Season of Madness

by Robert Scott

  Wally told a reporter that soon after it was learned that his daughter had been murdered, friends and coworkers didn’t know what to say to him. So, one by one, they abandoned him. “They never said, ‘Hey, you want to unload?’ The only ones that I had to talk to was family. To me, the only person that can give forgiveness is the primary party, or God. And Linda’s not here to give forgiveness.”

  Sharon, mother of eleven-year-old Annette Selix, would also be attending the hearing, although she was still too traumatized to speak. In her place David Tidwell and Linda Hines, Sharon’s sister, would speak out at the hearing. Sharon told a journalist, “I’m not eager to do it, but I’m welcoming it because it’s the finalization. He’s only got thirteen more days. I’ll bet he’s sweatin’ now. And I hope he is.”

  Two of the rape victims planned to be there, and other rape victims would have their statements read. One more person was coming because, by chance, he’d read about it in the Santa Rosa Press Democrat. He was Burton Adams, who had been seven years old in July 1978 when Pam Moore, his sister, was murdered by Darrell Rich.

  In 2000, Burton Adams was a mechanic in Rohnert Park. He planned to take a four-hour bus ride to Sacramento on the day of the hearing. Before that occurred, Burton said, “Darrell Rich has had jail for twenty-two years. He only let my sister live seventeen. When I think of my sister, I remember the day my mom told me. It was the first time she and my dad went to one of my soccer games. She was crying her eyes out, bawling in the stands. As we drove home, she said Pam has been murdered.”

  The family had never followed the trial, and it wasn’t until January 2000 that Burton realized Darrell was on death row. Burton was sitting down at a restaurant and picked up a copy of a local newspaper. Scanning the front page, he saw a story about a Petaluma girl who had been murdered twenty-two years earlier. Burton glanced at a photo on the side of the page and was stunned. It was a photo of Pam.

  Burton said later, “That was rough. I had a bad second-half of my day. Now I want to look him [Darrell Rich] in the eyes. It may not be good for me, but I don’t sleep well, as it is.” Burton also said he planned to rent a Hollywood movie that depicted an execution so that he’d get a sense of what it was like.

  On March 6, 2000, the BPT held its hearing; and one after another—victims and family members of victims—made their statements. Two of Darrell’s rape victims were there, and one of them had a victim’s rights advocate read her statement. Throughout most of the statement, the rape victim sobbed and held her hands over her face. Her statement detailed how the sexual assault had haunted her life. Even in the relationship with her husband, she wrote, We are never alone. Darrell Rich is always there between us.

  Linda Slavik’s brother said, “The ramifications of Darrell Rich’s crimes linger to this day.” And Burton Adams, Pam Moore’s brother, was very angry. He stated, “The punishment is far too late and far too lenient. I think they should take him to that dump and use a rock.”

  Family members of Annette Selix brought framed photos of Annette to the hearing. Linda Hines, who was Annette’s aunt, said, “My sister sees her baby being abducted, sodomized, raped and tortured until she was thrown from a bridge while still alive. We’ve been unjustly sentenced to twenty-two years of hell. Please, please, put all of us out of our much-prolonged misery.”

  Darrell’s defense team didn’t attend the hearing, out of respect for the victims’ families. They already had their arguments before the board in writing. There were a few anti–death penalty speakers there, however. One of these was Reverend John Marsh, of San Francisco. He began by saying, “By executing Darrell Rich, we are teaching our children we can solve problems by killing people.” Many of the family members of victims stood up and walked out of the hearing at that point.

  Even after the hearing had concluded, Burton Adams was still wound up and agitated. He told a reporter that before coming to the hearing, he “tried to write something down, but I couldn’t. I said about one-tenth of what I wanted to say. My mom asked me what I plan on taking from the execution. I told her, ‘Sleepless nights and nightmares.’ I don’t think I’m going to get any closure. I’ll just get the knowledge that they’ve taken away his memory of what he did.”

  In the end this hearing, like all other previous hearings, went against Darrell Rich. The planned execution was to go forward, and the only person who would be able to stop it now was California governor Gray Davis.

