Hometown Killer

by Carol Rothgeb

  Graeber: And then you dropped a rock on her?

  John: Yes.

  On Wednesday, May 22, 1996, John Balser pleaded guilty to two counts of aggravated murder. A three-judge panel consisting of Judge Richard O’Neill, Judge Gerald Lorig, and Judge Richard Cole (retired) accepted his plea and sentenced him to two life sentences in prison with no eligibility of parole for at least forty years. Because of the negotiated plea agreement, Balser, who had been found competent to stand trial, did not have to face the possibility of the death penalty.

  The agreement required that Balser assist in any future prosecutions.

  The following day, officers obtained and executed a search warrant for the blood of Monty Walker. They took the necessary samples and forwarded them to the FBI laboratory in Washington, DC.

  On Monday, June 10, 1996, the Clark County grand jury reindicted Jamie Turner on thirteen charges: six counts of aggravated murder, two counts of rape, two counts of kidnapping, one count of tampering with evidence, and two counts of abuse of a corpse.

  As part of John Balser’s plea agreement, he testified in front of the grand jury that indicted Jamie Turner. Three years after the original charges were dismissed against Turner, he was again taken into custody after he turned himself in to the police.

  The following Friday, Jamie Turner was arraigned in Judge Richard O’Neill’s courtroom. After assistant public defender Noel Kaech told the judge that his client would not speak for himself, Judge O’Neill entered a plea of not guilty for Turner.

  Kaech asked the court to release Jamie Turner on his own recognizance. He claimed that Jamie had made himself available to the authorities and had committed no other offenses since the original charges were dismissed in 1993. Assistant prosecutor David Smith said that Turner should be held without bond since it was a capital case.

  Judge O’Neill ordered that Turner remain in jail without bond.

  The results of the DNA testing on Monty Walker showed that, once again, John Balser had lied to the detectives about who had raped Phree Morrow and Martha Leach.

  15

  Sapp latched onto that because the detectives, by doing that, gave him an out . . . to rationalize what he was doing.

  —Steve Schumaker

  By the time William K. Sapp went to trial on September 9, 1996, for the attack on Ursula Thompson, the charges of felonious assault and attempted rape had been added to the charges of attempted murder and kidnapping. The trial took place in the Clark County Common Pleas Court with Judge Gerald Lorig presiding. The jury consisted of four men and eight women.

  During the more than six months spent in the Clark County Jail awaiting his trial, William Sapp had lost more than seventy-five pounds. He was now clean shaven and his hair was cut very short. His boyish appearance was deceivingly benign in comparison to the night he was arrested.

  On the first day of the trial, Sapp’s plea of innocence by reason of insanity was dropped, and he entered a plea of not guilty.

  Clark County prosecutor Stephen Schumaker, in his opening remarks, told the jurors that the case was simple: “Sapp deceived her and got her back in an isolated area so he could rape her and kill her.”

  During his opening statement William Merrell, Sapp’s court-appointed defense attorney, told the jury that Sapp didn’t do all that the prosecutors claim he did. “It’s Ursula Thompson’s word against the defendant’s whether there was consensual sex and kidnapping.”

  Ursula Thompson, an admitted prostitute and drug user, testified that she voluntarily got into Sapp’s car to go with him to buy crack cocaine. Sapp told her he needed to stop at his house for money, but instead he took her to the dump site on South Limestone Street and attacked her with a large knife and a pellet gun.

  Ursula, the scar from the knife wound clearly visible on her face, told the jury: “I was scared and I was running. I was trying to get away from him.

  “This man tried to kill me and he’s going to prison.”

  Detective David Rapp had taped the interview with Sapp at his kitchen table on the night he was arrested. Sapp sat emotionless in the courtroom while the tape was played for the jury—until he heard the sounds of his children in the background. Crying, he turned away from the jurors and sobbed when he heard Aaron cry out, “Daddy!”

  During the taped interview Sapp said that he thought he had killed Ursula Thompson, but that he didn’t try to kill her.

  On the second day of the trial, William Sapp took the witness stand and told the jury that Thompson kicked him in the groin and he grabbed a knife and swung out at her. “I really didn’t mean for it to happen,” he stated.

  He claimed he wanted to help her, but Schumaker pointed out, during cross-examination, that he never even tried to help her. Sapp said, “I just freaked.”

  The prosecutor asked Sapp what he had meant when he told the deputies that he got violent.

  “Sometimes I can’t control my temper. Usually I punch a wall or a car,” Sapp replied.

  Later that day, after four hours of deliberation, the jury acquitted Sapp on the charge of attempted murder, but they found him guilty of felonious assault, kidnapping, and attempted rape.

  Merrell asked the judge to be lenient and requested that Sapp’s sentences run concurrently, but Judge Lorig imposed the maximum sentence of twenty-six to fifty-five years in prison. The soonest Sapp could possibly be eligible for parole would be in ten years, if he managed to get time off for good behavior.

