The I-5 Killer

by Ann Rule

  Neal Loper questioned one of Julie's close friends again.

  "Think. Could there be any man Julie knew so slightly that you may have forgotten him? Someone who didn't seem important?"

  “No … Wait! There was a guy … Randy. He was a lot older than Julie."

  "Tell me about him," Loper urged.

  "He worked at the Faucet Tavern. His name was Randy Woodfield. That was last summer. Julie went out with him — maybe once or twice. He came on too strong, and she told me she didn't want to date him again — but then she said they were going to be friends."

  "She hadn't mentioned him lately?"

  The girl shook her head.

  "What kind of car did he drive?"

  "Let me think. Yeah … yeah, it was a Volkswagen Bug, I think. Kind of a gold color."

  The information went up on the charts in Bishop's office: "Woodfield, Randy. 25-27? Faucet Tavern bartender. Volkswagen?"

  And then the name came up again. One of Julie's girlfriends recalled that Randy Woodfield had asked to sleep over in Julie's town house. She explained that he'd taken Julie out and gotten her a little intoxicated.

  "He crawled in bed with us and fooled around with Julie — but nothing really happened."

  Randy Woodfield's name was jotted down again.

  On February 27, when Woodfield's name was mentioned a third time, as someone who had been seen around Beaverton on the Valentine's Day weekend, he made the charts again. A three-time winner … or loser.

  Coincidence? Perhaps. But detectives look at coincidence differently than a man on the street would. Coincidence can raise a warning flag. Bishop took a marking pencil and drew lines connecting the three notations.

  "Let's see what else we can find out about this Randy Woodfield."

  Neal Loper talked in depth with the young woman who had mentioned Randy as someone Julie had once dated. Yes, she was positive that Julie had known Randy. In fact, he'd tried to make it a point to keep in touch with Julie. "He's been to her house a couple of times."

  "Would he know her phone number?" Loper asked.

  "Oh, sure. I'm sure he would."

  "Do you know where Randy Woodfield is now? Does he still work at the Faucet?"

  "No. He got fired last fall. He was into a lot of things that weren't quite … legal. The last I heard, he was living in Eugene someplace and going to bartending school."

  Loper called a girl who had mentioned that Woodfield was supposed to be in Beaverton on the weekend of February 14-15. Her opinion too was that Randy had been very interested in Julie Reitz.

  "I met Randy last spring," the high school senior said. "His parents live down at Otter Crest, and his sister lives in Portland. He went to bartending school in Portland, and then he moved down to Eugene to go to the University of Oregon."

  "You hear from him lately?" Loper asked.

  "He sent me a valentine from Eugene and said he'd be in town over Valentine's Day. He said he wanted to see me — but he didn't call."

  Tactfully Loper asked if the informant had ever been intimate with Randy Woodfield.

  "Yes. Once or twice. Maybe a few more times," she said without embarrassment.

  "Was he strange, kinky at all?"

  "No. Nothing like that. Just normal. He's a nice guy. He did tell me once that he'd been in trouble for burglary a long time ago."

  The teenager discussed her impression that Randy had been interested in Julie Reitz, and she betrayed no jealousy about that. As far as she knew, he'd called Julie several times.

  "He told me he was really serious about seeing her. He's kind of a persistent guy, but Julie told me she didn't want to see him again — that she didn't want a relationship with him."

  "What kind of a vehicle does Randy have?" Loper asked.

  "It's a gold Volkswagen Bug — fairly new, and it has a sun roof and it's kind of bashed in on the front."

  Loper and Bishop found Randy Woodfield interesting. He had admitted some kind of criminal record to several friends, and he'd apparently betrayed an interest in pursuing their victim. Loper talked again with Julie's roommate.

  "Randy?" the girl said. "Sure, he's been here, but Julie didn't like him."

  "Would she have let him in if he came knocking on the door late at night?"

  "Probably. She didn't hate him. She just wasn't interested in having a relationship with him. He was older, quite a bit older — and he was pushy. But I think she might have let him in."

