As I placed the black and white photograph upside down in front of Ted, I said, “Whenever we’ve gone through our records, we found cases similar in nature to the Riverman’s.” Ted obviously understood that the photo was turned so he couldn’t see it, and he didn’t hesitate to grasp and rotate it until he was looking at the photo correctly.
Immediately, the contortions on Ted’s face told us that he was morbidly transfixed by the Devine scene. His jaw protruded, and his pupils were hideously dilated. His pulse bulged and radiated through his carotid artery like a huge water bump in a garden hose. I felt suddenly as if he were alone with his thoughts, replaying an internal video of his murder, even with us there.
In a droning voice, Dave reported the facts of the case while Ted stared down. My guess from his reaction was that Ted didn’t need the explanation. He patiently waited while Dave explained what he already knew. “She was actually found in Camp Margaret McKinney. Later in nineteen seventy-four another girl, Brenda Baker, was found nearby in Millersylvania State Park. And you’re kind of aware what our M.O. is. We’ve got prostitutes, some in the river and some on land. And I just picked out a few photographs that were taken back there in seventy-three of this young lady. And that’s one of the reasons I asked you the question about whether or not he could have started putting these bodies on land, then the river, as far back as nineteen seventy-three.”
”Ummm,” Ted said, licking his lips while searching for the relevance of that particular photograph to the Riverman and not himself. Groping for some quick relationship to the Green River cases, I said, “We’re interested in her case because Ninetieth and Aurora is in an area frequented by prostitutes.”
Coyly, Ted reminisced with himself and kept the photo in front of him. He asked, “Now, where was this body located?”
”She’s about ten miles southwest of Olympia. Five miles west of I-five,” Dave answered.
Ted interrupted as if he wanted to take over the description of the locale for us and came tantalizingly close to a confession of a detail only the killer could have known. “Off a dirt road,” he said in a voice that seemed to indicate that a deep memory had been evoked. But he caught himself and desperately tried to revert to a third person narrative. He asked, “How far off the road?”
”Found near the parking area at the park,” Dave quickly responded, “He didn’t have to carry her too far. She was within about ten feet of the parking lot.”
Ted regressed quickly back to his first-person version, “But there’s no attempt to conceal the body. And there are clues, there’s clothing here. Pretty strong individual to be able to rip those—or cut , possibly cut—those jeans like that.”
I was astonished by Ted’s observations since I could hardly decipher from the photo what condition the clothing was in, let alone how the jeans were cut. He had to have been there. He was there, right then, in his memory.
Reading my mind, Ted denied any connection to the photo. “Ummm, I don’t think I’ve even been there—that is, to the park. When I was a kid my parents used to go there all the time. Found a picture of that area once, Millersylvania State Park.”
”Well, Devine was found in Camp Margaret McKinney, southwest of Olympia, not Millersylvania Park,” Dave reminded him. “She was picked up in Seattle. That’s where she was last seen.”
”That would have—that was seventy-three?” Ted responded, like he knew nothing about the case and was avoiding any reference that he might have murdered Brenda Baker too. Ted mixed up the facts of his murders.
”Yeah, Ninetieth and Aurora on December seventh,” Dave volunteered when he didn’t need to. I would have pulled his plug if I could have to keep him from giving Ted any information.
Glancing at the Devine body, Ted reverted back to his mode of speaking hypothetically, like he usually did when we got too close to his cases. “Well, the obvious presence of clothing. ‘Course this was ten, eleven years ago, and they’re apt to change and will change as he discovers what works and what doesn’t, and studies—but the way the jeans are cut, that’s kind of unique.”
”…The whys of the cut pants are bizarre. And I don’t know what the autopsy revealed in terms of the presence of semen or any other marks on the body. The cut pants are really odd, boy. You know. Why? Why they’re cut? I don’t think they’re ripped. I think they are cut, unless he performed some sort of sex act right before or right after he left her there and came back and ripped her pants in order to do that. But that’s a little hard to figure. I mean, he didn’t have to hurry. He obviously had control of the situation. So, that’s a little bit bizarre.”
Which ones do you know of?
