The Orlando Sentinel from Orlando, Florida on December 24, 1978 · Page 34
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The Orlando Sentinel from Orlando, Florida · Page 34

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Orlando, Florida
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Sunday, December 24, 1978
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Page 34
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4-0 oentinel S.ar. SufidJy December 24. 1978 Bundy -From 1-D Along with every other young woman in Seattle, Ruth knew about the killings. They began on the night -of Jan. 31, 1974. Lynda Ann Healy, a 21-year-old University of Washington student, set her alarm that 'night for ? a m. She had to make a ski report on radio station KVI in the morning. The alarm was still ringing at 9 a.m. when a roommate walked into her bedroom apartment on Twelfth Avenue. Healy had vanished; on the pillow the roommate found a one-inch bloodstain. Six weeks later, on the night of March 12th, 19-year-, old alchemy student named Donna Manson walked out of her dormitory and headed across the Evergreen State College campus to a student faculty music recital and was never seen again. A local newspaper ran Lynda Ann Healy's picture with a story about Man--son's disappearance. Both girls were petite brunettes, with their long hair parted in the middle. At just before 10 p.m. on April 17, 19-year-old Susan Rancourt came out of the Group Discussion Hall at Central Washington State College in Ellensberg. She never finished the 400-yard walk to a German movie. On the evening of May 6, Roberta Parks finished an ice cream sundae and left the Student Union Building at Oregon State University in Corvallis. That moming, the 22-year-old had argued with her boyfriend, an offshore oilrig diver who wanted to marry her. For almost a year, detectives assumed that Parks "had just gone off somewhere." . It was the early morning of June 1 and Brenda Ball had just drained the last of five beers at the Flame, a bar in Burien on the other side of Seattle from the university. "You want somebody to take you home?" an organic-apple salesman asked the 22-year-old as she left the saloon at 1:30 a.m. "No," Ball said, "I'll be fine." Ten days after Ball's disappearance, 18-year-old Ceorgann Hawkins walked out of the Beta Theta Phi fraternity house at the edge of the University of Washington campus. "Are you ready for the Spanish test?" a friend named Duane called from the window. "Adios," Hawkins said, turning down an alley toward her sorority. Kappa Alpha Theta. The next morning a friend reported to police that Hawkins had vanished. Ten months later, two forestry students would find Ball's remains tossed over a road embankment on Taylor Mountain, 20 miles east of Seattle. They would also find the bones of Susan Rancourt, Lynda Ann Healy and Roberta Parks. A two-day search would not uncover a single bit of clothing or jewelry. The Ted killings The warm weather on July 14, 1974, drew 40,000 people to Lake Sammamish State Park just outside Seattle. At about 11:20, a young man with his arm in a sling walked up to the lakeside, where Janice Ott was sunbathing. "Would you help me put my sailboat on top of my car?" the young man asked Ott. The 23-year-old brushed back her long, brown hair and pulled a pair of cutoffs and a shirt over her black bikini. Pushing her bicycle, she followed the young man toward the parking lot. The bicycle was later found abandoned. That afternoon, 19-year-old Denise Naslund went with a group of friends to a spot where Issaquah Creek feeds into the lake. At about 4, she walked off toward the bathroom, leaving her purse and her swim-suit. Two months later, grouse hunters stumbled upon the remains of Naslund and Ott scattered under a line of trees 10 miles east of the lake, stripped of their clothes and jewelry. In the weeks following these disappearances, a number of women told police that they had been approached that same Sunday at Lake Sammamish by a young man wearing a cast on his arm. Speaking with an English accent and driving a tan VW, the man had called himself Ted. Under headlines such as DEATH CASTS A COLD SHADOW OF DREAD, the Seattle papers tagged the string of disappearances as the "Ted killings." The King County Sheriffs Department announced the formation of a Ted