The Snake River winds as sinuously as its namesake through the canyon it has carved over eons. It is a place of excruciating, yet forbidding, beauty. The crevice it has etched is so deep, cameramen had to lean close to the edge to glimpse the descent down to the canyon floor. Without hesitation, Sells led them to a well-hidden path that led down the canyon wall.
He remarked that everything looked a lot different than it did before. When he pointed out the spot where he buried his victim, there was one problem. Two years before, a massive landslide had occurred in that spot pushing the burial site into the river itself. Any attempt at recovery would be difficult, if not impossible.
Sells’ recollection of the woman who died there was so clear that a forensic artist was brought into the case. Shirley Timmons, the same woman who’d worked with Krystal Surles when she described her attacker, worked with Sells to create a likeness of the blonde.
When Sells and Timmons met, he leaned across the table close to her, looked her in the eye and asked, “You was the one that drew that picture that got me caught, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I didn’t think it was all that good.”
For a moment, Timmons did not respond. Then she mirrored Sells’ body language and said, “It was good enough to get you caught, wasn’t it?”
When the sketch aired on America’s Most Wanted, Lisa Mueller recognized her daughter, Yvette. In 1997, Yvette had gone to a convenience store to make a phone call. She never returned.
There was one glitch in this identification, though. Yvette Mueller was kidnapped in Las Vegas. Sells’ recollection placed the victim at a convenience store in Twin Falls, where he had also stolen a brown station wagon. He also thought the woman had been hitchhiking from Canada to Salt Lake City. Authorities could verify that a vehicle matching that description was stolen in the area at that time. They just didn’t know how to fit Yvette into the puzzle.
All agreed it was possible that she had been kidnapped and killed in the Las Vegas area by Sells, and that another woman was killed outside of Twin Falls. It was also possible that the two were the same woman.
“He’s been off by a few cities and by two or three years on homicides. But he’s never been off by states before,” said Ranger Smith. Still, he admitted, with the number of murders Sells had committed, and the amount of drugs he’d abused, anything was possible.
THE traveling investigation team then flew to Winnemucca, Nevada. In the police department’s interview room, Sells sat with his back to a window wall. Across the table from him, the Rangers had a clear view of the room behind the glass. It was filled with members of the Winnemucca Police Department, the county sheriff’s department and the FBI.
They listened as Sells described Stefanie Stroh’s jewelry, her clothing, the bag she carried, where she had been and where she was going. Eyes bulged and grins spread with each revelation. Occasionally, high fives erupted in celebration. They had Sells dead to rights, and they knew it.
They made preparations for him to lead them to the body. Before departure, it was necessary to frisk the prisoner. Sells, already irate at the lack of respect shown to him by the FBI, blew up when the jailer accidentally—or purposely—pulled his hair. Sells lunged at him, hands on his throat. Tall, muscular Texas Ranger Smith was on Sells in a heartbeat, roughly subduing the smaller man.
When tempers cooled, the search for Stefanie’s body began anew. They drove past an abandoned building, unrecognizable in its state of total dilapidation. Sells correctly described it as a former truck stop. He led the crew to a desolate spot in the desert. Sells said that, because he was angry about his treatment in Winnemucca, he had intentionally taken them to the wrong spot. The Rangers thought it was possible that Sells had deliberately misled them, but were dismayed that a thorough search of the area never occurred.
Four bodies were sought on this road trip—only one was found, and that one was still alive.
A sullen Sells returned to Del Rio. On the eighth of June in Fayette County Circuit Court in Kentucky, Reba and Michael McHone filed suit against Tommy Lynn Sells on behalf of the estate of their daughter, Haley. She was described in the complaint as “[ . . . ] a vibrant teenager, full of life and spirit with shoulder-length blonde hair and beautiful green eyes.”
Count one alleged that she was innocently playing on the swings when she was abducted, seized, kidnapped, falsely imprisoned, assaulted, tortured, maimed, mutilated, raped and killed by Tommy Lynn Sells. “The Young Teenager was thereafter humiliated, ridiculed, held up to scorn, embarrassed, placed in a false light and slandered by the Defendant.”
