Read Online The Riverman: Ted Bundy and I Hunt for the Green River Killer by Robert Keppel - Free Book Online Page B

intensity of the news coverage of the dump site discovery, I was forced to set up a line across the power line road beyond which no reporter could pass. Most of the press were familiar faces by now: John Sandifer, Ward Lucas, Lou Corseletti, Dick Larsen, and Julie Blacklow. Over the next year, all would become veteran, self-appointed Ted Bundy experts. I was accustomed to coming out of the woods about every two hours to give them a report. Usually, I really couldn’t say much, but I learned 20 different ways to say that we had found more remains. What I didn’t want to reveal was that only skull parts were found. The reporters sensed something was awry because we didn’t bring many large packages out. I felt so uneasy about this that I started bringing small bones out in large packages so no one would be the wiser. We also had to use different radio codes every day because the media had radio scanners tuned into the ESAR walkie-talkie frequency. It was like a game of spy versus spy. After several days, the search process was beginning to wear on me and I got testy with the media. A new television reporter arrived and abruptly demanded that I brief her on everything that had taken place the preceding week. I blew up—which was very uncharacteristic of me—and Itold her to get the hell out and go review the news clips. Then I turned around and walked away.
    By the sixth day, I was getting worried about the political aspect of this search. Over 250 volunteer searchers were working the site, a gaggle of 30 reporters was dogging our heels, and Ted Forester and I were the only officers on the scene. No brass! Sergeant Randall, Lieutenant Kraske, and Captain Mackie were conspicuous by their absence. They were career police officers, supervisors in the detective division, and not one of them ever came to the scene. Their absence made me insecure; I began to second-guess myself, wondering whether I was handling the case correctly. The brass were the ones with all the experience. My seven months on this case wasn’t enough time to get off probation, the initial period of time during which the performance of a new homicide detective is carefully scrutinized and evaluated. Surely the brass should have some input on the conduct of this huge case.
    At about three P.M. that same day my fears were assuaged, if only momentarily. Chief Donald Actor arrived at the scene.
Finally, someone with authority to talk to the press and give me some relief,
I thought. But I would have no such luck. Actor drove right past the press barrier and motioned for me to come over. I asked him if he’d like a tour of the hillside. He said no, he didn’t want to contaminate the scene. Once again, I was stunned. I asked him why no other brass had come to the scene to inspect it. He said that he had told them to stay away so they wouldn’t screw up the crime scene. I felt honored and scared at the same time. What bombshell would he lay on me? He said kindly, “It’s all yours. I’m very impressed by your professionalism and the way you handled the press.” Gee thanks, Chief. I was beginning to feel more inadequate, fearing that if anything went wrong, I’d have a walking beat on Mud Mountain Dam. My fear would return many more times, even in the minutes before my last interview with Ted Bundy. I was on my own.
    The final tally of remains for Taylor Mountain paled in comparison to Issaquah: three crania, three mandibles, two small pieces of a skull, one tooth, and a small blond hair mass. Not one other remnant of a human skeleton was discovered.
    The remains of four women were identified from the sparse skeletal remains we had recovered: Susan Rancourt, who disappeared April 17, 1974, from the library at Central Washington StateCollege; Kathy Parks, last seen May 5, 1974, at Oregon State University, over 260 miles from Taylor Mountain; Brenda Ball, who was last seen May 31, 1974, at the Flame Tavern in Seattle; and Lynda Healy, who was reported missing