Hometown Killer

by Carol Rothgeb

  He then informed the detective that he had had “another person living inside of him” since early childhood. He further claimed that this “other person”—named Bob Lancaster—was the aggressive side of his personality.

  “I, William K. Lilly, knew that this older white female ‘bag lady’ carried money on her person. I, William K. Lilly, waited in the alleyway about dusk and I, William Kessler Lilly, saw her coming down the alley. I, William Kessler Lilly, saw her stop and count her money and that is when I, William Kessler Lilly, attacked her. I, William Kessler Lilly, had a knife and was going to take her money. The attack ‘went wrong’ and I, William Kessler Lilly, stabbed her an unknown number of times to her back and abdomen area.”

  According to him, he then removed her underwear so he could have sex with her, but stopped “because it wasn’t right.” He took her money and ran away from the area.

  He then told the detective that he had been in a “great deal of emotional pain” because of this and that he wanted the family to know that he was sorry and that he was taking responsibility for what he had done.

  Sniffling, William Sapp (Lilly?) signed the confession.

  (During the course of their investigation, Springfield detectives would learn that William Lilly claimed to have been adopted by Al Sapp and had taken “Sapp” as his legal name. For reasons known only to him, he chose to sign his birth name, Lilly, on his confession.)

  The evidence also showed that the middle-aged woman was beaten and probably sexually assaulted. Her body was found in front of Sapp’s apartment.

  It was after the murder of Shirley Ogden that William Sapp moved in with the young couple that he knew from Springfield, Ohio, who lived in the same apartment complex.

  The next day, Sergeant Jeffrey Flores from the Crimes Against Persons Unit and Tim Shepard, the forensic criminalist, paid a visit to Sapp (aka: Bob Sapp, Robert Lancaster, Billy Lilly, William Kessler Sapp, William K. Lilly, and Billy Bob Sapp) in the Clark County Jail. They read a “consent to search” form to him and he said he understood and signed it. They obtained samples of his blood, pubic hair, head hair, and saliva. These samples were sent to the FBI for DNA analysis.

  Part 2

  The Serial Killer

  We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. And there will be more of your children dead tomorrow.

  —Ted Bundy

  16

  To me, that’s what being, what we refer to as “a murder cop” is about. . . . You go into a room and you give someone the moral “out” to tell you why they did something.

  —Captain Steve Moody

  The Springfield Police Department’s Crimes Against Persons Unit continued their investigation of William Sapp until the following spring. When they received the results of the DNA tests from the FBI in March, the investigators were more than ready to interrogate him again.

  On April 2, 1997, Sapp was brought from Orient Correctional Institution to be interviewed by Lieutenant Steve Moody and Sergeant Al Graeber. The interview was videotaped over a two-day period. There was eighteen and a half hours of tape—eighteen and a half hours in which Bob was never mentioned.

  Sapp would tell them after the interview that he had “to make sure they had their shit together.” What he didn’t know was that this was Lieutenant Moody’s favorite part of his job—that it was choreographed. Sapp may have thought he was leading the dance, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

  At first, Sapp, who had been taking advantage of the prison’s weight room and weighed a muscular 185 pounds, was very relaxed. During his trial for the attack on Ursula Thompson, his hair had been very short, a “burr,” and he had been clean shaven. Now his hair was in a “businessman” style and he had grown a mustache.

  But there was a feature of his appearance that he could not alter: the total emptiness in his hazel eyes.

  Over coffee, in the small, bland interrogation room, bare except for a round table, three chairs, and a cabinet directly behind Sapp, he and the detectives talked at length about the different places that he had lived as a child in Springfield. His family had moved many times and he had lived in “three or four foster homes.” (And, at some point in time, his parents were divorced and his farther remarried.) Sapp, clad in prison-issued pants and shirt a shade lighter than the brownish gold metal cabinet, referred to living in the penitentiary as “my own little secret hideout.”

