The Riverman: Ted Bundy and I Hunt for the Green River Killer Read online

  PRAISE FOR ROBERT D. KEPPEL AND THE RIVERMAN

  “[Keppel] knows more about identifying, tracking, and finally arresting and convicting serial killers than anyone else in the field.”

  —Ann Rule, New York Times bestselling author of Heart Full of Lies

  “[A] page turner. The obvious excitement Bundy felt at the chance to recount his murderous career to Keppel sends chills down the spine. Keppel took Bundy’s intricate tale of homicidal insanity and turned it into a cogent and useful primer for law enforcement agencies trying to catch serial killers. It will be the standard for such investigations for years to come.”

  —The Detroit News

  “One of the classic studies of criminology … The Silence of the Lambs owes tons to the investigation of the mind and modus operandi of the serial killer conducted by Robert Keppel.”

  —Time Out (U.K.)

  “Superb on many levels. Not only is Keppel a superlative detective, he is an excellent writer.”

  —Daily Mail (U.K.)

  The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book.”

  Certain names have been changed to protect the identity of various people involved in the cases covered in this book.

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  Copyright © 1995, 2005 by Bob Keppel and William J. Birnes

  Foreword copyright © 1995 by Ann Rule

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

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  ISBN: 0-7434-6395-1

  eISBN: 978-1-451-60428-3

  First Pocket Books printing of this revised edition February 2004

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  To David, may he never forget his last name

  Acknowledgments

  In the twenty years I have worked on serial murder investigations, I have been fortunate to have experienced the dedicated work ethic of the most effective homicide detectives in the world. All—each in their own way—are special, all passed on their wisdom and encouraged me to write about my experiences. In no particular order, I am forever grateful to:

  Detectives Roger Dunn, Kathleen McChesney, Kevin O’Shaughnessey, Jack Kidd, George Leaf, and Dave Reasor; Major Nick Mackie and Sgt. Bob Schmitz, King County Police; Investigator Mike Fisher, Pitkin County District Attorney’s Office; Detective Jerry Thompson and Sergeant Ben Forbes, Salt Lake County Sheriff’s Office; for their work in the Ted Bundy cases.

  Sheriff Dave Reichert; Detectives Fabian Brooks, Tom Jensen, and Jim Doyon; Sergeants Bob Andrews, Rupe Lettich, and Frank Atchley; Lieutenants Jackson Beard and Daniel Nolan; and Captain Frank Adamson, whose work on the Green River Murders Task Force was unprecedented in murder investigation history. And Jeff Beard, King County Prosecuter’s office.

  Captain Robbie Robertson, Michigan State Police (Michigan Child Murders); Sergeant Frank Salerno, Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department (Hillside Strangler and Nightstalker cases); Sergeant Ray Biondi, Sacramento Sheriff’s Department (the Gallegos Family and Richard Trenton Chase cases and author of the books All His Father’s Sins and The Vampire Killer); Chief Joe Kozenczak, Des Plaines Police (John Wayne Gacy cases and co-author of the book A Passing Acquaintance); Captain Robbie Hamerick, Georgia State Bureau of Investigation (Atlanta Child Killer cases); Detectives Marv Skeen and Dale Foote, Bellevue Police, and Larry Petersen, King County Police (George Russell murder cases); Detectives Billy Baughman and Duane Homan, Seattle Police (Morris Frampton murder cases); Sergeant Jim Sidebottom, Orange County Sheriff’s Office, and Captain Lee Erickson, Oregon State Police (Randy Kraft murder cases), and Detective Bob Gebo, Seattle Police.

  The efforts of the members of the FBI’s National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime have been significant in the area of serial murder investigation. From VICAP were Terry Green, Ken Hanfland, Jim Howlett, Jim Bell, Eric Witzig, Winn Norman, Mike Cryan, and Greg Cooper. From the Behavioral Sciences Unit were John Douglas, Robert Ressler, Roy Hazelwood, and Bill Hagmaier.

  Without the members of the Homicide Investigation and Tracking System (HITS), murder investigation would not be as effective in Washington State. The hard work and dedication of Bob LaMoria, Tamera Matheny, Tom Jones, Sally Coates, Joan Martin, Vicky Woods, Dick Steiner, Bo Bollinger, Frank Tennison, Gary Trent, Ken Hanfland, and Marv Skeen have set the guiding course for homicide investigation, and made my futuristic ideas a reality.

  Three prominent authors are worthy of note for their inspiration: Steve Michaud, co-author with Hugh Aynesworth of The Only Living Witness and Ted Bundy: Conversations with a Killer, has given valuable consultation about his experiences with interviewing Ted Bundy in the months before Bundy’s execution and has encouraged me on numerous occasions to write this book.

  Ann Rule, author of The Stranger Beside Me and true friend of law enforcement, has written numerous articles about my cases for detective magazines early in her career. I am thankful for her skillful technique in describing those investigations and her encouragement for this book.

  The consummate homicide detective and author of the textbook Practical Homicide Investigation is Vernon Geberth. Vernon has taken his experiences with the New York City Police Department and converted them into the finest homicide investigation training sessions in the nation. For his devotion to “telling it like it is” and his motto, “We work for God,” I am forever grateful.

