The Bundy Murders: A Comprehensive History (14 page)

These indeed would have been heady years for Bundy if it weren't for the ever-present knowledge of what he was becoming. He could never really marry anyone. He understood that. His life would not consist of a nine-tofive job, where he'd return home, kiss the wife and child, and settle down in front of the television. His road would be predatory and solitary, and the hunting and capturing of his prey would provide all the emotional comfort he would need. The lines of demarcation became very clear to Theodore Bundy during these years. He may not always have wanted to see them, or to believe what he was feeling during this period of transformation, yet deep within himself he knew he'd soon be crossing the barrier from fantasy to reality. Anyone wishing to understand this dual nature of Ted Bundy's need only look to these outwardly successful years, when those around him felt true admiration, believing what they were seeing were valid signs of a successful and well-adjusted life. It was all the well-developed mirage that concealed the monster from the world. His secret world of fantasy, where he'd been continually cultivating the unimaginably hideous and perverse sexual desires he would later commit, was skillfully being fine tuned during this very same time. It was his diligence in building this twisted fantasy realm which allowed him to become so good at obtaining, killing, and dumping his victims without ever leaving clues behind at any of the crime scenes. These years were a time of preparation for Bundy, and he would be faithful to this dark and abysmal world until it could be contained no longer. On that day, when the inner Bundy gained the ascendancy, the outer facade he'd been so diligent at creating would begin to slowly fade away. At that time the heightened state of his predatory mind would no longer see the need to keep the lie of the outer Bundy going; at least not in the same manner. He would assume a lower profile in life and continue going through the motions (entering law school) for example), and he would strive to avoid detection. But beyond this, it was the fulfilling of his murderous fantasies which danced in his thoughts both day and night. The compulsion to murder would then forever direct the course of Ted Bundy's life.

In September 1971, Bundy took a position at the Seattle Crises Clinic as a telephone counselor, where he was apparently quite good at handling tough calls, and had on more than one occasion helped prevent a suicide. Later, in an attempt to reminiscence about positive aspects of his life related to his counseling, he admitted to feeling a special closeness to women whose husbands had abandoned them, or were otherwise abusive. This must be weighed against what we now know about his feelings and desires relating to women. Even so, for the most part, he at least appeared to be a very skilled and able counselor.

In June 1972, Bundy the psychopath graduated from the University of Washington with a degree in psychology, and that same month, Tina caught a flight to Utah to visit her grandparents. Liz remained behind, but joined them for the Fourth of July festivities. Bundy, meanwhile, had taken a job with Harbor View Mental Health Center, where he continued to counsel people, now in person. Here, however, he would have at least one detractor, who reported that Bundy was "not capable of being emotionally responsive to the needs of his clients and patients."" It was also rumored (and was in fact true) that he had had a sexual relationship, however briefly, with one of his coworkers at Harbor View, and might not have acted professionally with all of his patients. It would be this temporary girlfriend who would later tell police how she and Bundy would sometimes drive through the remote areas behind Lake Sammamish, under the pretext of locating the house of a relative. The house, of course, was never found, and true to form for Bundy and his dealings with women, the forays into these deserted rural areas were at the expense of this woman. She must have felt a cold chill creeping up her spine upon learning the true reason for the trips. Reminiscing about the touching and caressing between them only to learn that the eyes you found so beautiful and so charming were even then scanning the hillsides for the best spot to dump bodies must have been overwhelming indeed.

