The Bundy Murders: A Comprehensive History (7 page)

Roberta Kathleen Parks, twenty-one, had waist-length hair parted in the middle. Looking at the photograph on a missing person's poster, there is intensity in her guarded smile. There is also an indefinable something present within the eyes that lends itself to the question: What's troubling this girl? Of course, a picture is only a snap-shot framing a microsecond of time, so it must be seen as only a glimpse into a life, and certainly not a defining moment. Still, there is a very real sense of sadness in that penetrating gaze.

A student at Oregon State University, Kathy was clearly unhappy with school and wasn't at all certain about the overall direction of her life, both personal and academic. That's standard for many college kids, but the tragedy about to befall her gave it meaning. Had she been allowed to continue her journey she no doubt would have found her proper place in both arenas of life. But her world was about to collide with the world of evil, and for Kathy Parks there would be no escape.

On the morning of May 6, 1974, Kathy's sister, Sharon Kaehler, telephoned from her home in Blackpoint, Nevada, with the news that their father had suffered a heart attack. He was in good hands, she said, so there wasn't any reason to return home to California. She would monitor his progress and keep Kathy up to date on his condition. Later that night, Sharon's husband Paul called to say her dad's condition had improved and stabilized.

Yet the worry about her father was merely the last of a string of things troubling her. Apparently, her greatest concern was what to do about her boyfriend Christy McPhee, and when to do it. McPhee, a scuba diving instructor from Berwick, Louisiana, was clearly in love with Kathy. Indeed, the two lived together for six months in an apartment above the Oregon Museum Tavern in Corvallis, and it's clear from the letters they exchanged and from what she confided to others, this love was mutual. It was also clear, however, that Kathy did not want to settle down as quickly as Christy, and believed she needed more time prove to herself what she could accomplish in this world. She didn't want to lose him, and didn't want to make a life with him either, at least not yet. She wanted him to wait for her. In fact, on the very day she disappeared she wrote and mailed Christy a letter in which she expressed her concern about her father's heart attack, and then added: "I'm feeling down right now, due to a combination of things, I suppose. To tell you the truth, I don't even feel like finishing this letter. I think IT go walk around outside awhile." Perhaps pushing through the wall of her depression, Kathy ended by saying : "Well - I'm looking forward to seeing you - very much. When you come, please put your arms around me and make me feel everything's OK. I'm needing the comfort of your presence now. I love you, Kathy."" Because the letter bears a May 7 postmark, it may have been mailed that evening, possibly placed in a mail box just a short time before her disappearance.

Her moodiness may have caused her to want to be alone. Sometimes, in the solitude of our thoughts, decisions can be made, alternatives made clearer, and problems averted. Periodically shutting out the noise of others can actually be therapeutic as we seek to discover the directions our lives should take. And for Kathy, those quiet times often included walking alone through the campus at night. A friend of Kathy's, Joanne Stevens, would later say that Kathy "took frequent walks in the evening from her room in Sackett Hall to the Memorial Union Commons to get refreshments. This was usually between 9:30 P.M. and 11:00 P.M."23 Another friend, Sarah Ann Dugan, whose father was an FBI agent stationed in Portland, Oregon, apparently had an openended invitation from Kathy to join her on these nocturnal strolls, but always declined.

Kathy and Miriam Joan Schmidt shared room 325 in Sackett Hall while at Oregon State University. At 10:55 P.M. on the evening of May 6, the two planned to visit other students in room 334, but as they were leaving, Kathy said to Miriam: "Go ahead and IT be over in a while."24 After about fifteen minutes, Miriam returned to their room, but Kathy wasn't there.

At a few minutes past 11, Lorraine Fargo, another friend, saw Kathy walking alone and would tell police: "She appeared to be dazed and in a dream."25 It was a chance meeting, as Lorraine was on her way back to Sackett Hall after an evening of studying at the library. It was warm and clear that night, and as the two of them stood there, Lorraine listened as Kathy expressed her desire to "be on her own [and that] she did not want any obligations, and did not want to continue [her] relationship on a permanent basis." Lorraine, who had recently ended a relationship and could see how depressed she was, asked Kathy to break off the walk and come back to her place so they could talk about it. But Kathy, she said, "just felt like being alone, taking a walk, and trying to straighten things out in her own mind."26 She also admitted to having skipped her classes that week, and that she had been drinking too much.

