The Bundy Murders: A Comprehensive History (33 page)

No matter the official line of the Seattle or King County police departments, the investigation was now focused on one man and one man only. Theodore Bundy, the elusive killer they'd been hunting for so long, had suddenly appeared, and everyone who knew him, either briefly or intimately, would now be asked to come forward and tell what they knew about the man. Many of those who came forward were shocked that such charges had been brought against him. Not understanding the life and motivations of a true sociopath, they couldn't believe the man they knew and worked with in Republican campaigns or with whom they shared a law class could be involved in an attempted abduction. It was completely unthinkable.

Yet a small number of Bundy's former co-campaigners, even at this early stage, considered the dark possibilities of him as the killer quite plausible. They were not as willing to think the best of him just because of their past association. Tim Clancy, who was living in Italy at the time of Bundy's arrest, first became aware of the situation after being contacted by Larry Voshall. It is clear from his return correspondence that Clancy had his doubts concerning Bundy's innocence. In a letter dated November 13, 1975, addressed to Voshall, Clancy articulately pours out his thoughts about the now-incarcerated Theodore Bundy:

Dear Larry,

Wow! That's unbelievable. Considering the type of mentality of the person or persons involved in these bizarre murders; its [sic] frightening; but to actually believe such a person is an acquaintance, I dare say a confident, of ours is more than I can comprehend. And yet...

I will try to relay to you my initial reaction and thoughts. As such, I don't believe my correspondence at this time should go beyond you, in that I only received your letter this P.M. I do believe further thought should be given on my part as to more particulars before notifying the authorities. Initial reactions & opinions have a habit of becoming fact with some.

After reiterating how he and Bundy met, and giving Voshall an overview of the political campaigns they waged together, he then delved into the possibility of Bundy being a killer:

As for a few personal remarks, which are mere gut reactions and observations. I guess Ted B. could be "Ted" but I don't want to believe so, none of us do. Bundy is a strange bird and if anyone fits the description of the enigmatic, he does. Maybe that [sic] why we (from your letter I gather you think so) believe he could be the sick fiend.13

It was terribly distressing for Liz Kendall to hear of these new charges against Bundy. While these were the same kinds of concerns she'd been expressing to the police all along, the charges were another nail in the coffin of their relationship. They arose from the turbulent sea of suspicions she'd carried for months. Wanting to make the right decision about the man she had shared so much with was no easy task. She remained confused. After Bundy was charged, he began a letter-writing campaign seeking to weave his way back into her life. These letters Liz had the power to resist. But when he telephoned her one evening she talked with him, and to her credit, she confessed her doubts about him. She told him that she'd contacted the authorities in the past with these concerns. Hearing this, Bundy must have felt like he'd been punched in the gut. True to form, however, he assured her it was okay, that there was no harm in telling the truth. He used the moment once again to proclaim his innocence.""

This constant internal debate about a man who was suddenly more mysterious to her now than on the evening she first looked into his eyes, provided no answers. Whenever Bundy began the process of wooing Liz back after a breakup (it's clear he never wanted to let go of her completely), it was only a matter of time before she stopped reasoning and started to see things the way he wanted her to see them. When he was charming her and telling her how much she meant to him, that love within Liz would reignite. The combination of his verbal caressing and her sincere love made it emotionally impossible for Liz to continue questioning his character. He couldn't be the cold-blooded killer who'd been terrorizing the Northwest. Not her Ted.

While in jail, Bundy made a point of calling Jerry Thompson almost daily. As he was assisting in his own defense, he had every right to do so. But Bundy, unable to control himself even under these circumstances, always had a difficult time keeping the monster contained. Here's one example. Bundy declared he couldn't be involved in the things he was suspected of, as he, too, had a conscience. "If you have a conscience," Thompson fired back, "tell me about Debbie!" (referring to Debbie Kent). "Ah, Debbie," Bundy shouted through the receiver, and started laughing. "I don't know anything about Debbie. You will have to ask someone else about that .1115

On the afternoon of November 10, Jerry Thompson picked up the phone and dialed the King County "Ted" task force. He leaned back in his chair and waited for a voice on the other end. It was a courtesy call informing King County that Ted Bundy had made bail and that he had "no restrictions on travel."" While Thompson had no way of knowing Bundy's itinerary, it seemed reasonable he could leave for Seattle at any moment, and it was important they be alerted. It was a warning Keppel's people wouldn't take lightly. The lives of the young women of Washington State depended upon it.

9

CAT AND MOUSE

It was only natural for Ted Bundy to return to his old killing ground. Outside of Salt Lake, where he had a limited number of friends who actually believed in his innocence, Seattle was the one place still full of true believers, who considered Ted Bundy too high-caliber and too well-educated to be involved in kidnapping and murder. Here, among his old friends, he'd receive a sympathetic ear and a place to stay, and he would benefit from those willing to open their wallets and contribute to his defense fund. Seattle was also geographically far removed from the state which had unmasked him, and which desperately wanted to put him away for a very long time. Having conned Liz once again into believing his love for her was endless, he was also successful in convincing her to stop communicating with the authorities. According to a Seattle Police Department report dated December 1) 1975) "Liz [Kendall] is no longer cooperative and is now on Bundy's side."'