When Liz returned from Utah, Bundy was, as always, happy to see her, or at least he made himself go through the motions, knowing it was expected of him. As Tina had remained with her grandparents for an extended stay, their time was their own. It was a Thursday night, and Bundy naturally assumed they'd be out the next evening. When Liz made a passing comment that she was tired and wasn't sure she wanted to go out, she no doubt felt secure in the knowledge that the man she loved would understand. Bundy, however, apparently not wanting to wait and see if she would change her mind, responded by asking his coworker out on a date the next morning. Not surprisingly, after a good night's rest, Liz, feeling much better, phoned Bundy at work the next morning to say that yes, they could go out after all. But Bundy, now stammering, had to admit he had a date, telling her, "Remember, I asked you first."" As if that made any sense to her, considering what their ongoing relationship had been. He held the reins of control and could have said, "Sure, that's great," and immediately broken the hastily made liaison without any trouble at all. But that's not what he wanted to do; his intention was to hurt Liz, and in this he succeeded. This began a very brief but painful separation for Liz Kendall from the man she loved. While he would make feeble attempts (which may not have been completely legitimate) to make amends over the next several days, it would be two weeks before he truly admitted how foolish he'd been to do such a thing. His apparent (and momentary) heartfelt pleas at this time about his love for Liz do in fact seem legitimate. His confession that he didn't want to lose her was also true, given the fact that he would contact her later after committing murder. Liz Kendall was, for Ted Bundy, a connection to the world of the sane. She was his lighthouse on those dark nights when the monster had been unmasked and he'd moved about in a realm of pure evil until he felt satiated. Only then would he begin to retrace his steps back to the world that was Liz; the world he saw as normal. Whatever else happened in life, he was not ready to give her or that up.

As for Liz, nothing could sway her from her commitment to him. She didn't like that he had lied to her at times, and she couldn't condone his almost continual thievery (Bundy's stealing should have alerted her to his excessively flawed character, but apparently it didn't). But his sudden desire to be with someone else was intolerable. Such betrayal from the man she not only cared for deeply, but was helping to support financially, was almost unforgivable. Yet the emotional connection was too strong, and regardless of what he'd done, she couldn't think of losing him. It would not be the last time she would experience grief from the man she hoped to marry.

That September, Bundy became part of the campaign to re-elect Governor Dan Evans. It wasn't a paid position, and as always, it required a lot of legwork, but that came with the territory and he expected it. His main task was to dog the trail of Evans's opponent, Albert Rosellini, and report back all pertinent information useful to their side. A disguise was sometimes employed. It was perhaps the first time Bundy was known to have worn a false mustache, but it would not be the last. Working as a spy for Evans came easy to him, as it allowed him to move freely among his opponents without being seen for what he really was. Indeed, long before he offered his services to the Evans camp, he'd already gained experience working covertly among his fellow students at school. In May of 1970, Bundy, freshly returned to the University of Washington, contacted campus police and offered his services as an informant. Apparently he disagreed with "the tactics" some of the more radical anti-war groups were employing, and in at least one instance, provided authorities with "detailed information" concerning their plans.32 This ability to evade detection would be a hallmark of his life as a serial killer. His acting abilities, both as politico and predator, became good indeed. This is why his true nature would be so difficult for those who knew him to accept. It just didn't seem possible, this Jekyll and Hyde nature being attributed to him. From all outward appearances he just didn't fit anyone's idea of what a serial killer should look like.

Despite unexplained bouts of depression, this activity on the political scene and the knowledge that he was needed in such a high-profile endeavor gave him a reason to push through these periods. Juggling the inward drives while meeting the demands of the busy outer world he had placed himself in was no easy task, leaving one to wonder about Bundy's thoughts momentto-moment as he rubbed shoulders with some of the most prominent members of the Washington State political scene. It is unlikely that the madness which lived just behind Ted Bundy's stare was ever completely silent. Yet those who worked with him during this campaign have only fond memories of their coworker. Bundy was an asset to those around him and considered a hard worker who could be counted upon. Such diligence always has a way of being rewarded, and Bundy would continue his rise in the Republican Party.

He would also continue his nocturnal adventures. Coming into her apartment in the U District early one morning around 2:00 A.M., Angie spotted him roaming through the backyards of the houses opposite her rear window. Having been told by Liz of Bundy's habitual thievery (there was, in fact) very little Liz kept from Angie where he was concerned), she naturally assumed he was out looking for things to steal. What else, she reasoned, could he be doing? She couldn't have known his real intentions as he walked quietly about in the night. His sexual fantasies were growing increasingly violent, and these nighttime-early morning excursions through the U District were giving him the confidence that he could successfully carry out any plan no matter how brazen, for he had the ultimate of surprises to offer at just the right time: he would attack a coed while she slept.