  When the subject turned to J.R., Sapp’s younger, mentally challenged brother, he got very serious: “God forbid I’d say this—especially right here—but if somebody hurt that boy, I’d kill them. I’d go to the electric chair. It wouldn’t matter. He’s been through too much. I couldn’t stop it all. I could have stopped enough.”

  Sapp told the detectives that his stepmother had given him a bus ticket to go to Florida in 1977 or 1978, but Lieutenant Moody told him the year couldn’t be correct because he (Sapp) was arrested in Springfield two days before his eighteenth birthday in 1980.

  An acquaintance of Sapp’s had beaten up J.R. Then Sapp “got high,” went to the guy’s house, took his rabbit out of its pen, slapped it up against a tree, left it on the guy’s porch, and rang the doorbell. He was charged with cruelty to animals.

  As the patient detectives tried to build a rapport with the violent but soft-spoken man, there was more small talk about the different jobs he had had. When Sapp and his wife, Karen, along with their two-year-old son, Aaron, came back to Springfield in 1991, they moved in with Kessler Lilly, Sapp’s father.

  Kessler Lilly lived on East Main Street, in the only house between the Japanese Connection and Dewine’s Dairy Distributing. Susan Palmer lived one block east of Lilly.

  Of course, the detectives now knew that Kessler “J.R.” Lilly was Sapp’s brother. But when they had questioned J.R. after receiving several tips saying he looked just like the composite drawing, they were unaware that his older, look-alike brother had returned from Florida the previous year.

  Because Sapp could not (or would not) find steady employment, he and his family ended up on welfare.

  Sapp grinned and then laughed: “I wanted to be a brain surgeon when I was a kid, but about an hour or two into the books and I figured that wasn’t for me. I can’t even pronounce the words still today, let alone be able to know what’s going on.”

  When Lieutenant Moody asked him why he and Karen decided to move to Miller Street, Sapp replied, “It was a lot of things.” He and Karen and Aaron were sharing a room with J.R. at his dad’s, and they needed their own room and so did Aaron.

  Their upper duplex on Miller Street was only a few blocks from where Helen Preston had been attacked.

  Sapp went on to say that he always seemed to be able to find work. Besides collecting scrap metal and selling it to junkyards, he also did odd jobs for their landlady, Janice McCormack* (who, ironically, was also Helen Preston’s landlady). He proceeded to go into great detail about his many jobs.

  “So what was going on [that] night . . . ? Tell me what happened with Helen. How’d that all start?” Moody inquired.

  Sapp, almost casually replied: “I don’t know. Tell you the truth, I really don’t know. I was pretty fucked up. I was doing some drinking and shit. I got into doing some pills. God knows what it was. I done a little bit of everything. All I know is, I was walking across the parking lot there at South High School, and, uh, I happened to look over and I seen somebody crying over there on the corner.”

  Lieutenant Moody got up and went to the cabinet, took out a map, and laid it on the table in front of Sapp. The map depicted the area in question. Lieutenant Moody pointed out South High School and the YMCA and the surrounding area.

  Sapp showed them where he was when he first saw Helen and also pointed out the corner that she was on.

  Moody: You just walked across and said something to her?

  Sapp (nodding yes): I just, you know, like I said, I heard her crying and then I went over and seen her crying, and I just asked her wh
at was going on, and she started saying something about . . . What the hell was his name? Butch, I believe it was Butch. And then went into some long-ass detail about she walked into the bar and, apparently, she saw Butch drinking with another woman or a girlfriend or something. They had some words and a little push contest and she walked the hell out, from what I understand. I mean, I ain’t gonna swear to it. We just walked. We talked about a lot of damn things. I mean, nothing in particular. I mean nothing—at first. I don’t know how to say it.... I don’t know, [she was] fascinated or just glad somebody was there, I guess, to listen to her. I can’t remember who the hell it was, whether it was me or her, that had the beer. I think it was me. Anyway, I drank a little bit more, and off and on, I let her—if she wanted a drink—drink out of the can.

