Ted really wanted to answer the question, but to do so would have violated his canon of not categorizing serial killers and, in so doing, becoming one of the profilers. Ted’s attitude was that profilers put the emphasis on psychological categories rather than solving the homicides. Now, however, he had fallen into the trap of categorizing the killer types himself. He said humbly, “I don’t know. I shouldn’t have used that, should I? I don’t know that there is a typical type. In fact, I should be critical of myself for saying that because I think there is no typical type, from what I’ve studied over the years. I mean, you have your type of mother-hitting homosexual to the apparently normal marriage heterosexual, and all different versions in between—the other guy who is mad—that is, insane—and then you have those who are apparently normal. You have those who hate women, those who love women, generally speaking. So you have a lot of the gamut. You have drifters, regular guys, upper-middle class, lower class, so I don’t know that that’s a fair statement. I know that that’s not a correct statement to say typical serial murderer.”
Ted’s feeble attempt at classifying his “guys” struck me as being a remarkable mixture of denial and absurdity. On the one hand, Ted refused to define them and on the other, his deductions were uninformed and general. He knew very well that his “type” differed from others, but he declined to face the difference. So I reminded him of the serial-murder research done by the FBI’s Behavioral Sciences Unit, which Bundy had followed closely. “Have you read some of the articles the FBI has published on their serial murderer theories?”
Sheepishly, Ted said, “I’ve read one in Psychology Today several years ago. It wasn’t much, but I felt they were right on track.” Trying to avoid the discussion, which undoubtedly would have included his crimes, Ted answered abstractly, “I can’t remember what it was about that article that made me feel anything about what they were up against. It was some statement someone made that they would kind of base their understanding of this kind of behavior on the facts. And I know that’s a cliché, but I think sometimes when you get too much into profiles and try to understand why and speculate why people do this, why people do that, what kind of person is he, and you get away from the hard-core facts, then you really lose something. From what I’ve seen, they start to limit their options. They start to believe profiles. Then if somebody doesn’t fit a profile, they may dangerously eliminate the real suspect. Obviously, a lot of these girls here knew that there was somebody out there who was looking for people like them. Those prostitutes along Pacific Highway South were disappearing for a year and a half, and they continue to disappear, because the guy who finally approached them did not fit their profile or anybody’s profile.
“When I read that article about the FBI, I said the only thing they can go on is what people actually do. And maybe later on, a psychologist can try to get into his head. If I was in your shoes, I would try not to put too much weight on the profile and all the psychological mumbo jumbo, because all you got is the hard-core facts, and that’s the only thing that’s going to catch him, sooner or later. Or he’s going to catch himself.”
Profiling
It was time to lure Ted into a more detailed discussion of the value of profiling because we wanted Ted, the only true, seasoned expert we had in serial murder on this case, to give us his profile of the Riverman. I sensed that Ted did not appreciate the so-called behaviorists who placed other killers in his class. So it was to our benefit to vilify efforts to profile killers. I reported, “We have the FBI profile, a psychological profile, an active profile, and profiles that we could read for days and still not get through them.”
“Yeah,” muttered Ted.
“I’m kind of [of] the same opinion that we’re working at the wrong end. What can police do to actually attack this problem? We always look to the experts, who have been historically like psychiatrists and anthropologists. We ask them questions about ‘What is the guy like that does this?’ And they lend absolutely nothing toward telling us how to catch him,” I commented, looking for Ted’s approval.
“Exactly,” Ted asserted, pounding his fist on the table.
“The experts tell us a bunch of bullshit about the killer and what his background might be like,” I continued, “but for cops trying to catch him, there’s no contribution. Now, what is the give and take? If the FBI is really serious about profiling, what should they be looking for?” I stopped talking because I could see that Ted was in a hurry for me to stop so he could begin.
