Through the Window: The Terrifying True Story of Cross-Country Killer Tommy Lynn Sells (St. Martin's True Crime Library)

by Diane Fanning

  “Was there some reason why you couldn’t understand what she was saying?”

  “Because his hand was over her mouth,” she answered.

  “Whose hand was over her mouth?”

  A tiny, trembling finger containing the power of life and death rose in the air and pointed across the courtroom to Tommy Lynn Sells. “His hand,” she said.

  “The man in the blue jacket and glasses?”

  “Yes.” She stared hard at Sells, but his gaze remained transfixed on the surface of the desk. He would not raise his head and meet her eyes.

  “God help me here,” Sells wrote. “I’m falling apart. Help me. All I know to do is hang my head. I hate this.”

  “Let the record reflect that the witness has identified the defendant, Tommy Lynn Sells,” Hernandez noted. “Now, Krystal, if you need for me to stop at some point in time, I’ll stop. Describe to us what you saw when you opened your eyes and you were telling us you saw Katy and the defendant.”

  “The position they were in?” she asked.

  “Well, tell us what you saw, yes.”

  “Okay. He was standing behind her with his hand over her mouth and the knife right here.” She mimed holding a knife up to her own throat.

  “So he had a knife in his hand?”

  Krystal nodded and said, “Yes.”

  Hernandez had Krystal make a drawing of the room and put marks for the positions of all the players while he continued his questioning. “Now, describe to us what the defendant was doing with Katy at that point in time. You want to have a seat?”

  She sat down and her eyes darted left to right in confusion. “Can you repeat the question?”

  “When you saw Katy and the defendant standing over here where you have drawn, on the drawing that you have made, what was the defendant doing, and what was Katy doing?”

  “Katy was—He was . . .” Krystal’s face crumbled and her sobs echoed through the silent, intent courtroom. The court took a brief recess.

  “Help, Jessica. I pray you are praying for me,” Sells scratched on the paper.

  When they returned, Hernandez resumed his questioning. “We had been discussing the layout of the room that you [ . . . ] said that Katy had slept in that night. When you opened your eyes, you said, you saw Katy and the defendant standing sort of in a corner of the room, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Can you describe to us what was going on at that point in time?”

  “He had his hand over her mouth and the knife like this.” Once again Krystal raised her imaginary knife up to her neck.

  “When you say ‘he,’ you are referring to the defendant?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did Katy do? What was she doing, if anything?”

  “She was struggling.” Rays of pain radiated from Krys-tal’s small face and touched everyone in the courtroom.

  “Did she do anything else?”

  “She told me—She told me with her eyes to stay there and not move, just to lay there, and so I did.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I laid there. Oh, yeah, I laid there, but I still—I still could see. I laid there.”

  At the prosecuting attorney’s request, Krystal rose from the witness stand and got on his desk to demonstrate how she was lying down on the bed.

  “Was there anything else on the top bunk?” he asked her.

  “No.”

  “Were there any railings or anything?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she smiled as she corrected herself, “there were railings, yeah.”

  “So how much were you able to see from the top bunk as you were laying down like you just showed us? Were you able to see very much?”

  “No. I only could kind of see from here,” she placed her hand on her upper chest, “and up.”

  “So you saw Katy’s head and up, and the defendant’s head and up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you stay in the top bunk the entire time as you were observing what was going on?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened after Katy motioned with her eyes to you to stay still? What did you do?”

  “I just stayed there and watched.”

  “What happened next?”

  Her lip quivered, her eyes overflowed with pain. “He moved the knife and slit her throat.”

  The emotion of Krystal’s testimony wafted through the gallery. More than her family and friends were affected. Curious onlookers, court officials and desensitized members of the media were all feeling the tightening of a lump in the throat.

  “Fred has no heart pushing Krystal,” Sells wrote.

  Hernandez continued. “And then what? How did Katy react, or what happened to Katy?”

  “She just fell.”

  “Did she just fall down, anything in particular?”

  “She turned and grabbed the poster and fell.”

  At Hernandez’s instruction, Krystal stood, and walked across the room to demonstrate what she had just described.

  “Did Katy do anything else after you saw her fall?”

  “She started making really bad noises.”

  “And when you say ‘bad noises,’ “ Hernandez asked, “how would you describe them?”

  “She was gasping for air, but she couldn’t get any because there was all this blood, and it was just a really gurgling, icky sound.”

  She returned to her diagram to point out the position of Katy’s body. When she took her seat, Hernandez asked, “What were you thinking when the man was coming towards you?”

  “I was really scared, and I didn’t know what to do.” Her breathing became shallower as she relived the moment in her mind.

  “Did you say anything to him?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I said, ‘I won’t say nothing, I promise. I’m not making noises. I won’t say nothing. I’ll be quiet. It’s Katy making the noises.’ “ Her lips twisted and her eyes turned away, welling with tears, as she fought to keep her emotions under control.

  “Jessica, I really need your help,” Sells scribbled across the paper. “Let’s go to heaven. This one’s killing me.”

