The Bundy Murders: A Comprehensive History (13 page)

But that September of '69 would be fortuitous for Ted Bundy. Not because his job as a courier or any political aspirations, but because of a chance meeting one night at a University District bar. On September 30, while having a few beers alone at the Sandpiper Tavern, his eyes fell upon the woman who became his closest companion for the next six years. It would not be a normal relationship, to be sure. He would not only secretly date other women at various times, but he would also be transforming into the efficient killer we have all come to know. Still, there was something stirring deeply within his being to be like others, a genuine need to have a normal relationship with a woman. But as a sociopath, Bundy didn't "feel" love, or understand that emotion in the same way as a non-sociopath. Nor could he appreciate the natural feelings of guilt associated with hurting those he loved, for the capacity to feel genuine guilt was practically non-existent in him. Having said that, his yearning to bond with a young woman was strong, and for Ted Bundy, Liz Kendall (the last name a pseudonym of her choosing) seemed like the perfect match.

Feeling emboldened by the deadening effects of the alcohol (a ploy he would continue to employ when going about his killing), Bundy, amidst the blaring of rock music from the likes of Jimi Hendrix and the Beatles, made his way across the room and asked her to dance. She said no and several seconds later he was headed to the elevated dance floor with someone else. Soon, however, Liz, who was already intrigued by the well-dressed, sandy-haired man, walked over to his table and struck up a conversation. He appeared a bit surprised by her advance, but they seemed to hit it off immediately; at least she thought so.26 Sipping the remains of a pitcher of beer from the departing couple at the next table, the two began to share stories about their lives. She had recently moved from Utah, was freshly divorced, and had a young daughter. His life seemed simple enough. With the intention of enrolling in law school, he had recently returned to Seattle from Philadelphia, where he had been attending Temple University. He was also working on a book, he told her, about the Vietnam War. Of course, Bundy was lying, as he had not yet completed his undergraduate work and would not re-enroll at UW until June 1970. At that time he would declare a major in psychology, and would continue his education without interruption, graduating with a bachelor of science degree in psychology "with distinction" in June 1972.

Although Liz was skeptical about his literary pursuits, it was clear she was taken with the charming and handsome man with the somewhat odd accent. "He had a distinctive way of speaking," she said, "not really an Eastern accent, but more like a British one."27 Other people familiar with Bundy's somewhat peculiar speech noticed this as well. James Doros, who maintained a basement apartment at the Rogers's rooming house in the summer of 1974, got to know Bundy quite well. He described his speech "as having a clipped, concise diction similar to an Englishman who had been Americanized."28 Another acquaintance, Kathy Farmer, first met Bundy at Hunt Junior High and they continued to have occasional contact as students at Wilson High School, until both graduated in 1965. They never saw each other after high school, and by 1976, Kathy was employed as a speech teacher at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. She said, "Ted Bundy had a very interesting speech pattern ... and [I] noticed that he had a northeastern accent."29 But echoing the sentiments of Kendall and Doros, at least one of the witnesses at Lake Sammamish described the abductor as using a British-sounding accent, so Bundy either would not or could not alter this peculiar trait, even in the midst of committing murder. This very odd speech pattern, which was more pronounced at certain times, was no doubt an outgrowth of his strange personality and how he perceived himself, and not an intentional method used to beguile young women. Another oddity of Bundy's personality was his habit of sometimes signing his name on personal correspondence as "ted" rather than "Ted." The recipients would notice this right away. To say Ted Bundy had an image problem or battled feelings of insecurity would be an understatement.

Later, Bundy, Liz, her friend Angie (a pseudonym), also from Utah, and two others left the Sandpiper to have coffee at a nearby cafe, where they planned to meet up with some friends from the bar, but the were unable to locate the cafe. At this point, Liz's friends began to lose interest and decided to call it a night. Dropping the trio off at Angie's, Bundy and Liz picked up her daughter at the babysitter's and continued on to her apartment. While Liz drove (or perhaps, attempted to drive) depending on her degree of intoxication), Bundy held Tina (a pseudonym) on his lap in the passenger's seat. Liz couldn't find a parking place closer than two blocks away from her place, and as he gingerly carried the sleeping child, the two of them kept up a quiet conversation in the cool Seattle night air.