They requested punitive damages for her pain and suffering, lost earnings potential and funeral costs. In addition, they sought damages to the parents for loss of love and affection of a child. They cited that Sells had hidden the body knowing it would create panic and cause suffering to her parents and others. “The deranged Defendant, on information and belief, had previously killed 13 men and women going back to 1981 and was thereby well aware of actions or inactions which would aid and abet him in continuing the course of conduct which he had in this matter, and evidenced a cruel callous heart and inhuman characteristics which animals themselves do not evidence among their various species.” No amount of damages was specified.
Thomas C. Chupak, the court-appointed Guardian Ad Litem for Sells, responded with a request that the plaintiff be denied and the complainant dismissed because of his incarceration and impending trial in Texas and because the complainant had failed to state a case upon which relief could be granted. Sells submitted a hand-written response to the court. In it, he said he could not be in Lexington, Kentucky, to defend himself because of his situation in Texas. He also complained that he could not read the name of his guardian on the document sent and did not know how to contact him.
IN the Val Verde Correctional Center on June 25, 2000, Sells and Danny Calderon in the adjoining cell talked about religion and forgiveness through the bean holes in their doors.
“I’m depressed about being in jail,” Danny confessed.
“Then you should just hang yourself,” Sells said.
“If I did that, Tommy, God would not forgive me.”
“Once you give your life to God, he forgives you. Period.”
“I don’t think so. You have to ask forgiveness for everything you do wrong,” Calderon countered.
“You stupid sack of shit, where did you get that fucking idea?”
“It says so in the Bible. And when you kill yourself, you’re dead. You can’t ask for forgiveness for that anymore,” Danny answered.
“You’re a punk. Get in your bunk,” Sells ordered.
“You can’t tell me what to do in my own cell.”
“Oh, yeah? I’m gonna make you my punk. And then I’m going to kill you.”
“You won’t kill me, Tommy. But you should ask God for forgiveness for saying that.”
“I’m gonna poke out your eyes and kill you slowly. Just wait till they open this door.”
No matter what Calderon said after this point, Sells continued to rage, “I’m gonna kill you.”
Calderon filed an incident report about these threats. He was moved to another cell away from Sells. But no charges were filed and no disciplinary action was taken.
ALLEN and Smith continued to be amazed by their prisoner after months of interviews. “In Tommy, you’ve got a petty thief and a burglar,” Smith explained. “You’ve got some of the traits of Ted Bundy and Henry Lee Lucas. And to cap it all off, you’ve got the artistic ability of some of the nation’s top con artists who swindle companies and people out of billions of dollars every year. You’ve got all that clumped up in one guy, one person.
“He can completely cripple an investigator in a small town trying to investigate a fifteen-year-old murder, and the guy goes out the door shaking his head. And he’ll do it all because, ‘I ain’t got nothing better to do.’
“One day, he can be stealing $30 out of t
he kitty. The next day he can be beating a whole family to death. And the next day, he can be sitting down here in Del Rio fixing the air conditioner of your car.
“It’s every criminal in one neat human package. He represents a small part of society that [ . . . ] I don’t think many in law enforcement have ever recognized. He is a terrorist in society. He preys, hit and run, devoted to self-gratification, self-preservation.”
Throughout these months, the Texas Rangers were faced with a dilemma. They desperately wanted to close as many cases as possible to bring closure to families. First of all, they wanted to track down the nameless victims of Tommy Lynn Sells. Their experience in Texas gave them a logical answer: When he confesses to one of these murders, contact the central missing persons clearinghouse for that state and match the victim to the crime. To their dismay, they discovered that not every state had one. Even if they narrowed the search to a particular area, and called the most probable county, it didn’t always work. If a body were found just one hundred feet on the wrong side of the county line, the agency they contacted would not be aware of it.
