Quick Take
Theobald Lengyel’s sentencing Thursday follows a weekslong murder trial that included extensive testimony and a brutal audio recording of Alice Herrmann’s death. Lengyel’s attorney said she would file a notice of appeal on his behalf.
Santa Cruz County Superior Court Judge Nancy de la Peña sentenced Theobald Lengyel on Thursday to 25 years to life for the murder of his girlfriend, Capitola resident Alice “Alix” Herrmann, in December 2023. Lengyel’s attorney, Annrae Angel, told Lookout that she would file a notice of appeal on his behalf.
Lengyel spoke briefly to the court and apologized, adding that Herrmann’s death was a tragedy, and “like a cloud with no silver lining at all.”
“There’s nothing I can say that will make any difference, I am sorry,” he said. “There’s no way to make up for the light that she would have shone in the future.”
Lengyel was found guilty of first-degree murder in October, following a weeks-long trial in which Santa Cruz County assistant district attorneys Conor McCormick and Emily Wang painted a picture of Lengyel as a serially violent person, citing testimony from Lengyel’s ex-wife, along with members of his family and other witnesses. The trial also saw prosecutors play a brutal three-hour audio recording of the night Lengyel appeared to strangle Herrmann to death in her Capitola home.
Lengyel, 55, a member of the rock band Mr. Bungle from 1985 to 1996, had pleaded not guilty. Angel did not deny that Lengyel killed Herrmann, but she argued that the murder was not premeditated. Herrmann, who was 61 when she died, had a Ph.D. in neuroscience and was a member of a local canoeing group, Outrigger Santa Cruz.
Members of the canoeing group, Herrmann’s family members and others flooded the courtroom for Lengyel’s sentencing on Thursday. Many quietly sobbed and wiped away tears. Several people gave victim impact statements. Outrigger Santa Cruz member Theresa Mulder recalled the pain of having to sit through the recording of Herrmann’s death.
“We sat on those benches and heard him torture her, we heard him taunt her, we heard her take her last breath,” she told the courtroom. “We heard a cruel and vicious betrayal of trust. She recorded that evening for a reason. She wanted to be heard, and so we listened.”
Mulder pushed for justice so that Lengyel “will never harm another woman again.”
“For some of the women on our team, this betrayal has triggered painful memories of past trauma. For others, it has created a deep distrust of men. For many, this makes us feel generally unsafe,” she said. “Violence against women is designed to do that, any form of violence against any one of us creates an undercurrent of fear in each of us.”

Herrmann’s longtime friend Betsy Marvit spoke about how special Hermann was to her.
“There was just so much person in that small person, and she was deeply kind,” she said. “She embraced life with curiosity and joy, and she was always trying new things. Her excitement for life was infectious and she shared it generously with everyone she met.”
Marvit, too, urged that the court hand Lengyel a life sentence, saying that he should never have the opportunity for release so as to protect others from harm.
“No family or community should have to endure what he put us through, and no matter what comes next for him, it will mean this worthless, unsafe, unstable piss stain of a man is safe to release ever,” she said.
Claire Carroll, a friend of Herrmann’s from Hawaii, called her a “true gift that God had given to us on this earth.”
“I cannot tell you how the impact of this malicious act has affected all of us,” she said through tears. “I have traveled over 2,000 miles to be here today with all of you who have loved her also.”
Herrmann’s brother, Eric, who was involved with the case since the beginning, addressed the court and said that he has taken many weeks off of work. A year later, the grief is still “overwhelming.” He told the court about having to tell their 94-year-old father of Herrmann’s death. Because of his advanced age and poor memory, their father thought that the conversation was a “terrible dream,” he said, which meant that Eric had to tell him again.
“The entire thing was and is inexcusable. It was and is incomprehensible. It was and is unforgivable to me and my family,” he said. “I asked the court to send him away from society. With his actions, he has willingly and knowingly given up the right to participate in the world and enjoy freedom. Justice cannot undo the harm he has done, but it can bring us some peace.”
Hermmann’s daughter, Dorothy, said that her mother had a profound effect on her life and that nothing could ever fix the absence she now feels.
“She cannot be brought back to life. The unique memories and thoughts that she had cannot be retrieved. Restitution is impossible, and anything that can be done to the defendant that would in any way right the scales of justice in my eyes offers me no solace.”
De la Peña spoke briefly, both calling Herrmann “an astounding person,” and Lengyel “astoundingly smart and terrifically dangerous.” She also called the case “maybe unlike anything she has seen in almost 30 years as a public defender, five years with county council, and now almost four years on this bench.”
After handing down the sentence, de la Peña acknowledged that it is likely not enough for Herrmann’s loved ones: “There is no justice in a case like this, but the court can impose the sentence, and that’s the sentence that this court imposes.”
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