  When Loper talked next to one of Randy Woodfield's former fellow employees at the Faucet, he learned of Randy's obsession with young girls and of his anger at women he'd dated when they rejected him. That didn't necessarily stamp him as a killer, but it piqued Loper's interest.

  The next step was to find out just what Woodfield's criminal record entailed. On February 28 Judy Pulliam, Randy's parole officer, returned Loper's call.

  She related Woodfield's record, and Loper listened with fascination. There had been more than burglary charges — a great deal more. Woodfield had been arrested and convicted of sexual crimes, not once but many times. The exposing had escalated to the incident in the park with the Portland policewoman, and he'd spent time in the penitentiary.

  "There's more," Pulliam said. "That's why I'm so concerned, now that I hear about your case. Randy Woodfield was a suspect in at least three homicides in Portland. Darci Fix and Doug Altic last Thanksgiving Day, and Cherie Ayers a month before that. He was questioned, but he was never charged."

  "You say you've had him in your caseload," Loper prompted.

  "Yes, but he wasn't very amenable to supervision, and I've been concerned. He moved down to Eugene without permission. He waited a long time before notifying me of his address down there. It was only then that he requested permission to have his case transferred. I've just transferred his case down to Tony Meyer, an investigating parole officer in Eugene."

  All of this was absorbing for Bishop and Loper; once the name Randy Woodfield had been mentioned, a fountain of information followed. They obtained a mug shot and description of Woodfield and saw a very muscular, handsome man. Portland Detective Bob Dornay acknowledged that Woodfield had been a suspect in the Ayers case and that he had refused to take a polygraph. He had finally been eliminated as a suspect because of his blood type: B negative.

  That blood type might have eliminated him in the Ayers case; it put him square in the ball park in the Reitz case.

  Randy had told friends in Beaverton that he was going to rent a room at the Marriott Hotel and throw his own Valentine's party on February 14. That he had stayed at the Marriott was verified by hotel records. The Marriott was very close to the town house where Julie had been shot.

  "Let's go talk to him," Bishop said. "If nothing else, we can eliminate him if he can come up with an alibi that works."

  The Beaverton detectives called Tony Meyer, Randy Woodfield's new parole officer in the Eugene area. Meyer said that he had an appointment with Woodfield at eight on the morning of March 3 for a routine parole check-in. It was agreed that Bishop and Loper would be present at that meeting. Judy Pulliam would also attend.

  Whatever might come out of that meeting, it was essential that Dave Bishop and Neal Loper confront Randy Woodfield. At the very least, the man was a convicted sexual deviate, an ex-con with a cavalier attitude about his commitment to parole; at the very most, he might be a murderer.

  The I-5 Killer case was the furthest thing from their minds; they wanted only to solve the murder of Julie Reitz.

  It was mere coincidence that, on March 3, 1981, the I-5 investigators had scheduled another joint meeting. That meeting was held in Eugene. Although they had no way of knowing it, all of the principals — except for the victims — gathered in Eugene, Oregon, that Tuesday morning. The Eugene Police Department opened their offices for the third joint meeting. It wasn't that there was much new information; it was just that the agencies involved in the search for the I-5 Killer felt that a brainstorming session might help. On the face of
it, they seemed no closer to catching the phantom gunman than they had been four weeks earlier. In reality, if it had been a game of blindman's bluff, they were red-hot.

  There had been several robberies by the man with the Band-Aid on his nose in the Eugene area, and surveillance stakeouts had been in operation since February 19. Oregon state troopers had worked twelve-hour shifts observing likely targets for the I-5 Killer. They'd staked out the Grocery Cart, Tom's Market, Dunkin' Donuts, the Dari-Mart, the A&W Drive-in. Hundreds of man-hours were involved, long, boring hours for the troopers sitting in sneaker cars staring through the windows of the brightly lit fast-food spots … waiting.

