.357. The bullet, which wasn’t recovered, passed through her body at an angle, suggesting she had escaped, or had been let go to run, and reached the creek just as the killer fired from the road above.
On the night she disappeared, the snow on the lonely Park County road would not have been plowed much past the point where her body was discovered. The chance of any other traffic coming on the scene during the murder, or for the rest of the winter for that matter, would have been very small; the killer had chosen the place well. But was it because he was familiar with the area or just lucky? investigators wondered.
Cold weather and cold water had helped preserve the body. Still, Annette Schnee had been in the creek for a long time and decomposition had progressed to the point that it was impossible to determine if she had been raped. However, it was apparent that Annette’s clothes had been removed and that she’d dressed again in a hurry. Her shirt was on inside out. One foot was wearing a long, blue wool sock; its mate was stuffed in the pocket of Annette’s hooded sweatshirt.
On the other foot was an orange, ankle-high wool sock. Its mate was back in the evidence locker of the Summit County Sheriff’s Office along with the other items gathered on top of Hoosier Pass, where Bobby Jo’s body had been found in January.
The suspected connection between the murders of the two women was futher strengthened in September when Schnee’s daypack was discovered by a hiker in the woods on the Breckenridge side of Hoosier Pass, a few hundred yards from the parking lot. But it was the orange socks that had confirmed what everyone familiar with the case had believed from the beginning: Bobby Jo and Annette had met the same monster on that cold January night.
For a first-time offender, Luther adapted to the role of hardened convict rather easily. In early April, an informant told Deputy Wooden that Luther was planning an escape.
Luther planned to start a fire or beat up another inmate, the informant said, to get moved to a segregation cell away from the prying eyes of guards and inmates. Then he was going to saw his way out through the wire mesh covering the window of his cell with a jeweler’s saw, or maybe pick the door lock with a large paper clip he had secreted. “Or he’s talkin’ about attacking one of the guards at lock down and running out of the building, where his girlfriend will have a car waiting.”
If that failed and he was later convicted of raping Mary Brown, Luther bragged that he had friends who would ambush his transport on the way to prison. “I don’t give a fuck if anybody gets killed because I will get out of here,” the informant quoted Luther.
Two days later, jail clerk Debbie Moe and sheriff’s office secretary Arlene Sharp overheard him talking to his girlfriend. Potter was saying that she couldn’t picture herself living in Mexico. “But if that’s where you think you’ll have to go, I’ll live there with you.
Moe wrote the conversation up in a report because of the escape rumor. Based on the report and the informant’s allegations, guards shook down Luther’s cell and frisked him. A paper clip “key” was discovered in his shoe, which to their surprise actually worked the lock. A decision was made to move Luther to a more secure jail in Arapahoe County just south of Denver.
For his trial, Luther was appointed a young public defender, James Nearen, Jr. The lawyer notified the court that he intended to present an insanity defense, contending that his client was mentally unable to form intent to rape Mary Brown or distinguish between right and wrong at the time of the offense. It would mean a jury trial just to determine the sanity issue.
On June 10, psychologist Marvin H. Firestone met with Luther at the Arapahoe County Jail at the request of Nearen. They started with Luther’s childhood.
“My mother had problems,” Luther told him. “She was real jealous of my dad
On the night she disappeared, the snow on the lonely Park County road would not have been plowed much past the point where her body was discovered. The chance of any other traffic coming on the scene during the murder, or for the rest of the winter for that matter, would have been very small; the killer had chosen the place well. But was it because he was familiar with the area or just lucky? investigators wondered.
Cold weather and cold water had helped preserve the body. Still, Annette Schnee had been in the creek for a long time and decomposition had progressed to the point that it was impossible to determine if she had been raped. However, it was apparent that Annette’s clothes had been removed and that she’d dressed again in a hurry. Her shirt was on inside out. One foot was wearing a long, blue wool sock; its mate was stuffed in the pocket of Annette’s hooded sweatshirt.
On the other foot was an orange, ankle-high wool sock. Its mate was back in the evidence locker of the Summit County Sheriff’s Office along with the other items gathered on top of Hoosier Pass, where Bobby Jo’s body had been found in January.
The suspected connection between the murders of the two women was futher strengthened in September when Schnee’s daypack was discovered by a hiker in the woods on the Breckenridge side of Hoosier Pass, a few hundred yards from the parking lot. But it was the orange socks that had confirmed what everyone familiar with the case had believed from the beginning: Bobby Jo and Annette had met the same monster on that cold January night.
For a first-time offender, Luther adapted to the role of hardened convict rather easily. In early April, an informant told Deputy Wooden that Luther was planning an escape.
Luther planned to start a fire or beat up another inmate, the informant said, to get moved to a segregation cell away from the prying eyes of guards and inmates. Then he was going to saw his way out through the wire mesh covering the window of his cell with a jeweler’s saw, or maybe pick the door lock with a large paper clip he had secreted. “Or he’s talkin’ about attacking one of the guards at lock down and running out of the building, where his girlfriend will have a car waiting.”
If that failed and he was later convicted of raping Mary Brown, Luther bragged that he had friends who would ambush his transport on the way to prison. “I don’t give a fuck if anybody gets killed because I will get out of here,” the informant quoted Luther.
Two days later, jail clerk Debbie Moe and sheriff’s office secretary Arlene Sharp overheard him talking to his girlfriend. Potter was saying that she couldn’t picture herself living in Mexico. “But if that’s where you think you’ll have to go, I’ll live there with you.
Moe wrote the conversation up in a report because of the escape rumor. Based on the report and the informant’s allegations, guards shook down Luther’s cell and frisked him. A paper clip “key” was discovered in his shoe, which to their surprise actually worked the lock. A decision was made to move Luther to a more secure jail in Arapahoe County just south of Denver.
For his trial, Luther was appointed a young public defender, James Nearen, Jr. The lawyer notified the court that he intended to present an insanity defense, contending that his client was mentally unable to form intent to rape Mary Brown or distinguish between right and wrong at the time of the offense. It would mean a jury trial just to determine the sanity issue.
On June 10, psychologist Marvin H. Firestone met with Luther at the Arapahoe County Jail at the request of Nearen. They started with Luther’s childhood.
“My mother had problems,” Luther told him. “She was real jealous of my dad
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