by Burl Barer
“According to Jimmy, Richard Clark and Carol Clark had driven to Elza’s residence and again had told Elza to tell us about deer blood in the van. According to Jimmy, Carol Clark also emphasized the same thing in regards to the blood. Jimmy added that his parents had told him that Richard had left his white pair of tennis shoes at their house on the evening of April 1, 1995. These white tennis shoes had apparently been left in George Clark’s grandson’s bedroom. Toni Clark and George Clark observed pinkish or red stains on the tennis shoes. Richard Clark apparently left his white tennis shoes and took his father’s black tennis shoes from the residence. According to Jimmy, the tennis shoes had also been damaged. The last time the parents saw those shoes, they were not damaged at all.”
Based on prior information, Detective Burgess drove out to the Clark residence and interviewed both parents and Elza. “I drafted a second search warrant,” recalled Herndon, “requesting the white tennis shoes located in a bag outside the residence. Richard Clark did his best to hustle up alibis and backup for various versions of his activities and whereabouts on the night of March thirty-first. He was under surveillance by both the Everett police and the FBI.”
Chapter 7
“After Mr. Clark’s van was impounded,” said Detective Herndon, “we called in Vicki Smith for a witness statement. I was pretty sure that she wasn’t going to confirm Clark’s story that she was along for the ride on March thirty-first, and she didn’t.”
“I was watching the news on channel eleven at eleven o’clock,” Smith told detectives. “Richard and Jimmy pulled in with Richard’s van, so it was between eleven and eleven-thirty. They were both pretty intoxicated.”
Vicki Smith, admittedly tipsy during the interview, insisted that she was sober the night of March thirty-first. “I wasn’t drinking because I don’t drink that much, you know, and I was pretty broke, ’cause Saturday’s the first of the month and that’s when my check comes in. I get monthly grants from public assistance, or DHS or IAU, because I’m a disability from work from eleven and a half years of fishing.
“When Jimmy came in,” said Smith, “I told him that his girlfriend, Lisa, was up at the house and he was all excited because he would be seeing her. He stayed there at the house with her, and then Richard turned around and stayed maybe twenty minutes; then he left. That was around midnight. He didn’t say where he was going. He asked me if I wanted to go with him, and I said, ‘I ain’t climbin’ in that van with you; you’re intoxicated man—you could wipe out somebody and kill me too,’ you know.”
Smith recounted the drive-by avoidance of the Doll residence following the return from the abruptly ended camping trip, plus her Saturday-night foray to Aaron’s Restaurant. “I slept the night at my daughter’s house, there on the couch,” said Vicki Smith. The following morning, Kenny, her boyfriend, picked her up and took her to Carol’s. When she went to retrieve her two sleeping bags from Richard Clark’s van, one of them was missing. “I kinda wondered, ‘What the hell?’”
She then told detectives about a matter of more-than-minor importance that transpired on Sunday, April 2.
“Jimmy Miller and me, we got a ride to the store,” said Vicki. “We went in and got a case of beer, and then we stood out there by a telephone pole.” Noticing her listeners’ quizzical expressions, Vicki Smith politely explained the telephone pole’s potentially lifesaving feature. “Ya see, if you step up by the telephone pole and you stick your thumb out, they have a chance to pull over to pick you up. Okay? Drivers just can’t stop in a fifty-or-forty-five-mile-an-hour zone. If they stop all of a sudden, that’s gonna cause a wreck, you know?”
As fate would have it, the vehicle graciously pulling over by the telephone pole contained Richard Clark, Carol Clark, seven-year-old Jesse Clark, and Richard’s senile grandpa. “It was Richard’s aunt’s car, I think it’s, uh, a Grand Prix,” said Vicki. “Carol’s dad is real, real old. Man, he’s senile. He don’t know anything, you know. The little boy was laying down in the seat, and when I climbed in, I kinda put his little feet, you know, over my legs.
“So, he picked me up and I go, like, ‘Whoa, what’s all this? What are you doing out this way?’ And he goes, ‘Well, the cops . . . blah, blah, blah.’”