  Only the night before, on March 2, Trooper Marlen Hein and Corporal A. Gale Lively thought they might have been onto something. They were positioned inside the Dari-Mart at eight P.M. when they saw a man who matched the description of the suspect walk into the store. He seemed very nervous, and he kept glancing toward the storeroom area, where the troopers were hidden. At length the man made a purchase and left. They could not stop him; he hadn't disobeyed the law in any way.

  But they remembered him.

  At the March 3 meeting, a technician from the Oregon State Crime Lab announced that there was no doubt they were looking for a man with type-B blood. Tests on all the semen that had been left never varied.

  "We can eliminate any suspects who don't have this type blood," Kominek told the group. "Only nine to ten percent of the population have type B. That will cut down considerably on the paperwork. We're going to ask all of you to send your existing information to me at the Marion County Sheriff's Office. It will be programmed into a computer and checked against all suspects."

  In addition, it was agreed that information released to the press would include nothing but location of incident, type of crime, and description of the suspect.

  The media weren't going to like this. They were already badgering detectives for more information on the I-5 Killer, but it was essential to hold back those things known only to the killer and his victims. Should they ever get to the stage where someone confessed to the crimes, such privileged information could sort out the "crazies" from the real thing.

  At the end of a long day, Kominek and Holloway drove back to Salem.

  They might well have avoided the drive north. Within hours, they would be speeding back to Eugene.

  CHAPTER 14

  Neal Loper and Dave Bishop arrived at the Lane County Corrections Office in Eugene, and met with Judy Pulliam and Tony Meyer at eight-thirty A.M. on March 3. They waited in vain for their first glimpse of the man who had once dated Julie Reitz. Randy Woodfield did not appear for his scheduled appointment.

  Bishop and Loper contacted Detective Doug Ashbridge of the Springfield Police Department, told him of their interest in Woodfield, and Ashbridge drove by the residence on E Street. He reported back that Woodfield's gold Volkswagen was parked in the garage and the curtains of the house were drawn.

  Since Randy wouldn't come to the parole officers, it was decided that they would go to him. This would be a way for Captain Bishop and Detective Loper to talk with him about the Julie Reitz case. The two parole officers, accompanied by Neal Loper and Doug Ashbridge, walked past the yard with its picket fence and knocked on the front door of the neat rambler.

  No one answered.

  "He's in there," Ashbridge speculated. "His car's still in the garage."

  They pounded on the door and the front window. After a long time a sleepy-faced Randy Woodfield opened the door. He did not seem alarmed to see his parole officer or the strangers who accompanied him. He invited them in.

  "Where were you, Randy?" Meyer asked. "I waited for you this morning."

  "I thought my appointment was for this afternoon — or maybe it was for tomorrow."

  Meyer let it go. He introduced Loper, and the Beaverton detective explained that he was investigating the murder of Julie Reitz and that their probe had to include all those who had known Julie.

  Randy shook his head in confusion. He told Loper that he couldn't place the name, that he didn't know anyone named Julie Reitz and he couldn't see what he might have to do with her murder probe.

  Loper responded casually, although he felt a thrill of excitement; he had witnesses who had assured him that Julie and Randy were acquainted. "Why don't you come down to the Springfield Police Department and we can talk about it? I have a picture of Julie back at the office. Maybe that will refresh your memory?"

  "Give me a minute to get dressed, and I'll go with you," Randy said, still without any outward display of anxiety.

  At the Springfield station, Neal Loper advised Randy of his rights under the Miranda and Escobedo decisions.

  Randy said that he understood his rights and had no objection to talking with the detectives. It was just that he didn't know anyone named Julie Reitz.

  Loper held out a picture of Julie, one of her graduation photos.

  Randy studied a picture of Julie and said that, yes, now he recognized her. He'd gone out with her once. He said he'd met her when he worked at the Faucet, and he admitted frankly that he'd been fired from the tavern the previous October.

  Randy said he'd been to Julie's town house only once, and that that had been several months back. "It was just a small party with her roommate." he recalled. "I don't remember her roommate's name. There was nothing heavy about me and Julie; we were just friends."

