The Bundy Murders: A Comprehensive History (46 page)

Indeed, Bundy, through his own psychoses, guaranteed his death in Florida's electric chair by charting his own course through the legal process. With less than two years of law school behind him, he believed he could conduct a fight for his life as well as experienced attorneys with great knowledge of capital cases. Like an alcoholic free to drink himself into the grave, Theodore Bundy was free to defend himself. Florida was out to kill him for the Levy, Bowman, and Leach murders, and it would spare no expense to see that goal realized. As if allied with the state, Bundy would throw up obstacles at every turn, hindering his own defense team of very capable lawyers. Denied the assistance of Millard Farmer due to a prior and relatively minor legal snag in Georgia which prevented the Atlanta attorney from representing him, Bundy nevertheless had excellent legal assistance in the form of Mike Minerva and his public defender team. Had Bundy allowed them to use their expertise, the outcome would have been very different indeed. But it was impossible for Bundy to give up center stage after having been placed there.

On July 27, 1978, while Bundy was safely ensconced in a well-guarded cell in Tallahassee, Sheriff Ken Katsaris delivered the indictments for the Chi Omega murders. Bundy loathed the sheriff even before this encounter. Apparently believing Bundy needed a little special treatment, Katsaris had his pris oner placed in a cell with only a 25-watt light bulb for illumination. He ordered him not to talk to the press, and oddly, denied him any exercise privileges. This dungeon-like setting would come back to haunt the sheriff, however, as Theodore Bundy struck back with a lawsuit against him and won.

Katsaris, an academic and first-term sheriff of Leon County (he would not be reelected), provided an interesting (and certainly legally risky) media event, pulling Bundy out of his cell around 9:00 P.M. that evening. As Bundy exited the jail elevator, he was met by the Katsaris and a host of reporters and television cameras. Katsaris, who had forbidden Bundy to speak to the press, had invited the world to witness him read the indictments to the accused killer. It was a political move which sent chills up the spines of the legal experts who witnessed it.

An indictment for the kidnapping and murder of twelve-year-old Kimberly Leach would soon follow, although the authorities in Suwannee County responsible for prosecuting Bundy would have to wait until Leon County was finished with him. But they could wait. Bundy wasn't going anywhere, although his defense teams would no doubt prefer to have had him tried in absentia.

To understand the dynamics of what occurred in Florida, and within Theodore Bundy during these two trials, it is essential to look into the mind of this most infamous sociopath. Such a look was provided by Dr. Emanuel Tanay, a highly respected clinical professor of psychiatry at Wayne State University in Ann Arbor.

Tanay was retained by Mike Minerva with the hope of saving Bundy's life by pursuing an insanity defense (a defense Bundy had always rejected). Tanay had a chance to interview and observe Bundy, and was given unfettered access to all previous files and reports from Florida, as well as the psychological evaluations obtained from Utah. What follows is a fascinating look at the mind and twisted motivations of Ted Bundy. This is a compilation of three of Dr. Tanay's reports, which would prove to be eerily accurate:

The extensive interactions which Mr. Bundy had with the police officers have not been carefully reviewed, however, even a cursory perusal of that material reveals that Mr. Bundy is driven by a variety of unrealistic motives such as playing games with the investigators for no other purpose than the sheer enjoyment of it. He challenges them and even taunts them.'

Let us assume that a psychiatrist reached the opinion that that there was a basis for insanity defense. Such a defense is not likely to prevail without some degree of cooperation of the client, who as far as I can gather from your letter rejects the insanity defense as a possibility. It is, therefore, not likely that you can persuade Mr. Bundy to cooperate by logical arguments, which evidently you have tried.'

The interview was conducted in a conference room which was pleasant and well lighted. I believe there were five deputy sheriffs guarding the only exit. Mr. Bundy is a 32 year old, handsome looking man, dressed with the casual elegance of a young college professor. He was meticulously groomed from well-cared-for fingernails to freshly washed hair. He was in total command of the situation. The deputy sheriffs appeared more like a part of his entourage than policemen guarding a prisoner.