Task Force. On Aug. 30, Ted Bundy handed a letter of resignation to his superior at the Office of Emergency Services where he was a clerk. "It is with some regret not much that I submit my resignation," Bundy wrote. "Try to bribe me, slash my tires . . . but the world needs me. The time I've spent here is without value it is invaluable." At the bottom of the page, Bundy wrote: "Caution: Tears will run the ink." Bundy then left Seattle to enroll in the University of Utah Law School in Salt Lake City. Two months later, on Oct. 18, the murders began in Utah with Melissa Smith. On the night of Oct. 31, 17-year-old Laura Aime failed to return to her home in Salem, Utah. Raped, battered and strangled, her nude body was found a week later in American Fork Canyon, 10 miles west of Salt Lake. V:,v-.,; I ' n Vs., I -' f r - if , I tiimit-iif iriffr''r Tfl'ir'-- Atocitd Pru 1 j I r i - Florida State University students outside The Oak where Bundy lived. Unllad Pnw IfMamaUonal At about 7 o'clock on the night of Nov. 8, a young man with greased-back hair sauntered through the Fashion Place Mall, a shopping center in Murray, a few miles from Salt Lake. In front of a bookstore, he stopped 18-year-old Carol DaRonch. He identified himself as "officer Roseland of the Murray police" and asked for her license-plate number. The man told her that someone had been arrested for burglarizing her car. He escorted her to a darkened laundromat, which he identified as a police substation. "They must have taken him to the main station," the man told DaRonch, walking her through the rain to a battered Volkswagen on the north side of the mall. "You better come in." As she climbed into the Volkswagen, the man ordered her to fasten her seat belt. Smelling alcohol on his breath, DaRonch demanded to see some identification. The man flashed a gold badge pinned inside his wallet. The Volkswagen shot up 6100 South and turned on Hillside Avenue. Near the McMillan School, the man pulled over, jumping the curb. Grabbing DaRonch, the man slapped a pair of handcuffs on her left wrist. "I'll blow your head off," the man said, producing a pistol. DaRonch threw open the car door and tumbled out. The man followed her and DaRonch slashed his face with her fingernails, clutching the end of a crowbar he brandished in his right hand. Screaming, DaRonch stumbled onto Hillside Avenue into the lights of an oncoming car, the handcuffs dangling from her wrist. Wilbur and Mary Walsh, the elderly couple in the car, rushed DaRonch to the Murray police station a mile away. "I have never seen anyone so scared in my life," Mary Walsh later said. Bundy identified Bundy's cell door has a double lock with padlocks, a dead bolt and padlock on the food tray; Bundy had escaped from Colorado jails twice in 8 months. Later that evening, 17-year-old Debra Kent left a musical called The Redhead at Viewmont High School in nearby Bountiful to pick up her younger brother at the Rustic Roller Rink. The following morning, a policeman found a handcuff key lying a few feet from her car, still sitting locked in the high-school parking lot. Kent's body has never been found. Two women would later identify Ted Bundy as a man who had approached them in front of the school that evening. By Jan. 12. 1975, the slaughter had spread to Colorado. After a full day of skiing, a 23-year-old nurse from Michigan named Caryn Campbell was sitting with her fiance by a fire in the lounge of the Wild-wood Inn, a ski lodge near Aspen. Just after 8:30, Campbell told her fiance that she was going up to her room for a magazine. She never returned. On Feb. 17, a motorist spotted a battered corpse lying frozen on a snowbank near Owl Creek. The body was later identified as Caryn Campbell. A search of the area turned up a single earring. Over the next three months, three more Colorado women vanished. Denise Oiiverson disappeared from in front of her home in Grand Junction on April 6. Her bicycle and shoes turned up the next day a mile away. Melanie Cooley, a 17-year-old from Nederland, was abducted near her high school three weeks later. Her body was tossed down an embankment in nearby Coal Creek Canyon. Julie Cunningham vanished after she left her apartment in Vail. It was Aug. 16, 2:40 a.m., and Sergeant Robert Hayward of the Utah Highway Patrol parked his unmarked car in front of