  “Okay,” Hernandez responded. “[ . . . ] Did he say anything to you after you told him that?”

  “He said, ‘Move your hands.’ “ She blinked her eyes shut and held them tightly closed as she swallowed hard.

  “And why did he say, ‘Move your hands’? Will you show us how you had your hands?”

  She put her hands around her neck in a protective position. “I had them up like this.”

  “You had your hands up on—close to your neck?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell us why you had your hands up close to your neck?”

  “Because I saw what he did to Katy, and I was scared he was going to do it to me.” Sobs escaped between every word. Krystal trembled uncontrollably, but still persevered.

  “And what happened when he got to the top bunk next—where you were at?” Hernandez queried.

  “He reached over the ledge and cut my throat,” she said in a trembling voice.

  “What did you do then?”

  “Just laid there and pretended I was dead.”

  “And tell us why you did that.”

  “Because if he knew I was alive, he would have come back and killed me for sure.” The horror of reliving that moment contorted her face.

  Krystal’s testimony continued, detailing her flight to the Betzes’ home and the arrival of EMS.

  “Do you remember anything after that?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head as if she could shake loose a memory.

  “Now a little while ago, when you said the defendant had cut your throat, do you know what he used to cut you with?”

  “A knife.”

  “And you saw that?”

  “Yes.”

  “The same one that he used to cut Kaylene?”

  Her lip quivered, her eyes blin
ked, she struggled to force out the answer. “Yes.”

  After a short recess, it was time for cross-examination. Victor Garcia was very brief.

  “I just have a couple of questions, Your Honor. Thank you.” He turned to address Krystal. “I was not given the opportunity to talk to you before, but I’m really sorry for you having to go through this. You understand that Tommy Sells has pleaded guilty to hurting you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “You are a brave young woman. Thank you. No more questions.”

  KRYSTAL is a hero to many who were inside the courtroom and in the world beyond its doors. But Krystal has a list of heroes, too. Chief among them is Herb Betz, a retired military man and the next person to take the stand.

  “I opened the door to see why she was there,” Herb said.

  “And what happened when you opened the door?”

  “Well, when I opened the door, with her right hand she was pointing at her throat, and of course she . . .” He cleared his throat to choke down his emotional response. “Once I opened the door, I could tell she was covered with blood from her head all the way to her feet, and with her pointing at her throat, I could see this huge slash across her throat, and her little eyes were just looking at me, saying— seemed to me—saying ‘Help me.’ “

  “He’s killing me!!” Sells scratched on his legal pad.

  Hernandez asked Betz, “Describe to us the wound, as you saw it, to her throat area.”

  “Well, the best I can describe it, it was from about here to here,” Herb gestured from one side of his neck to the other, “and that’s all I could see was the one wound, because there was so much blood and—Well, I guess the windpipe is about this size,” he circled his thumb and forefinger together. “And you could see the top part of it and the bottom part of it, because it was completely cut.”

  “So you were able to physically see the top part and bottom part of the windpipe?”

  “Yes, sir.” Herb continued on, recounting his time communicating with Krystal that night.

  Then Hernandez asked, “What was Krystal’s physical condition before EMS arrived?”

  “I would say a minute or two before they arrived, Krystal started shaking. She was going into shock.”

  “And did that last very long?”

  “Yeah, long time, even after the paramedics arrived, she was still in shock.”

  Hernandez asked Herb about the arrival of the paramedics and his discussion with the deputies. Then he asked one final question.

  “Did you do anything else?”

  “Cried a lot,” Betz responded.

  The defense had no questions.

  But Sells had a complaint. “You said we’re doing good. Yeah, right. They’re done killed me. You should go now to part two.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  THE next day, trial testimony shifted from emotional presentations to the hard facts. The first witness called was Texas Ranger Johnny Allen. He strode to the stand on his lanky legs. His weatherworn face was chiseled around sharp blue eyes that looked as if they could stare down the sun if it didn’t set on time.

  “Tell us how you began your questioning, your investigation as far as trying to collect information from Crystal Harris,” the prosecutor requested.

  “At that point in time, she wasn’t fully aware that the body inside was actually Kaylene’s body. Of course, she was frantic, in a horrible state of mind emotionally, and I just began trying to ask her questions, like any information she might have that would help us. At that point in time is when we discovered and were told that Terry Harris had left the evening before for Kansas.”

  Allen related the arrival of the crime-scene techs to process the site, and the hours he spent by their side.

  “Were you able to finish the processing of the crime scene on that particular day, the thirty-first?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Up until the time that the crime scene had been processed, did you have any type of suspect, or have any idea who had been responsible for what occurred out there?”

  “We had not a clue; no, sir, did not.”

  “What did you do after the crime scene was processed?”

  “It lasted several hours, up until, I believe, after dark. By that time Terry Harris had arrived back in Del Rio from Kansas. We had an interview with Mr. Harris,” the Ranger answered.