“You have to be more clear, Vicki,” prompted Detective Herndon. “Blah, blah, blah, isn’t quite specific enough.”
“Well,” she responded, “that was it, you know?”
They didn’t know; they asked.
“Okay,” she said wearily. “He said somethin’ like cops are lookin’ for him or somethin’ like that; I’m goin’, ‘What the fuck for?’ And he says, ‘Well, they think I’m the suspect for doing something to Roxanne,’ and stuff like that. He seemed kinda nervous and worried. He was just, you know, babbling on and stuff; well, see it’s hard for me now because I’m drunk, you know, kinda. But he didn’t seem himself, though; he seemed kinda worried, strange, stressed, yeah, that’s how you’d say it, stressed, just not himself. And I’m going, ‘What?’ ’Cause see, I wasn’t told at the time about Roxanne Doll, and I didn’t know about that other little girl either,” she said, referring to Feather Rahier.
It was Jimmy Miller who, earlier that day, asked her if she knew about what Richard did to Feather Rahier back in 1988. She didn’t know; Jimmy told her. “What do you think happened back in ’88 when Richard abducted that five-year-old?” Herndon asked her.
“Oh, my God.” Vicki began sobbing.
“I wonder whose sleeping bag he took that time? Of course,” continued the detective, “he didn’t have a chance to use a sleeping bag.”
Vicki Smith cried harder, imagining what horrid things Richard Clark perpetrated upon Feather and, most recently, upon young Roxanne Doll.
“I’m just a person, okay? And Jim’s just a person, and I can’t . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Listen, Vicki,” Herndon said, “let me speak, okay? I can’t read minds; I wasn’t there; I don’t know what happened to this little girl. If I knew . . .”
“If somebody did something like that to my daughter, I’d shoot ’em,” declared Vicki through her tears. “There wouldn’t be any fuckin’ jail.”
“That’s right,” agreed Herndon, “and I’d do that; I’d do that if somebody did that to my child too.”
“It could happen to my grandson,” said Vicki, “and he’s not even a three-month-old baby yet.”
“That’s right, it happens all the time. There are many sick people out here. They don’t walk around with a big tattoo on their head saying ‘I’m a pervert,’ or ‘I’m a pedophile’; they’re just everyday people.”
Vicki Smith controlled her tears, composed herself, and asked Detective Herndon an insightful question: “How did my daughter know?”
“What do you mean?”
“She told me when she was fourteen years old,” explained Vicki. “She said, ‘I don’t trust Richard, Mom. I asked her why and she says, ‘I just don’t trust him, Mom.’ Nobody had ever told me about that little Feather girl. Nobody, nobody, told me about her until this morning. Jimmy told me. He said, ‘Aunt Vicki, do you know anything about what Richard did to that little five-year-old little girl?’”
“Would you cover for Richard?”
“I wouldn’t cover for anybody that would do anything like that to a little girl. I wouldn’t. If Richard did do it, he needs to get some help.”
“That’s right, he does. And . . . and he doesn’t need people covering up for him. Right, Vicki?”
“That’s right,” she agreed through tears. “I’m not going to cover up for nobody.”
“And you’re willing to take a polygraph test? Okay, the sleeping bag, you’re willing to show us the sleeping bag that matches the one missing from the van and possibly turn it over to us?”
“You can have it,” she said willingly. “You can have it. Anything to help, okay? You can have it. It’s in the back of my truck, where I put it after I took it out of Richard’s van that Sunday mo
rning. It’s locked. My boyfriend, Kenny, has the keys. If you meet us over there in a little while, you can have it. It has not been out of that truck since I put it out of the van into the truck.”
The tearful Vicki Smith left the Everett Police Department after providing a taped, transcribed, and signed statement. “We originally were going to polygraph her that day, but we didn’t do it,” recalled Herndon. Her honest emotions bespoke volumes, and detectives had other urgent evidentiary matters. “Our next stop,” said Herndon, “was Carol Clark’s house.”
Carol Clark answered the door and allowed officers into the residence. “She also provided keys to the garage and shed,” Herndon recalled, “which was searched by the Washington State Patrol and Detective Olafson.”
