The Stranger Beside Me (15 page)

Who would have access to casts, slings, crutches? Anyone perhaps, if he sought them out-but a medical student, a hospital orderly, an ambulance attendant, a medical supplies firm employee seemed the most apparent.

"He's got to be someone who seems above suspicion," I mused. "Someone that even the people who spend time with him would never connect to

'Ted'."

It was a great theory, and yet it made finding that man even more impossible.

The astrology pattern, even though it had accurately predicted the weekend that the next disappearances would occur, was too ephemeral to trace. Maybe the man didn't know that he was being affected by those moon signs, if, indeed he was.

I was now shuttling charts full of strange symbols to Herb Swindler from R.L. Herb was taking a lot of ribbing from detectives who didn't believe in "any of that hocus pocus."

Both the King County Police and the Seattle Police were being deluged with communications from psychics, but none of their "visions" of the spots where the girls would be found proved accurate. A search for "a little yellow cottage near Issaquah" proved fruitless, as did the effort to locate a "house full of sex cultBts in Wallingford" and a "huge red house in the South End full of blood." Still, the information from clairvoyants wa| about as helpful as the tips coming in from citizens.

"Ted" had been seen here, there, everywhere-and nowhere. If the astrological moon pattern was to be believed, the next disappearance was slated to occur between 7:25 P.M. on 96

August 4th, 1974 and 7:12 P.M. on August 7th-when the moon was moving through Pisces again.

It did not.

In fact, the cases in Washington stopped as suddenly as they had begun. In a sense, it was over; in another sense, it would never be over. 11

I can remember standing in the Homicide Unit of the Seattle Police Department during August of 1974 and looking at a computer print-out, single spaced, that the detectives had taped to the twelve-foot ceiling of their office; it reached the floor and overflowed. On it were the names of suspects turned in by citizens, names of men they thought might be the mysterious "Ted." Just locating and questioning each of the

"suspects" could take years, if there was enough manpower to do it, and, of course, there wasn't. There probably wasn't a police department in the country with enough investigators to go through that awesome list of suspects precisely. All King County and Seattle police could do was to cull out those that looked the most likely, and check those men out.

One of the reports that had come in, on August 10th, had a familiar, ominous sound to detectives; a young woman related an encounter that she had had in the University District a few blocks from where Georgeann Hawkins vanished. "I was walking near 16th N.B. and 50th on July 26th at

11:30 in the morning. There was this man-five foot nine or ten, good build, with brown hair to his collar-and he was wearing blue jeans, but one leg was cut off because he had a cast on his leg all the way up to his hip. He was on crutches, and he was carrying a kind of old fashioned briefcase. It was black, round on the top, with a handle. He kept dropping it, picking it up, and then dropping it again." The girl stated that she had passed him, and looked back when she heard the briefcase thud to the sidewalk. "He smiled at me. H* looked like he wanted me to help him and I was almost goitfe to ... until I noticed his eyes . . . they were very weira and they gave me the creeps. I began walking very rapidly away until I got to the 'Ave' (the main business thoroughfare in the University District). He was

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very clean-cut, and his cast was white and fresh; it looked like it had just been put on."

She'd never seen him before, and she hadn't seen him again. Police patrol units out of the Wallingford Precinct in the city's North End watched constantly for men with broken arms, men with legs in full casts, but they found few, and those they did stop to question proved to have real injuries.

Something had been bothering me for two weeks as August drew to a close. I'd kept going back to the composite picture of the "Ted" in Lake Sammamish State Park, reading over the physical description, the references to a "slight English, or English type accent." And I saw a resemblance to someone I knew. I put it in the back of my mind, told myself that I too was being caught up in the hysteria of that long, terrible summer.

