Crime journalist Ann Rule: ‘Serial killer Ted Bundy is my former colleague and friend’

One afternoon in late June 1974, I was sitting in Detective Herb Swindler’s office when Joni Lenz and her father walked into the homicide unit. Herb kept a collage of photographs of the victims on his wall as a reminder to continue the investigation. Joni looked at photos of other women and volunteered to see if she recognized any of them, even if their names didn’t ring a bell.

“Johnny,” Herb said softly. “Look at these girls. Have you ever seen them before? Maybe you went to a club together, worked together or went to class together?’ As her father stood protectively behind her, the Jan. 4 assault victim read the photos. The skinny girl was still recovering from the brain damage, her speech was hesitant and slurred, but she tried her hardest to help. She moved closer to the wall, studied each photo carefully, and shook her head. “N-no,” she stammered. ‘I have never seen them. I don’t know them. I don’t remember – I don’t remember, but I know I didn’t know those girls.

“Thanks, Joni,” Herb said. “We appreciate you coming.” It was a gamble that the only one alive had a remote chance of becoming a link. Herb shook her head at me as Joni came out of the room. Even if the others knew someone, the memory of the past year had been knocked out of her mind. There were some striking similarities in the cases of the missing girls. The bearer of them seemed to prefer a certain type and chose his victim carefully:

They all had long hair parted in the middle.

They were all white.

All of them have above average intelligence.

They were all slim, attractive and exceptionally talented.

All of them have gone missing during exams or exams at local universities.

They all come from stable, loving families.

Each hiding took place in the dark.

All of them are unmarried.

They were all wearing long pants or jeans when they disappeared.

In all cases, detectives had no physical evidence left by the kidnapper.

Construction work was carried out in every complex where a woman went missing.

There were striking similarities among the missing girls. Man seemed to prefer a certain type, and chose his victim carefully

Young women

In two other cases — Susan Rancourt in Ellensburg and George Hawkins in Seattle — an actor was found with an arm or leg near where they disappeared. They are all young women and none of them can be considered a grown woman. For detectives getting to know the man was inexplicable, perverse, insane and exhausting, it was like working your way through a maze only to find that this path also ended in a dead end. The victims did not appear to be randomly selected, which also raised questions.

‘Anyone have any ideas? Is there a line in it that we haven’t considered? Does anyone here know anything about code numbers or are they mentally ill?’ I assumed Herb was joking, but he wasn’t. He began writing on the blackboard, listing the dates the girls had disappeared, trying to make sense of it. But nothing seems to point to any lines. 42 days between Linda’s disappearance and Donna’s disappearance, 36 days from Donna’s disappearance to Susan’s disappearance, 19 days from Susan’s disappearance to Kathy Park’s disappearance, 25 days from Kathy’s disappearance to Brenda’s disappearance, and 11 days from Brenda’s disappearance to Georgeanne’s disappearance. What was immediately apparent was that the abductions followed each other faster and faster. “Good,” Herb said. ‘Any other suggestions? I don’t care how crazy it sounds. We are trying.’

The letter burned in my pocket. I raised my hand. “I don’t know about numerology, but my girlfriend is an astrologer and says it has an astrological line.” There were some eye rolls, some giggles, but I quickly moved on and explained what RL had told me. “He takes women only when the Moon transits Taurus, Pisces or Scorpio.”

“Your girlfriend thinks that’s unusual.” Swindler laughed.

“He says it violates the laws of probability.”

“So can she say when it will happen again?”

‘I can’t say for sure. She handed me a sealed envelope. If you want, you can get them. It should not be opened before July 15.’

I realized my audience was restless and thought they were wasting their time. I handed the envelope to Herb, who weighed it in his hand. “So next time she thinks a girl is going missing, right?”

‘I do not know. I don’t know what’s in the envelope. She said she wanted to test her theory and not open it before then. The conversation went in a different direction. I suspected that most of the researchers there thought I was “a crazy reporter,” and I wasn’t sure myself that it wasn’t an attempt to see something that wasn’t really there. The general consensus was that a man was responsible for the disappearance of the girls, and we tried to find out what excuse he had to make the girls more comfortable. What type of man is automatically trusted by most young women? What can he disguise to make them think they are safe? Most of us have been raised to believe that we can trust a pastor, a priest, a firefighter, a doctor, paramedics, and police officers. The last thought, the policemen there couldn’t help but notice, no matter how hard it was to digest. A bad cop, maybe? Or someone in police uniform? The next reasonable assumption is that most young women would help a disabled person—a blind person, someone suddenly ill, on crutches, or an actor. So what should we do? Ask the police officers, police officer, firefighter, paramedics, priest, or any man in plaster to take custody of every campus in the Northwest? Police departments in Oregon and Washington don’t have enough manpower to even think about it. In conclusion, it is best to alert the public through as many media reports as possible, ask citizens for information, and follow up on leads. Surely the man or group who abducted the girls must be at fault, surely he’ll leave a clue that leads him back? Those who attended the July 3 meeting fervently hoped that no more girls would have to suffer before that happened.

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