  Soon after William Sapp was arrested for the attack on Ursula Thompson, an unidentified Springfield woman called the Clark County Sheriff’s Office and told Detective Rapp that Sapp’s real name was William K. Lilly and that Sapp had lived in Jacksonville, Florida. She explained that while living in an apartment complex in Florida years earlier, she and her boyfriend had allowed Sapp to stay with them for a while.

  They were all originally from Springfield and the woman had known Sapp since they were children.

  She nervously related a bizarre story to the detective: She and Sapp had been in a grocery store in Jacksonville, and when a teenage boy with a patch over his eye entered the store, Sapp “just froze.” She could barely hear him as he whispered, “I killed him.”

  The young woman was incredulous: “What?”

  “I killed him the other night. He shouldn’t be here. I killed him.”

  She reported this strange conversation to the Jacksonville Police Department and learned about an incident which had taken place a few days earlier behind a tavern, in which a juvenile had been stabbed in the eye with a screwdriver. Sapp was arrested, convicted, and spent some time in prison in Florida.

  The distraught woman told Detective Rapp: “I have something that’s been haunting me my whole life. Will you meet with me and talk with me?”

  Of course he was more than happy to meet with the mysterious caller and find out everything he could about this violent man.

  “This is what I need to confess to you. . . . We were poor then at the time—young—there in Florida. Trying to work to make ends meet . . .”

  And then, lowering her voice, she timidly got to the point: “Bill always bragged about killing a lady in the alley—somewhere back behind our apartment. But I never noticed anything—didn’t see any police or anything. I don’t know how true it is.”

  Detective Rapp immediately relayed this information to the homicide division of the Jacksonville Police Department and they said they would get back with him. It would take some time to investigate, as this murder would have occurred approximately fifteen years earlier.

  Two weeks after the trial was over, two homicide detectives from Florida flew to Ohio to investigate William Sapp, who was still being held in the Clark County Jail, awaiting his departure to Orient Correctional Institution.

  Several days later, on September 26, 1996, Detectives Robert Hinson and T. C. Davis were ready to conduct an interview with Sapp. After he was brought from the jail to the sheriff’s office and read his rights, he told them, �
�Sure . . . I’ll tell you anything you guys want.”

  Deputy Danny Mitch and Detective Rapp, watching and listening from the other side of the two-way mirror, rapidly made the decision to set up a video camera and record the interrogation.

  Sapp readily admitted to killing fifty-eight-year-old Shirley Ogden on April 14, 1981, on West Main Street in Jacksonville. Ironically, the inner city of Jacksonville is named Springfield and it was in this area that Sapp lived and the murder took place.

  Then he started talking about the attack on Helen Preston.

  Startled, the detectives called a time-out. The Clark County Sheriff’s Office and the Springfield Police Department are both located in the Public Safety Building, at opposite ends. Since the attack on Helen Preston had taken place inside the city limits, Detective Rapp quickly walked down the wide corridor and retrieved Sergeant Al Graeber, Captain David Walters, and Lieutenant Terry Fisher of the Springfield Police Department.

  Sergeant Graeber, barely able to contain his excitement, joined the Florida detectives in the interrogation room. When he asked Sapp if he knew anything about the assault on Helen Preston, he didn’t deny it, but he claimed that “Bob,” his alleged alter ego, was responsible.

  Hinson (coaxing): Bill, tell Al about Helen. Tell him what you saw Bob do.

  Davis (joining in): What names did she call him to make Bob mad?

  (Sapp stared off into the distance, his eyes glazed over.)

  Hinson: You can see it. Look at me! You can see it! Tell Al what you’re seeing.

  Graeber: What did he do, Bill?

  Sapp (his voice raspy): He tried to rape the girl. He just hit her. I don’t know what he hit her with—just kept hitting....

  Graeber: Did he hit her a lot?

  (Sapp, slightly bent at the waist with his arms across his abdomen and his head resting against the wall next to him, nodded yes. “A train came by. He tried to rape her.” Obviously distressed, he became reluctant to answer their questions. Tearfully, he cried: “But if Bob’s involved in other stuff, that’s more time!”)

  Sapp (continuing): He hit her with a piece of pipe. He was trying to rape her. (Sapp sniffles and wipes his nose with his palm.) He hit her about two times and then he hauled ass ’cause she turned around and started coming toward me.

  Hinson: Let me ask you something. Look at me for a second. Can you stop Bob? Once Bob’s out, can you stop him? Look at me. Can you stop him?

  Sapp (rubbing his forehead nervously, cried): No!

  Hinson: If you can’t stop him, then tell me what he did. You’ve got to stop him now. This is the only way you can stop him.

  Sapp: He hit her with a piece of metal. He just hit her. He just kept hitting her. He hid the pipe—the rebar.

  Hinson: Was she dead when he left?

  Sapp (looking up at the detectives): God! I hope not!

  Graeber: Did she get cut with anything?

  Sapp: He’s got a little brass pocketknife with three holes in it, in the handle. And it’s sitting on top of a roof, at a church, on Miller [Street]. He tried to cut her throat! Ah, she’s sick! She’s all fucked up!

  (He told them that her watch fell off and broke and he hid it under a loading dock.)

  Sapp: She was sitting right in front of the dock. . . .

