The Bundy Murders: A Comprehensive History (31 page)

Bundy, by way of his newly acquired attorney, had placed the first stone in the wall he was quickly trying to build between himself and his pursuers. This may have produced a momentary sense of peace, but it wouldn't last long. For deep down, he knew those he was up against either believed, or would soon believe, that he was responsible for so many missing and murdered women. And soon other hunters who were just as determined but who hadn't gotten the same kind of break as their counterparts in Utah would join them, and together they would systematically remove the mask from the face of Theodore Robert Bundy forever. This was the turning point that police and the public were desperately looking for. Prior to this time, only Bundy's victims were allowed to see the monster, and only briefly. But very soon the world would finally see the monster and all the terrible secrets he so joyfully carried within.

It was clear to Thompson that the Colorado information found in his apartment and the call he made to Denver showed that Bundy was lying about having no association with the area. Having found the Bountiful brochure advertising the Viewmont High School play where Debbie Kent disappeared was, he believed, more than just mere coincidence.

His next step was to place a call to Mike Fisher, who was aware that Thompson would be searching Bundy's apartment and was expecting to hear from him. But Fisher, who'd been working every possible lead, had no idea of the gravity of Thompson's call, and how quickly it would place him faceto-face with Caryn Campbell's killer.

Fisher listened to Thompson's litany of oddities about Ted Bundy's arrest and the subsequent search of his apartment, including Bundy's denial of having any Colorado connections despite having maps and ski resort guides. That he drove a Volkswagen and came from Washington, and had the name Ted automatically made him a suspect. So far, Fisher was merely listening. But when Thompson mentioned a mark on one of the ski guides at a place called the Wildwood Inn, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He shouted, "You're shittin' me, Jerry ... that's the place where our girl [Caryn Campbell] went out."" Quickly evaluating what had just hit him, Fisher didn't know quite what to make of it. It was either a wildly bizarre coincidence or an actual link to Campbell's death, but there simply was no way of knowing. Still, Fisher thought, if this Ted Bundy fellow was responsible for Caryn Campbell's murder, why on earth would he hold onto anything which could connect him to the crime scene?" Having been disappointed in the past when he believed he was on the right trail, he decided he was going to withhold judgment; it would take a lot more than even this kind of circumstantial evidence for Fisher to unleash the hounds and begin yet another chase.

But the Utah investigator had the one item that would prove to be the clincher in the hottest manhunt of the 1970s- Bundy's Chevron Oil credit card number. Fisher had a friend who could and probably would pry into the company's records and be able to ascertain quickly if Bundy had ever been to Colorado. That is, if Bundy had used this card. With little more than a hint of guarded anticipation, Mike Fisher wrote down the card number and told Jerry Thompson he'd check it out. It was one more step in an already mammoth and tiring investigation. But, unbeknownst to this determined investigator, this circumstantial evidence would blossom into something substantial, and in fact would be the big break he was looking for. But that was still a few days away.

Bundy, who had become increasingly moody over the summer and was drinking heavily, was now in an emotional downward spiral that was quite noticeable, at least to those closest to him. Leslie Knutson had been enjoying his company for most of that summer, having met him at a party given by Salt Lake County Prosecutor Paul Van Dam, and later told detectives that the sex between them was normal. But the drinking and the extreme mood swings caused her concern. During these times he "talked frequently" about Liz Kendall." Soon after his arrest in August, Bundy blurted out one evening, "My world is falling apart."22 Bundy told her, as he had once mentioned to Liz, that he wanted to be governor of Washington State one day. Such declarations, however, did not impress Leslie Knutson. Realizing over time that Bundy carried with him far more emotional baggage than she cared to deal with, she ended the relationship.

A very interesting footnote to Bundy's dealings with Leslie Knutson was a comment her ex-husband, David Knutson, made concerning Bundy's apparently insatiable desire to clean his VW. According to a Seattle Police Department interview in March 1976, "Mr. Knudson [sic] saw Bundy vacuuming [his] tan Volkswagen Bug, with the seats out. Mr. Knudson stated to me that this struck him as being a little strange, even at the time, because he had called Leslie earlier [unknown interval of time] and she had told Mr. Knudson that Bundy was out cleaning his car. And Mr. Knudson thought to himself... `Why would anyone clean a ratty Volkswagen so often?"'23

Bundy's statement that his world was falling apart is very interesting too, not merely as a face-value comment, but for the true meaning behind his utterance. From the moment he set foot in Utah, the murderer within him was like a kid in a candy store. He attended perhaps three classes total during his first semester while he busied himself with either killing, planning to kill, or trolling for victims. Between late September and early December, he may have killed even more than the four known victims (Wilcox, Smith) and Aime in October, and Kent in early November). He would later admit to murdering eight women in Utah, but authorities can only account for five. Bundy may have kept Melissa Smith and Laura Aime alive for a while before murdering them, to enjoy them at his leisure. Not only was he free of a heated investigation in Salt Lake, he also wasn't burdened with Liz, his family, or any work commitments, as he had been until the time he moved away. He literally could do whatever he wanted in his new abode, and he wasn't just taking advantage of his homicidal cravings, he was enjoying himself more than he thought possible. But after his arrest, things were different. He'd experienced overwhelming success in his home state, where he was able to escape the carnage he'd created. But Utah authorities had caught him at something. They weren't certain what it was, but they were determined to find out. It was like they grabbed hold of his leg with one hand, and kept shining a flashlight in his face with the other, and he hated it, because they had no intention of letting go. Theodore Bundy's world of murder was indeed falling apart. He would kill again, but never with the same freedom and in the same way. Life as he both knew it and wanted it was even now leaving him forever.

