall.

Vining reminisces on the time her father spent hand-pouring the concrete of the home with its long driveway her dad drove a final time to help a stranger.