Once Fernandez gathered his information, he looked out his car window. He was surprised to see another car pull up directly behind the restaurant. This was quite unusual, as the restaurant did not officially open until lunch, so there were never any employees on the premises at this time of morning. Hernandez looked up to see who it was, but the driver did not get out of the car. Hernandez turned his attention back to his paperwork. When he glanced up again, he saw a man outside the parked vehicle standing in between the car and the Dumpster at the back of the restaurant.
The morning glare of the sun prevented Fernandez from getting a close look.
The restaurant manager looked down to the other driver’s feet. He was shocked to see a body there. He believed the other driver was staring back at him; however, he could not be certain. Fernandez had dark tint on all of his windows, so it was difficult to make out the driver’s expression.
Fernandez was frightened, so he looked back down at his papers. He was afraid he would attract the attention of the driver.
The man by the Dumpster jumped back into his small light-blue vehicle and hightailed it out of the restaurant parking lot. Fernandez could tell the man was white and had dark hair. But that was all he saw.
Fernandez didn’t know what to do and panicked. Once he knew the driver had taken off, he turned his attention back to the Dumpster behind his restaurant. He stepped out of his car and headed over to the trash area. As he walked up to the area, he noticed what could only be described as a human pretzel.
A young teenage girl’s mangled body lay on her back next to the curb by the Dumpster. Her blue jean Capri-clad legs were splayed out to her left, with her right leg crossing over her left leg at the ankles. She wore a pink interlaced woven shoe on her left foot, but no shoe on her right. Her left leg, which lay under her right leg, was bent up at a 115-degree angle, with her knee pointing toward her left shoulder and the left side of her face. Her left arm had snaked under her bent left knee and appeared to be grasping the side of the jeans on her right leg. The girl’s upper half was covered with a short-sleeved white half-shirt, with an exposed midriff. Lying in between her stomach and left thigh was her right shoe. Apparently, the man, who had so deliberately disposed of her body, had almost forgotten one of her shoes and tossed it on her as he sped off. The girl’s right arm was also extended above her head, with a slight bend at the elbow, which touched the curb.
Fernandez bent down to take a closer look at the young blond girl. He noticed that she seemed a little puffy, especially around the lips, which were discolored, like sour milk. He also noticed an abrasion underneath her right nostril, as well as a few scratches on the lower portion of her right cheek. Her left eye appeared swollen and purplish. Fernandez also noticed a bright red contusion that seemed to stretch around her neck like a coral snake.
He knelt toward the young girl.
“Are you okay?” he asked the dead girl. “Of course she’s not,” he muttered aloud. “Stupid.”
Fernandez bolted up from the body, unlocked the back door, disarmed the restaurant security system, and went into his office. He picked up the phone and, still in shock, dialed 411.
“Information. What do you want?” the voice on the other end of the line asked.
Fernandez was confused. He meant to call for help. “Oh, my goodness,” he declared as he realized his mistake. “I’m sorry.” He hung up the phone and slowly dialed 911.
When the emergency operator answered his call, Fernandez stated, “I want to report a dead body outside of my restaurant.” He proceeded to give as many details about the dead girl as he could.
Houston police officers were summoned to the scene and arrived soon thereafter. Fernandez told the officers about the other driver, but added that he did not get a clear look at his face or his vehicle. Fernandez felt bad that he could not provide better information for the officers. He looked toward the body of the young girl. He had no idea who she was, but he felt sorry for her.
The three officers dispatched to the scene at Ninfa’s were Jim Ramsey, Larry Boyd Smith, and John Swaim.
Swaim received the call sometime between 7:15 and 7:30 A.M. He arrived on the scene, along with Smith and Ramsey, around 8:40 A.M. Swaim met with a patrol officer, a police supervisor, a sergeant, two paramedics, and a county medical examiner. After conferring with the various personnel involved at the scene, Swaim learned that the girl had been strangled and that her body had only been recently dumped. Swaim also learned that rain fell on the premises at 7:50 A.M. and that a piece of plastic had been placed over the victim’s body to preserve any potential evidence.