his home in Granger. He had only 20 minutes left in his shift. Voices crackled through the static of the radio. Two deputies were chasing a pack of teenage vandals. "What the hell," Hayward thought as he threw the car into drive. Hayward took a quick right and then another. As he zipped around the second corner, he flipped on his emergency lights. Up the block, a Volkswagen with darkened headlights screamed away from the curb. Hayward forgot about the vandals. After a 12-block chase, the Volkswagen pulled over to the curb and stopped. "Why didn't you get out of the car and run so I could take your head off?" Hayward asked the driver, a young man in a black turtleneck, jeans and sneakers. Hayward ordered the driver to stand by the squad car. The young man handed Hayward a license identifying him as Theodore Bundy of 565 First Avenue, Salt Lake City. "You don't mind if I take a look in your car, do you?" Hayward asked Bundy as two other squad cars arrived. "Sure," Bundy said. "Go ahead." "What's this?" Hayward asked, grabbing an 18-inch-crowbar and a canvas satchel. "Just some junk," Bundy answered. Hayward unzipped the satchel and pulled out a nylon stocking, some strips of cloth and a ski mask. Hayward pushed his fingers through the eye and mouth holes cut in the stocking and circled to the front of the Volkswagen. In a paper bag stashed in a corner of the trunk, he found a pair of Spanish-made handcuffs. Hayward placed Bundy under arrest for failure to stop for a police officer. Bundy was booked and released. Six hours later, Sergeant Hayward called the Salt Lake County sheriffs office. In accordance with the laws of coincidence that seem to govern Ted Bundy's life, the sergeant's brother is Captain Pete Hayward, the detective who received a call from Ruth Arista. The detectives' regular meeting in Captain Hayward's office the following Monday morning was dominated by a single topic: Ted Bundy. The man who kidnapped Carol DaRonch drove a Volkswagen. He also had a crowbar and a pair of handcuffs. The detectives had already linked the DaRonch kidnapping to the Smith and Kent murders. "Ted Bundy," a homicide detective named Jerry Thompson said. "Isn't that the guy the woman in Seattle called about?" The room fell silent. "You could hear everybody's mind slapping the pieces together," said one detective later. "We started with a traffic offense and 20 minutes later we had a guy with 20 murders." Bundy was picked up at his apartment on a warrant for possession of burglary tools the stocking mask, the handcuffs and the crowbar. None of the detectives who questioned Bundy asked about burglaries. "Did you ever go sailing, Ted?" detective Thompson asked. "Ever own a sailboat?" Bundy shook his head. "What about skiing?" Thompson asked. "Ever go skiing in Colorado, Ted?" "No," Bundy answered. That afternoon, Thompson searched Bundy's apartment. He removed a book called The Joy of Sex, a map of Colorado, a Chevron credit card and a Colorado Ski Country brochure. The Wildwood Inn, the lodge where Caryn Campbell had disappeared, was underlined in black ink. Salt Lake police contacted Michael Fisher, the Aspen investigator in charge of the Campbell investigation, and informed him about the brochure. Bundy's statement that he had never skied in Colorado was reported as a flat denial that he had ever been in the state. On Aug. 22, the day after Bundy's apartment was searched, Thompson handed Carol DaRonch a stock of 27 mug shots and asked if she recognized the kidnapper. Going through the pictures, DaRonch pulled out Michael Daly is'a reporter for the New York Daily News. This article appeared in Rolling Stone magazine. "1 y f v r iia ,.v V-H. Auociatal Prm Bundy leans against a Leon County jail wall as the indictment charging him with the murders of two FSU coeds is read to him. the mug shot taken the night Bundy was arrested by Sergeant Hayward. "I don't see anyone in there that resembles him," DaRonch said, handing Thompson the stack of pictures. "What's that one doing in your hand?" Thompson asked. "Oh," DaRonch said, "here." "Why did you pull that picture out?" Thompson asked. "I don't know," DaRonch answered. "I guess it looks something like him." "Are you afraid to identify him?" Thompson asked. "That looked maybe something like him," DaRonch answered. "I don't really know. I really don't