Feeling now far too drunk to drive Bundy home, she asked if he wanted to stay the night, which he did. And while nothing occurred sexually on this first evening together (they both) in fact, would sleep in their clothes), one is left to wonder just what kind of thoughts were coursing through the circuitry of his brain as he laid down in bed next to Liz, a woman who was still little more than a stranger, and her young daughter Tina, sleeping only feet away in another bedroom. Could he make this work? Could he leave behind those terrible things which started to manifest in Philadelphia and begin a normal life here? Was it possible to subdue, or completely drive out those desires which caused him to want to harm young women? Could falling in love, perhaps with this woman lying next to him, make the nightmare of what he was becoming disappear?

It was inevitable that Bundy would be faced with such internal questions at the beginning of what turned out to be a long relationship with Liz Kendall, for he was not yet at the stage where he had finally abandoned all hope for a normal life. When that day came, and it did come, he would give himself wholly over to murder. There'd be no second thoughts, no great concern about what to do. The "what if" of his life would be gone forever. His road, on that day, would have no mental exit ramps and no regrets, for he crossed the barrier from fantasy to reality and would be at that time something akin to a robotic predator, looking to destroy every beautiful young female unfortunate enough to cross his path. He would, for the first time in a long time, be at peace with what he was. But that wasn't tonight. The metamorphosis was not yet complete. And so that very real internal war for his soul, which Liz couldn't see, a war which raged just below the surface of his personality and just behind his eyes, and which had been so active back East, was something to be kept hidden, not just on this night, but subsequent nights in their future.

Now was a time to at least appear normal, and in the days ahead, those around them saw only a typical relationship beginning to blossom. His outer life began to take shape in other ways as well. Gone was his depressing life as a busboy, shoe salesman, shelf stocker at the Safeway, and valet parking attendant. Things were definitely going to change over the next several years for college-graduate Bundy, who would begin his ascent in the Republican Party, and hold various governmental jobs, as well as becoming a counselor at the Seattle Crisis Clinic, where he would become friends with coworker Ann Rule, then a budding writer of true crime.

He would appear very successful, and would gain many friendships during these years, as the mask received its finishing touches. Yet he would never be able to enjoy the benefits, for not only was he acutely aware that his life was little more than a lie, but he also lacked the proper emotional responses which would have allowed him to experience the true satisfaction of being liked and respected by others. Before Bundy ever stretched out his hand to murder his first victim, he was a victim himself, of his own internal devices. No matter how monstrous he ultimately became, the first life to be destroyed would be his own. Without the fracturing of his personality in his early years and his drifting, by degrees as it were, into the completely unfettered life of a sociopathic serial killer, the course of his life and the lives of others would have been totally different. The death of almost everything normal had to have occurred within Bundy by January of 1974. Had it not, most if not all of the women he murdered would be alive today, many with children and grandchildren. These are the unknowns, whose births and futures were voided long ago by the madman.

Over the next several months, Bundy and Liz would visit his family in nearby Tacoma, and it was clear to them that the relationship was building into something serious. At least, it appeared that way to Johnnie and Louise Bundy. They liked Liz right away and would have had no trouble welcoming her and Tina into the family. If he was happy, they would be happy; it was really that simple.

During Christmas 1969, Liz and Tina flew to Utah to be with her parents for the holidays. Always short on money, Bundy caught a ride to Utah with Angie and some of her friends, and despite the typical seasonal problems with snowy weather in the mountains, he managed to arrive there late on Christmas Eve. By now, Liz was very much in love with Ted Bundy. She could see a future in their relationship and naturally hoped he would find acceptance with her father and mother, especially after the recent debacle of her first marriage. That he would be well-received by mom and dad was practically a sure thing, as the Ted Bundy most people remember was a very likeable person who presented himself well in social circles. In this respect, Liz had very little to worry about. He would be liked and accepted by them, at least for the time being.