  Sapp (showing them on the map which way they were walking, pointing out a spot where they stopped and watched for about five or ten minutes): Because there was two cruisers, one with flashing lights in the front, was in front of the YMCA. We didn’t know what was going on. And we kept walking. And we went through here. I stopped to take a piss. Oh, sorry about that!

  Moody: There’s nothing that you’re going to do or say that’s going to offend us. You need to understand that.

  (Sapp proceeded, in a slight Southern drawl acquired from living in Florida for ten years, to point out two places where he had “taken a leak” and one where Helen had done the same.)

  Sapp: Then we seen a car go by and the lights kind of like flickered in and it startled the hell out of me. She was squatting—’cause she jumped up and then kind of stumbled. She was pretty inebriated herself. Kind of like the blind leading the blind, ’cause I was kind of like wasted.

  (Sapp laughed hard at the memory of this.)

  Sapp: I mean, I’m not joking because of what happened; I mean, it’s just . . . I don’t know. You’d of had to been there to see it. It was Three Stooges, kind of stupid stuff.

  They continued walking and crossed the railroad tracks on South Limestone Street, until they were close to a loading dock at the back of one of the buildings. They were only about a block from downtown Springfield. “Out of the blue,” Helen turned around and said, “You know, I like you. You’re all right.” They kissed and “messed around a little bit.”

  Sapp: And I’ll tell you the truth, I really don’t know. After that, I’m watching a train go by and . . . It wasn’t nice—it really wasn’t—it wasn’t nice. All I know is that we were talking and I can’t tell you exactly—I don’t know—I don’t know how to say it. Because all I remember is she, uh . . . An argument come out—and then all of a sudden it was just like, “You know, you’re just like—why is it that all men, you know, got to have that stubble shit. You’re just like Butch.” And I got slapped! I don’t know if I slapped back or . . . I couldn’t help it. Of course, I don’t expect anybody to understand or even believe it. (Sapp’s voice gradually changed from casual to chilling.) It was just—it was like I was looking through the eyes of a different person. It was like my eyes were inside somebody else . . . and all I wanted to do was, uh . . . I couldn’t, I couldn’t stop. I watched all the hitting and the kicking. . . . This is what’s probably going to hurt me—even saying it. At the time . . . the bitch needed to die. All bitches needed to die. It was time for that kind of shit to stop. It ain’t going to happen no more.

  Moody: What wasn’t going to happen anymore?

  Sapp: The slapping—the hitting—I think I even got raked with fingernails. I don’t know. I can’t be for sure. I can’t say if that happened before or after.

  Moody: So she fought you?

  Sapp: Oh . . . yeah.

  Sapp (after a long silence): All I know, it’s like a large flash. Did you ever see where someone flashes you in the eyes with a flashlight? I mean, you’re not expecting it. The effect afterwards . . . it’s like clouds in your eyes—in front of your eyes. What the, you know, what the hell happened here?

  (Sapp then showed them on the map, near the railroad tracks, where he hid the rebar, the weapon he used to beat Helen. Rebar is steel cable, used in construction, to reinforce concrete.)

  Sapp: There’s a culvert there. I can’t remember if it’s got a concrete cover over it or if it’s metal. But up underneath it, there’s gravel all around it; there’s a little hole. That’s where the rebar was put. Moody: Well, where did you find the rebar?

  Sapp: The rebar . . . Oh, God, I can tell you the truth, I really don’t know. I don’t know if they had some laying on a stack there somewhere or what. I don’t know where it came from.

  Moody: Do you remember where you hit her at with the rebar?

  Sapp: No. I envision some kind of a monster looking up at me. But I’d imagine probably the head—the face. I don’t know.

  Moody: Did you use it as a club? Or did you poke at her with it?

  Sapp: No, I was swinging.

  Graeber: You say she was looking up at you. What’d she look like?

  Sapp (whispering): Ain’t no words to describe it. Don’t know what to put it with—I really don’t.

  Moody: You just used the term “monster”—

  Sapp: Yeah, to put it with something. No, like hamburger or meat or . . . I just can’t.