There he would be free to kill again; a fact that was not lost on those sworn to protect the public from such madmen. It was the intention of the authorities to stalk Bundy's every move while he was in Washington, lest he lure yet another coed to her slaughter. Indeed, two psychologists hired by the state a year earlier to review the case files and help police better understand the type of individual they were dealing with explained the benefits of a constant surveillance of their suspect, and how important it was that he be aware of their presence. The insightful report assured investigators that "as long as Bundy was acting in an outwardly aggressive but calm manner, he would probably not resort to another act. As long as he was in a controlled but supportive atmosphere, he would remain calm but aggressive. The main danger ... was that he would lose that controlling support in fact or belief and that he would revert to another act."'

This "support" the psychologists were referring to would come in the form of a joint effort between King County police and Seattle police, with Herb Swindler's Seattle people carrying most of the weight, as King County had its hands full dealing with a flooding. Keppel and his crew of investiga tors would try to dog Bundy's every move, but they couldn't do it day and night and no additional people from King County could be spared. This left Herb Swindler no alternative but to pull detectives out of narcotics, vice, and other departments to maintain the coverage of Ted Bundy they believed was necessary. Once the surveillance was in place, Bundy would have a great deal of difficulty killing again. There seemed little doubt of that.

But Bundy had been reading the tea leaves prior to his journey back home, and like an evil seer, he was able to discern that his comings and goings would be monitored by the law enforcement community, and he didn't like it. Therefore, before returning to Washington he contacted John Henry Brown, a well-known public defender in Seattle referred to in local police reports as "uncooperative and a crusader."3 Bundy wanted Brown to negotiate a deal to call off the dogs before they ever caught the first scent of him. But the authorities were quick to inform Brown there would be "no deals ... due to the high risk Bundy poses to society."4 Bundy's response to all this was to turn it into some sort of game. He knew he couldn't avoid police intrusions, so he planned to have a little fun with them. As he had done in Utah, he tailed the police as they followed him, taking their pictures and writing down their license plate numbers. It was an attempt not just to aggravate those who were after him, but to maintain some form of control in his life, a life that was so increasingly uncontrollable. He would be both aggressive and calm, and his performance would come as no surprise to those psychologists who'd been studying him. In this regard he became quite predictable.

Although Bundy had been in Seattle since late November, the real catand-mouse activities with police didn't begin until the first of December. For the detectives charged with shadowing him, one slip and Bundy could be gone for some time. Tracking him could be daunting, to say the least. Still, his "home" in Seattle would be under constant surveillance (he would split his time between Marlin and Shelia Vortman's and Liz's place), and it was inevitable he'd be spending time at the university. The convergence upon the most dangerous man in the Northwest began on December 1, 1975, after Seattle prosecutor Phil Killien received a call from his sister that she'd spotted Bundy at the University of Washington law school. Detectives from both Seattle and King County had been looking for him for days without any success. Without Liz's help, locating the homicidal manic was proving to be a difficult task.

The circumstances under which they tracked Bundy were not the best. Everyone in law enforcement connected to the cases of missing and murdered women in Washington State believed that Bundy was responsible. They also believed, as did Phil Killien and others in the prosecutor's office, that it was very unlikely Bundy would ever be charged with any of the murders, due to lack of evidence. This was a depressing reality, but the reality of the situation nevertheless. There was talk of a plea bargain through Bundy's attorney based on what circumstantial evidence they had. Yet in retrospect, it's amazing they even considered this, as neither Bundy nor his attorney would ever have allowed such a thing. They might as well have asked him to sign a confession to the killings and be done with it. It just wasn't going to happen.

He had gotten away with numerous murders and they were having to play tag with the killer so that he didn't kill again. Sure, in Utah, in a very short time, he'd be standing trial on aggravated kidnapping charges (the attempted murder charge had been dropped due to lack of evidence), but even if he was convicted, his time behind bars would be limited. And as far as the murders in Colorado went, only time would tell what evidence could be gathered. Mike Fisher was working feverishly trying to tie Bundy to the murder of Caryn Campbell, but Fisher had only made a start. Fisher was convinced Bundy took the lives of Julie Cunningham, Denise Oliverson, and others as well. But knowing these things and proving them was not the same thing, and it would all take time. Time meant that he could kill again.

The record of Bundy's time in Seattle under the watchful gaze of the authorities is a fascinating look at a predator under pressure; a predator who fully understands, whether he admits it to anyone or not, that he is being hunted as a wounded animal is tracked by a big game hunter for long distances with only one goal - to finish it off at the right moment. This written portrait painted so diligently by the hard-working and under-appreciated men and women of law enforcement (often hastily scribbled onto notepads and later transcribed in their official reports) reveals a Ted Bundy under extreme pressure. A Ted Bundy who perceives correctly that even here, far from his troubles in Salt Lake City, he's been recognized for what he has become and the mask is now of no use. Life as he knew it would never be the same, and even a brief foray into the public in this place he once called home was a wakeup call about how much things had changed.

Bundy would spend nearly two months back home. It would be far too time-consuming to report every detail and movement of this killer under glass. But many of events do bear mentioning, and I have chosen to highlight the most important ones.

At 1:00 P.M. on December 2, Bundy visited the University of Washington School of Law. He was immediately recognized by two individuals and apparently was asked to leave the premises. Seattle police reports simply mention "some kind of incident occurred and he left."' Although he departed the university sooner than he'd planned to, he had previously made a lunch appointment with the writer Ann Rule scheduled for 2:00 P.M. For the next two hours (Rule recounts three) police records say two), the two caught up on each other's lives at the Brasserie Pittsbourg, a popular French restaurant in the heart of Pioneer Square.