  “Were you able to get any type of information from Mr. Harris that aided you in trying to figure out what had happened out there, who was responsible for it?”

  “No, sir, sure was not. Mr. Harris as well was visibly upset, extremely angry and emotional as well.”

  “So after you interviewed Mr. Harris you still don’t have any idea who is responsible?”

  “No, sir.” Allen then told the jury that after arriving home about midnight, he and Investigator Pope left Del Rio at 5 A.M. the next morning. They headed straight to the forensic center in San Antonio to view the autopsy; then, they went to University Hospital to talk to Krystal Surles.

  “How did you begin questioning her or trying to communicate with her?”

  “Well, first of all we [ . . . ] introduced ourselves, explained what we were doing, that we were investigating the crime and that we were just there to try and get any information we could out of her, if it would, you know, be beneficial to our investigation.”

  “Did she seem to understand—”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “—the questions? How did you proceed after you let her know what you were there for?”

  “A lot of questions [ . . . ] just required a yes or no. She was able to move her head. We first started off trying to get some just general physical description of the suspect, but at that point in time we were aware that she had seen what occurred and apparently did eyewitness the murder and her assault as well.” A half grin of admiration dashed across his face as he thought about the brave girl he first met in a hospital bed.

  “How were you able to get that information, whatever information you needed in order to continue with your investigation? What did you do?”

  “Through questions and answers with Krystal.”

  “And did you, in fact, make questions, and she provided the answers to you?”

  “Correct.”

  “Now, once you were able to communicate with Krys-tal via these manners, whether it be with nods or yeses or nos, or she wrote something down, what did you do with that information she provided to you?”

  “Of course, we kept written information down that she was able to provide us, and once we finally reached a point where she just about provided all the information she could as far as a general physical description on what his hair length, hair color, facial hair, et cetera, her mother was standing there the whole time, and we walked out into the hallway where Doug Luker, which would have been the fiance of Krystal’s mother, and [ . . . ] had a conversation with him, interviewed him on any information he could possibly have. At that point in time, I let it be known to him that general description of what Krystal was able to provide for us.”

  “So up to that point you are telling us that Krystal was able to give you a general description of what she saw, who she saw?”

  “I wouldn’t say it was a general description,” Allen said with a grin. “It was a pretty good description.”

  “And how was she able to describe him to you?”

  “Five-eight, brown hair, beard, past-collar–length hair, Anglo.”

  Sells wrote to mitigation specialist Vince Gonzales, “The juror in the first row, second seat, looks at me and shakes his head. Green shirt and glasses. Am I supposed to look at them?”

  “Yes. But always turn away,” Gonzales answered.

  After clarifying some details with Hernandez, Allen continued, “Mr. Luker made a comment, it sounds almost as if she’s explaining or describing a man that we had talked to at a Diamond Shamrock the evening we were leaving to go to Kansas.”

  “So it sounded to you like Luker had a
lready seen this person that was being described?”

  “Correct. Yes, sir.” Allen completed his testimony by detailing the identification of Sells, the preparation of a probable cause affidavit, the procurement of an arrest warrant and the arrest of Tommy Lynn Sells.

  “I’m just getting the shit beat out of me,” the defendant noted.

  LIEUTENANT Larry Pope, investigator for the Val Verde Sheriff’s Department, was the next to testify. He had a lean, rangy look and a pugilistic stance. He looked like he’d be far more comfortable chasing down perpetrators on the run than confined in a stuffy courtroom.

  He confirmed the statements of Ranger Allen and detailed the handling of the chain of evidence recovered from the scene. He explained the mystery of the bloody footprint on the linoleum. Initially, it was assumed to be Sells’ footprint, but when that didn’t match, they gathered up shoes from sheriff’s department personnel, police officers, DPS techs—from everyone they could place at the scene. Eventually, they found Dexter Tooke, an emergency medical technician who was on the scene that night. It had taken a while because he had changed jobs on January 1. His shoes matched the footprint.

  Pope’s testimony included only one surprise. It came with this question from Prosecutor Hernandez: “What kind of drugs were found in the Harris trailer?”

  He answered, “During the search of the trailer, I found some marijuana residue, a package of rolling papers and a little pipe you can use to smoke marijuana in, and they were inside a saucer.”

  After his testimony, Sells jotted a note to his attorney. “Pope and Allen said I showed no remorse in the afternoon or that night. I called my mom crying my eyes out.”

  DR. Jan Garavaglia, Bexar County Medical Examiner, started her testimony with a description of Kaylene’s body. “She was a well-developed, well-nourished post-pubertal young white female. She’s sixty-three inches in length, five-foot-three, one hundred and fourteen pounds. She looked like she was about thirteen. She’s dressed in a kind of oversized pink tee shirt that’s torn on the front. It is blood-soaked. There is multiple defects in the tee shirt. There is a bra beneath the tee shirt, black bra. The clasp is broken on the front, and also there is a stab wound to the front of the bra. No panties are on the body. There is a necklace about the neck with a little dragonfly medallion and a wrist-watch which had the correct time.”