“They were taking pictures of our home; they were out in the garage,” recalled Carol Clark. “They were knocking at the door, they were taking pictures of my car and everything, and they were seizing things. The police came and searched the garage, I think, three times, and the house once.”
“Detective Kiser and I went through Richard Clark’s clothing and attempted to locate any that had possible stains present,” said Herndon. “According to Carol Clark, she had washed all the clothes, but we did locate some clothing with stains on them. These were secured, packaged, and impounded. While on the scene, it was determined that Carol Clark’s vehicle should be searched for any trace/evidence.”
This vehicle was not included on the initial warrant, but Carol Clark voluntarily consented to a complete search of her vehicle. All evidence located by Detectives Herndon and Kiser was located to the southwest corner of the residence. “Apparently, Richard Clark maintained a dresser by the washer and dryer that contained his clothing, and several boxes were on top of this dresser,” Herndon reported.
Clark’s Dodge van, held at the Everett service center, would undergo yet another round of scientific scrutiny the following day, subsequent to another search warrant, and Detectives Burgess and Phillips were dispatched to the residence of Toni and George Clark to collect one pair of white tennis shoes left there by Richard Clark on the night of March 31.
There was other surveillance shadowing Richard Clark in addition to local law enforcement and FBI agents. Representatives of Everett area media were also tracking the “likely suspect,” Richard Clark.
“The attention her family was receiving from the media,” said Detective Burgess, “was very upsetting to Carol Clark. In fact, she called and complained to the Everett Police Department. I wasn’t available when she called, so she left a message. On April fifth, I called her back. She didn’t come to the phone, but Richard Clark did.”
“My aunt Carol isn’t available,” Clark said. Burgess then asked Clark if he had been in touch with an attorney. “I’ve got an appointment with one at three o’clock.”
“If the news media is bothering you,” Burgess told him “and if the news media are causing problems in regards to contacting an attorney, I can arrange transportation for you.”
“Well, at this point, I don’t need no transportation, but I’ll get back to you if I need that, okay?” The conversation concluded, Burgess went about his business. A few minutes later, he received a phone call from Richard Clark.
“When they searched my van,” asked Clark, “did they find any evidence?”
“I can’t comment on that, Mr. Clark,” replied Burgess, and the conversation ended. Clark, however, had another important conversation on his agenda—a face-to-face sit-down with Tim Iffrig’s part-time paramour, Clark’s aunt, Vicki Smith.
“It was between five and six in the afternoon,” recalled Vicki. “I was doing laundry. Richard and his aunt Carol arrived in her car. She waited in the car; he got out and started walking over toward me. That little puppy of his was tagging along.”
Smith was carrying a basket of laundry from the house toward the clothesline behind her trailer. “I walked right past Richard without saying a word to him,” she said, “and he asked ‘What’s the matter, you mad at me or something?’”
Smith replied honestly, “Yeah, I am mad at you. I had to go to the police station to fill out a statement.” She didn’t tell him of her tearful conversation with detectives regarding her shock of hearing about the Feather Rahier incident, nor her fears that Richard Clark kidnapped Roxanne Doll. Her statement, of course, contradicted Clark’s sudden improvisation to Agent Lauer that she was with him all of Friday afternoon and evening.
“What did you say to them?” Richard asked Vicki.
“The truth.”
“You did?” Richard was visibly disappointed. “Did you tell them that I was with you Friday night?”
“No,” said Smith. “I wasn’t with you Friday night because you were drunk, and I don’t ride with nobody when they’re drunk.”
She later commented, “I was mad at him because I felt that he wanted me to lie for him. I looked him in the eye and I said, ‘Richard, did you do something to that little girl?’ He didn’t answer me. He just stood there with this scared look on his face.”
Just then, Jimmy Miller and his girlfriend, Lisa, showed up. Vicki had already shared with Jimmy and Lisa her concerns about Richard and her conversations with Detective Herndon. Richard, perhaps seeking comfort, acceptance, or camaraderie from his brother’s girlfriend, followed Lisa into the house. If acceptance was his goal, it was not achieved. Lisa turned on him with unmistakable disgust. “Leave,” she demanded harshly. “Leave right now and don’t ever come back.”