  "Have you ever had sex with Julie Reitz?" Loper asked.

  Randy shook his head. "Never."

  "Did you see Julie Reitz over Valentine's Day weekend?"

  Again he shook his head calmly. He hadn't seen her, and he hadn't called her. He hadn't seen Julie for months.

  "Could you recall your activities over that weekend?"

  Randy said he could. He had gone to stay at his sister's home in Portland, had gone out "partying" Saturday night — the fourteenth — and arrived back at his sister's home around four in the morning.

  "You say you went partying? Could you be more specific?"

  "I met a friend at the Marriott — him and his wife — and had a few drinks. Then I went to several other spots in the Portland area and had more drinks. I met a girl. Her name was Jeanie, but I can't recall her last name. She tripped around with me after that. We went to Baxter's Corner, Frank Peters' Inn, and the Greenwood Inn. We stayed there until the bar closed."

  "Where does this Jeanie live?"

  Randy shook his head. "We just made small talk. I never asked her last name or anything about her. I don't know where she lives."

  "You hadn't heard about Julie Reitz's murder?" Captain Bishop asked.

  "No. I didn't know anything about it. Didn't hear it on the radio or the TV or from anyone."

  Pressed for information that might help in the investigation of Julie's killing, Randy reiterated that he had known Julie only casually, that he hadn't even thought about her for months. There was no way he could be involved in her murder. The closest he'd been to her house on Valentine's Day was the Greenwood Inn.

  "I didn't even know she was murdered until you guys told me about it."

  "Do you own any weapons, Randy?"

  "No, none."

  Bishop and Loper asked Randy if he would be willing to give samples of his hair — both head and pubic — and blood for analysis so that he could be absolutely eliminated as a suspect in the Reitz case.

  "Will you take a polygraph test?"

  At first Randy agreed to cooperate, but then he equivocated. He thought perhaps he should call his attorney. The Beaverton detectives offered to make the call for him, but he decided he didn't need an attorney. They talked more about the evidence samples they needed, and the lie-detector test. At length Randy decided that he wouldn't cooperate.

  "It's just against my principles to do that."

  Bishop and Loper backed off. Parole officers Pulliam and Meyer talked to Randy next, suggesting that it might be better if he returned to Portland to live, where he would be fulfilling the stipu
lations of his early parole.

  "I don't want to do that," he said. "But of course I will if I'm ordered to move back."

  Randy was beginning to betray some nervousness. He decided he might cooperate with the detectives about the polygraph, but as soon as he said yes, he changed his mind again.

  "I'd rather move back to Portland," he said vehemently. "I'd rather go back to the penitentiary before I'd do that."

  An odd overreaction.

  Neal Loper left the interview room for a short time, leaving Randy alone with Bishop. Casually Bishop suggested again that Randy could clear himself of any connection with Julie's murder if he would be willing to give hair and blood samples.

  Randy was getting nervous, beginning to trip himself up. At one point he blurted to Dave Bishop. "Just because I had sex with her … I wouldn't have killed her … "

  He had given away too much. He had denied sexual intimacy with the victim. Now he had admitted it.

  Bishop let it pass. Given enough rope, Randy Woodfield might just twine it around his own neck.

  Randy seemed relieved when the questions ended, and he consented readily to have the residence on E Street searched.

  "Go ahead and search," he said. "I'm curious to see what you could possibly hope to find. I have nothing to hide."

  Neal Loper, Doug Ashbridge, and Detective Tom Maloney of the Springfield Police Department conducted this first preliminary search. While Randy Woodfield watched, Neal Loper retained the following items and logged them into evidence:

  Item 1: One set of bedsheets and a mattress pad from subject's bedroom. On mattress pad some dried blood. Sheets contain many head and pubic hairs.

  Item 2: One set of sheets from hamper next to bed.

  Item 3: One brown wallet containing identification and a receipt for the purchase of a gun. (.22-caliber handgun from G.I. Joe's Store in the Portland area.)