the bedroom dresser.
The officers saw a blue nightgown lying on the bed, beside the woman’s head. There were stains.
It was a dumb move, making that phone call, and Rader knew it. For weeks afterward he thought he’d be arrested. They had his voice on tape now, they knew which pay phone he had used; someone might remember seeing him drop the phone and get into the ADT van.
But he had felt so happy. Of all his murders, he liked this one most�the only one that ever went according to script. After Nancy died he took off the cuffs, tied her wrists with nylon stockings, took his belt off her throat, and tied another stocking in its place. He stole Nancy’s driver’s license, some lingerie�nice silky stuff. He liked to play with women’s clothing.
When he took Nancy’s pearl necklace, he thought he might give it to his wife.
Nancy’s mother, Georgia Mason, supervised the cafeteria at St. Joseph Hospital, not far from Nancy’s apartment. About 10:30 AM on December 9, she was getting ready to open the cafeteria when she got a call from a security officer.
At the security office, she saw two Wichita police detectives, two security officers, her ex-husband�Nancy’s father, Dale Fox�and a chaplain. We have some bad news, someone said. Georgia thought something had happened to Kevin, her youngest, who was sixteen. He had been skipping school.
It isn’t Kevin, someone said.
It’s Nancy.
Georgia, all five feet of her, beat her fists on the chest of a security officer, then collapsed on a couch.
The detectives showed Chief LaMunyon the crime scene photos and the videotape they took inside the duplex. Strangulation, phone line cut, semen on the nightgown�LaMunyon was sure this was BTK. He saw that Nancy’s eyeglasses had been placed neatly on the dresser beside her bed.
LaMunyon had to decide again whether to announce BTK publicly. He leaned toward doing it. They were not protecting anyone by keeping BTK a secret.
Some detectives remained unconvinced this was BTK. So what if the phone line was cut? Some burglars do that. So what if the guy left semen? Other killers had done the same.
They listened to the tape of the call to dispatchers.
The caller’s diction was staccato and slow. When he said, “You will find a homicide at 843 South Pershing,” he pronounced homicide “ home -eh-side,” as though he didn’t know how to say it right. Was he a foreigner?
The detectives had talked to the firefighter who picked up the dangling phone receiver. He told them he did not get a good look at the previous caller. He thought the guy was about six feet tall, that he wore a kind of gray industrial suit, that he drove a van with a painted sign on it. He thought the guy had blond hair.
Nancy’s mother went to St. Francis to identify her daughter’s body. A staff member pulled down a sheet. Nancy’s face looked as though the ordeal had aged her. The staff member asked if this was the body of Nancy Jo Fox.
“Yes,” Georgia said. Then she ran from the room.
Georgia helped arrange the funeral. Nancy had been baptized at Parkview Baptist and had sung in the choir. Now the church filled with mourners. A line of cars snaked down the road to Harper’s town cemetery.
Beverly Plapp took a leave from her nursing job to collect her sister’s belongings from the duplex. Georgia couldn’t bear to go there.
LaMunyon turned again to the FBI. Should he tell the public about BTK? LaMunyon thought so, but some detectives warned that this might encourage him to kill again. Should they try to communicate with BTK? The commanders were divided. The FBI guys could not decide. Behavioral science was new, they said. They had not collected or interpreted enough data. They took no position. LaMunyon hesitated�it seemed as though people would die whatever he decided. He decided again to wait.
He did not have to wait long.
Nancy’s youngest brother seemed to take her death the hardest. Nancy had liked
The officers saw a blue nightgown lying on the bed, beside the woman’s head. There were stains.
It was a dumb move, making that phone call, and Rader knew it. For weeks afterward he thought he’d be arrested. They had his voice on tape now, they knew which pay phone he had used; someone might remember seeing him drop the phone and get into the ADT van.
But he had felt so happy. Of all his murders, he liked this one most�the only one that ever went according to script. After Nancy died he took off the cuffs, tied her wrists with nylon stockings, took his belt off her throat, and tied another stocking in its place. He stole Nancy’s driver’s license, some lingerie�nice silky stuff. He liked to play with women’s clothing.
When he took Nancy’s pearl necklace, he thought he might give it to his wife.
Nancy’s mother, Georgia Mason, supervised the cafeteria at St. Joseph Hospital, not far from Nancy’s apartment. About 10:30 AM on December 9, she was getting ready to open the cafeteria when she got a call from a security officer.
At the security office, she saw two Wichita police detectives, two security officers, her ex-husband�Nancy’s father, Dale Fox�and a chaplain. We have some bad news, someone said. Georgia thought something had happened to Kevin, her youngest, who was sixteen. He had been skipping school.
It isn’t Kevin, someone said.
It’s Nancy.
Georgia, all five feet of her, beat her fists on the chest of a security officer, then collapsed on a couch.
The detectives showed Chief LaMunyon the crime scene photos and the videotape they took inside the duplex. Strangulation, phone line cut, semen on the nightgown�LaMunyon was sure this was BTK. He saw that Nancy’s eyeglasses had been placed neatly on the dresser beside her bed.
LaMunyon had to decide again whether to announce BTK publicly. He leaned toward doing it. They were not protecting anyone by keeping BTK a secret.
Some detectives remained unconvinced this was BTK. So what if the phone line was cut? Some burglars do that. So what if the guy left semen? Other killers had done the same.
They listened to the tape of the call to dispatchers.
The caller’s diction was staccato and slow. When he said, “You will find a homicide at 843 South Pershing,” he pronounced homicide “ home -eh-side,” as though he didn’t know how to say it right. Was he a foreigner?
The detectives had talked to the firefighter who picked up the dangling phone receiver. He told them he did not get a good look at the previous caller. He thought the guy was about six feet tall, that he wore a kind of gray industrial suit, that he drove a van with a painted sign on it. He thought the guy had blond hair.
Nancy’s mother went to St. Francis to identify her daughter’s body. A staff member pulled down a sheet. Nancy’s face looked as though the ordeal had aged her. The staff member asked if this was the body of Nancy Jo Fox.
“Yes,” Georgia said. Then she ran from the room.
Georgia helped arrange the funeral. Nancy had been baptized at Parkview Baptist and had sung in the choir. Now the church filled with mourners. A line of cars snaked down the road to Harper’s town cemetery.
Beverly Plapp took a leave from her nursing job to collect her sister’s belongings from the duplex. Georgia couldn’t bear to go there.
LaMunyon turned again to the FBI. Should he tell the public about BTK? LaMunyon thought so, but some detectives warned that this might encourage him to kill again. Should they try to communicate with BTK? The commanders were divided. The FBI guys could not decide. Behavioral science was new, they said. They had not collected or interpreted enough data. They took no position. LaMunyon hesitated�it seemed as though people would die whatever he decided. He decided again to wait.
He did not have to wait long.
Nancy’s youngest brother seemed to take her death the hardest. Nancy had liked
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