I knew a lot of men named Ted--including two homicide detectives-but the only Ted I knew who fit the description was Ted Bundy. I hadn't seen him or talked to him for eight months and, for all I knew, he had left Seattle. But, the last time I'd seen him, I knew that he'd lived at 4123 12th Avenue N.B., only blocks from so many of the missing girls. I felt guilty that a friend I'd known for three years should even come to mind. You didn't go running to the police to turn in the name of a good friend, a friend who seemed the very antithesis of the man they sought. No, it couldn't be. It was ridiculous. Ted Bundy would never hurt a woman; he wouldn't even make an off-color remark to one. A man whose life's work was oriented toward helping people, toward eliminating that very sexual violence that marked the crimes, couldn't be involved, no matter how much he resembled the composite. I went through periods where I didn't think about it, and then, usually just before I dropped off to sleep at night, Ted Bundy's face would flash through my mind. A long time later, I would learn that I wasn't the only one who wrestled with such indecision that August, that there were others with much more insight into Ted Bundy than I had who were Tom.

Finally, I decided that I could do something that would erase my doubts. As far as I knew, Ted didn't even have a car, much less a VW bug. If I could check to see that that was still true, then I could forget it. If, by the furthest stretch

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of my imagination, Ted Bundy had had anything to do with the missing girls, I had an obligation to come forward.

I chose to contact Seattle Homicide detective Dick Reed. Reed, a tall, lean man with the irrepressible humor of a practical joker, had been in the homicide unit longer than any of the other seventeen detectives. He'd become a close friend. I knew I could count on him to be discreet, to run a Motor Venicles Department check on the computer on Ted without making a big deal out of it.

I called him and began haltingly, "... I don't really think this is anything, but it's bugging me. I have a good friend named Ted; he's about twenty-seven, and he matches the description, and he used to live out by the University, but I don't know where he is now. Listen, I don't even think he has a car because I used to give him rides. And I don't want this to be like I'm turning him in or anything. I just want to know if he has a car now. Can you do that?"

"Sure," he answered. "What's his name? I'll run it through the computer. If he has a car registered to him, it will show."

"His name is Ted Bundy. B-u-n-d-y. Call me back. O.K.?" My phone rang twenty minutes later. It was Dick Reed.

"Theodore Robert Bundy. 4123 12th Avenue N.B. Would you believe a 1968

bronze Volkswagen bug?"

I thought he was teasing me. "Come on, Reed. What does he really drive?

He doesn't even have a car, does he?"

"Ann, I'm serious. He's currently listed at that address, and he drives a bronze bug. I'm going to go out and drive around the block and see if I can spot it."

Reed called me back later that afternoon and said he hadn't been able to find the car parked near the house on

12th N.B. He said he would go a step further. "I'm going to send to Olympia and get a driver's license picture of him. I'll pass it on to the County."

"But my name doesn't have to be on the information, does it?"

"No problem. I'll put it down as anonymous." Reed did put|Ted Bundy's picture into that vast hopper with some 2400

irther "Ted's"-and nothing came of it. ^ The King County directives couldn't possibly show mug "laydowns" of each of those 2400 "suspects" to the witnesses at Lake Sammamish State Park. Just the sheer number of faces would tend to confuse them, and there was nothing about Ted Bundy at that time that would mark him as a likely sus-100

pect. The computer check on Ted drew no "hits" at all that would make them suspect him.

I forgot about it. I didn't lend much weight to the fact that Ted had acquired a Volkswagen. A lot of people drove VWs, and I heard nothing more to indicate that Ted Bundy was a viable suspect. I hadn't seen Ted since the Christmas party at the end of 1973. I had tried to call him once or twice when I was living on the houseboat to invite him down, but I'd never found him home. Ted's job with the Republican Party had phased out, but he'd been busy attending law school at U.P.S. in Tacoma for most of the school year 1973-74. He'd been receiving unemployment insurance at the beginning of spring, 1974, and his attendance at U.P.S. had become desultory at best. On April

10th, he dropped out of law school altogether. He had received a second acceptance from the Registrar at the University of Utah Law School for the coming fall. He hadn't even taken his final exams at U.P.S., although he wouldn't admit it to the students in his car pool. When they asked about his grades, he'd sloughed the question off with, "I can't remember."