Second, they wanted to alert all law enforcement agencies across the country about the serial killer in their possession. ViCAP seemed a simple solution, but it was far from ideal for a killer who operated like Sells.
“It wants to put everybody in a category,” said Coy Smith.
Johnny Allen added, “And you won’t get a hit unless you put in that.”
“In other words,” Smith explained, “you’ve got one killer who cuts all the women with an eight-inch-blade hunting knife in the throat—it’s a chain—it’ll give you something. But if you’ve got a guy like Sells who goes and beats this one, cuts this one’s throat, shoots this one, then there’s no connection, so you don’t know.”
There seemed to be only one viable alternative to their problem, the national media. They would not have a problem finding a willing outlet—their phones had been ringing with media calls since Sells’ arrest. But they did not want to do anything that would compromise the upcoming trial in Del Rio. So they chose to work with 48 Hours, the only group who agreed not to air anything until after the trial.
The long hours of confession, negotiation and coordination took an emotional and physical toll on the Rangers. But they were about to get a break. It was show time for Tommy Lynn Sells in the Val Verde County Courthouse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
JURY selection began on August 22, 2000, in the 63rd Judicial District Courtroom of the Val Verde Justice Center in Del Rio. The court summoned five hundred county residents—more than double their usual number—to jury duty.
Thomas F. Lee, District Attorney, entered the courtroom bearing the mantle of an anointed angel of justice. Assistant District Attorney Fred Hernandez was at his side, equally determined to bring the wrath of the State down on the head of Tommy Lynn Sells. The outcome of this case mattered a great deal to both these men. Lee was running in an election for county judge. Hernandez sought Lee’s current job as D.A. A result of death by lethal injection would guarantee life for their political futures.
On the other side of the courtroom was court-appointed defense attorney Victor Roberto Garcia, Bobby to his friends. Thinning gray hair framed a round face with warm, dark eyes, giving him the look of everyone’s favorite uncle.
Sells entered the courtroom. Gone were the long hair, full beard and tattered jeans he had worn when he was arrested. In his blue suit, white shirt and wire-rimmed glasses, he was well-groomed and looked more like a studious bookworm than a cold-blooded killer. The only indication that he was not what he seemed was a blue tattoo of a rose blooming on his neck just above the edge of his shirt collar.
The three attorneys examined one hundred and twenty members of the jury pool. In legal terms, this body is referred to as the venire—each individual in the group as a venire member. Many were eliminated because they were unshakably convinced of Sells’ guilt, or because they thought a life sentence was too lenient and they would always give a death sentence to anyone convicted of murder. Others were sent home because of their opposition to the death penalty. Some did not gain a seat because they believed that if you kill once, you will kill again. One juror was excused because he was not a citizen of the United States and another because he was the brother-in-law of the defense attorney.
According to defense team notes, venire member number one did not feel that the death penalty was used enough or properly. His father, who had been a drug runner, had been murdered in 1977. A bodyguard killed him for drugs and money, but only received a nine-month sentence. The defense challenged him and was sustained by the judge.
Of potential juror number six, the defense noted, “This girl is stoned.” Before the seventeenth candidate was questioned, the judge embarked on a nine-minute discourse about special issues and other elements of the law. The monologue was not recorded by the court reporter. Throughout it all, the woman in the box was attentive, but would not look at the defendant. The defense challenged her for an inability to follow the law. She was dismissed.
While the thirteenth prospect was being questioned, mitigation specialist Vince Gonzales noted: “Tommy has passed a note saying he is starting to get pissed. A lawyer from Uvalde is sitting in the gallery staring at Tommy. About this time, 9:57 A.M., Donna and Jessica came in. Tommy calms down some.” Donna Hughes was an employee of the aviation firm that had come to the rescue of the downed Texas Rangers and Tommy Lynn Sells in Oklahoma. She had kept in touch with Sells since then— even buying his suits for the trial.
Defense notes said that venire member twenty-four was an “IDIOT” who “misunderstands the difference between probability and possibility with possibility being more likely than not.” He was not the only potential juror with confusion on this issue.