Appreciating the opportunity to offer some significant insight, Ted started by saying, “Well, there are a lot of questions there. It’s a good question. And I think if the experts can give you some kind of background from which you can take concrete steps in your investigation, to locate someone, to help you understand a man in such a way that helps you focus your investigation, that’s one thing. But some of the profiles I’ve seen were wrong, and if they’re wrong, they’re taking you down the wrong path. Let me put it this way: the only thing that’s not wrong is the names you have on this list, general dates when the bodies were found, where they were found, and where you are working with hard-core facts. That’s what you got. Who knows what the guy’s like? And I know that’s approaching it from a backwards point of view that says, ‘Well, we want to know what’s going through this guy’s head because that’ll help us understand him better.’ That’s true. But on the other hand, that tends to lead you down the wrong road. It could lead you away from your man. You may have him right under your nose, and the profile says, ‘Well, this is the kind of guy he is.’ And there’s some people in law enforcement who don’t even know of somebody who’s right there in front of them. And this guy is normal as the day is long. At least normal generally speaking. And what are you going to do? Arrest everybody? Every man who has been sexually assaulted or abused when he was a young person or hates his mother or whatever? Or everybody who walks out of a porno shop? You can’t do that.”
Ted was now on a roll, making his points, supported by what I believed to be his core beliefs. The mentor had transformed from one who was feigning knowledge of profiling to the clever psychopath who had intensely studied every aspect of profiles, especially those that pertained to him. “These profiles,” he continued, “I’ve seen them over the years. I’ve seen how they work, and I think, quite frankly—my understanding is they tend to mislead. They can help, but they can only help if they give you a direct focus on your investigation, just like my idea about using that movie.” Disingenuously, Ted admitted, “You know, I’m not an expert. I mean, I don’t have a degree. I do have a degree in psychology, but that doesn’t make me an expert in human behavior, certainly.”
But before Ted could talk himself into being the expert he already said he wasn’t, I interrupted. “In that article you read, there were several proactive strategies. Do you know what I mean by proactive? They are the things that the police can do to catch the killer in the act.”
“Affirmative steps,” Ted said to clarify.
“Right. There were several proactive things that they suggested have been done in the past.” Ted didn’t remember them because when he first read the article, he probably focused on the antecedent behaviors of the murderers whom he was so desperately trying to understand, not how they were caught. He was always more interested in the killers themselves. Therefore, I suggested, “Okay, one of them that they mentioned was that some killers have a tendency to come back to the gravesite.” Ted muttered as though he understood. I clarified the strategy by explaining that the victim was now buried and the police could make a public display, appealing to his emotion.
“And hope to draw him out,” Ted offered. Ted pushed his previous discussion of staking out fresh crime scenes as a preferred proactive method, rather than struggling with one he had not considered. “I don’t remember that proactive technique that you mentioned. I wouldn’t want to say that wouldn’t work. I don’t know. That’s an interesting idea. I do know that I can say that the oth
er thing would work. And that a person is just as likely to come back to the site that hasn’t been discovered, especially a fresh one, as he is to one that has been found. In fact, if you have somebody who’s clever and as vigorous as the Riverman is at attempting to avoid detection and apprehension, it makes sense to me that he’s going to do what he can to avoid coming in contact with law enforcement. And, yes, the dump sites where the bodies were left are significant. There’s no underestimating that. In fact, that’s really all you have right now. All you have are the burial sites. You don’t have anything else. The only places you know of for sure that the Riverman and the victims were at were those sites. There may be some other evidence, but these are certainties, no question that the victim and the guy were there. That’s a tremendous advantage. That’s where I would focus. Someone sitting where I’m sitting, that’s where I would focus my investigation. Not all of it, but certainly a significant portion of it. Perhaps there would be some curiosity on a murderer’s part once it’s been discovered. But what if it isn’t? What if he doesn’t come back to a fresh site because it’s under surveillance? Well, it’s a risky take. But I think they’re good risks, considering what you’re up against.”