He may have felt that U.P.S. was not up to his standards, that Utah had much more to offer him. His last application to Utah had contained the information that he was to be married to a former Utah resident, Meg Anders, by the time he entered law school in the fall, and a notation on his application made by the registrar read, "Very anxious to attend University of Utah-will be married before quarter starts. Recommend acceptance."

One of Ted's statements accompanying his application " gives an interesting insight into his self confidence:

I do not believe this is the time to be timid, and I shall not be. I have planned too long for a career in law to allow vanity or a poor performance on the LSAT to prevent me from making every effort to plead my case for admission to law school. Therefore, I say to you now, with the greatest confidence, that the file you have before you is not just the file of a 'qualified student,' but the file of an individual who is obstinate enough to want to become a critical and tireless student and practitioner of the law, and qualified enough to succeed. My grades

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these past two years, my recommendations, and my personal statement speak of Ted Bundy, the student, the worker, and researcher in pursuit of a legal education; the LSAT does not and cannot reveal this. Sincerely, Theodore R. Bundy

Ted's signature is a masterpiece of swirls and flourishes, and he had inserted a card asking that this statement be read before any of the many other forms in his application.

Not the least of the documents in Ted's file at the University of Utah Dean of Admissions' office was a letter from Governor Dan Evans, a letter he had written on behalf of Ted in 1973.

Dean of Admissions College of Law University of Utah Salt Lake City, Utah 84112

Dear Dean:

I write to you in support of the application of Theodore Bundy to your law school. Ted has expressed a desire to attend the University of Utah. It is my pleasure to support him with this letter of recommendation. I first met Ted after he had been selected to join my campaign staff in 1972. It was the consensus among those of us who directed the operation that Ted's performance was outstanding. Given a key role in the issues, research, and strategy section, he demonstrated an ability to define and organize his own projects, to effectively synthesize and clearly communicate factual information, and to tolerate uncertain and sometimes critical situations. In the end, it was probably his cornposure and| discretion that allowed him to successfully carry out hîs assignments. These qualities made his contributions te strategy and policy dependable and productive.

If, however, you are concerned that a political campaign is not the measure of a prospective law student, then I am sure you will look, as I have, at Ted's other achieve-102 THE STRANGER BESIDE ME

ments and activities. Look at his academic record in his last two years of college; look at his impressive community involvements; and look at the several law-related positions he has held since graduation. I believe he is qualified to and intent upon pursuing a career in law. I strongly recommend the admission of Ted Bundy to your law school. You would be accepting an exceptional student.

Sincerely, Daniel J., Evans

Utah had been willing to accept Ted in 1973; he was a student they wanted, and, in 1974, he was recovered from his "serious accident" that had prevented his going to Utah the year before.

With U.P.S. behind him and Utah ahead in September, Ted had a new job in May of 1974. He was hired on May

23, 1974 to work on the budget for the Washington State Department of Emergency Services, a many-armed agency responsible for quick action in natural disasters, forest fires, enemy attack, and even plague (if such a catastrophe should occur). In 1974, the first of the nation's gas shortages was at its peak. Fuel allocation would be part of the D.E.S. duties.

Ted worked five days a week-from eight to five-and overtime if a need arose in the D.E.S. headquarters in Olympia. He commuted the sixty miles from the Rogers's rooming house, although, occasionally, he stayed in Olympia with friends or stopped in Tacoma to spend the night with his family.

It seemed an excellent interim job for Ted while he marked time before moving to Salt Lake City. His salary was $722 a month, not as much as he'd made as Ross Davis's aide, and the job wasn't as prestigious, but it would give him a chance to save for tuition and to see the red tape of a state governmental office from the inside.

Around the Rogers's rooming house, newer residents saw Ted so rarely that summer of 1974 that they dubbed him "The Phantom." They saw him mostly either coming or going, sometimes watching television. He was often away for several days at a stretch.