Number thirty-seven claimed she was unemployed, yet she listed a work number on her questionnaire. She stated that she had learned a lot from Unsolved Mysteries, but swore she did not have a TV and did not believe in cable.
Sells passed another note to Gonzales. “See I messed up my family, Mom, Tim, Jim, Randy. I believe beyond fixing. God blessed me with another family and I messed that up as well. That’s what got me into this mess.”
A mutual challenge was made to dismiss venire member forty. He was an emergency room nurse who had treated Krystal Surles during her brief stopover at Val Verde Medical Center. He was also the one who had drawn blood from Sells for testing after his arrest.
Potential juror number forty-two seemed to have followed the case with an abnormal intensity. He also admitted to multiple viewings of The Faces of Death, a controversial video filled with images of actual deaths of real people.
The State challenged venire member forty-six because he did not think Tommy Lynn Sells was capable of committing this crime. The State’s challenge was denied, but he was excused after a peremptory strike.
The defense wrote, “This woman is a Neo-Nazi” about potential juror number seventy-seven. They challenged her because she believed the defense had to present evidence of innocence. The challenge was upheld.
Of number seventy-nine, they wrote, “Mormon— Blood Atonement!” They challenged him for being combative and evasive, but the judge denied them. They needed to use one of their peremptory strikes, a defense team’s one tool for unilaterally disqualifying potential jurors.
Sells commented to Garcia on his notepad. “You will be a hated man before this is over with.”
“I was hated the day I took your case but that is okay. I don’t care. If they get in trouble, they will want somebody like me who is not a nice guy,” he responded.
“You are a nice guy. I have never not liked you.”
“Thanks but I mean they want somebody that can fight in court and not lie down.”
“It’s me I don’t like.”
“I can’t help that,” Garcia wrote.
While potential juror number 105 was on the stand, Sells scratched a note to Gonzales, “Low Blow. J
udge called Bobby a balloon-headed man.”
In a capital case, selection of a jury is a high-stakes game. Inevitably, contention arose. Garcia requested the opportunity to question all the potential jurors about their attitudes on parole. He asserted that the jurors had a right to know that if they gave Sells a life sentence, he would have to serve a minimum of forty years’ imprisonment before he would be eligible for parole. Judge George Thurmond denied his request. Garcia raised this objection repeatedly throughout the process.
Sells sent a note covering the front of three green Post-it notes to Jessica:
I’m afraid. I’m not afraid of this court. I’m afraid I won’t have you no more. I know you keep telling me I don’t have nothing to worry over. I’m just afraid.
I feel like going crazy. Do you want to come with me? I will try to call again tonight, 7 to 9. I’m sorry I could not call last night till so late. But I did try. Will you try and call the sheriff and see if we can have lunch at the same time at the jail? Love you.
Bobby keeps trying to tell me I don’t need to be looking at you or talking with you. Because other people don’t like it. I keep telling him, Oh well, I love you so I can’t keep from it.
Jessica’s response covered the backs of the sheets Sells sent. She added one additional page that she covered front and back.
Tommy, XOXOXOXO Please believe me you don’t have anything to worry about. I love you. I will always be there no matter what happens. Just promise me you will stay with me no matter what. Nothing’s wrong, baby. I promise. I’m just trying to be patient waiting for the Lord to do something or show me what he’s gonna do.
I’m just here holding on just like you and honestly pray I never lose you. I love you! You know even your mom knows that. That’s why she doesn’t wonder about me. I just wonder why you don’t want me to do anything with your brother. You know if he was going to stay with me also. Did you think he was going to hurt me? I know it’s not jealousy. Ha! Ha! He doesn’t even like me. Ha! Ha! But anyway, you have nothing to worry about. I love you. Your wife, Jessie.
Through the Window: The Terrifying True Story of Cross-Country Killer Tommy Lynn Sells (St. Martin's True Crime Library) Page 14