It was a Sunday night in Beverly Hills. August 20, 1989. The 90210 zip code was usually quiet, especially on a humid summer evening when most of the wealthy elite were tucked away in their mansions. Then the screams started. Or rather, the 911 call did.
People still talk about that audio. Lyle Menendez, sounding absolutely hysterical, wailing into the phone that "someone" had killed his parents. When the police rolled up to the 700 block of North Elm Drive, they found a scene that looked like a war zone. Jose and Kitty Menendez hadn't just been shot; they’d been obliterated by 12-gauge shotguns.
But here is the thing that always trips people up when they watch the Netflix documentaries or the TikTok deep dives: how old were the Menendez brothers when they killed their parents? They weren't children. They weren't even "teens" in the way we usually think of high schoolers. They were legal adults, though barely.
The Breakdown: Lyle and Erik's Ages in 1989
When the trigger was pulled, the ages were specific. Lyle Menendez was 21 years old. He was the older brother, the one who often seemed to take the lead in their public appearances. He had already spent time at Princeton (though his academic career there was, let's say, rocky) and was trying to figure out his next move in the shadow of his high-powered father.
Erik Menendez was 18. He had just graduated from high school. While Lyle was technically a full-grown man in the eyes of the law, Erik was essentially a kid who had just stepped over the threshold of adulthood. This age gap—three years—became a massive point of contention during their trials. The prosecution wanted you to see two cold-blooded adults. The defense wanted you to see two terrified boys who had been broken by years of alleged systemic abuse.
It matters. It matters because the "spoiled rich kid" narrative only works if you ignore the psychological developmental stage of a 21-year-old and an 18-year-old. At that age, your brain—specifically the prefrontal cortex—isn't even fully cooked yet. That doesn't excuse a double homicide, obviously. But it colors the "why" in a way that’s hard to ignore.
Why the "How Old" Question Still Confuses People
Maybe it's the sweaters.
During the first trial in 1993, defense attorney Leslie Abramson had the brothers dressed in these soft, pastel-colored knit sweaters. They looked like they belonged in a Sears catalog, not a courtroom. It was a calculated move. By making them look younger, softer, and less threatening, the defense tapped into the public's confusion about their ages.
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If you look at the photos from the night of the arrest in March 1990 (about seven months after the murders), they look different. Lyle was 22 by then. Erik was 19. They were driving Ferraris and spending their dead parents' money like it was going out of style. Lyle even bought a Rolex. That behavior—that "shopping spree" phase—is exactly why the public turned on them.
People saw 21-year-olds acting like they’d won the lottery instead of mourning.
But if you look at the testimony of Dr. Ann Burgess, a pioneer in treating sexual abuse victims, she argued that their behavior was consistent with "learned helplessness" and the erratic coping mechanisms of young trauma survivors. Honestly, it’s a mess of contradictions. You have 21 and 18-year-old men who are capable of orchestrating a hit, yet supposedly so terrified of their father that they thought they were going to be killed first.
The Timeline of the Crime
Let’s look at the dates, because the math is pretty stark:
- Lyle Menendez: Born January 10, 1968. On August 20, 1989, he was 21 years, 7 months, and 10 days old.
- Erik Menendez: Born November 27, 1970. On August 20, 1989, he was 18 years, 8 months, and 24 days old.
Think back to what you were doing at 18. You’re basically a glorified senior in high school. Erik was a competitive tennis player. He was sensitive. He was, according to many who knew him, completely under Lyle’s wing. Lyle was the one with the toupee (a secret his father allegedly forced him to keep, which allegedly sparked the final confrontation).
When they walked into that den with the Mossberg shotguns, they weren't the hardened criminals the media portrayed them as later. They were two guys who had spent their entire lives under the thumb of Jose Menendez, a man who was, by all accounts—even those of his critics—an absolute tyrant.
What happened in the months after?
The "rich kid" behavior started almost immediately. Within six months, they blew roughly $700,000.