  Yet, as in so many things in this case, controversy and anger were far from over. It was learned that Darrell, if executed, planned to be buried next to his mother in the Cottonwood Cemetery. This would place his grave only one hundred feet away from his victim Annette Selix.

  When people of the region heard about this, they were outraged. The cemetery’s office, Cottonwood Cemetery District, was deluged with angry phone calls trying to prevent such a thing from happening. Other people phoned Assemblyman Dick Dickerson’s office, trying to see if state law or new legislation could prevent a murderer from being buried near his victim.

  Finally the firestorm was calmed by Darrell Rich himself. He let it be known that he would no longer seek to be buried in the Cottonwood Cemetery if he was executed. He was to be buried in some undisclosed location. And as a further irony, his mother’s body would be exhumed, just as Annette Selix’s body had once been exhumed from that same cemetery. Then Lillie Rich’s casket would be reinterred, next to that of Darrell’s, in some undisclosed burial plot.

  To all of this, Sharon Tidwell said, “I’m so very happy. We just got through with the clemency hearing. That’s all I needed—another knife in the heart!”

  There was one last hearing on an important issue, and this concerned Darrell Rich’s wishes to have a sweat lodge ceremony before being escorted to the death chamber at San Quentin. Darrell wrote in a document that without the sweat bath: I will not be spiritually purified to enter the Spirit World, and my spirit will not successfully pass over to the Spirit World.

  Darrell’s lawyers contended that to deny him this sweat lodge ceremony was to deny him his constitutional rights. Darrell’s new attorney James Thomson argued, “To prepare himself spiritually for death and entry to the Spirit World, Young Elk needs to participate in the Sacred Sweat Lodge Ceremony. It is required of adherents of his faith.”

  The prison warden and even California’s deputy attorney general Carlos Martinez were against it. The warden of San Quentin State Prison cited security reasons. According to Warden Jeanne Woodford, the sweat lodge would require several hours, the use of hot rocks and a shovel. She said there was too great an opportunity for violence in such a situation.

  Carlos Martinez stated, “Darrell Rich is just trying to delay the execution with the sweat lodge. To do so would be really cruel to the families of his victims.”

  Warden Woodford noted, “Prayers for one’s trespasses can be accomplished in any setting.” She would allow Darrell to have two spiritual advisers with him, Richard Williams and Henry Adams, in the deathwatch cell from 6:00 P.M. until almost midnight. Darrell would also be allowed to keep one sacred eagle feather with him when he was put to death, and one spiritual adviser would be allowed to wear two eagle feathers in his hair and place a medicine bag around the adviser’s neck. And in the days before his execution was set, Darrell would be allowed to use a private conference room, where he and the spiritual advisers, friends and family could sing, pray, meditate, play drums and perform a sacred pipe ceremony.

  Eventually a federal court turned down the request for a sweat lodge ceremony, and an appeal on this matter, sent clear up to President Bill Clinton, was not answered by the Oval Office.

  Chapter 25

  The Final Hour

  As if dressed for a funeral, thirty family members of victims met at a Novato hotel and ate dinner at 6:00 P.M. on March 14, 2000, at a local Mexican restaurant. One of those in attendance was Christopher Slavik, Linda’s son, who had been nine years old when his mother was murdered in 1978. Christopher t
old a reporter, “I’ve been dreaming about this day for twenty-two years.”

  While they ate dinner, the group was briefed by representatives from the state attorney general’s office, who explained what would happen when they arrived at San Quentin Prison. Meanwhile, in his prison cell, Darrell Rich was having his final meal of broth, papaya juice and Gatorade to purify himself in hopes that he might still have a ritual sweat bath before execution. The entire prison went into lockdown as Darrell had his final meal.

  When dinner was over, Darrell was taken to a cell near the death row office, strip-searched and scanned with a metal detector. Then he was taken to a deathwatch cell, and was given new underwear, socks, jeans, blue work shirt and hospital slippers.