The conference room had many comfortable chairs. Two chairs, however, were particularly comfortable looking; these were taken by the deputies into the hallway for their own use. Mr. Bundy, in a very firm but definite manner, instructed the deputies that such arrangement did not meet with his approval. They not only complied with his request, but seemed to be apologetic.

I was accompanied to the conference room by Mr. Minerva, Public Defender for the Second Judicial Circuit, who has a large staff of lawyers working for him. Observing the interaction, however brief, between Mr. Bundy and Mr. Minerva would lead one to believe that Mr. Minerva was the third assistant to Mr. Bundy. Mr. Bundy made a few pointed inquiries to Mr. Minerva about certain work to be done and made a few polite but firm suggestions as to future work.

At the outset of the interview, Mr. Bundy commented on the security precautions, saying that they were the result of "the Bundy mystique," which has developed as a result of news media activities. This was presented in the manner of a complaint; it was, however, my impression that Mr. Bundy was taking pride in his celebrity status.

In the nearly three hours which I spent with Mr. Bundy, I found him to be in a cheerful even jovial mood; he was witty but not flippant, he spoke freely, however, meaningful communication was never established. He was asked about his apparent lack of concern so out of keeping with the charges facing him. He acknowledged that he is facing a possible death sentence, however, "I will cross that bridge when I get to it." Mr. Bundy has an incapacity to recognize the significance of evidence held against him. It would be simplistic to characterize this as merely lying inasmuch as he acts as if his perception of the significance of evidence was real."

Transcripts of the many hours of his conversations with police officers constitute a variety of "confession." When this is pointed out to him by me, he does not dispute my inference, he merely provides a different explanation. Whatever the explanation, the consequences of the verbal games which Mr. Bundy played with investigators were counterproductive to his defense and occurred against the advice of his counsel. Mr. Bundy confessed the crimes charged against him while maintaining his innocence. The intellectual denials and emotional admissions are quite apparent from the tapes and transcripts of his conversations with the investigators. This same attitude was maintained during the interview with me.4

The interview, the conference with defense counsel and the material reviewed reveal that Mr. Bundy functions in the role of "a chief counsel" and the public defender has been consistently manipulated into the role of "associate counsel."'

In his decision making process, Mr. Bundy is guided by his emotional needs, sometimes to the detriment of his legal interests. The pathological need of Mr. Bundy to defy authority, to manipulate his associates and adversaries, supplies him with "thrills," to the detriment of his ability to cooperate with his counsel.'

It should be noted that Mr. Bundy placed himself in a rather disadvantageous position by his non-confession. To assert the insanity defense, it is generally nec essary to admit the commission of the criminal act and discuss it with defense counsel and the experts. Mr. Bundy does talk to the crime investigators about "my problem" but refrains from doing so with his attorneys and the expert they have chosen.7

I realize that it could be argued that Mr. Bundy has a chance to prevail on the claim of his innocence. I consider that exceedingly unlikely, not only because of the evidence which the prosecution has against him but also due to Mr. Bundy's behavior in the past and in the future. I would anticipate that in the unlikely event that the prosecution's case against him would weaken, he would through his behavior bolster the prosecution's case. I have much less doubt about Mr. Bundy's capacity to assist prosecution than his ability to assist his own counsel. If one assumes that his sadistic acts, including homicides, attributed to Mr. Bundy in Tallahassee, were carried out by him, then psychiatrically it would be likely that various other similar acts have been perpetrated by him. It could then be argued that he is effective in concealing his criminal activities. Such an argument would be only partially true. It would be more accurate to say that he is of two minds on this issue - he attempts to conceal and reveal his involvement. He masterminds escapes with a great deal of ingenuity and arranges for his apprehension.'

In a certain sense, Mr. Bundy is a producer of a play which attempts to show that various authority figures can be manipulated, set against each other and placed in positions of internal conflict. Mr. Bundy does not have the capacity to recognize that the price for this "thriller" might be his own life. Mr. Bundy "the super lawyer" does not recognize that his client, Bundy the defendant, is not being adequately defended.9

As predicted, Theodore Bundy would greatly assist in his own death sentence. His "assisted suicide," however unwittingly provided, could only give the prosecution a reason to smile. Dr. Tanay's revelations about Bundy's mind and possible motivations, along with his assessment of Bundy's hidden desire to "bolster" the prosecution's case should it start to weaken, at least placed Minerva and his battery of lawyers in a better position to anticipate Bundy's likely moves. But even this edge would be of little help if Minerva's client kept subverting him. Indeed, Bundy had initially welcomed Minerva and the public defender's office, but later fired them, only to rehire them in the winter the following year. Even then, as Tanay has noted, Bundy "the super lawyer" was at the helm, while Minerva and his underlings were merely helpers.