It is unknown exactly when her killer first spotted her. Perhaps it was while she was eating in the cafeteria, and he sat down beside her and began to talk? Or he may have seen her stop and speak with Lorraine. Maybe he'd been following Lorraine and noticed the distraught coed with the pretty, waist-length hair and decided he wanted her instead. Perhaps he could see the vulnerability in her countenance. No one knows for sure. Yet at some point he made contact with her. And, no doubt by some type of ruse, he convinced her to go with him. He was polite, good-looking and well-mannered. What could be the harm, she might have thought? And somewhere, having left the university behind, he would make his move. He would overpower her and there would be nothing she could do to stop him. He had traveled far to strike this time (some 250 miles), yet he would immediately return to that area where he was most comfortable. It had been a long day for him, and it would prove to be a long night for Kathy too. Like a child who spends dedicated hours playing with a favorite doll, he was now free to play with her. And again, an invisible homicidal maniac, he had come and gone without leaving so much as a trace of himself behind. In the days and weeks to come, the only thing that was a certainty in this case was that Roberta Kathleen Parks had suddenly vanished.

And she would not be the last.

Brenda Carol Ball had given college a try but decided it wasn't for her. At twenty-two, her life was just beginning, and she believed she had plenty of time to decide what to do with the years stretching endlessly before her. Her photograph shows a sweetness in her smile, and she appears generally happy. A pretty girl, she had long, dark hair, parted in the middle.

Like Donna Manson, she would be considered a high risk individual due to the manner in which she lived, and the areas and mode by which she traveled. She had spent the evening of May 31 at the Flame Tavern in Burien, located south of Seattle near the airport. The Flame has been described as being a tough place, where disputes often ended in fistfights among the inebriated patrons, and sometimes worse. Even so, there certainly were worse places a young woman could hang out; at least Brenda could claim a number of regulars as friends. So it wasn't unusual for her to stay late into the night if she was having a good time. And on this, her final evening at the Flame, she would not leave the tavern until closing time, at 2:00 A.M. Although certain things have been confirmed by those who were present that night, there are differing reports as to how she left that early morning of June 1, 1974. It has been firmly established she asked a friend that night for a ride, but was turned down. He was not going her direction, he told her. One report had her leaving with an individual, presumably having secured a ride, with little attention paid to the man accompanying her. Another report has her leaving the tavern alone, and immediately hitchhiking. This would not have been out of the question for Brenda, even at that early hour. Fear, apparently, was not one of her problems.

Brenda Carol Ball, whose life came to an abrupt end in the early morning hours of June 1, 1974, after leaving the Flame Tavern south of Seattle (courtesy King County Archives).

Yet it is safe to assume that whatever happened to Brenda Ball happened very quickly. It is likely, based on evidence obtained later from her killer, that she was picked up while hitchhiking by someone who appeared non-threatening to her; that she agreed to go with him to a location under some ruse, where, at some point later that evening, and after a little more drinking, he would strangle her. But beyond her vanishing without a trace, little else is known about the abduction and murder of Brenda Ball. Her lifestyle being what it was, she would not be reported missing until June 17.

