by Ann Rule
And there, in the pitch black of the night on the lonely reservation road, Luis Berrios Jr. had raped Traia Carr, still holding the sharp Buck knife to her flesh so that she dared not struggle or fight him.
When he had finally finished with her, Traia asked, “Can we go now?”
“I told her, ‘Yes. Yes, we can.’”
She believed that the ordeal was over and that she was going to live, after all. Luis was going to let her drive home. She bent over to turn the key in the ignition.
Luis had been standing by the open driver’s side door. He seemed to be back at the scene of Traia’s death as he continued to describe what happened in the woods on the Indian reservation.
“I knew I had to kill her so she wouldn’t say anything to anyone,” he said. “I stabbed her in the back, all the way in. She was quite surprised. I pulled my knife out and stabbed her again. She fell out of the car onto the ground and started making a funny noise. I panicked, I guess, and I just kept stabbing her. Then she stopped making noise. The knife got caught in her robe, and it made me angry, so I just cut it off her and threw it in the brush.”
His tone was so matter-of-fact that the listening detectives felt a little sick.
Luis Berrios said that he had stuffed leaves into Traia Carr’s vagina.
“Why?” Jarl Gunderson asked him.
“I figured that would erase any trace of rape. Kind of cover it up—”
And then Luis had gotten into Traia’s car, sitting in her wet blood in the driver’s seat, and driven away.
“What did you do next?” Bruce Whitman asked him.
“I went to Smith Island and I threw her purse out. Then I drove around for a while and went back to her house. I went in and took some things I wanted.”
The seventeen-year-old boy appeared to have no conscience at all. He betrayed no regret or guilt over what he had done to a woman who had been only kind to him. His choice of what to take from the dead woman’s house was strange: the radios, Traia’s jewelry, and food.
“I took some canned goods and some fresh vegetables. I was kind of thinking of running away, and I thought the food might come in handy.
“I put the box full of her things in the backyard on the ground, and then I took her car up about three blocks, parked it, kept the keys, and walked back home. I put the box of stuff in the washroom, and then I took the knife and put it in the flower bed. I stepped on it until it was buried.”
But Luis was still restless. He regretted that he hadn’t taken the liquor that Traia had. “I went back to her house and took some bottles. I went to the party, drank her liquor, and got so drunk that I passed out. I woke up about four a.m. Then I came home.”
Once Luis Berrios Jr. began to talk, his confession was a geyser of words. Maybe he did have a conscience and needed to get the ugly story out. He led the three detectives to the flower garden where he’d buried the death weapon beneath the petunias. He pointed out a few items in his family’s washhouse that the investigators had failed to find.
Luis led them unerringly to where he’d left Traia’s body, even though it had changed somewhat because of the logging that had occurred since her murder. Then he took them to a sewer lagoon on Smith Island where the blackberry vines had grown ten feet high in the summer heat.
“That’s where I threw her purse—and her slippers.”
There was no question that Luis had killed Traia Carr. The investigators recovered physical evidence in each area he led them to. K-9 Unit’s dog Tracer wriggled through the thick and thorny Himalayan blackberry vines and emerged with her slippers and her purse.
“I took her money, but I left her credit cards in there,” Luis said, almost as if he wanted a pat on the back for being honest.
“Why did you kill her?” Gunderson asked him. “She didn’t fight you—you got what you wanted from her. Why didn’t you let her go home?”
“You know I couldn’t,” Luis said. “She would have reported me to you guys for raping her. I couldn’t risk that.”
He commented that it was kind of funny that she was really afraid he was going to kill her all during her ordeal. “But she was turning the car key at the end, and I could tell she thought she was going to live. She really thought I was going to let her go.
“She was sure she was going to die when we left her house, but when I told her to get in the front seat and turn the key, she believed everything was going to be okay. I think she was even going to give me a ride home.”
Luis told the detectives that he thought he’d been caught for sure when they showed up at his house the day after the Fourth of July. “I thought you guys had found her body already. I was relieved when you were only asking about the guy that got stabbed at the party. I didn’t touch him, you know, I just helped clean up his wound—it wasn’t anything much, anyway.
“I told you about how I killed Traia. There’d be no point in my lying to you now about that thing at the party.”
They were inclined to believe him. He’d been in a number of juvenile scrapes with local police, but nothing in Luis’s background indicated a propensity for violence. What had happened to Traia Carr seemed completely out of character for this taciturn, emotionally flat kid.
And yet Luis had admitted to watching Traia for a long time. He had become obsessed with her. It wasn’t money he wanted; it was a chance to act out the sexual fantasies that consumed him.
Traia had been touched that the neighbor boy would invite her to his family’s fireworks, and then appalled when he broke into her home and told her he intended to have sex with her.
She could never have imagined such a thing. And that, perhaps, was the death of her.