Richard Clark said nothing in response. He stood there as stoic and silent as when Angela Rono beat upon his chest. He reached down, picked up his puppy, walked out of the house, got into Carol’s car, and they drove away.
“Surveillance team members informed us that Richard Clark had gone to Vicki Smith’s residence on April fifth at approximately four P.M., along with his aunt Carol Clark,” said Herndon. “We drove out there and spoke with both Vicki Smith and Jimmy Miller, asking them about Richard’s visit. To say they were not exactly thrilled to see him would be an understatement.
“The way we heard it, Richard told Vicki that she had been with him Friday evening on March 31, 1995. Vicki told Richard Clark that, no, she had not been with him Friday night and for him not to ask her to lie, and, I guess, Lisa went up to Richard and told him to get the hell out of there.”
The question of blood in the van was again raised at 5:15 P.M. when the Washington State Patrol crime scene team reported that their examination of Richard Clark’s van revealed numerous bloodstains. “They told us that this was a presumptive test,” said Herndon, “and we wouldn’t know until the next day if this blood was of an animal, such as from a poached deer, or human, as from Roxanne Doll.”
Meanwhile, the physical search for Roxanne Doll continued unabated in an area of woods close to both the Doll-Iffrig residence and Tim Iffrig’s place of employment. “Richard Clark had knowledge of this area,” Herndon reported, “and both he and Tim had been in this area cutting wood in the past.”
The woods surrendered neither Roxanne nor clues to her whereabouts. The physical trail from Doll’s bedroom window to her current location was nonexistent. Each passing day reduced hope of finding her alive.
“Everyone was doing all they could; everyone was cooperative,” said Herndon. “But there was definite confusion as to Jimmy Miller’s presence with Richard Clark at various times in the evening. For example, Clark mentioned picking up Jimmy Miller hitchhiking, and he even told Jimmy the same thing. None of this corresponded to other witness statements.”
It was time for a more intensive interview with the seldom-sober Jimmy Miller. “We needed to reconstruct Richard Clark’s time line of activities on that Friday night/Saturday morning,” recalled Herndon, “and Jimmy was supposedly along for the ride just about everywhere.”
April 7, 1995
Jimmy Miller, the man too drunk to be served, gave police his best shot at cooperation. “I had drank about a case of beer,” said Miller. �
��I don’t remember going to Tim’s house, the Amber Light, the Dog House, or being with Richard that entire evening. He may have dropped me off,” Miller said with a shrug. “I may have left on my own and he could have picked me up on the street, or found me hitchhiking.
“I remember getting to my aunt’s,” he said as if pleased at the accomplishment, “but I don’t know what time I got there. Later, Vicki and Lisa told me that it was about eleven or eleven-thirty P.M.
“The reason I don’t remember nothing is I was drunk,” stated Jimmy Miller reasonably. “I was so drunk that I blacked out the whole evening. I can’t honestly say what happened.”
His honesty in the matter was unquestionable. His prior proven alcoholic behavior, substantiated by friends and family members, attested to Miller’s veracity. “Oh yes,” confirmed his mother, “he’s had them blackouts while drinking right here in the house.”
As a matter of record, his drinking began once he left his parents’ house on March 31. “They don’t allow no drinking in the house anymore,” said Miller. “I was over at my folks’—Toni and George Clark—doing some laundry and watching the soaps when Richard showed up about two in the afternoon.”
It was common for Clark and Miller to go out “drinking and driving whenever we had the money,” said Miller. It was usually Clark who financed these absurd excursions in irresponsibility by “pawning stuff, unless he got the money some way,” explained Miller. As for drug use: “We might have smoked a little pot if we had it, but it would depend if there was enough money after buying the alcohol.” Purchasing alcohol, confirmed Miller, was always the number one priority.
“As far as I could tell,” Miller told the detectives, “Richard had been drinking before he came to my parents’ house. Me and him drank pretty much the same amount, as far as I could tell, unless he had a head start on me. But after we hooked up, I drank about half the whiskey, and he drank about half the whiskey, and we shared a case of beer.”