That's an unsupported supposition on my part, based mainly on the fact that over the years when I receive newspapers or clippings from the Pacific Northwest, I read of the bodies of young women turning up with relative frequency. And I don't know what it is. I don't know if it's because I'm paying so much attention to the Pacific Northwest or if it's something about the Pacific Northwest that seems to encourage this kind of activity, because I know it doesn't seem to be as frequent down in this part of Florida as it is up in Seattle/Tacoma. The mountains of Washington offer some excellent terrain for hiding bodies. So you're not finding a large number of the bodies. That statement of mine about there being other serial murderers is just something intuitive. I just sense it. I know about how difficult it is sometimes to detect a serial murder. And how some serial murderers tend to be very aware of how to cover their tracks, change their M.O. They're studying things all the time. So you might find one victim in one place and another victim in another kind and another way in another place. By varying an M.O., a highly controlled, intelligent, and alert serial murderer can go for on for years and years. And he might only get two or three a year. Or there are others, like the Riverman, who just go hog wild. You cannot go for longdoing four or five murders a month without drawing attention. It's just a sense of the whole problem of serial murders out there who are undetected because the way they go about it is so low key, and they're not frequently exposed. And as in your case, a number of anomalies, a number of exceptions, people who were clearly killed by other individuals. Some of them you know and some of them you don't know who the perpetrator was. I just made that statement from my own judgement, just off the top, because I feel like you've got more up there than just the Riverman.
After Ted Bundy’s arrest in Salt Lake City, detectives went to see his girlfriend Meg Anders. She had contacted the police after the Lake Sammamish killings to report her suspicion that Bundy might be ‘Ted’. Now she gave her reasons. She had found crutches in his room and plaster of Paris in his drawer. Also, Meg had noticed seceral articles of women’s clothing stored in his bedroom. And he often went out in the middle of the night, he was never with her on the nights when women disappeared.
In addition, Bundy had bought a book called The Joys of Sex, and insisted on trying sodomy and bondage. She refused to permit any more bondage after an occasion when Bundy half-strangled her while she was tied up. She sometimes woke up at night to find him looking at her body under the bedclothes. But what worried her the most was that after Bundy moved to Utah, a friend from Salt Lake City had told her that a similar series of cases had started there. In the spring of 1973, Ted was appointed Assistant Chairman of the Washington State Republican Central Committee.
It upset Meg that with such a great job, Ted still continued to steal. One day in a hardware store, he began gathering up tools and putting them in a tool chest. She said “You’re not going to steal those, are you?” “Of course not,” he said. But several days later Meg saw the tool chest in his car.
Her actual name is Liz Kendall. Different authors would use that name to protect her identity. She came out with a memoir about her and Ted’s relationship called “The Phantom Prince; My Life With Ted Bundy”
Do you think this might be the type of person who would have to tell someone? Say he's married: I'm not sure he'll tell his wife. But let's say he's got a friend, a close friend; would he talk about it to somebody? Would he have a partner in this or do you think there's just one person?
Good question. My best guess is that I don't think he has to talk to anyone about it. Again, I would not want to assume that if he had, nobody would come forward, but quite frankly, it's not too probable that he'll ever want to talk to anybody about it. He's well composed. This guy has gone for over a year and a half.
He's keeping it all inside.
You can't use labels. He's got himself under control, a certain amount of control.
How long can he keep that up do you think?
Until you can catch him.
Do you think that he's going to be able to control himself indefinitely? Will he ever lose control or make a mistake somewhere?
Oh, I see what you mean. Good question. Sure, he can make mistakes. And--he has made mistakes.
Severe enough to get caught?
Oh, well. You know what law enforcement is. It's oftentimes luck. There's no question in my mind that you have eyewitnesses all over, people who saw this guy and just don't know what they've seen. The place is covered with eyewitnesses, people who saw him walk up to them, and it went right in through their eyes and right out the back of their heads. He is not a phantom. He is good. He is well composed, and he knows how to approach those people. He knows how to limit the risks, but there's not a way to "eliminate" the risks. And, he's able to do it. The main reason he's been so successful, apart from his own canniness and wariness, is the fact of the kind of victims he's dealing with. And if he were snatching high school girls, he would not have gotten as far as he's gotten because of the nature of the victim. He's successful because of the type of victim he's choosing. Again, if he decides to change his victim class, he's going to have a lot more trouble. And the reason why you don't have a lot of eyewitnesses, I assume, you may have something along those lines. But the reason you don't have anything really reliable is, because any time you have a space of days or weeks before the victim is reported missing and no publicity about the disappearance, there ain't nobody coming forward. No, I don't think he would have to tell anyone, and he will continue to do it. He will make mistakes, but he's obviously covered his tracks.