Because Luis Berrios was so close to his eighteenth birthday, the Snohomish County Juvenile Court declined jurisdiction over him, and he was tried instead as an adult on charges of first-degree murder, first-degree rape, first-degree kidnapping, first-degree theft, and taking and riding in a motor vehicle without the owner’s permission. The Snohomish County Prosecutor’s Office wanted to be sure that even if he were found innocent on one charge, he would face a legal obstacle course with no easy exits.
That turned out to be unnecessary: He was found guilty of all five charges. If he ever gets out of prison, he will undoubtedly be older than Traia was when he killed her.
Tragically, Traia Carr—who would be close to ninety years old now—no longer had to worry about how she would earn a living if her income from the tavern sale ended, or about the arthritis that caused her pain. But she could have dealt with that. When she died so horribly, the saddest thing of all was that she wouldn’t have the happy years ahead that she visualized. She’d been given a second chance when her lover came back to her, and they should have had several decades to enjoy a “September Song” kind of romance. Very few people are lucky enough to find that. Traia Carr was one of those lucky people.
But it was all taken away from her when she unlocked her door for someone she trusted.
We all forget to be cautious now and then. But it’s wise to remember that strangers aren’t the only people who might do us harm. I think most of us are smart enough to refuse to open our doors and our lives to them. If a stranger comes knocking on your door asking to come in to use the phone because there’s been an accident, it’s easy enough to tell him you will call—and let the police sort it out when they arrive.
But if it’s someone you don’t know all that well, and if the visit comes unexpectedly, late at night, or if your sixth sense gives you a silent alarm signal, don’t open the door. Sometimes those you think you know turn out to be more treacherous than you ever imagined.
Women living alone should be doubly cautious.
Photographic Insert
MORTAL DANGER
Dr. John Branden’s intelligence, education, and charisma impressed Mannatech executives, and they quickly hired him as a spokesman. But problems with his overweening ego soon surfaced.
Dr. John Branden and his daughters, Heather (
; left) and Tamara (right). He adored his girls and worried about what would happen to them if the world became too dangerous—either from natural disaster or invasion.
He asked Kate—and then Turi—to provide a safe place for them.
Kate Jewell was thrilled to graduate from American Airlines’ Stewardess Training classes at the age of twenty-one. She longed for travel and adventure, but she found more of both than she had bargained for, and she lived with a bleak terror she could never have foreseen.
Dr. John Branden and Kate Jewell celebrate her birthday by going to Disneyland. She was thrilled when he declared his love for her, believing that she had found the perfect man.
Kate Jewell and John Branden, attending an American Airlines party. Kate was a longtime flight attendant for AA. She soon learned that John watched her constantly at parties, jealous and furious if she talked to any other men.
John and Kate, ready for a costume party. John enjoyed being in disguise, but the gun in his holster was real. He could be charming and witty, and they made new friends in Oregon. Kate, however, dreaded the violent scenes that often followed parties.
When Dr. John Branden was sued by a patient, he closed his office and disguised himself as a “hippie.” With his long hair and a beard, his own brother-in-law failed to recognize him. He was pleased.
The charming cottage Kate and John rented in Gold Beach, Oregon. They had a view of the Pacific Ocean, almost-tame wildlife in their yard, and, at first, a sense of serenity. They’d left John’s troubles behind in San Diego.
Kate and John in coastal Oregon, caught in fierce winds. They hiked often and climbed Cape Sebastian with the ocean roaring far below. On one ascent, Kate fell ill and found herself all alone. She wondered why John had left her there.
Doris and Bill Turner, and John Branden
(from left) on the deck of their cottage in Gold Beach. The older couple were both landlords and close friends, but they were shocked when John arrived at a cookout and said he had killed Kate and cut her up with a machete. It was a sick joke. After that, the Turners tried to protect Kate from her erratic mate.
Harold Jewell
(left), Kate’s dad, and John in yet another disguise. The two men got along well at first, but later Harold moved in with Kate in an effort to keep her alive. The two lived a nightmare existence, wondering where John Branden was.
Gold Beach, Oregon, Detective Dave Gardiner. He investigated a man he knew as John Branden, almost caught him in California, and learned the final denouement of the case eight years later. Kate Jewell lived in terror for years, and Gardiner protected her.
Dr. Randall Nozawa from the cover of his book,
Inside Dentistry: Everything You Need to Know. Ironically, this photo, taken before the car accident that half blinded him, shows him in high-powered dental glasses. He was forced to give up his practice when the crash destroyed his keen vision.
Turi Lee, eighteen, at her high school graduation in Tacoma, Washington. She was a beautiful young woman who married soon after and had three children.
Turi Lee, in her sixties, was still lovely. When she met John Williams, she felt that she had a second chance at love. They shared many interests at first, but John became more and more controlling and difficult to live with.