know if 1 could identify him (the kidnapper) if I saw him again or not." That afternoon, Thompson typed up a report. "This is a very poor witness in this detective's opin-. ion," Thompson wrote. "And I don't know if she can identify the individual or if she is scared or what the situation is." A week later, Thompson again visited DaRonch and showed her four photographs of the rear of Bundy's tan 1968 Volkswagen. The Polaroids gave the car a bluish tint. The night of her abduction, DaRonch had described the kidnapper's car as "white or light blue." "This resembles the car," DaRonch told Thompson. Three days later, Thompson gave detective Ira Beal from the Bountiful Police Department a stack of eight photographs, including a December 1974 driver's license picture of Bundy. "Is there anybody who looks familiar?" Beal asked DaRonch. "This looks like the guy as I remember him," DaRonch answered. At first, Bundy treated the detectives who shadowed him as a joke. Laughing, he would step in front of the apartment building and snap their picture. Then Bundy became alarmed. Detectives do not follow people for traffic violations. "The first lesson of criminal law is when you're charged with a crime, get a lawyer," Bundy's criminal law professor, Lionel Frankel, told him. Frankel referred Bundy to a lawyer named John O'ConnelL This is not an ordinary traffic case anymore." O'Connell said when he learned that Bundy had been questioned by Thompson. Thompson, O'Connell knew, ' was with the homicide squad. Bundy recounted the in- , terrogation. Bundy, O'Connell realized, was a suspect in the DaRonch case. "But I didn't see anything to worry about," O'Connell said later. "I figured that since he hadnt been arrested or even pulled in for a lineup, he must have been cleared." Before leaving O'Connell's office, Bundy copied the Utah statute for failing to stop for a police officer. On Sept 7, Michael Fisher notified the Salt Lake sheriffs office that Bundy had used his Chevron card three times in Colorado. Each purchase was on the same day as one of the Colorado killings. Each purchase was made within thirty miles of an abduction. ' "When Colorado came up with the credit card stuff and the police were in full bay," O'Connell said later, "they decided they had to go with what they had and hope they would come up with more evidence later." Three detectives arrived at Bundy's apartment at 3:30 on Oct. 1 and handed him a court order for a lineup appearance the following day. "He seemed extremely nervous and upset when this was served on him," Thompson reported, "and yet he seemed relieved when he found out it was just an order for a lineup. The individual at this time had long hair over his ears, about collar-length." By 9 o'clock the following morning, when Bundy was marched into a lineup room at the Metropolitan Hall of Justice, his hair was cropped short and parted to one side. Bundy stood against the back wall, under the number seven, alongside seven sheriffs deputies in plain clothes. A detective handed Carol DaRonch a blank card. Peering through a one-way mirror, she wrote the number seven on the card. Bundy was arrested for kidnapping. Tossing Bundy idle questions about school and hobbies, Captain Hayward leaned back and studied the well-dressed young man who sat on the other side of the desk. There were none of the usual small signals of nervousness. Bundy did not lick his lips, squirm in the chair or rub his hands. As Bundy's easy smile danced to the relaxed rhythm of the conversation, Hayward tried to lock his eyes with Bundy's. Many detectives call this snake charming. Bundy's eyes flashed, around the room, lighting on the file cabinet, a picture of the detective's wife anything but Hayward. Public hysteria The next day, the Seattle newspapers made the first public connection between Bundy and the Ted killings in Washington. Within a week, Ted Bundy became Washington's best-known citizen. Theodore Robert Cowell was born (10 million newspaper readers learned) on Nov. 24, 1946 at the Elizabeth Lund Home for Unwed Mothers in Burlington, Vermont. He and his mother, Louise Cowell, moved to Philadelphia and then, in 1951, to Tacoma, Wash. At a dance hosted by the First United Methodist Church, Louise met a Navy enlisted man named John Bundy. On May 19, 1951, they were married. John Bundy quit