On the night Brenda Ball disappeared, Bundy had spent the early portion of the evening with Liz Kendall, Tina, and her parents who were in town visiting. They had gone out for pizza that evening and returned to her place around 10 P.M. It was at this time, Liz said, that he seemed "anxious to leave,"27 and he missed Tina's baptism the following morning; an odd occurrence in itself, but especially so, as Liz's father was doing the baptizing. Years later, during a telephone conversation with Kendall after his arrest in Florida, Ted confessed to her his involvement in Ball's disappearance as well as the Lake Sammamish murders. In regards to Ball he mumbled something she didn't understand, and when Liz asked him to repeat it, Bundy responded, "It's pretty scary, isn't it?"28

Georgann Hawkins was pretty, popular, and had long, dark hair parted in the middle. Originally from Lakewood, Washington, near Tacoma, the eighteen-year-old coed was practically on home territory as a first-year student at the University of Washington. A well-liked Daffodil Princess in high school, she would continue this tradition of making friends at college as a member of the Kappa Alpha Theta sorority. The sorority, located at 4521 17th Avenue N.E., was one of six homes (three fraternity, and three sorority), that made up the block known as Greek Row. She would also be the second student from the U District to seemingly vanish into thin air.

Hard-working and well-liked, Georgann Hawkins would die while assisting a man she encountered hobbling on crutches (courtesy King County Archives).

On Monday, June 10, she spoke to her mother by phone and seemed to be in a good mood as she discussed taking her final exams before her planned return home June 13. She was, her family later said, a bit upset about the possibility of getting a low grade on her Spanish test and was cramming hard. Although she hadn't been home for several weeks, she had kept in telephone contact with her parents, her father in particular, con cerning a job she had landed for the summer in her hometown of Tacoma. She was to begin her summer employment on the June 17.

On the evening of her disappearance, Georgann took time off from the books to attend, with friends, a frat party being held several blocks from her residence. She was going to enjoy herself for a while, have a few beers, and return home again to study for the next day's test. The academic year was all but over, she was wrapping up her first year at the university with a 3.5 GPA, and she'd be returning home to family and friends in just a few days.

Unlike some of her peers, Georgann was not keen on walking alone at night. She saw the wisdom in numbers and believed in the buddy system; that is, that two was better than one. And so around 12:30 A.M. she and Jennifer Roberts left the party and walked the several blocks back to Greek Row. Before going home, however, Georgann wanted to stop in and see her boyfriend, Marvin Gellatly, a member of the Beta Theta Pi house, located on the corner of 47th street and 17th Avenue N.E. As Georgann and her friend entered the well-lighted alley which runs behind Greek Row, and is in fact something of a main thoroughfare all night for the college crowd, she watched as Jennifer continued on the additional 100 yards to their house. Jennifer later told police that Georgann, who wasn't wearing either her contacts or glasses that night, asked her to "yell back that everything was OK." As she did so, Georgann yelled back that everything with her was OK too. The two would never see each other again.

For the next thirty minutes she visited with Marvin, the conversation apparently consisting of small talk and the upcoming test. After a brief kiss, George, as she was called by friends, walked out the back door and stepped into the alley. It was around 1:00 A.M. June 11. Duane Covey, whose secondfloor room faced the alleyway, heard the slamming of the back door and jumped up just in time to see Georgann leaving. Covey called out to her, and the two spent the next five minutes chatting, mostly about her Spanish test, now only hours away. As they talked, Covey said they could hear someone laughing somewhere down the ally, and Georgann would occasionally glance in that direction. Later, it would be established that her abductor had watched while she spoke to her friend in the window, so it is very likely this laughter came from him; a gleeful laughter, born out of his sociopathic delight at being able to deprive others of her friendship forever. The two friends bid farewell to each other in Spanish, and Georgann Hawkins continued the short walk to her residence. Covey watched her, he said, for about forty feet as she continued south towards the sorority house before losing sight of her in the darkness. Naturally, he then turned away from his window. Yet had he continued standing there for another minute or so, he would have seen Georgann reemerge from the darkness holding a briefcase and walking beside an obviously disabled man sporting a leg cast and hobbling on crutches. They would, in fact, pass just below Covey's window as they ambled their way up the alley to 47th, where they'd cross the street, turn right on the sidewalk, take a quick left at the corner, and continue north on 17th for about half a block. Just as they were about to pass a makeshift parking lot, unpaved and without proper lighting, the injured man motioned that his car was in the lot. His vehicle, a light brown VW Beetle, was the only one in sight. Unlike Greek Row, this area was completely devoid of human activity.