WRITTEN IN BLOOD
Brian and Bev Mauck, newlyweds. They were the perfect match, with nothing but happiness ahead. (
Slater Family Collection)
Brian and Bev, who shared a jubilant sense of humor, laughing on their couch. The same couch is visible in crime-scene photos. (
Slater Family Collection)
Bev and Brian Mauck were married in “paradise” in Mexico on the beach, and then left to go scuba diving on their honeymoon on Turks and Caicos. They were both superior athletes. (
Slater Family Collection)
Bev and Brian Mauck on their honeymoon on Turks and Caicos. It was probably their favorite “getaway” vacation spot. They planned one more trip before they had children. (
Slater Family Collection)
This photo of Brian and Bev appeared on television news bulletins and in area papers—to the shock of their many, many friends. (
Slater Family Collection)
Daniel Tavares, twenty-five, poses for the mug shot camera in Massachusetts, after being arrested for a horrible crime.
Daniel Tavares, now in his forties, had many more tattoos in this mug shot taken in Pierce County, Washington, in November 2007. He'd sustained a black eye and facial cuts from a feisty victim, fighting for life.
Jennifer Lynne Tavares fell in “long-distance love” with a man she met through a convict website. Fascinated by his tattoos and macho image, she married him a few days after he came to Washington from Massachusetts. She would live to regret it.
Daniel Tavares in a police photo after his arrest. He left irrefutable physical evidence linking him to a cruel and mindless crime. Jennifer was there to help him cover up and lie for him.
Brian and Bev’s new house, which they worked two jobs to pay for. Both their vehicles were in the driveway, the panel was knocked out of their front door, but they didn't answer any of their three phones and neighbors were worried about them.
Daniel and Jennifer Tavares lived in this travel trailer with a lean-to and a “honey bucket” bathroom outside. Although they were a football field’s length from the Maucks’ home, they told Pierce County detectives that they had seen suspicious men at the victims’ home.
Bev Mauck almost made it out her front door, and she fought valiantly, leaving bruises and cuts on her killer. The killer left clear shoe prints in the blood, tying himself forever to the double murder.
Pierce County Officers saw bloodstained blankets covering the bodies of two victims just inside the front door, where a panel had been kicked out. In the upper right, the wall is speckled with back-spatter blood, but there is a tall blank spot, the “phantom image” of the shooter, showing where he (or she) stood.
Detectives and forensic investigators photographed a clear photo left by the killer’s shoe in the blood that marred the Maucks’ floor, even though they thought the guilty person would dump the shoes as soon as possible.
When a suspect in the Maucks’ murders walked into Pierce County Sheriff’s Headquarters, he stepped in a puddle and left distinct imprints in the concrete and tile walkway. A detective following behind recognized the pattern, and ordered photos before the water prints dried. They matched the prints left in blood at the Mauck homicide scene.
Pierce County Sheriff’s Office Detective Lieutenant Brent Bomkamp (
left) and Detective Sergeant Ben Benson (right) rushed to the multiple murder scene in tiny Graham, Washington. Bomkamp later explained to Daniel Tavares that Benson and Detective Tom Catey were two of his best investigators, and they could always ferret out the truth. So there was no good reason for Tavares to lie.
Detective Sergeant Ben Benson faced one of the most convoluted cases of his long career as he was assigned to head the probe into a double-homicide investigation.
Ben Benson and Brent Bomkamp thought at first that they had located a fingerprint in blood on an interior door of the Maucks’ home. Bomkamp sawed the section out, but experts in the crime lab reported that it was a portion of a palm print instead. Benson took criminalist Marylou Hanson-O’Brien to swab four subjects’ arms almost to the elbow for identification purposes. They didn’t object, but perhaps they should have.
THIRTY YEARS LATER
Julie Costello aka Laura Baylis led a carefree life on the road, and believed she could handle any situation. Sadly, she was overpowered by an evil presence too big for her to fight. She will always be the young woman in this photo.
7-Eleven all-night clerk Laura Baylis is filmed by the security camera she triggered as she opened the cash register. An unknown male stands to her right.
The camera clicks on mindlessly as Laura bends to scoop money out of the till.
The stranger, wearing a billed c
ap, protective glasses, and a khaki jacket, appears to hold a knife to Laura Baylis’s back as she puts the money into a bag. These would be the last photos taken of Laura alive.
Clarence Williams (
right) stands in a police lineup. He is wearing clothes identical to the robber/abductor of Laura Baylis as seen in security camera frames. Even so, he denied that he bore any resemblance to “the stranger.”
Robbery Detective Larry Stewart joined homicide detectives in the investigation into the disappearance of Laura Baylis, and talked to dozens of neighbors and possible witnesses.