Swaim approached the still-visibly-shaken Homer Fernandez. He listened as the manager retold the story of discovering the young girl’s body.
Swaim then went over to check out the corpse. The plastic had already been removed from the body. As Swaim stepped in, he could see the red abrasions around the girl’s neck. Despite the lack of a ligature, everyone at the scene agreed that she died from strangulation.
Swaim took a closer look at the body. He noticed that the young girl had three rings on her left hand and a thin gold watch on her left wrist. She wore a pair of matching earrings that looked like Indian headdresses with tiny crosses attached to the bottoms. She wore a pendant picture holder, with no photograph inside. She also wore two necklaces, one with the letter L. Swaim concluded that the young girl probably had not been robbed.
Swaim also noticed some black marks on her denim jeans, but he was unable to identify the marks. Also, the pockets of her pants had not been pulled out. Her shirt had been pushed up above her abdomen and partially covered her neck. The young girl’s bra was in place but it was unlatched in the back.
The patrol officers also discovered a purse curled in between her arms. Inside, they were able to find some identification, specifically, a Metro bus pass. The young girl lying before Swaim was fifteen-year-old Laurie Lee Tremblay.
CHAPTER 29
Laurie Tremblay was born on September 17, 1971. Her mother, Katherine Tremblay, turned twenty years old just three days before Laurie was born. Laurie’s father left them early on and allegedly never looked back.
Laurie lived with her grandmother in Lake Linden, in the upper peninsula of Michigan, until she was ten years old, because her mother had fallen on hard times. But Laurie loved the open countryside of Lake Linden with its nature trails and beautiful landscapes, and since it was located close to Lake Superior, she was always up for a fishing trip.
When she turned ten, Laurie was able to join her mom. Katherine worked three different jobs to get her daughter down to Houston, Texas, including work at the Ice Capades.
Laurie liked Houston well enough, but she often longed to return to Michigan. She did, however, try to make the best of her time while in Texas. During her preteen years she seemed fairly well adjusted. She did well in school and stayed out of trouble.
By the time high school rolled around, however, things started to change. She grew more despondent; she became less fond of school and started slacking off in her studies. She started hanging out with a crowd that had a negative influence on her behavior. It all culminated in spring 1986 when Laurie was taken out of Robert E. Lee High School and sent for the following fall semester to an alternative-education institution called the Hope Center for Youth, located on the 4000 block of Yoakum Boulevard, in the central southwest side of Houston.
David Winship, executive director of Hope Center for Youth, described the center as “a private, nonprofit facility for junior and senior high-school students who are emotionally disturbed or delinquent or have experienced behavioral problems.” Katherine Tremblay believed that her daughter was not a problem child but just that she underperformed in math and that was why she had to transfer to the Hope Center for Youth.
Laurie started school at the Hope Center on September 2, 1986. Her mother was concerned because she believed her daughter suffered from low self-esteem and would have a hard time making new friends.
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But Laurie seemed to make friends. Dr. Gary Blackburn, the director of Hope Center, noted that she seemed popular with her classmates in the short time she was there.
Laurie was an attractive young girl. She stood five feet nine inches and weighed 133 pounds. Her mother described her hair as “dishwater blond” that was very thick and hung down to her shoulders. She had blue eyes and kept herself in good shape.
Other than having to take a Houston Metro bus to school, everything seemed to be working out just fine for Laurie.
CHAPTER 30
Friday, September 26, 1986, 6:30 A.M.,
12700 block of Whittington Boulevard,
Whittfield Apartments,
Houston, Texas.
Katherine and Laurie Tremblay spent the previous evening working together on Laurie’s homework. It was the first time the two had fun on such a project. After they finished, Laurie’s mom made her daughter a sack lunch that consisted of a bologna sandwich and some pie. Katherine kissed her daughter good night and smiled as Laurie headed off to bed.