  Moody: Okay. So, she’s on the ground. You’ve beaten her with the rebar. What happens next?

  Sapp: I guess . . . I just . . . couldn’t believe it. Hid the rebar. I thought she was dead.

  Moody: Well, now, it’s just like I told you, Bill. We’ve talked to Helen and she’s told us some things about what occurred here and there. Now, there are some other things that you did. Where does the knife come into this?

  Sapp (after another long silence, laughing nervously): I don’t know. (He holds his thumb against the side of his throat.) I remember going . . . (pulling his thumb across his throat) . . . like that.

  Moody: Now listen to me, Bill. Is she standing when you do this to her throat? Is this what starts it all off? When she insults you? And you, “This is it!” You know, you’ve “taken enough off these bitches” [and] “This is the last straw”?

  Sapp: Ah, hell . . . I stabbed her in the stomach.

  Moody: Was she standing when you cut her throat?

  (The interrogation was now punctuated with many long silences. After yet another one, Sapp shook his head no.)

  Sapp (voice low): She was sitting.

  Moody: Well, take us through it.

  (Sapp stared off into a place in time that the detectives could not see. Then he continued, his voice distant, and very soft.)

  Sapp: She was just sitting . . . [and I] grabbed a hand under her chin and just . . .

  (He demonstrated with his hands how he had held one hand under her chin and slashed her throat with the other. He said he was standing behind her at that point.)

  Sapp: I just start trying to hide all that shit.

  Moody: Well, before we get to that—I mean, you mentioned something. Once again, you’ve got it together. What about the stomach? How did that come about? Tell me about that—the positions and everything. What was going on there?

  Sapp: I remember the stomach, possibly even how, but I don’t know why. I don’t know why I stabbed her in the stomach. I just remember doing it. I think I was in front of her. I don’t even know if it ever went in.

  Sapp (using his hands again to demonstrate how he used the knife): I think it was like this . . . [that] the knife was sideways. But I don’t know if it ever went in.

  Moody: Now let me ask you something here. I know you like knives. I like fishing lures; you like knives. You’ve always liked knives. And you know how to use a knife. So you know how you used it because you know what you’re good at with it. And I know you can even tell me which knife it was you used.

  Sapp (agreeing): Oh, I know what knife it was. It wasn’t dull.

  Moody: Well, you know how you used it then, because this is an instrument that you like.

  (Sapp told them again that the knife was “sideways,” but this time
he also demonstrated with his hand the forward stabbing motion.)

  Graeber: What else did you do with it?

  Sapp (shaking his head): The knife? Nothing, I don’t think.

  Moody: You made a comment a while back—you thought she was dead. But once she stops fighting and moving, what happens then?

  Sapp: Well, I sure wouldn’t come call you guys. I mean, it wasn’t no joking matter, but . . . I didn’t know what the hell to do. I tried to put her up under the dock. And then I went and hid the shit.

  Moody: Tell me about how her clothes came off.

  (Sapp seemed slightly startled, and turned first one way and then the other to look at each detective. Sergeant Graeber nodded yes, indicating they already knew. Sapp then stared straight ahead for a long time.)

  Moody: Listen to me for a minute. This is just another instance where someone has wronged you, and because of the way you were brought up, this is how you react. And you’re coming to grips with this.

  Sapp: It doesn’t matter. It’s another human being.

  Moody: It’s Bill. It’s about you. You talk about the clouds in front of your eyes and everything else. That’s the alcohol and the drugs. But the rage is something you carry inside of you because of what occurred to you early on. And she just brought it back out and this is your way of dealing with it. You’re walking along. You come to her aid. She’s crying. You’re walking along. You even share your beer with her. And once again, it’s just another bitch that slaps you. You’ve got things pent up inside of you from way back when and this is what occurs. And you’re clear on what occurred that night, so what we need to be clear about, because she’s talked to us, because she survived: Now, how does she get undressed? What happened?