Supercop
Another proactive measure recommended by the FBI was creating a supercop image, somebody coming into the investigation who’s going to crack the case. And then, it was hoped, the suspect would communicate in some way with him. “What do you think of that?” I asked.
“Ummm, well,” muttered Ted, as though the supercop technique was absurd. “What dummy would fall for it? In terms of a good understanding of what’s going on, this is what I would start with. And what I see here is when you formed your task force and most of the bodies had been found. I’m not saying he stopped, but it would be fair to say that he’s not as obvious as he was in eighty-two and eighty-three. You’re not finding them the way you were, anyway. That’s not to say he’s not putting them out there, but it doesn’t look like it to me, unless there’s something going on beyond the scenes and you are in fact in contact with somebody who sounds like he’s taunting you or getting off on something.”
“Boy, we can tell you about the cabdriver who was a suspect. Have you read any of the articles about him? This guy has been in the news. He calls Channel Seven all the time, and they interview him,” I said.
Ted said he heard something about a cabdriver. He said, “You don’t have any fibers? No. It’s no question to ask, but you must not have much because I’m sure you’ve done what you can to pin him down. It sounds like he’s a little weird.”
Polygraph Tests
Sooner or later we were bound to get to the subject of the polygraph. It seemed like a good time, since the Green River investigators had used it on several suspects. I asked, “What do you think about the polygraph? Do you think that a guy like the Riverman could pass a polygraph? Could a guy flunk a polygraph that wasn’t the killer or, conversely, could a guy who was a suspect pass?”
Ted’s polygraph experience was limited. For his responses to those questions, one could surmise that he had been given a polygraph about his murders at one point and flunked. He said, “I used to watch the F. Lee Bailey program. It’s on late at night. And I know a little bit about polygraphs. You can have experts coming out of the woodwork, but I can tell you, if it’s properly administered, I don’t think they can be beaten. But they tell me innocent people can flunk. But Bailey’s theory is if you have a good person, they should be able to figure that out. And that’s probably the bottom line. If your man is good enough, I don’t think that the person who’s killed all these people will pass.”
Riverman’s Hiatus
Ted mentioned on more than one occasion that the Riverman might have stopped, moved, was hiding bodies better, got sick, died, or got himself locked up for something else. I asked him, “If he’s locked up, what’s he locked up for?”
Surprisingly, Ted said, “Unrelated or something that only went so far but didn’t end. I mean, like burglary. Or car theft. That’s just a wild guess. He could be locked up for something else.”
Additionally, I inquired, “Is there another reason he could stop, such as [being] born again?”
Emphatically, Ted replied, “No. As far as the radical personality change, whether it be a religious experience or a moral reformation or whatever you want to call it, it’s not out of the question, but highly unlikely, to the point of being impossible that he stopped of his own accord.”
While Ted was making notes, I saw that he wrote down to check out the triangle of Bellingham, Spokane, and Portland, cities over 300 miles apart. I asked him if he saw some special significance in that.
Ted explained, “If I was in that position, compelled to range further because I felt that things had just gotten too hot close to home, then I would go to areas further away like Portland, Spokane, Bellingham, Everett, or the nearest metropolitan areas of any size. He’s still focusing on the same types of victims, so that was the only reason I mentioned those three. Going all the way to Spokane might be a little bit out of the question. That’s a several-hundred-mile drive. And this guy might not have the time or the money to be doing that very much. Spokane’s out of his territory. And I think he’s successful in Seattle and Pacific Highway South because he just knows it. He’s been up there enough that he knows it and has a feel for it. When he starts to range far afield, he’s more likely to make mistakes because he doesn’t have that sensitivity to what’s going on, to the scene, to the presence of police, and who’s supposed to be where. And so if he goes to Portland, he hasn’t the experience of being in the area.”
I told Ted, “If you want to compare prostitute areas, Spokane is nothing like Portland. Portland is rivaling Seattle as does Ponders Corner in Tacoma or the downtown area in Tacoma of Pierce County.”