  After their dinner at the Mexican restaurant, the victims’ family members were caravanned to San Quentin. They entered at the opposite side of the prison from where anti–death penalty protestors were already gathering. Some of those protestors had walked clear across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco to be there. As more and more protestors gathered in front of the prison, media trucks began to arrive for live coverage. By nine o’clock at night, the crowd had reached about 250 in number. As the hours went on, the number would swell to around 750.

  March 2000, twenty-two years after his crimes in the summer of 1978,

  Darrell Rich’s days were nearly over. (Mug shot)

  Lance Lindsey, the executive director of Death Penalty Focus, told a Redding Record Searchlight reporter, “Look at this huge ritual—massive trucks—this whole huge affair, just to kill a man. It’s a senseless, meaningless act of revenge that might feel good to some, but doesn’t make us a better people.”

  Another protestor, Amy Enslow, said, “When the state kills a person, they’re doing it in our name. In the public’s name. We don’t want to endorse that.”

  By 10:15 P.M., Darrell’s lawyers had exhausted all their legal appeals. Two spiritual advisers stayed with Darrell after his meal; one of them left at 10:30 P.M. A hoped-for stay of execution from Governor Gray Davis was not to be. Davis said, “Darrell Rich acted in a callous and almost unbelievably brutal manner.”

  Darrell’s last spiritual adviser left him at 11:25 P.M. Now it was only a matter of time before he was ushered into the place of execution, where he would be strapped to a gurney.

  Meanwhile, the victims’ family members watched all the proceedings inside and outside the prison on television monitors. Then, just before midnight, fifty individuals of press, judiciary and select family members were taken to a gallery to be execution witnesses. Six of these fifty were family members: four of murder victims and two women who had been raped by Darrell Rich in 1978. Also present were Shasta County district attorney McGregor Scott, Ben Lambert, who had been a lead SCSO detective on the case, and Grant Baker, whose father, Robert Baker, had been special prosecutor during Darrell’s trial. Robert Baker was now deceased. One of Linda Slavik’s brothers let it be known that he was going to visit Linda’s grave after the execution and tell her that she could now rest in peace.

  The group was admonished to remain absolutely silent as they waited for five large curtains to open. Then shortly after midnight, March 15, 2000, guards pulled away the curtains, revealing Darrell lying faceup on a gurney, arms and legs secured with thick straps.

  In the front row of the gallery, Burton Adams sat with the other five who were so closely tied to the cases of 1978. There was absolute silence, except for one rape victim, who had a coughing fit. She was comforted by the other members of that group of six.

  Darrell was dressed in a new pair of denim pants and work shirt. There was one eagle feather placed on Darrell’s chest. At 12:06 A.M., a lethal dose of three chemicals began making their way through tubes attached to Darrell’s arms. The lethal dose of drugs included sodium pentothal, pancuronium bromide and potassium chloride. Outside, many protestors were chanting and singing hymns. A group of Native Americans rhythmically beat a drum—drumming Darrell Rich out of life.

  Just before 12:13 A.M., Darrell, who now called himself Young Elk, uttered his last word to a prison guard, who stood nearby. All Darrell said was “Peace.”

  The eagle feather on his chest ceased moving. Darrell Keith Rich was no more.

  Afterword

  Twelve years after Darrell Rich’s execution, the scenes of his crimes are now peaceful and serene. Not one person in a thousand crossing the Churn Creek Bridge on Hartnell Avenue in Redding would suspect that his reign of terror began here on June 13, 1978. The creek flows quietly beneath the bridge and the surrounding vegetation makes the creek banks look like a park.

  On the other side of town, near the spot where Annette Edwards became Darrell’s first murder victim, it’s now the area of Redding’s most famous landmark, the Sundial Bridge. Created by famed architect Santiago Calatrava, of Spain, it is a pedestrian and bicyclist bridge across the Sacramento River, which connects both sides of Turtle Bay Exploration Park. It’s also billed as the world’s largest sundial because of its unique shape.

  Even the Igo dump area has a new peaceful quality about it. Just up the road is the Northern California Veterans Cemetery. In the distance the surrounding mountains are often capped with snow in the winter and early spring. Within the cemetery’s enclosure is buried Raymond Jacobs, one of the six United States Marines who raised the flag on Iwo Jima during the height of that fierce World War II battle.