  Thanks to Bob Evans of the King County Police, my first detective sergeant and one of the commanders of the Green River Murders Task Force, I realized that detective work could be fun. He encouraged me to document Ted’s conversations so other law enforcement officers could learn from my experiences.

  A special place in my experiences is saved for Pierce Brooks (retired Captain, Los Angeles Police Department, and founder of VICAP), my mentor and good friend. His dedication to improving homicide investigation goes unmatched, and I will always be indebted to him for his insightful guidance and gracious encouragement.

  With the expert assistance of Dr. John Berberich, clinical psychologist, and Dr. John Liebert, forensic psychiatrist, I was able to construct the Bundy interview strategies in such a way as to preserve my own mental well-being.

  My course of study on murder solvability factors was made possible by the academic staff at the University of Washington: Ezra Stotland (society and justice), Charles Z. Smith (law), Joseph Weis (criminology), Herb Costner (sociology), Elizabeth Loftus (psychology), Daris Swindler (anthropology), Donald Reay (pathology), and Tom Morton (dentistry), all experts in their field.

  Special appreciation goes to my family—Sande, David, Allie, and John—for their loving support of my search for the truth.

  This book wouldn’t be a book without Bill Birnes. He found my name in a NEXIS search and convinced me I had a multitude o
f valuable experiences to write about. Bill guided me through what began as the drudgery of writing and the pain of long-buried memories. His skills at thoughtfully weaving together my sometimes-fragmented writing were invaluable.

  A joyless, dismal, black and sorrowful issue: Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad Amongst the fairest beings of our time

  —Shakespeare

  1995 Foreword by Ann Rule

  As anyone who reads this remarkable book will quickly conclude, Bob Keppel is a superlative detective. He is one of perhaps a half dozen of the most gifted and intelligent investigators I have met in the 26 years I have been writing about true crime. I have known him for two decades. When we met, I was a young writer and he was the “new kid” in the King County, Washington, Police Department’s Homicide Unit. In those days, I wrote under the pen name “Andy Stack,” and I covered murder cases for True Detective, Master Detective, and three or four other fact-detective magazines. In fact, I wrote an article on the first homicide Bob Keppel ever worked as a detective.

  It was called “Washington’s Strange Case of Murder Without Rhyme or Reason.”

  I have always believed that there is a cyclical pattern in life. Everyone who excels in his or her profession can usually look back and see how one learning experience weaves itself into another—and another and another—until that person is so prepared to deal with complicated problems that his response is almost instinctive. Never have I realized that more than when I dug through a stack of yellowing detective magazines to reread “Murder Without Rhyme or Reason,” which was published in Master Detective in July 1975. The picture of Bob Keppel looks as though he’s about 25—which he was.

  The crime had occurred a full year earlier, in July 1974. July 1974 was a watershed point not only in Bob Keppel’s career, but in the lives of so many people who lived in the Northwest—including my own. Bob Keppel would go from his first, relatively uncomplicated murder probe into the investigation of a killing swath that may never be equaled.

  Bob Keppel and Roger Dunn were called out in the wee hours of July 11 to investigate the senseless murder of Chris Stergion, 68, a popular businessman in Enumclaw, Washington. Stergion’s wife said Chris had gotten out of bed to investigate suspicious sounds. She had heard a struggle, and when she’d gone to see what had happened she found her husband lying bleeding, in their bathroom.

  Enumclaw is in King County, but it is about as far removed in ambiance from Seattle as a windmill is from the Space Needle. The newest detectives usually got the homicides in the little towns on the edges of the county, and Keppel and Dunn drew the Stergion case.

  As I write this, the O. J. Simpson trial is in full flower, and so much of the prosecution’s case—and the defense’s—hinges on a pair of black leather gloves.

  And so did the successful solution to Chris Stergion’s murder twenty-one years ago.

  The biggest case of Bob Keppel’s life would break three days after the Stergion homicide: the “Ted” murders that rocked the Northwest in 1974 and for years afterward. The answers that were so long in coming in the serial murders “Ted” committed were elicited, finally, because of Bob Keppel’s extraordinary—and, yes, innate—skill at interrogation.

  And so did the successful solution to Chris Stergion’s murder twenty-one years ago.

  On July 10, 1974, a hugely tall teenage drifter wandered into Enumclaw, Washington. He was broke and hungry, and a number of people had taken pity on him. Some sawmill workers gave him money for food, and Chris Stergion, who owned Stergion Concrete, had let him sleep in an old truck he owned.

  Late that night, Stergion woke to hear the sound of the cash register drawer being opened in the office adjoining his living quarters. Minutes later, Chris Stergion lay dead in his own bath-tub.

  The King County detectives learned that Stergion had been beaten, and stabbed more than twenty times.

  Identifying the most likely suspect wasn’t difficult. The 6-foot-6-inch-tall teenager who had rolled into Enumclaw the day before had frequently been seen around local businesses. Patrol units quickly spotted James Lee Slade walking along a road heading out of town.