Although the couple often spoke of marriage during these early months together, there were no actual plans for a wedding. This did not sit well with Liz, as they were living essentially as married people anyway. Although maintaining his own place, Bundy was a permanent fixture at her apartment, and it only made sense they should go ahead and get married, she reasoned; this way, she could start helping him pay for law school. This is where they were ultimately heading, and in her mind, this was the next natural step in their otherwise very loving relationship. There was only one problem. Liz was still under the impression that Bundy was set to enter law school, based on their conversation the night they met. When she discovered he was two years shy of having his undergraduate degree, she was very upset. Still, she had faith in him and was confident her future husband would eventually practice law, providing a comfortable living for the three of them. Things were still moving in the right direction and that was all that mattered to Liz.

Bundy himself seemed ready to move ahead too, and after receiving some financial help from Liz, enrolled at UW as an undergraduate for the last time in the spring of 1970. He declared his major in psychology (an interesting choice, given his own mental battles) and did well academically from the beginning. Later in life, however, he would deem the study and practice of psychology a failure, no doubt in part for its inability to adequately explain to him the reasons for his thoughts, desires, and drives, and the overall misfire of his life; a life that allowed him to conceal his true identity so artfully from everyone. Indeed, he became so good at maintaining this secret life that it eventually filled him with contempt for those who'd later work extremely hard putting the pieces of his strange puzzle of a life together, be they detectives, psychologists, prosecutors, or members of his own defense team. But for now, all was well hidden in the dark places of Ted Bundy's brain.

In May 1970, he left his job at Legal Messengers, Inc. (actually, he'd been fired for not reporting to work one day), and by June, he began his summer classes at the university. That fall he was hired by Ped Line Medical Supplies as a delivery driver. That he sought this particular job is of interest, as it gave him immediate access to the items he'd steal over the course of the five months he worked there. Items such as plaster-of-Paris for the making of casts, crutches, and a speculum (the same instrument found violently jammed inside Terri Caldwell). By this time Bundy was a veteran Peeping Tom, who sought sexual gratification by spying on women at night. These nocturnal and sexually driven forays were an incubator for his fantasies, increasingly demanding more than merely staring into basement windows, masturbating, or dreaming of the day he could actually abduct a pretty young coed. If Bundy's first victim was in fact Terri Caldwell, it is somewhat surprising he was able to resist the temptation to enter homes for almost another four years. Certainly, dark desires were already stirring within him, and his pilfering of medical instruments and supplies is proof that staging a well-thought-out abduction was already an active part of his fantasy life. The scam of the helpless individual, Bundy believed, would surely invoke sympathy in the females he'd encounter. He would not be disappointed.

It is interesting to contrast the two very different Bundys, from the period of his enrollment at the university in the spring of 1970, to when the killings began in January of 1974. With his girlfriend at his side, the outer Bundy surges ahead academically, and appears quite confident to both professors and students. Those who knew him earlier in life saw the change as well. The timidity or lack of resolve was replaced with a strong sense of confidence. The new Theodore Bundy was energized; here was a man who was clearly making good decisions and was going places in life. Add to this his good demeanor and well-developed ability to interact socially with even the most prominent of Seattle's political society and you had someone to be admired, even envied. In 1973, his image would soar upon entering law school, and even Carla would see the change in the man she had discarded. Her new-found interest would prompt him to respond in kind, but for Bundy, it meant only an opportunity to pay her back for what she'd done to him, and to prove that he could in fact have her. And so the two again began seeing each other. It wouldn't take him very long to pop the question of marriage, and Carla, apparently without any hesitation at all, would say yes. On that day, Bundy would leave his "fiancee" in San Francisco and return to Seattle triumphant, without the slightest intention of following through with the marriage. How could he, as he and Elizabeth Kendall were a couple? But he had finally "won," and while they'd continue to see each other for awhile, the discarding of Carla was foreordained. In his mind, that's all that mattered. The terrible wrong had now been made right.