  Perhaps the most serene of all is the cemetery where Darrell Rich’s youngest victim, Annette Selix, is laid to rest. A heart-shaped stone marks her grave, with hummingbirds embossed upon the stone. The simple words on the grave marker proclaim: Annette Lynn Selix—November 27, 1966–August 14, 1978. Ours to love for a little while.

  It’s peaceful now in the Cottonwood Cemetery where Annette Selix

  was laid to rest. (Author photo)

  Overhead, birds chirp in the trees and squirrels scamper about in a peaceful setting. It all seems very distant now from the days and nights when a shadowy assailant known as the Hilltop Rapist prowled the streets of Redding and its surrounding area, and no girl or young woman was safe.

  Ready for more exciting real-life crime drama? Keep reading to enjoy an exciting excerpt from Robert Scott’s next real-life thriller!

  Coming soon from Kensington Publishing Corp.

  Chapter 1

  Coos County, Oregon, February 7, 2010

  It was Super Bowl Sunday and millions of Americans all around the nation were gathered in front of their television sets. A party atmosphere pervaded many of those homes, replete with snacks and refreshments. It was no exception at a home in Coquille, Oregon, that Sunday. Coquille was a town situated along the banks of the Coquille River in an area of forest and farmland, not far from the Oregon Coast.

  Sixty-two-year-old Robin Anstey and her boyfriend, forty-eight-year-old Robert Kennelly, who generally went by the name Bob, were at a friend’s house for a Super Bowl party. And as luck would have it, Robin, Bob and their friend were in for a great game. The New Orleans Saints, which had been terrible for most of their forty-two years in the franchise, were on a red-hot streak now. They were playing one of the best teams of the past few years, the Indianapolis Colts. The quarterback for Indianapolis, Peyton Manning, was one of the decade’s greatest quarterbacks, but now he was being challenged by up-and-coming New Orleans rival Drew Brees.

  Right from the start it was an exciting and entertaining game, and Robin Anstey should have been riveted by the gridiron showdown like millions of other football fans were. That was not the case, however. Robin was afraid, and the person she was afraid of was her thirty-three-year-old son, Gabriel.

  Gabriel Morris, commonly known as “Gabe,” could be friendly, gregarious and charming. He was definitely intelligent and had even been a deputy sheriff for a while up in Idaho. Married to thirty-three-year-old Jessica, they had a cute four-year-old daughter named Kalea. The family appeared to be an advertiser’s dream of what a nice young family should look like.
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  But for the past few months, Gabe had become more and more erratic in his behavior. Gabe’s comments to his mother’s live-in boyfriend, Bob, were especially caustic. Gabe even began talking back to his mother in an angry and disrespectful tone. To make matters worse, Gabe was having serious financial problems, which only fueled his anger. Robin had encouraged Gabe and his family to move to Bandon, Oregon, where she and Bob lived, to try and make a clean start. Now she wondered if that had been such a good idea.

  Partway through the Super Bowl game, Robin’s friend who was hosting the party received a phone call from Gabe, asking to speak to his mother. The friend handed the receiver to Robin, and he could see her becoming more and more upset as the conversation continued. He even heard Robin say, “No, we’ve made plans here! We’re going to have to cancel dinner with you. We can have this conversation later!”

  When she hung up the phone, Robin turned to her friend and said in a distressed voice that Gabe was being very, very difficult. She added that he was angry a lot and took out his anger on her and Bob. And then Robin added one more chilling sentence: “I’m afraid to go home tonight.”

  The friend was alarmed by this comment, and told Robin, “Stay here tonight. We’ve just changed the sheets in the guest bedroom.”

  Robin just shook her head and replied, “No, we have to go home and take care of this.”

  The Saints went on to win the game in an exciting fashion, but there was now a dark cloud hanging over the household. It was nearly midnight when Robin and Bob said their good-byes and exited the door, getting ready to face whatever task lay before them, as far as Gabe was concerned. After they left, a thought passed through their friend’s mind, one that he would express out loud later: “The look on Robin’s face—you don’t see a mother afraid of her child like that. It’s not normal.”