Lyle bought a Porsche Carrera. Erik hired a full-time tennis coach for $60,000 a year. They bought clothes, watches, and businesses.
To the LAPD, this was the smoking gun.
To a psychologist, this might look like "manic defense," a way to avoid the crushing reality of what they’d done.
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But again, they were 21 and 18. They had no idea how to manage money, and suddenly, they had millions.
The Trials: From 18 to Life
By the time the first trial started in 1993, Lyle was 25 and Erik was 22. This is where the public perception really shifted. They didn't look like kids anymore. They looked like the men they were becoming.
The first trial ended in a hung jury. People forget that. The jury couldn't decide if it was first-degree murder or voluntary manslaughter. Why? Because the abuse excuse—the "imperfect self-defense" theory—actually worked on some people. They believed that these 21 and 18-year-olds had been pushed to a breaking point by a father who allegedly sexually and physically abused them for over a decade.
But then came the second trial in 1995.
The rules changed. Judge Stanley Weisberg restricted the abuse testimony. He didn't allow the jury to consider manslaughter. It was murder or nothing. By the time they were convicted in 1996, Lyle was 28 and Erik was 25.
They had spent their entire twenties in the county jail.
Are They Different People Now?
Today, in 2026, the Menendez brothers are in their mid-50s. Lyle is 58. Erik is 55.
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They have spent more than half their lives behind bars. It’s wild to think about. When you see them in recent interviews or read about their lives at the Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility in San Diego, they aren't those "kids in sweaters" anymore. They are middle-aged men who have become leaders in prison reform.
Erik works with hospice patients in prison. Lyle has focused on creating "beautification" projects behind bars, trying to make the environment more human. They finally got moved to the same housing unit a few years ago, which was a huge deal for them after being separated for decades.
The conversation around their ages has seen a massive resurgence lately, mostly because of the "True Crime" boom. Generation Z, looking back at the footage from the 90s, sees something different than the Boomers saw back then. Gen Z sees two victims of childhood trauma. The Boomers saw two ungrateful adults who killed their parents for money.
The truth is probably somewhere in the middle, but the age factor is the pivot point. If Erik had been 17, the law might have treated him differently. But at 18, he was an adult. He was "man enough" to face the needle, as the prosecutors often hinted.
What You Should Take Away
Understanding the Menendez case requires moving past the headlines. You have to look at the developmental reality of an 18-year-old and a 21-year-old.
- Age at Crime: 21 (Lyle) and 18 (Erik).
- The Motive Debate: Was it a $14 million inheritance or a "kill or be killed" panic?
- The Sentence: Life without the possibility of parole.
- Current Status: They are currently seeking a resentencing or a new trial based on new evidence—specifically a letter Erik wrote to his cousin months before the murders, and new allegations against Jose Menendez from a former member of the band Menudo.
If you’re following this case, the next logical step is to look at the Habeas Corpus petition filed by their lawyers recently. It contains the "Roy Rossello" evidence—the Menudo member who came forward claiming Jose abused him too. This is the first time in 30 years that there is actual, third-party corroboration of the brothers' claims.
Read the transcripts of the 1993 trial if you can find them. The nuance in the testimony about their ages and their psychological states at the time of the shooting is far more complex than any TV show can portray. Their ages weren't just numbers; they were the foundation of their entire defense and the reason for their eventual downfall.
Watch the 2024 documentaries with a critical eye toward the timeline. Notice how the prosecution skips over the "18-year-old" aspect and focuses on the "adult" label. It’s a masterclass in how legal definitions can clash with psychological reality.
Next Steps for Research:
To get the full picture, look up the "Petitioner’s Memorandum of Points and Authorities" filed in Los Angeles County Superior Court. It details exactly how the new evidence interacts with the original claims made by the brothers when they were 21 and 18. This is the legal pathway that could potentially see them released, or at least given a chance at a parole hearing for the first time in their lives.