His figure was hunched as he said sheepishly, “Hello, i’m Ted.” His reach for my hand was slow, weighted as it was by the chains of death row. The touch of his hand was sticky wet. Was the great Ted Bundy nervous? As i looked directly in his eyes, they quickly turned away. Ted’s face was pale, his cheeks hollowed, his eyes lusterless, and his voice feeble. He was almost feral in our presence, like an animal just out of his cave.
This is to acknowledge reciept of your letter to the Green River Task Force dated October 1, 1984. Your requedt that any communications we may have be kept in “strictest of confidence” is absolutely honored. I, too, am concerned that any comments made by you could be detrimental to the Green River Investigation.
I am interested in what information you have that could prove useful in apprehending the person(s) responsible for the Green River murders. In order to assess the immediacy of your assisstance, could you provide just spme facts about the nature of your help? I could, tentatively, visit Florida in the middle of November in conjunction with other investigative duties. I have made inquiry to your local FBI to arrange a possible visit. You may hear from them. The sensitivity of this mattee was emphasized.
I respect your statement of “playing no games”, and, frankly, playing games with you is presumptuous on my part and a waste of my time. I am interested in what your contribution is. We will communicate at your request only about the Green River murders and “nothing else”.
I will never forget the morning I arrived at the office to find five strange men sitting on the benches in the reception area of the Detective Division. There was nothing outstanding about them. All had varying shades of hair color, one was 6 feet 6 inches and another was 5 feet 1. As I passed by the receptionist, she released the electronic door lock and motioned for me to come around so she could talk to me. She informed me that all five were waiting to see me. Unbelievably, they had each confessed to the receptionist that they were the infamous Ted killer.I invited them all into a large interview room together and had each one introduce himself to the others. I told them when they decided among themselves which one was really the Ted suspect to knock on the door and I would return to book him in jail. The five Teds each replied that they would return to their therapists for treatment. Their respective psychotherapists, for whatever reasons, had told each of them to confess to the police as part of their treatment programs. This was really great, I thought; not only were we trying to identify the real Ted, we assisting in the therapy of the entire Seattle psychiatric-patient community.
Mary Bell’s official statement:
I, Mary Flora Bell, wish to make a statement. I want someone to write down what I have to say. I have been told that I need not say anything unless I wish to do so but that whatever I say may be given in evidence.
Signed, Mary F. Bell
Brian was in his front street and I and Norma were walking along towards him. We walked past him and Norma says,
"Are you coming to the shop Brian?"
and I says, “Norma, you’ve got no money, how can you go to the shop? Where are you getting it from?”
She says, “Nebby”.
Little Brian fllowed and Norma says,
"Walk up in front."
I wanted Brian to go home but Norma kept coughing si Brian wouldn’t hear us.
We went down Crosshill Road with Brian still in front of us. There was this colored boy, and Norma tried to start a fight with him. She said,
"Darkie, whitewash, it’s time you got washed."
The big brother came out and hit her. She shouted.
"Howay, put your dukes up."
The lad walked away and looked at her as if she was daft.
We went beside Dixon’s shop and climbed over the railings, I mean, through a hole and over the railway. Then I said,
"Norma, where are you going?"
and Norma said, “Do you know that pol where the tadpoles are?”
When we got there, there was a big, long tank with a big, round hole with little holes around it. Norma says to Brian,
"Are you coming in here because there’s a lady coming on the Number 82, and she’s got boxes of sweets and that."
We all got inside; then, Brian started to cry, and Norma asked him if he had a sore throat. She started to squeeze his throat, and he started to cry. She said,
"This isn’t where the lady comes; it’s over there, by them big blocks."