The memory helped Katherine Tremblay sleep soundly until the morning. She could hear her daughter getting ready in the bathroom; however, she remained in bed. She then heard a loud slam!
Katherine’s dreams were generally unpleasant. Her first thought was: Oh, my God, someone’s got her! She struggled in her hibernation-like state as she worried, Someone’s outside and I can’t wake up! The fear was so overwhelming that Katherine eventually did wake and bolted out of bed. She ran into the kitchen to try and find her daughter.
Laurie was already gone.
Katherine could see that her daughter had taken her lunch sack and purse. She then went outside on the porch, but her daughter was nowhere in sight. She came to her senses and realized that the door slam was just Laurie heading out for the morning to catch the city bus.
Katherine was frustrated that Laurie had to leave so early and she did not like the fact that Laurie had to take the City of Houston’s Metro Bus Service to get to school. She was currently at odds with the Houston Independent School District (HISD), since they would not pick her daughter up and take her to Hope Center. Laurie had been forced to walk two miles to get to the HISD bus stop nearest to their apartment. Instead of making that daily trek, Laurie’s mother insisted that she take the city bus. Laurie did not disagree.
Laurie started school at the Hope Center for Youth less than a month earlier. She seemed to like the school and her mother sensed that Laurie seemed to be breaking free from her shell—just a bit.
Laurie had left their apartment, walked into the parking lot, and made her way out the front gate, and onto Whittington Boulevard.
According to Katherine Tremblay, Laurie’s normal path would have been to walk out of the complex, take a right onto Whittington Boulevard, and head east toward Dairy Ashford Road, where she would take a left and head north. She would walk another quarter mile to the corner of South Dairy Ashford Road and the 12600 block of West Ella Drive, where a rather nondescript bench was located below a Metro bus sign and in front of a mini-strip mall, which included a food mart and a dry cleaner.
When Katherine left to catch Laurie, it was still dark outside.
CHAPTER 31
Saturday, October 25, 2003, 12:08 A.M.,
Houston Police Department,
Interrogation Room #6,
1200 Travis Street,
Houston, Texas.
Sergeant John Swaim could not believe his ears. Somehow, he kept his composure as Shore told him about his first murder. Swaim wanted to be sure to get every last bit of information from Shore’s confession, so he turned on his cassette recorder on the table and asked the polite, intelligent man to tell his story.
The following text is the transcript from the actual interrogation of and confession on tape by Anthony Allen Shore in regard to the murder of Laurie Tremblay:
John Swaim (JS): Alright Tony, I’m gonna turn the tape on right now. This is Sergeant John Swaim, Houston Police Homicide. I’m here in Homicide Division, 1200 Travis Street. I’m talking to Tony Shore.
Tony Shore (TS): Anthony—Allen—Shore.
JS: Right. Well, what I want to do, first of all, can I call you Tony?
TS: That’s fine. I just thought you want the record right. JS: Correct. Read you your legal warnings. And they’re, uh, 1 to 5.
Number 1: You have the right to remain silent and not make any statement at all and you know that any statement may be used against you and probably will be used against you at your trial.
Number 2: Any statement you make may be used as evidence against you in court.
Number 3: You have a right to have a lawyer being present and to advise you prior to and during questioning.
Number 4: If you are unable to employ a lawyer you have the right to have a lawyer appointed to advise you prior to and during your questioning.
Number 5: You have the right to terminate this interview at anytime.
Do you understand these warnings?
TS: Yes, sir. I do.
JS: Do you wanna waive these rights and tell me about, talk to me about some cases?
TS: Yes, sir.
JS: Okay. Let’s start with, let’s just start with the killing. TS: First is Laurie Ann [actually, Lee] Tremblay.
JS: Okay.
TS: I was living in Alfred’s house at the time. I was working for Southwestern Bell as a marketing representative. Actually, it might have been a service rep at the time. I was in the business office.
Every morning, I’d be going to work. Every morning this little girl asked me for a cigarette and I couldn’t stop laughing. I asked if she needed a ride. Then I gave her a ride. Then, a couple of days went by, she saw me, I gave her a ride again, to school. She had a long freakin’ ways from where she had to catch the bus. She was way, way up on Whittington in these apartments.
She and I became more than friends and that’s not braggin, it’s stating fuckin’ facts ’cause I understand she was not of age. And I’ve also been through a lot of sex offender treatment therapy at this time and I’m starting to understand some of the psychopathology behind my preoccupation. I know it is.
She and I became involved, at least in the sense of two things, I load her bags and I started to give her a ride on a semi-regular basis. Then, one morning, uh, she got to the bus really early, you know, and we got to ride around. There’s times I even stopped and we bought kolaches, but we had time to ride around and kick it. And, if they got off of work a little early, it got to be a fairly regular thing giving her a ride.
Then there was, uh, something happened, I don’t recall what with her, a couple a weeks there she didn’t want a ride. So, I guess she was, decided this was a fucked-up kind of little relationship that’s fucking juvenile but, anyway, she decided not to.
JS: Right.
TS: Then one day it was misting rain, she saw me, asked me for a ride and I didn’t want her to get more involved in this because it needed stopping. It started off okay and then she was freaked out . . . and I won’t deny it I was a sick puppy ’cause I was—
JS: What kind of vehicle did you have back then?
TS: Cadillac Cimarron. It was light in color. Had a dent in the panel on the driver’s side rear door.
JS: Okay. I was just curious. I’m sorry, go ’head.
TS: So, it got out of hand and she started freakin’ out and I begged her, I said, “Please don’t.” She’s like “no.”
I freaked out. I don’t know what came over me. What kind of sickness. I freaked out.
I had a wife, I had two daughters, living in this reasonably decent house that needed a lot of repairs but it was in a nice neighborhood and all this stuff. And I had a life and I couldn’t see it all thrown away. And I freaked out. And, uh, just wanted it to just stop.
Take a cotton cord that time.
JS: Okay.
TS: I remember it was cotton ’cause.... I tried to calm her down. She wouldn’t calm down. I remember trying to
knock her out and I hit her in the back of the head.
JS: Where were y’all at, in your car?
TS: Yeah, in the neighborhood somewhere between Briar Forest and Westheimer. I’m not even sure what streets, cross streets, but if I had to estimate, probably around Wilcrest, maybe, or even further up, maybe . . . I dunno. Somewhere in that ballpark.
JS: Move on.
TS: (Loud sigh)
JS: And then what happened?
TS: I undid her bra. Everything got outta hand. She freaked out. I remember we got into . . . I tried to knock her out because I just really freaked out. It’s not right and I just find it hard to talk about.
Took this cotton cord and I tried to make sure she would never, ever tell anybody. Even though I knew that was insane and I knew there was probably no chance in hell that I wasn’t gonna get found out ’cause I was stupid. The number of rides that I had given her, surely somebody seen us together, surely something.
And the cotton cord broke more than once. It wasn’t working. That’s all I knew.
JS: Did you use your hands?
TS: I used a cord, a ligature.
JS: I know, but did you use your hands on it?
TS: I used my hands. I injured my fingers.
JS: You did that in the car, is that correct?
TS: In the car.
JS: And then what after that?
TS: I panicked. Daylight came on and I didn’t know what to do. And I looked, I mean there was no way to make this go away. I stepped over the line. I knew I was fucked. I needed, this is a, I’m fucked for life and there’s nothing I can do to change it.
JS: Right.
TS: I was sick to my stomach. I even stopped at one point and threw up because I was sick. I had people passing by. I couldn’t believe nobody fucking saw shit. Nobody stopped to find out what was going on, anything.
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