Theodore Bundy's rejection of an insanity defense was a decision that both Mike Minerva and Millard Farmer (who continued to assist Minerva, although not in any official capacity) believed would cost Bundy his life. It was in fact his only way to avoid a death sentence. In Bundy's mind, everything he'd ever done was apparently outside the realm of "insanity." The removal and sequestering of his victims' heads and having sex with the dead did not, in his mind, constitute mental aberration. This sort of thing would be referred to only as "my problem." Committing murder, Ted Bundy once told a writer, was nothing more than "acting out," which paints a less harsh picture. How Bundy would mentally channel his actions in killing and mutilating innocent young women and even younger girls was captured in the deposition of Leon County Sheriff's Investigator Steven Bodiford. Bodiford explained how Bundy would acknowledge his guilt through euphemisms. When Bundy told Bodiford of his habit for removing the front passenger seat in his VW, the investigator asked him why. When Bundy responded that it made carrying things easier, Bodiford knew exactly where their conversation was going and proceeded accordingly. The following is taken directly from Detective Bodiford's sworn testimony:

"You mean you can carry bodies easier that way?"

And he said, "Well, let's just say I can carry cargo better that way."

Now we asked him, "That cargo you carried, was it sometimes-was it damaged?"

And he said, "Sometimes it was damaged and sometimes it wasn't.""

In a very real sense the trials of Theodore Bundy were over before they began. Despite changes of venue and careful jury selection, Mike Minerva understood that his client was in real trouble. Not only was the state building a case against Bundy, but Bundy himself was uncontrollable and a complete detriment to his own cause. Although technically Bundy was but one case among many to fall into the hands of the public defender's office, his case required an enormous amount of time and attention, a fact readily noticed by Dr. Tanay.

Minerva was relieved when, in April of 1979, Larry Simpson, chief prosecutor for the Chi Omega murders, approached him and suggested they consider a plea agreement. A deal was worked out which allowed Bundy, if he would admit in open court to the murders of Lisa Levy, Marguerite Bowman, and Kimberly Diane Leach, to be spared an all-but-certain trip to the electric chair. Judge Edward Cowart, presiding over the quickly approaching Chi Omega murder trial agreed to it, as did Judge Wallace Jopling, who would oversee Bundy's trial for the killing of Kimberly Leach. Surprisingly, all of the family members of Bundy's Florida victims, including those he did not succeed in killing, agreed to the deal, as did the state attorneys. He would receive three life sentences, each without the possibility of parole, and would be allowed to spend the remainder of his days safely tucked away in a prison in Florida. He would not be allowed, as he so desired, to go to an institution in Washington State to be close to family. Nor would he be released to any other state that wished to prosecute him.

Many felt it was a sentence that was not deserved because he would escape capital punishment. Floridians, once his deeds became well-known, overwhelmingly wanted him put to death. Indeed, it was only the most rabid anti-death penalty advocate who believed Theodore Bundy should be housed, and fed, and allowed to watch TV, and receive free medical care to keep him healthy and rested for the next thirty or forty years. Most people just wanted him dead, and Ted Bundy would not disappoint them.

To use the vernacular of the day, it was a sweet deal Bundy was being offered. Having caused so much never-ending heartache and pain, and being responsible for at least thirty-six deaths of young women and girls, Bundy should have found it almost too good to be true. Only someone so utterly out of touch with reality, or perhaps sincerely harboring a death wish, would cast away such an offer. But it did carry a price - it would require Bundy to admit in open court that he did commit the crimes he had thus far so vigorously denied, and Minerva was not convinced he would do this, since Bundy did not believe the state had a case against him. Not only that, but Bundy would have to keep his mouth shut and not cause a scene or protest the deal in any way, or there would be no deal. Larry Simpson was very clear on this.