Liz, too, would begin to see bizarre aspects of the man she loved, but she either could not, or would not, deal with them. In one incident, he left her place late one night only to quickly return to retrieve something he'd stashed on the front porch. When Liz opened the door, Bundy, like a deer caught in the headlights, stood there looking "really sick ... like he was hiding something."33 When asked what he had in his pocket, Bundy refused to answer, so she thrust her hand inside and pulled out a pair of surgical gloves. Without uttering a word, he snatched the gloves back from her and hurried down the steps. Having been caught doing something so strange, so out of the ordinary, it is hard not to wonder why he made no attempt to lie to her, or otherwise lessen her suspicions as to what he might be doing. However, it is possible he was already in the process of entering that detached, altered state, where the mind is unable to function as it would under normal circumstances. In this heightened and predatory state of mind, the body can feel it has fallen under the control of another power, an enveloping energy, so to speak, which actually empowers and carries one along. At such times, the need to offer an explanation may not even enter the mind. It is outside the stream of what is currently happening, and (at least for the moment) is insignificant. He would be interested in lying later, but not now. That would be saved for a time when he was himself again.

In the midst of such a mindset, many killers have confessed to feeling like observers to a killing rather than participants, and describe how the aftermath of such acts can produce a dreamlike quality, shedding doubt on the reality of the horrific event. Bundy himself spoke about the "pressure" which would continue to rise until the act was committed, and then afterwards recede, at which time he'd return to what he called his normal self.34

This is not to say Bundy was a victim of some otherworldly force invading him at will. He was never a powerless pawn. Much to the contrary, the madness which lurked within the mind of Ted Bundy was carefully cultivated by him over a long period of his life. At no time did he run from these inhuman impulses, but rather, gladly embraced one hideous fantasy after another. Whatever "power" he may have experienced during his forays into his premeditated and well-planned murders, he enjoyed it, and looked upon this as an aid to his activities, much like the deadening effects created by alcohol, which was a prerequisite before each of his attacks. He longed to be jump-started, if you will, into that altered state, so that once the abduction had occurred, that dark energy or power would take over and become the exact elixir he needed to fulfill his desires. Once he was in that stream of evil, no act with the living or the dead was too demented or too vile. Not even the severing of heads for the purposes of oral sex was taboo. Which brings us to this. As Bundy laid these heads in his lap, and prepared himself for the sexual act, did he enjoy looking into their eyes? Was a victim more beautiful to him now than when he first spoke to her? Was she prettier now that she was dead? Detective Robert Keppel, who would come to know Bundy very well, long after the murders had ceased, said the following: "Ted readily admitted that he was preoccupied with the cyanotic hue of a corpse's fingernails, discoloration of the skin after death, necrophilia, and possession of the female corpse."" This was madness in its deepest form. This was the psychopathic mind of Theodore Robert Bundy.

The summer of 1972 also saw Bundy make his first attempt to enter law school. Failing to obtain even an above-average score on the Law School Aptitude Test, he nevertheless sent out letters seeking admission to various schools around the country. But despite recommendations from a number of his professors at UW, the letters of rejection, one by one, came floating back in. This was a blow to Bundy's ego and one he would keep secret for as long as possible. Even so, he would soon try again, and aided by a letter from Governor Dan Evans (and a personal entreaty from himself), finally received the news he most wanted to hear: he had been accepted into the law program at the University of Utah for the 1973-1974 school year. As we shall see, he would ultimately delay his move to Utah by one year, but to the misfortune of that heavily, Mormon state, Utah was still in his future. It is highly likely, as he mused about the advantages of living there, he considered Salt Lake City and the beautiful surrounding mountains of the Wasatch Front. He knew he'd be close to Liz's parents and others he had come to know through that association, so it wasn't like he'd be a stranger in a foreign land. And oh yes, he might have looked forward to a new killing ground, far from the hotbed of investigative activity in Washington State being led by that focused, no-nonsense homicide detective by the name of Robert D. Keppel.