We went over to the blocks and she says,
"Ar—you’ll have to lie down."
and he lay down beside the blocks where he was found. Norma says,
"Put your neck up."
And he did. Then she got hold of his neck and said,
"Put it down."
She started to feel up and down his neck. She squeezed hard. You could tell it was hard because her finger tips were going white. Brian was struggling, and I was pulling her shoulders, but she went mad. I was pulling her chin up but she screamed at me.
By this time, she had banged Brian’s head on some wood or corner of wood, and Brian was lying senseless. His face was all white and bluey, and his eyes were open. His lips were purplish and had all like slaver on, it turned into something like fluff. Norma covered him up, and I said, “Norma, I’ve got nothing to do with this. I should tell on you, but I’ll not.”
Little Lassie was there, and it was crying, and she said,
"Don’t you start or i’ll do the same to you."
It still cried, and she went to get ahold of it’s throat, but it growled at her. She said,
"Now now. Don’t be hasty."
We went home, and I took little Lassie (Brian’s dog) home an all. Norma was acting kind of funny and making twitchy faces and spreading her fingers out. She said,
"This is the first, but it’ll not be the last."
I was frightened then. I carried Lassie and put her down over the railway, and we went up Crosswood Road way. Norma went into the house, and she got a pair of scissors, and she put them down her pants. She says,
"Go and get a pen."
I said, “No. What for?”
She says, “To write a note on his stomach.”
And I wouldn’t get the pen. She had a Gillette razor blade. It had Gillette on. We went back to the blocks, and Norma cut his hair. She tried to cut his leg and his ear with the blade. She tried to show me it was sharp. She took the top of her dress where it was raggie and cut it; it made a slit. A man came down the railway bank with a little girl with long blonde hair. He had a red checkered shirt on and blue denim jeans. I walked away. She hid the razor blade under a big, square concrete block. She left the scissors beside him. She got out before me over the grass on to Scotswood Road. I couldn’t run on the grass cos I just had my black slippers on. When we got along a bit she says,
"Mary, you shouldn’t have done that cos you’ll get into trouble,"
And I hadn’t done nothing. I haven’t got the guts. I couldn’t kill a bird by the neck or throat or anything. It’s horrible, that. We went up the steps and we went home. I was nearly crying. I said,
"If Pat finds out, she’ll kill you. Never mind killing Brian cos Pat’s more like a Tomboy. She’s always climbing in the old buildings and that."
Later on, I was helping to look for Brian, and I was trying to let on to Pat that I knew where he was on the blocks, but Norma said,
"He’ll not be over there; he never goes there," and she convinced Pat he wasn’t there.
I got shouted in about half past seven, and I stayed in. I got woke up about half past eleven, and we stood at the door as Brian had been found: The other day, Norma wanted to get put in a home. She says will you run away with us, and i said no. She says if you get put in a home and you feed the little ones and murder them run away again.
I have read the above statement, and I have been told that I can correct, alter or add anything I wish, this statement ia true. I have made it of my own free will.
Mary Flora Bell (signed at 6:55 p.m.)
Would you say your childhood was a good experience or a bad experience?
It was a childhood. I dealt with the hand that was given to me.
What about your time in the service? TK: That was a joke. They thought they could teach me something. I guess in a way they did. They showed me how ridiculous this system is...our government is, and our laws are. They helped me to open my eyes to a lot of things wrong with our system.
You were able to take advantage of that system and your victims paid the ultimate price for your acts; are you saying you blame the system for what you did?
No, I take full responsibility for my acts. I'm saying the system allowed me to see the flaws and learn ways to get away with what I was doing for as long as I could without being caught, that was their fault. If there were better laws or surveillance or dedication to catching me, they could have long before I committed all those crimes.
Deflection of blame is a common reaction when the conscience is burdened with guilt. Diverting responsibility for ones actions is also a telltale sign of not accepting accountability for the actions he or she has committed.)
How does it make you feel knowing those people would still be alive if, as you say, the laws or system would have caught you prior to you taking their lives?