With a high degree of certainty, Ted made a prediction. “Well, I think the Pierce County people are missing a bet. I just get the feeling the guy is working out of Pierce County. Don’t ask me why. It’s the pattern of where the bodies are. South King County is like north Pierce County. Somebody should look over their shoulder, because this guy could very well be working out of Tacoma and just coming up to an area which is so notorious as Pacific Highway South. Even though he’s trying to stay out of his own backyard, I’ll bet you from time to time he can’t help himself. Just a matter of circumstances might prevent him from some period of time getting up to Seattle or up to Sea-Tac. He might see a situation in his own area that he can’t ignore, that he can’t overlook, something too good to refuse. What perplexed me about the Green River list is, there’s only one from Pierce County, Wendy Coffield. I had the feeling that there should be more.”
Surveilling Pick-up Points
Ted focused heavily on the body recovery sites, so I asked him what creative things we might do at the pick-up points. He said, “I think Pacific Highway South is pretty well played out. Sometime in the near future he’s going to move, like you say, to Ponders Corner, maybe even Portland, if he feels like he’s played out the Seattle area. So you might want to look into cooperation with other agencies. You might want to do the obvious things. There are decoys. I don’t know what else you could do. And I doubt that simple surveillance, writing down the license plate numbers of every weirdo which stops and pulls out a pair of binoculars would be an effective proactive technique.
“If he’s coming into an area, he’s coming in there often, even though he may not be taking anybody out. He is conditioning himself to be very familiar with the place. He’s working with what he’s up against, and he’s looking for surveillance. He’s looking for cops. He’s looking for plainclothes. He’s looking for anybody who seems to be out of place or is hanging around. He doesn’t want anybody watching him.”
Offering Reward Money
Rewards for any information leading to the capture of a killer are one way for the public to participate in the investigation. I wondered what Ted thought about rewards. So I asked, “
How about the significance of a reward fund? How do you feel about something like that?”
Almost too obligingly, Ted said, “Well, it gets you a lot of information. I don’t think this guy’s talked to anybody. It’s unhealthy, if he’s talked to anybody. So you would get a lot more of what you got already, a lot of people whose boyfriends or guys they picked up in bars did something weird to them, talked weird to them, looked strange. They call in about Hustler centerfolds hung up in the bathroom. I’m sure you cannot underrate the value of having citizens calling in and expressing their fears to you about different individuals, because, of the five, ten, or twenty thousand reports you get, one of them might be your man. But how do you know that? Well, what I’m saying is the reward fund by itself wouldn’t give you what you want. I think you’re going to get the same stuff you’re getting already. If somebody’s going to talk to you, they’re going to talk to you. This is not a situation where anybody knows something and is holding it back for money or waiting to come forward. The reason no one has come forward is because nobody knows. And, sure, it will get you more stuff, but it gets you so much more stuff, would you really be ahead of the game? It gets you more people calling. You don’t need that. You might get lucky, and maybe it’s the politically wise thing to do. I wouldn’t overlook it, though. My opinion is it’s not going to give you a better quality of information than what you’re getting already. Just like anything else, it wouldn’t hurt.”
In the case of Canadian serial killer Clifford Olson, Olson’s own family was paid $10,000 for every victim that Olson confessed to killing. This prompted Dave to ask, “Do you think if the reward was high enough, this kind of person might come forward and say, “ ‘Okay, I’ll take the money as long as my family gets it.’”
Ted eagerly clarified what he’d just said. “That’s a horse of a different color. You said ‘reward’; I thought you would have meant rewards for somebody other than the man to come forward. That might be a proactive technique of a different kind. It might not get him to come forward, but it might get him thinking. It would put the pressure on him of a different kind. It would get him wondering that you think he might be weak enough or disposed towards doing something like that. I think that would be answered.”
The Riverman: Ted Bundy and I Hunt for the Green River Killer Page 31