the Navy and took a job as a cook at Madi-gan Army Hospital. The couple had two daughters and two sons and settled into a house at 3214 North Twentieth Street in Tacoma's West End. "We are a family that has always tried to raise our family in the right way," Louise Bundy told one reporter. "We have no guilt feelings about that. We weren't the kind of family that sent their kids off to Sunday School and then slept." At Hunt Junior High School, Bundy is remembered as a "super salesman" of Christmas tree lights who sometimes snacked on dog food he carried in his pockets. At Wilson High School, he joined the track team. In his junior year, he and two -friends forged lift tickets for a nearby ski run. Bundy's yearbook picture blends in with 100 other, smiling young men with combed back hair. Under the photo is the legend, "Just wait until he turns his back, then throw it." Graduating high school with a B average, Bundy enrolled at the University of Puget Sound in the fall of 1965. The following September he transferred to the University of Washington. In the summer of 1967, he studied Chinese at Stanford University and fell in love with a girl from California. He dropped out of college that fall, and spent the winter working odd jobs. In April 1968, he signed on as a volunteer for Republican Art Fletcher's unsuccessful campaign for lieutenant governor. He became Seattle chairman of the New Majority for Rockefeller and worked through the summer without pay. He was rewarded with a trip to the Republican National Convention in Miami. In early 1969, Bundy traveled to Philadelphia to search for his father. A relative had told him about his father: "You're not really Ted Bundy." Unable to find his father, Bundy returned to Seattle in May. After working for the summer in a sawmill, he moved into a rooming house on Twelfth Street and found work, first as a courier for Legal Messengers and later as a delivery boy for a medical supply firm. At a nearby saloon, he met Ruth Arista. In the summer of 1970, he reenrolled at the University of Washington as a psychology major. In 1971, after being screened for "maturity and balance," he was signed on by the Seattle Crisis Clinic, a telephone counseling service. "He was very good with people on the phones," one supervisor remembers. "People would call up hysterical, wanting to kill themselves, and Ted would calmly talk them out of it." A month after graduating in June 1972 with a 3.4 average, Bundy was awarded an eight-week internship by the Harbor View Hospital Psychiatric Clinic. There, he was responsible for counseling a dozen patients. "I worked on the front lines and could not accept the powerlessness of my vocation," Bundy later said. He joined Don Evans' successful reelection campaign for governor. In late August, he was caught with a tape recorder in the campaign headquarters of Evans' Democratic opponent, Albert Rosellini. Bundy said he had been paid $400 to monitor Rosellini's statements. Two months later, Bundy was hired by the King County Law and Justice Planning Commission to design a program for cracking down on habitual criminals. Here, Bundy wrote a pamphlet on rape. "A number of rape offenders do not seem to be 'sick people,' " Bundy wrote, "but individuals who believe that they can exert their will over others with impunity .. . it is important to make offenders aware that they have a high probability of being caught for this crime, and if found guilty that the offense will be treated as a serious one." On Jan. 3, 1973, Bundy tackled a purse snatcher in a Seattle shopping mall. He was awarded a letter of commendation by Governor Evans. As he completed his project in April 1973, Bundy was accepted by two law schools, the University of Utah and the University of Puget Sound. Admissions officials had been impressed by the personal letter of recommendation from Governor Evans. Bundy wrote the University of Utah and made up a story that he had been seriously injured in a car accident. On Sept. 4, 1973, he enrolled at the University of Puget Sound. A few weeks later, he was appointed assistant to State Republican Chairman Ross Davis. On April 10, 1974, two weeks before final exams, Bundy dropped out of the University of Puget Sound. He told the University of Utah that he had recovered

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