It pissed me off. I'm not what you would call a very religious man, but why did God allow it to happen? That pissed me off too. He allowed me to be the way I am, and He allowed those people to be where they were at the time and place. You could say He orchestrated the whole damn thing.
You say the system and the laws could have helped to avoid the crimes and that God was the architect behind the design of the crimes. I am curious as to where that leaves Timothy Krajcir and his responsibility in the crimes?
TK gave a long stare. I felt as though he were contemplating ending the interview as if perhaps I had triggered an ethical dilemma. If in fact he publicly proclaimed his role and accepted responsibility [as he did in his most recent parole board hearing], why the flip-flop as to who is responsible for his actions?)
In the first place, I do regret what I did. It's just unfortunate that things like this happen and are allowed to happen. I mean...why me, why not the guy at the hardware store or a bank? Why are they the way they are and I was made the way I am?
You mean why are you a convicted serial killer as opposed to a store clerk or a bank teller?
Yea. I didn't ask to be this way, it wasn't a choice, it just happened.
Are you saying, serial killers do not make choices, moral or otherwise, which dictate their behavior?
I believe, when I did the women, I was acting out of an uncontrollable desire and an overpowering need to fulfill some kind of emotional, physical, and psychological obligation or ambition, to perfect the illusion I had of being more superior than the victims, the cops, and I guess of God.
I had made a note that TK had now started expanding his vocabulary and his depth of thought as it pertained to his actions in the crimes he had committed, and therefore it seemed like a good time to advance the level of questioning.)
TK, while thinking back, do you recall any early indicators or predetermining factors that you now consider may have bound you to the criminal element?
Well, sure. Way back when I was a kid...I didn't have what you would call the ideal childhood. Then as a teenager, I was more into taking what I wanted. If I saw something, I didn't have and I wanted it, I created the perfect plan and just grabbed it. I don't ever remember not having to do what people call immoral or illegal things to get what I wanted or needed.
Do you recall the first time you ever killed someone?
Sure. For me to do what I didz many things had to come together, and all of them to be allowed from above, right?
Your analogy, that is, if God is the ultimate designer in the end, where does free-will come into play? Are we not given the power to choose or decide, good versus evil?
How can you choose, when you are saturated in evil from the very first breath you take?
Many criminals feel they Aere disowned and shunned in the sight of God, and as a result they feel they are not worthy of His bounty and His forgiveness, which perpetuates an already declining situation.)
I'm curious, how does a serial killer choose his victims?
Me? I liked them.
That would imply you knew your victims. Did you?
I would sit in the Walmart Parking lot, or the Kroger lot, and I would watch them. I wanted to know their every move before I approached them.
So you stalked them?
I suppose you could say that.
Are you saying that if things in your life were different from the very beginning, you would have been a different person, not a serial killer or rapist?
I guess it doesn't matter, 'cause we'll never know.
Does that mean you wouldn't change the things, the events, which have led up to this time and point in your life?
I'm just sayin', sittin' around thinking about how things might have been, don't change a damn thing. I did what I did and here I am, and those are the facts.
Did you ever think about the victims after you killed them but before you were apprehended?
No. Not really!
When was the first time you started thinking about them?
I would try to do things a little different each time so I would recall what I did, and not do the exact things twice. I guess in a way that was thinking about them. How else do you learn unless you go over it in your head and I had to mix things up 'cause I didn't want to give the cops too much to go on.
What would you have done differently if given the opportunity?
Well I probably wouldn't have got caught!
If you could face your victims right now, what would you say to them?
He turned his head slightly toward the guard elevated his voice and replied...)
Then he smiled at me, raised his bushy eyebrows, and under his breathe he whispered...)
What would you say to anyone who would consider taking the same path as you in life...becoming a serial killer?
Think about what you're going to do. You're taking the life of someone else and you're forfeiting your life. In a way you are kinda saying their life is more important than yours, because they're dead and you have to pay for it ...for their death...so it makes their life kinda more important than you or what you want. When you think about it that way, it's not really worth it. If you think you can pull it off and never get caught, you're wrong. You're dead wrong. If you really want to end it all, cause that's what you're doing really, then just off yourself, 'cause it ain't worth the hell of serving a life sentence.