  Davis: Come on; tell me what you’re seeing. You’re seeing it right now. You’re rubbing your head—what do you see in your head?

  Sapp: Her face is covered in blood. It’s sick.

  Hinson: This isn’t the worst thing Bob’s done, is it? Davis: This is one of many things Bob has done.

  Sapp (crying and turning his face to the wall again): He tried to kill my wife!

  The detectives questioned Sapp at great length about several unsolved crimes, but he denied involvement in any of them except for two arsons: one in an old, abandoned log cabin and one in an empty house.

  Sapp had told the detectives earlier about being neglected and abused as a child, but Detective Davis didn’t think Sapp had told them the whole story and he was sure Sapp hadn’t told them everything about Bob’s criminal activities.

  Davis (with pen in hand): Everything didn’t come out. Look at this a second. How many times do you think you were neglected? By your mother? By the people at home?

  Sapp: I can’t count them.

  Davis: Once? Fifty? A hundred? Just an estimate.

  Sapp: You’re probably looking at four figures.

  Davis: Four figures? One thousand? Two thousand? Is two thousand an accurate figure?

  (Sapp nodded yes.)

  Davis: How many times do you think your parents or anybody in charge of you physically abused you as a kid? Below ten? Twenty? Thirty?

  Sapp: More than thirty.

  Davis: You told us some things that happened to animals that you were around. . . . How many times did that happen? Once? Twice?

  Sapp: Occasionally. I’d say fifteen—twenty.

  Davis: How many times were you sexually abused?

  (Sapp had misunderstood and thought “physical abuse” referred to sexual abuse, so “more than thirty” referred to how many times he had been sexually abused. He had included “physical abuse” in with the two thousand times he had been neglected.)

  Davis: How many cigarette burns do you have on that arm? I counted eight there. And you got how many on this one? Okay. So ten’s the number we can see. Do you have more than ten?

  Sapp: Yeah.

  Davis: What’s a good number? Fifty? A hundred?

  Sapp: Burns? A couple of hundred, maybe.

  Davis: Two hundred times she did that to you—that’s bad. And you watched your brother burned once, right? ’Cause we know you saw him suffer a lot of stuff.

  (Detective Davis had been writing the numbers down as they talked and now he added them together.)

  Davis: So we’ve got two thousand, fifteen, thirty, two hundred, and one. So at a minimum two thousand two hundred forty-six times—people’s done horrible, horrible things to you, right? Other than what you haven’t told us about . . . You told us about the log cabin that you set on fire. The house on York [Street]. Down in Jacksonville—you told us you killed the lady in the alley. Up here in Springfield—you told us about the lady you hurt—that they arrested you for. And you told us about the lady at the railroad tracks. Are you telling me somebody did something to you two thousand two hundred forty-six times at a minimum and Bob only came out five times and did something back? Are you sure? And I’m not saying Bob did [more than two thousand] things, but wouldn’t you think over a period of thirty-four years that Bob came out more than five times? All I’m saying is . . . Tell us now and get rid of it forever. Is there anything else? Anything? Do you agree with my math?

  Sapp: Oh, I agree, but . . .

  Davis: Bob probably came out more than the five times you told us about—or that you’ve already been arrested for. So you’ve only been mad five times in your life?

  Sapp: Oh, God, no! I’ve been mad plenty of times!

  Hinson: But every time you get mad, Bob doesn’t come out?

  (Sapp just looked at him and didn’t seem to know how to respond.)

  Hinson: Do you understand what we’re doing? (Sapp shook his head no.)

  Hinson: This is kind of winding down. I don’t want to walk away and wonder if there’s something else that’s bothering you that you haven’t gotten off your chest. Is there anybody else? Here? Down in Florida?

  Sapp (shaking his head): Anywhere.

  Graeber: What’s happened is . . . you’ve reached a point where a lot of weight’s been taken off of you, okay? I mean, I can even look at your face—your whole body. You can see that, okay? But just through experience—I’ve been doing this for a long time. Through experience—I’d have to guess that’s there’s still something in there. It may not be up front tonight. Because you got a big load—major, major things off—but you’re still sitting on something . . . believe me.

  (Actually, Al Graeber was as sure as he was sitting t
here that there was more. But this would do for now.)

  Hinson: I need you to help me write a statement.

  Sapp: What’s this for?

  Hinson: It’s for the murder down in Jacksonville. You want me to help you?

  Sapp (answering quietly): Yeah.

  Robbie Hinson proceeded to talk Sapp through the statement, leaving a place for him to sign his name every time he wrote the word “I.”

  “I, William Kessler Lilly, having been advised of my rights do give this written statement of my own free will.”

  He stated that he was living in the Springfield area of Jacksonville, Florida, in the spring of 1981. And at that time he was renting a room from a man named Al Sapp and had fallen behind in his rent.

  “I, William Kessler Lilly, had been forced to have sex with Mr. [Al] Sapp and his friend [in exchange] for the rent on several occasions. I, William Kessler Lilly, was told to get out and find some rent money any way I, William K. Lilly, could, by Mr. [Al] Sapp.”