  Bob Keppel would interrogate Slade. Twenty years later, when I reread that interview, I can see that Keppel’s inherent skill at verbal jousting was already in place. That didn’t surprise me; he was good then and he’s only gotten better over the years. What did surprise me was how jarringly familiar the details of the conversation were.

  Jim Slade first told Keppel that he hadn’t even been in Enumclaw that night—he’d hitched a ride to another town, and he’d left his blanket roll in the victim’s truck.

  Keppel had learned that the suspect had been wearing black leather gloves ever since he got to town and was quick to notice that he wasn’t wearing them anymore. Keppel also noticed that Slade had a cut on his right index finger and another on his little finger.

  Bob Keppel quietly asked him where his gloves were now.

  “They made my hands hot and sweaty, so I took them off and left them in a truck. When I went back for them, they were gone.”

  “It seems a little strange,” Keppel said, “for someone who likes his gloves as much as you seemed to, to put them in a parked truck. Why didn’t you just put them in your pocket?”

  “They wouldn’t fit.”

  Slade’s body language showed that he was becoming more and more nervous. His Adam’s apple jumped wildly as he gulped frequently, and he drank cups of black coffee.

  But he didn’t want to talk.

  James Slade first demanded an attorney, but when he was alone with Bob Keppel, he suddenly asked, “Is the old man dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. I want to tell you about it.”

  And Keppel wanted to hear. But first Keppel warned Slade not once but twice that whatever he said could be used against him in court, repeating the familiar phrases of the Miranda Warning.

  “I still want to tell you.”

  It would be the first of scores of confessions Bob Keppel would hear. It was a tragically simple story. Slade, wanting money, had broken into Chris Stergion’s office. When Stergion caught him at the cash register, Slade told Keppel that he had stabbed him with some calipers he’d picked up.

  “I don’t know what came over me. I saw a light flash. He had asked me who I was, saying, ‘The cops are coming.’ I just kept hitting and hitting him with the calipers.”

  When detectives found James Slade’s black leather gloves in a warehouse where he had tossed them in his flight from the crime scene, they had their own story to tell. The right glove had a jagged cut on the right index finger and the lining was soaked with blood.

  Three days later, Bob Keppel was plunged into the “Ted Murders,” a real baptism of fire into the world of an entirely different kind of killer. And in the ensuing years, he has probably investigated or advised investigators in more serial murder cases than almost any detective in America.

  Bob Keppel and I share a common hero, a common mentor: Pierce Brooks. Pierce Brooks was the Captain of the Homicide Unit of the Los Angeles Police Department for a dozen years, and Chief of Police in cities in both Colorado and Oregon after his retirement from the LAPD. It was Brooks who first recognized the very existence of the phenomenon we have come to know as “a serial killer.” He was also the first to insist that the only way to track and trap this kind of elusive criminal was through the establishment of a central information system on victims and suspects that could be contributed to and shared by law enforcement agencies nationwide.

  Pierce Brooks began building his own files by poring over out-of-town newspapers and looking for cases similar to those he was investigating—way back in the late 1950s. Bob Keppel, as you will read in the pages ahead, conceived the efficacy of using computers—still a newfangled gimmick in the mid-seventies—to track criminals long before most investigators had thought of such a possibility.

  Today, the HITS program that Bob Keppel oversees in the Washington State
Attorney General’s Office is one of the best tools we have in the Northwest to solve homicides.

  I didn’t have to be asked twice to read the manuscript of The Riverman. One of the things that makes Bob Keppel a superior detective is that he is inscrutable; he never tells anyone what is not ready to be told. It is also one of his most maddening traits. For years, he had known things about Ted Bundy that no one else knew. My natural curiosity about those “things” has been difficult to live with, but I have always known better than to ask Bob Keppel for information before he was ready to give it. Now all my questions have been answered.

  The Riverman will fill a long-vacant spot on the bookshelves of both professionals and laypeople who have searched for a definitive study of serial murder. There are hundreds of pages of heretofore unpublished information—not only on the Ted Bundy cases but on the Atlanta Child Killer, the Michigan Child Murders, the Son of Sam, and Washington’s Green River Murders.

  Bob Keppel never claimed to be a diplomat, and he is bound to ruffle some feathers as he points out the sometimes-catastrophic errors made in the investigation of serial murders. Many mistakes were made out of inexperience, some were the result of inefficiency, and more were probably made because of turf wars and scrambling for political advantage.

  Bob Keppel pulls no punches. What will make The Riverman a bible for working investigators is this searing dissection of what went wrong, coupled with brilliant insights into successful investigations of crimes that were almost impossible to untangle.

  I don’t think Bob Keppel ever set out to become an expert on serial murder. There are less frustrating and more pleasant roads to follow. In the early 1980s, we talked for hours on our way to a VICAP Task Force conference in Huntsville, Texas—extra hours because our plane was grounded in Denver in a blizzard. The thing I remember most is hearing Bob Keppel say, “I know this for sure. I never want to get involved in the boiler-room pressure of working another serial murder task force. Once is enough.”