8

SO YOU'RE THE ONE!

On Monday, September 1, Detective Jerry Thompson climbed into his car for the short drive to Murray, Utah. With him were the Polaroid pictures of Bundy's VW he shot the evening of the search, and over two dozen photographs of individual males. Somewhere in the stack was the August 16 mug shot of Theodore Bundy. Whether Thompson knew it or not, the unseen hands of providence were quickly moving in his favor. Between this day and the following Monday, those in the Beehive State and all who had chased the monster would understand the truth. It was an unveiling that many had worked hard for, and it was long overdue.

As Thompson pulled into the parking lot of Mountain Bell, Carol DaRonch's employer, he had but one thing on his mind: Would Carol be able to pick Ted Bundy out of all the photographs he was carrying? It wasn't a matter of whether Bundy was her attempted abductor or not (Thompson believed he was). Would her memory align itself with the photo of the rather bushy-headed law student taken nine months later?

After some initial pleasantries, Detective Thompson chose to deal with the car first and showed DaRonch the Polaroid pictures he had shot of Bundy's VW. Studying them, she said it "definitely resembled the car" and she described a tear in the rear passenger seat "as being like the one" she saw while she was getting into the VW. But she quickly added that "she wanted to get a closer look at the vehicle."'

After Thompson handed her the stack of mug shots, Carol placed them in her lap and began going over them one by one. Somewhere in the midst of this Thompson watched as she took Bundy's photograph out and placed it back on her lap. She didn't say anything, but continued to look at each one until she finished, and handed the stack back to him minus Bundy's picture, which she was now holding in her right hand. "I don't see anyone in there," she told the curious detective, who immediately asked her about the picture she was still clutching. "Oh, I forgot this," she told him as she handed it back. "I don't know, it looks something like him. I really don't know, I can't be sure, but it does look a lot like him."' Before leaving, the detective asked Carol to attend a lineup, and she promised to do so.

Thompson was pleased. He had gotten what he wanted and it was another step in the process; perhaps the proverbial net hadn't completely encircled the articulate Bundy, Thompson realized, but it was now over him, and struggle as he might, if Carol DaRonch identified him in a line up, the case against Theodore Bundy would solidify, and they would be well on their way to getting him off the streets.

When the detective notified Ira Beal, the Bountiful investigator working the Debbie Kent disappearance, Beal immediately drove to Thompson's office for a copy of Bundy's mug shot. Beal couldn't wait to show it to Raelynne Shepard, the Viewmont High School drama teacher who'd spoken to Bundy and observed him up close. Detective Beal must have been delighted beyond words when Shepard nodded in agreement and said that if you put a mustache on him he would look a lot like the man she talked with that night.

The mustache, which Bundy believed would help shield him from identification would fail him miserably. He adopted the practice in 1969, when he purchased his first false moustache for his mangled attempt to abduct a woman in New Jersey. His arrogance had brought him into a crowded auditorium where he sought to convince a woman to leave with him. He was a stranger among people who knew each other, attempting to whisk away one of their own, and he was fully aware he'd been seen by any number of people who'd taken notice of his bizarre actions. Yet he was counting on this boldness which caused him to be so successful at murder (and so exceedingly dangerous to the average person) to carry the day for him, in the belief that there is safety in numbers. It would take far more than faux facial hair for people to forget what this odd man looked like.

On September 8, Mike Fisher telephoned Jerry Thompson that Bundy had not just been in Colorado, but had purchased gas at or near the various locations where victims disappeared, and on the dates they went missing. Jerry Thompson would later say at that moment all doubts were removed as to who was responsible for the murders of the girls from Utah and the surrounding states. "It was the gas receipts," he said, "placing him so close to all those places where the girls disappeared; there just wasn't any way in my mind it wasn't him."3 Fisher would have his own epiphany when he actually picked up the stack of copied gas receipts from the local Standard Oil Company. The top receipt was from a gas station with which the detective was familiar in Glenwood Springs, with a date of January 12, 1975. This the same day Caryn Campbell disappeared and only thirty miles away. When the investigator saw this he blurted out a couple of standard obscenities, and his friend, desiring to stay completely within the confines of the law, called out to the excited detective that he needed a subpoena. "You'll get one," Fisher fired back as he headed out the door.4 This was a defining moment for Mike Fisher. No longer would he be searching for the killer of Caryn Campbell; it was Bundy, of this he had no doubt. Now it was just a matter of putting all the pieces together.'

Thompson, like Fisher, had been busy obtaining records from Bundy's trail in Salt Lake City. By subpoena, he'd obtained Bundy's bank records, phone records, and his law school schedule and grades. Indeed, during this time an interesting exchange occurred between Bundy and Thompson, after Bundy spotted the detective on University of Utah's campus. Richard Larsen was a reporter for The Seattle Times who had known Bundy from his days on the Washington State political scene, and continued his friendship (with the eye of an investigative journalist) after Bundy's arrest in Utah. A description of the incident can be found in Larsen's The Deliberate Stranger.

When Thompson went to the University of Utah to pick up Bundy's records and to speak with some of his professors, Bundy was aware of it and began following him, but at a distance. At some point the detective realized Bundy was stalking him, and while he considered it extremely odd, continued on his rounds. Almost immediately Thompson heard Bundy calling out his name and he stopped. With a smile on his face, the affable law student opened up a dialogue with a bit of humor about his grades, and how Thompson shouldn't pay any attention to them (he already knew Thompson had put in a request for them). Then, merely because he believed he was smarter than the detective, Bundy began to taunt him. In doing so, he stupidly alluded to his guilt and dared the investigator to do something about it: