The horrors that the women Wardrip was accused of killing had suffered had been vividly brought to life in the courtroom by the numerous forensic pathologists. Drs. Stilwell and Krauss had described the horrific deaths of Sims, Gibbs, and Taylor. Then the State called to the stand Dr. Fielder.
The petite doctor, dressed in a conservative dark suit and white blouse, began her testimony by telling the court that the body of Ellen Blau had been so badly decomposed that dental records had to be utilized in order to make a positive identification.
“On my external examination, I found the body was badly decomposed. Those changes were in part caused by the warm weather,” Dr. Fielder said. “The skin was tough. The body was exposed to animal predators and there appeared insect changes in the body.
“Animals had eaten away at the left leg and upper portion of the arm. The body had been exposed for twenty-one days in an open field. The changes in the body were consistent with a death in September. There wasn’t much skin on the face and only some on the right side of the body. There was a hole in the left side of the neck by the blood vessel. The outside surface of the skin showed no clear evidence of injury.”
“What do you mean by no evidence of injury?” Macha asked the pathologist.
“There were no foreign objects such as bullets or knives,” Dr. Fielder replied. “There were no broken or cut bones. The cartilage in the body was intact. There were animal artifacts found in the body, including in the genital area. It was obvious that something happened to the body before decomposing.”
“Did you take any swab samples from the body?” Macha asked. The seasoned prosecutor, who tried almost exclusively capital cases, was methodical in his approach to presenting evidence he wanted the jury to hear.
Dr. Fielder looked over the top of her glasses and stared at the prosecutor. “Trying to take swabs where nothing was there didn’t make sense,” Dr. Fielder said, referring to the condition of Blau’s body.
“Could you determine what caused the death of Ellen Blau?” Macha continued.
“Looking at the whole scene, Ellen Blau died of undetermined homicidal violence. A violent death inflicted by another person,” Dr. Fielder replied.
Before turning the witness over to the defense, Macha admitted into evidence the medical examiner’s report, State’s Exhibit 122.
As had become customary throughout the trial, John Curry had no questions.
The trial was clipping along at a speed that even surprised Barry Macha. If the trial continued at the pace he had set, the case would go to the jury by Friday.
“The State calls Shelly Kelly,” Macha said loudly.
Kelly, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties with reddish-brown hair and a medium build, was the cousin of Tina Kimbrew. Only thirteen months apart, the two young women had been more like sisters than cousins as they grew up in Vernon, Texas.
Macha asked Kelly to tell the jury what occurred on May 6, 1986.
A few of the jurors took long, deep breaths, as though bracing themselves for yet another barrage of facts and photos concerning the death of one more young North Texas woman.
“On May 5, 1986, Tina’s mom had back surgery in the Wichita Falls hospital,” Kelly began her account. “I went to see her May 6, 1986, with my grandmother. I drove my grandmother and Amy, my two-year-old daughter. We were at the hospital at two o’clock or three o’clock P.M. Tina was expected, but we didn’t see her. We assumed she was on her way to the hospital when there was no answer on the phone.
“My grandmother wanted to go by Tina’s apartment to check on her. ‘She needs to get up there and see her mom,’ my grandmother said. She had been there the night before and said she’d be back.
“We drove over to the Park Regency Apartments on Seymour Road. I had a key to Tina’s apartment. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Her car was there, so I thought she’d gotten a ride with someone.
“Amy had made a mess on her face from some candy. My grandmother said, ‘Let’s go in and clean Amy up.’
“The dog met me at the door, jumping up. I glanced to the right and noticed a table and lamp had been knocked over. I told my grandmother, ‘Look what that dog did to this apartment.’ Then I noticed Tina on the floor on her back. I thought she was unconscious. I thought she had fallen. I went straight over to her, but knew something was wrong. I grabbed Amy and backed up against the wall. Amy had seen Tina and my first reaction was to move my daughter. I was scared. Tina was faceup with one leg bent, leaning against the table. Her nightgown had been pulled up above her waist. I don’t recall if she had on anything under her gown. I just stared at her face in shock.
“My grandmother got on the floor and tried to wake her up. There were bruises on her face. My grandmother said, ‘Shelly, she’s dead. I can’t look at her like this, let’s get something to cover her up.’
“I got a sheet, covered her, then called the police,” Kelly continued.
“Did you touch anything?” Macha asked.
“No, I didn’t touch anything. I was in a state of shock. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat and waited for the police,” Kelly said, reliving her worst nightmare.
“Will you describe Tina Kimbrew for the jury?” Macha asked.
Tina’s mother dabbed her eyes with a tissue as she watched her niece talk about her only child, the daughter that Faryion Wardrip had ripped from her life.
“Tina was five-foot, seven-inches tall and about one hundred ten to one hundred and twelve pounds. She had brown hair and brown eyes. She was very petite,” Kelly said, remembering her pretty young cousin.
“Was Tina’s death difficult for you?” Macha inquired.
“To this day it’s the worse day of my life. It’s never gotten any better. It seems it’s always going to be there,” Kelly replied, her voice laced with sadness.
Shelly Kelly had done what she had been asked to do, tell the jury about Tina. She had held it together, for Tina. But as Kelly returned to her seat by Tina’s mother, she broke down and cried.
With no questions from Curry, William Stephen Pruitt, a nineteen-year veteran of the Wichita Falls Police Department, took the stand. As an investigator for the Crimes Against Persons Division in 1986, Pruitt had been called to Kimbrew’s apartment at the Park Regency Apartments.
Upon arrival, Pruitt had found another officer checking the body of a white female for life signs. Finding none, Pruitt had removed the sheet and noticed that the woman was wearing a light-colored nightgown. Her genitals were exposed, there was bruising on her face, neck and legs, and he’d noticed her panties close to her body.
Pruitt located a witness in the apartment complex who reported seeing a tall, lanky, white male wearing a ball cap knocking on Tina’s door earlier in the day. Then the description was put out over the television asking for information.
“Did the Wichita Falls police receive a phone call from the Galveston Police Department?” Macha asked.
“Yes, they said a white male subject had called the Galveston police threatening suicide. When they responded, they made contact with Faryion Wardrip,” Pruitt replied.
Macha asked Pruitt to tell the court what Wardrip had told the Galveston police.
“He made a statement admitting to killing Tina Kimbrew. He said he had struck her and beat her about the face, then strangled her. He said he had known her, that they met when he was a bouncer at the Stardust country-and-western club. He said he was the one described on TV. Then we went to Galveston to pick him up,” Pruitt said.
“Can you identify that man?” Macha asked.
Pruitt pointed to Faryion Wardrip sitting at the defense table next to Dorie Glickman.
“When did you take his statement?” Macha probed.
“We took his statement in Galveston. His hand had been injured, but he didn’t know how,” Pruitt said, continuing with a description of the injury to the hand as the knuckle of the middle finger and some bruising. “He told us his nickname was ‘Gonzo,’ but never told
us why.”
From the back of the courtroom, Bryce Wardrip flinched slightly. He recalled his brother telling him how he had gotten the unusual nickname from friends who thought he looked like the fictional character with the same name in the M*A*S*H* television series. Bryce bristled at the thought of Faryion believing he looked like a TV personality. It was so like Faryion to think he was important.
Bryce was having difficulty dealing with the trial and dealing with all the lies Faryion had told him and his family over the years. He was torn between family loyalty and seeing justice done. Faryion was his brother, but he believed that if a person did the crime, he should be punished. That included Faryion.
“Did he tell you he went out with Tina Kimbrew two times, but not again because he met other girls?” Macha queried.
“My recollection is two times,” Pruitt said.
The police detective then told jurors that, based on Wardrip’s statement to authorities, an arrest warrant was issued and he’d been taken back to Wichita Falls where their witness picked Wardrip’s picture out of a photo lineup.
“Did he indicate he knew Ellen Blau?” Macha asked.
“Yes, he indicated he knew Ellen Blau,” Pruitt said.
“Did he confess, plead guilty, and receive a thirty-five-year sentence?” Macha inquired.
“Correct.”
“He was never considered a suspect in the Sims, Gibbs, or Blau cases, is that correct?” Macha asked.
“He mentioned he knew Ellen Blau and that information was passed on to the Wichita County Sheriff’s Office for their investigation,” Pruitt explained.
As spectators hummed with the realization that the murders of Ellen Blau, and perhaps Sims and Gibbs as well, might have been solved fourteen years earlier if only the sheriff’s department had followed through with questioning Wardrip.
The State’s last witness of the day prepared to testify. Dr. Gillium, the pathologist who had performed the autopsy on Tina Kimbrew, took his oath to tell the truth. As Dr. Gillium talked passively about the compression of blood vessels in the neck, and how it had taken between ten and thirty seconds for Tina to have lost consciousness, Tina’s mother wiped tears from her eyes.
“You must keep applying pressure for several minutes to cause death,” Dr. Gillium explained, adding that Tina had known for some time what was happening to her.
Still photographs of Tina Kimbrew’s lifeless body were passed to the defense team for their review. Curry and Glickman studied the photos as their client looked away. Their investigator sat behind them.
Dana Rice remembered Tina Kimbrew well. They had gone to school together in Vernon, Texas. She remembered Tina’s father and his interest in Palomino horses, and Tina’s mother, the attractive woman who sat on the front row behind the prosecutors each day.
Dr. Gillium stepped down from the witness chair and stood with Macha in front of the jury. He pointed to photos and diagrams of the victim as he described her injuries.
“There were finger marks on her body, as though she had been grabbed,” Dr. Gillium said. “On the left side of her face, there is bruising on the forehead, eye, and cheekbone. There is a mark on her chin consistent with a chain. That mark moves up and is impressed on her cheek,” he said, pointing to a photo of Tina Kimbrew’s face.
“It is not easy to see pinpoint hemorrhages. Some of the skin marks are not injuries,” he explained.
He told the jury that marks found on Kimbrew’s elbows were consistent with contact with a rough surface, such as the carpet.
Again, there were no visible or audible signs from the four men and eight women of the jury to indicate how they had assimilated the impact of victim number five.
And, as usual, there were no questions from Curry or Glickman for the defense.
As court adjourned early for the day, DA Investigator John Little stood and suppressed a smile of satisfaction. The trial had progressed just as Macha had planned. A hint of a dimple showed on Little’s handsome face. He knew that his turn to testify was fast approaching and he was ready. With his testimony, Little was prepared to nail the lid shut on any hope that Faryion Wardrip could generate some degree of mercy from the Denton jury.
Chapter Twenty-five
It was the third day of his capital murder trial and things weren’t going well for Faryion Wardrip. Not his court case. Not his personal life. Wardrip’s belt was missing. When Dana Rice arrived at the jail that morning, he was in a dither.
“My belt is missing,” he said anxiously.
Rice looked at him with disbelief. Wardrip was on trial for his life and all he could worry about was his belt.
“Why worry about that?” Rice asked.
“Now, that was a nice reversible belt. Glenda gave it to me,” Wardrip said.
Dana Rice shook her head and left for court. She wondered how Wardrip could be more concerned with a belt than with the possibility of dying.
At the front of the Denton County courthouse, Rice saw Dorie Glickman vigorously shaking out her jacket.
“What are you doing?” Rice asked.
“I’m looking for Faryion’s ring,” Glickman said.
“You lost Faryion’s ring?” Rice asked, concern mixed with laughter filling her voice.
Glickman began rifling through the low hedge that lined the walkway.
“I have my ex-husband’s ring, we can give him that one later. We’ll tell him his is in the room. We have to get to court,” Rice said, encouraging Glickman to give up the search.
As soon as the women entered the courtroom, Wardrip knew immediately something was wrong.
“I think Dorie lost my ring,” Wardrip told Rice. Then, turning to Glickman, he said, “You lost my ring, didn’t you?”
“Why do you think that?” Glickman asked innocently.
“The way you look,” Wardrip said with a touch of hostility in his voice.
“I lost fifteen dollars. I’ve been looking for it,” Glickman lied.
Wardrip settled down and waited anxiously for the court session to begin.
Dorie Glickman stepped behind the railing that separated spectators from the court and looked unhappily at Dana Rice.
“I think I really lost Faryion’s ring,” she said.
“I know, Faryion figured it out, but he bought your lie,” Rice said, in an attempt to make her boss feel better and redirect her attention to the trial.
Later Dorie Glickman found Wardrip’s ring, gave it to him, and he was content, for at least a little while.
Jill Hill from Little Rock, Arkansas, was Barry Macha’s first witness of the day. The FBI special agent, assigned to the Violent Crimes Squad, was a DNA specialist.
The tall, thin, attractive blonde explained to the jury that DNA is a chemical located in the cells of the body. All DNA cells are the same throughout a person’s body and everyone’s DNA is distinct, with the exception of twins.
“There are several tests available for testing DNA,” Hill explained.
“RFLP is an older test not used much anymore. The test requires a good amount of the DNA sample and it must be in good condition.
“PCR is a method where DNA can be copied to increase the amount for analysis.”
Hill told the court that in 1996 DNA testing was done on vaginal and rectal smears from Toni Gibbs, as well as her white uniform top. They were compared with DNA from Danny Laughlin. From the vaginal smear a sperm fraction was found—meaning a female portion and a male portion. From those tests, on March 29, 1996, Hill had been able to exclude Danny Laughlin as the sperm donor.
A few weeks later, Hill had been sent items from the Sims’s case: a tennis shoe, yellow Kleenex, a hair from Sims’s head, and blood samples from a police suspect.
Hill discovered a fingerprint in blood on the heel of the left shoe. She took swabs from the shoe for testing, then transferred the shoe to the Latent Print Division for fingerprint analysis.
Hill said that the Kleenex she tested appeared to be blood soaked, as if someon
e had been holding it.
Hill tested the vaginal and oral swabs from the Sims case and was able to exclude the police suspect at that time.
With no questions from the defense, Barry Macha called his key witness.
John Little walked to the witness stand with confidence. The dark-haired, well-built investigator had been the topic of numerous news articles since breaking the fourteen-year-old case. His name was familiar to everyone in the courtroom, with the exception of the Denton jurors.
“How long have you been an investigator with the district attorney’s office in Wichita County?” Macha asked.
“Six and a half years,” Little said in a slow Texas drawl.
“What did you do before that?” Macha asked.
Little twitched slightly, as though he preferred not to answer the question. He hadn’t arrived at the district attorney’s office by the usual route of prior law-enforcement experience; he had been a bricklayer.
Little’s wife had been expecting twins at the time of his decision to enter police work. “She told me to go out and get a job,” Little had told friends.
Bricklaying was seasonal work. With a rapidly expanding family, Little needed the security of a regular paycheck. Each morning before work, he had stopped at a local convenience store for a cup of coffee. He often talked to the Texas Highway patrolmen who were taking their morning breaks. They encouraged him to take the entrance test and go to work for the Wichita Falls police. But Little had a problem. He failed the eye exam. He decided to have RKO eye surgery to improve his vision. He completed his law-enforcement training, and redirected his desire for security and his interest in the law to the district attorney’s office. No one was more pleased with Little’s decision than Barry Macha.
Little didn’t mention that he had been somewhat involved in the Gibbs case years earlier. Little’s wife and Gibbs had once been members of the same college sorority. He had been invited to a party at the woman’s house, and although he didn’t know her, Little had liked her. When he had heard of Gibbs’s disappearance and the urgent need for people to help with the search, Little immediately called his brother and they both volunteered. John Little and his brother crossed frozen fields near Gibbs’s apartment, up and down alleys, and through empty parking lots. They found no trace of the pretty young nurse. Now, nearly fifteen years later, he could finally help the Gibbs family.
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